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traumadumpwriter · 1 month ago

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Relapse and a Half - Six

JJ Maybank X Pogue!Reader

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, explicit sexual assault, violence, trauma

Reblogging is allowed!

Masterlist - Part Seven

I’ve had so many people requesting this part so here it finally is! Thank you so much for any comment or like or any appreciation you’ve shown at all, it really does mean the world to me. I spent ages writing this part because I just couldn’t get it right but I think (I hope) I’ve finally done it. Reminder here that my inbox is open for requests and also just if you need someone to talk to. Hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 5.8k

Part 6

A month passed since that night at Barry's, and no one could've guessed that anything bad might've happened to you.

You'd gone back to your old job - tending at a run down bar - and had no seemingly no interest in any hard drugs. You'd spent most of your free time at the Chateau or alone with JJ; your obsession with each other seemingly an undying fire. And you'd even started doing yoga with Kie - making you feel better about your mind and body.

The bruises and scratches on your skin had faded and been replaced by JJ's kisses and light marks - the smallest patch of purple appearing on your ass after one passionately hard fuck. Noticing the bruise the morning after, JJ had frowned and gently stroked it.

"I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have been so rough. I'll go gentler next time." He’d whispered.

"What are you talking about? Don't go gentler. Last night was.. incredible." You'd scoffed in response.

"But I left a bruise. Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"JJ, I like being marked by you. Don't feel bad about that... in fact maybe we should go again."

JJ smirked at that, pulling his lip under his teeth.

"Right now?"

"When else?"

All in all, life had actually been pretty good for you despite the occasional crying night spent alone. That was the only time you'd ever reflect on what happened - when you were alone - and even then you were still in a state of denial about the severity of it. Logically, you knew what had happened was horrific and whatever JJ had seen had given him every right to be as angry as he was. But you still weren't ready to admit that to yourself, so you didn't.

When you cried, it wasn't because you felt like a used, damaged victim of an awful crime, it was because you felt like a dirty, slutty junkie for ever letting it happen. It certainly didn't help that your friends had gotten involved too, and though they'd mimicked you in acting mostly as if nothing had happened, you could sense the slight change. For instance, Kie hadn't ranted to you about the micro-aggressions committed by men for a hot minute. Pope had brought around sandwiches and cookies to your house - much to the delight of your mother who absolutely adored the lad. John B was seemingly counting your drinks anytime you all decided to party, cutting you off anytime you got close to being sloppy which never used to bother him. And JJ... you couldn't tell if he was acting different now because he was "openly in love with you" as he said, or if it was because he thought you needed protecting.

Nonetheless, you were able to sweep all of this under the rug and forget about it most of the time. You lived your life as usual and focused on staying clean.

That was until you saw Rafe at the Boneyard.

The night had started pretty averagely, pre-drinking at the Chateau and then dancing with Kie by the fire whilst the boys congregated with other delinquents. The only dancing being done by the male trio was from John B trying to make moves on some touron - which the rest of the Pogues were amusedly watching from afar. JJ was - as usual - placing bets on stupid things with any other thrill seeker he could find - such as who could finish a keg first or hold their hand in fire the longest, whilst Pope tried to convince him to stop being an idiot - unsuccessfully of course.

You enjoyed nights like these, being in close proximity to your closest friends but with some space between you. It was a nice change to the cramped, sometimes overbearing nights at the Chateau. You knew that Kie felt the same way.

"Do you think John B's gonna get lucky? That girl does not look impressed." She mused, her fingers intertwined with yours as you rocked together.

"I'm fifty-fifty. She doesn't look impressed but she hasn't left his side. Maybe the dancing is just confusing her."

"It is pretty confusing. Like a bird trying to pull of a mating ritual or something but can't quite remember how to do it."

"Now you've said it - I totally see that. He's like a giant bird." You giggled in agreement. "With those long legs he's got to be a flamingo, right?”

"I'd say so. And Pope is a turtle."

"I see that too. I think that JJ might be a big cat of some sort, you know? Like maybe a tiger."

"Yeah right. The boy is an excitable menace, not an agile predator." Kie scoffed.

"So what is he? A dog?"

"You said it, not me."

You both laughed at that and eventually came to the conclusion that he was in fact a husky, drunkenly twirling and swaying as you spoke. A girl - much drunker than you - accidentally bumped into you causing you to look up from Kie as you held out a hand to catch her. She bashfully smiled and apologised before rushing away - clearly a few years younger - and you thought about following her to make sure she was okay before you were distracted by the sensation of someone's eyes on you.

At first, you thought it might be JJ trying to get your attention from across the party, but he was some feet away and no longer illuminated by the fire - arguing with some guy in the ocean about who could swim further. The eyes on you were a similiar shade to his, but they were rounder and darker, and the person they belonged to was taller and a lot scarier. If anyone were to be a predatory cat, it would be him.

Rafe had a smug grin on his lips as he ran his eyes along you, intentionally staring with the aim to let you know that he was there. Your breath caught in your throat as soon as you registered the unfriendly gaze and, like a deer in headlights, you froze.

You'd managed to forget what JJ had said about Rafe being at Barry's almost entirely, in fact you'd practically forced yourself to forget about the Cameron's existence. In the time that you'd spent crying by yourself, you'd been so distracted by all the other things you were stressed about that you hadn't even thought about what Rafe had to do with the whole thing. What he might've done.

The second your eyes locked with his though, a barrage of anxiety hit you and you suddenly found yourself with a month's worth of worries about the man. He seemed to sense your discomfort, his eyebrow raising questioningly and his grin widening. Luckily, Kie also sensed it and it only took her a second to figure out the reason why.

"That fucking asshole." She muttered under her breath before squeezing your hand lightly. "We should leave. I'll go get the boys."

"No!" You quickly objected, feeling a sudden rush of panic at the thought of confessing to the Pogues that you did in fact feel uncomfortable around Rafe Cameron.

Before that night, he never would have scared you from anywhere. You wouldn't have even afforded him a second glance unless it was to insult him. You couldn't change that now - not when the reasoning would be so clear. Kie shot you a confused look.

"It's fine. He's just a stupid Kook. Let's not let our night be ruined because of him."

She looked uncertain but didn't argue, nodding slowly with knitted brows. Perhaps if she'd been more sober she would've thought to question you, but she'd gone the last month without pushing you for answers and you seemed to be doing fine, so she decided that she wouldn't start now - especially when you had been having such a fun night.

Instead, the pair of you shifted away from the centre of the space and moved your dancing to the edge of the crowd, losing John B from your eye-lines but gaining the drinks table.

"I'm gonna go refresh. You want any?" You asked Kie and she nodded with a grateful smile, though still uncertainly.

When you got to the makeshift bar, you instantly poured yourself a shot and quickly drank it down before grabbing two beers from the cool box - who they actually belonged to being a mystery that you didn't care to solve. The Pogues had been weird about you drinking any spirits, so you decided to use the opportunity of being alone to quickly do another shot before anyone could stop you.

As you continued dancing with Kie, you both drank your beer and soon you'd forgotten about Rafe's unsettling gaze as rapidly as you'd felt it. That bliss was short lived though, a wide eyed Pope and a raging JJ suddenly at your side.

"We should go." Pope had managed to pant out before JJ started his rant.

"That motherfucker is here. And he won't stop staring at you. I'm gonna fucking kill him. Look- he's doing it now. I swear he's doing it on purpose. Where the fuck is John B?" He seethed.

"Woah, woah. Calm down babe." You said softly, lacing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to you.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your lips, fast and agitated, and though it slowed slightly from your touch, it was still laced with palpable venom.

"He's a piece of shit, Y/N. I should've killed him when I had the chance."

You knew that you should've been taking JJ's anger more seriously, but through the fog of mixed alcohol he just looked too handsome for you to focus on anything else. All you wanted to do was kiss him. You would just quickly sweep this Rafe drama under the rug and spend the night attached to JJ. That was the best way to deal with this.

"Well you in prison wouldn't do anyone any good, would it? Come on. Don't let some stupid Kook ruin the night. Why don't we go smoke a blunt and see if he's still here when we're finished? If he is then we can leave." You smiled, sounding far more condescending than you realised.

JJ's face morphed into the same one of perplexity that Kie's had displayed twenty minutes prior, almost offended by your blasé attitude. He exhaled heavily out of his nose as he bit his tongue. Also like Kie, he was uncertain as to how to handle the ignorance you were feigning but knew that he didn't want to make you unhappy. If you wanted to stay he supposed that he would have to, after all you were right in saying that Rafe was just a stupid Kook. Maybe giving him a reaction would be letting him win.

"Okay, okay. Let's go smoke." JJ huffed, much to the surprise of Kie and Pope.

You grinned and planted a kiss on his lips which he gladly returned, his rage evaporating against the sweetness of your skin. He interlaced his fingers with yours and strolled towards the Twinkie, smiling as he listened to you joke about John B's dance moves, not relaxed enough to say anything himself but glad that you were happy.

Kie and Pope joined you, still not used to JJ being so calm and doting and finding it amusing.

"Who could've known that all JJ needed was a girlfriend to finally chill out a bit." Pope chuckled, and Kie added "It's been a long time coming."

They were only a foot behind but you and JJ didn't hear their observations, too enamoured with each other to pay attention to anything else. You piled into the Twinkie and grabbed the weed from under one of the seats, chucking it to Kie to roll as you all casually conversed.

"Do you think we should go get John B? He might want some." You asked.

"Nah. He's having a good time macking on with that touron. Wouldn't wanna stop my man from doing what he does best." JJ smirked in response, earning an eye roll from everyone else.

"If that's what he does best then there is a serious skill issue going on." Pope scoffed, which you all laughed at.

By time the blunt was finished, everyone had practically forgotten the reason they'd decided to smoke in the first place, heading back to the party with red eyes and big smiles. You were extremely relieved by this, asserting to yourself that pretending nothing had happened was the best way to deal with things.

Before you could get close to the fire though, a familiar voice came from behind you all - laced with its characteristic mocking chime.

"You really fucked up Barry's face, you know?" Rafe chuckled.

You gasped and turned around.

Topper was stood beside him, arms crossed and grinning at you whilst Rafe was looking at JJ with a gleam of trouble in his eyes. You knew that things could be about to get seriously bad. Nervously, you gripped your boyfriends hand and prayed that it would be enough to stop him from attacking one of the lads.

"I mean it's still messed up now. Good on you, man." Rafe continued.

"What the hell do you want?" JJ hissed venomously.

"Just saying congrats. He's at his now if you wanna go for round two. I was just there." He smirked and then looked at you. "I know he'd be up for another."

JJ's hand effortlessly slipped from yours and pushed out in front of him, shoving Rafe in the chest hard and closing the space between them. You stepped forward and reached for JJ, not wanting this fight to happen, but he ignored your touch.

"You don't fucking talk to her." He barked into Rafe's face. "I should've messed up your shit too."

Rafe shoved him back, though not as hard, his face still bright with amusement and pupils wide with intoxication.

"Hey, hey chill out. It's a compliment, bro. Your girl's got a great rack, can you blame him?" He chuckled, sending you a wink.

All within a few seconds - you instinctively moved your arms to cover yourself, Kie protectively moved to your side with a vicious glare and JJ launched his fist at Rafe. The taller boy had been expecting the blow and caught it. He gave a smug grin before sending a hard punch of his own.

"JJ!" You cried out, watching him stumble backwards and then deflect a sudden hit from Topper.

Pope jumped in, flying at Topper and sending him to the ground where the two started a serious brawl - much to yours and Kie's horror. JJ continued to go for Rafe - who still looked very pleased with himself - whilst you stood frozen to the spot, fear and dread running through you. Kie rushed over to Pope, trying to pull Topper off him, then Rafe threw JJ to the ground and looked at you, his lips curled up into a smug snarl.

"And the cutest, little pussy too. No wonder you've got this punk so whipped, huh?"

So he had seen.. everything. One of the worst people you'd ever met had seen your entire body and you remembered none of it. And now he was clearly relishing in the memory of it; holding it over you and mocking your boyfriend with it.

You felt sick at the realisation, a deep crack forming in your wall of denial. More than anything though, you felt humiliated, the feeling only getting worse as a crowd started to form around the chaos. JJ was getting his ass kicked by Rafe but showed no signs of slowing, his rage entirely visible to anyone. He was landing a few good punches, but Rafe was bigger than him and able to harness the effortless violence of being a sociopath. JJ was just blinded by rage.

You called out his name again but your voice was hardly noticeable over the jeering of the crowd, and then there was a shout and things suddenly got even louder. John B had launched himself through the commotion and was on top of Rafe, his arms putting him into a tight chokehold and finally giving JJ the upper hand. He struggled against John B's grip as JJ delivered a barrage of hits to his torso, winding him and causing him to splutter out a tight breath. Then you turned and saw Topper throwing Kie to the ground, quickly being punished by Pope and a displeased group of Pogues for his action. Naturally though, as more Pogues joined the fight so did more Kooks, and soon it was complete chaos.

You rushed to Kie's side, your body moving out of pure instinct as your mind still felt frozen in shock and fright. You didn't even hear yourself ask if she was okay, but you must've as she responded with a sharp 'yes' before sitting herself up. She took a second to collect herself, looking around in confusion until it all became clear and then gasping.

"We need to get out of here." She said, looking at you with wide eyes. "Cops have probably already been called."

You nodded, helping to pull her up before trying to make your way into the chaos again, squeezing past people until you saw JJ's furious face; he and John B still focusing on Rafe despite the other Kooks that had gotten involved. Kie had disappeared between shouting bodies, presumably to get Pope, and you knew that you would have get the two other boys away from the fight by yourself.

You shouted their names but it made no difference, only when you threw yourself into the centre did they finally notice you, halting John B but not JJ.

"We need to go!" You shouted, the sound of a siren echoing in the distance just on cue.

The crowd quickly thinned out at that, but JJ and Rafe continued, ignoring the warnings from their friends around them. It took Topper and John B pulling them off each other to stop, and by that point there were red and blue lights flashing just a kilometre away. The familiar colours seemed to snap JJ out of his trance. He looked at you, his face bloody and bruised, grabbed your hand, his knuckles also bloody and bruised, and ran.

It felt like you were all in the back of the Twinkie and speeding to the Chateau within seconds, throwing yourselves into the backseats as John B stepped on the gas before the door was even shut. You all took a moment to catch your breaths before speaking, surprising yourself by being the first one.

"What the fuck was that? You could've gotten yourself arrested or seriously hurt!" You hissed at JJ.

He scoffed, his face unamused.

"Would've been worth it."

"Worth it for what? To feel like you have something over a Kook?"

"Did you not hear what he fucking said about you!" His voice raised but you were quick to match it.

"You overreacted! You ruined tonight with your ego - like you always do!”

"Oh I ruined it? Not the fucking creep who wanted to rape you."

"Shut the fuck up, JJ!" You loudly snapped but then Kie spoke, her tone incredulous, and caught you off guard.

"Yeah sorry to interrupt but I don't know how you expected him to not react like that. Rafe was bragging about seeing you naked to multiple people. I mean are you really okay with that?"

You blinked a couple of times before answering, attempting to collect your thoughts into a legible argument and then disprove her point.

"It doesn't matter. He was lying. He just wants a reaction out of us. And you gave him one!"

JJ scoffed at your answer, mentally thanking Kie for being the one to initiate the real conversation that needed to be had.

"Fuck a reaction, Y/N, he wasn't lying! He was there that night at Barry's and I know he would've hurt you too if I hadn't been there. I told you that!" He hissed. "I should've killed him!"

"But he didn't-"

"Look I'm sorry Y/N, but while we're on the subject, are we going to speak about that at all?" Kie cut you off, her voice fraught with stress. "I know we've all been acting like nothing happened for the past month but I think we need to address it."

You looked at her in shock, not quite believing the words coming out of her mouth. Your plan of pretending that nothing had happened hadn't worked? And your friend wanted to address it? You defensively opened your mouth but nothing came out, and then Pope jumped in unexpectedly.

"Yeah like, one minute we were at gunpoint thinking you might've drowned in the marsh, the next you were half dressed and not even able to walk, hardly able to talk. It was scary."

"It was messed up." John B agreed from the front seat.

All four of your best friends having something to say had stunned you entirely, a lump building in your throat and a weight in your chest. So your plan was definitely not going to work any longer - nor had it ever really worked in the first place. In fact, it might've made things worse. You looked around at their solemn faces nervously, feeling embarrassed and guilty.

"I- I- It was stupid. I shouldn't have been there. I'm sorry, okay?" You stammered, earning an exasperated groan from JJ.

"No you're not getting it! You shouldn't be apologising, you should be angry at them for daring to take advantage of you like that!" He exclaimed. "Imagine if they'd done that to Kie. Imagine if Kie drank too much and passed out and some guy took that as an opportunity to have sex with her! How would you feel then?"

You thought of what Rafe had said on the beach about your body - how violated it had made you feel. Then you thought of the confusion that you'd felt in the bath the morning after the incident had happened and how much your body had hurt. You thought of the snippets of memory you had from the actual assault; the invasive feeling of Barry inside of you and the pain that he'd gleefully put your body through, and you visualised Rafe being present to witness that - his sharp teeth bared in a smug grin as he took in your soiled body. It was all so dehumanising.

The thought of Kie experiencing any of that made you angrier than you cared to admit, and you hung your head in shame, suddenly understanding your friend's desire to get justice but still feeling too small to want your own.

"Okay. You're right. What happened was.. bad. It was wrong what they did to me, it shouldn't have happened." You conceded. "But can we just drop it? I want to forget anything ever happened."

"No, we can't just drop it! That's what we've been doing for the past month and that time is up!" JJ exclaimed. "Especially not after tonight. Did you not hear what Rafe said about you?"

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, rage visibly filling him up again as it had before the fight. But this time you didn't dare to calm him down.

"And he said it with a grin, right to my face! You expect me to just let him get away with that? Jesus! Just drop it. Like the asshole didn't just say all that shit to me - to you! Do you have no fucking respect for yourself or something?"

He was shouting at this point, his hands moving in exaggerated movements, and you were looking up at him feeling nothing but... betrayal.

"Respect?" You repeated dryly. "You think I don't respect myself? Because I don't want you getting arrested?"

"See and now you're doing this on purpose, you're trying to change the conversation! You said he raped you twice! I mean, why the fuck did you even have to go there in the first place? Why the fuck couldn't you just stay clean? And the way you're acting now- I can't fucking deal with this shit. It's like you wanted something bad to happen to you-"

"Woah! That's way fucking out of line." Kie cut him off with a sharp hiss and soon they were arguing, all whilst you felt yourself getting slowly smaller and smaller inside of your body.

The shame had enveloped you wholly and you found yourself disassociating, viewing it all from a third person perspective instead of your own. The third person memories from that night at Barry's started to make sense now - you realised it was what your brain did when it couldn't bare to be physically present in the situation. You could see the wide mouths and bared teeth of Kiara and JJ, and feel the vibration of their shouting. You could even see Pope anxiously leaning over in fear of Kiara drunkenly hitting JJ, whilst John B listened intensely, eyes focused on the fast flying roads.

Only when the van parked and the doors flung open, JJ catapulting himself out, did you snap out of your trance. The noises became words again and the faces became people.

"I'm just saying you're not helping anything by saying shit like that!" Kie was close behind JJ, still clearly very heated whilst you and Pope slowly moved out of the back.

"Nothing I say seems to help. So stay the fuck out of my business!"

"Your business?"

"Are you okay?" John B appeared next to you with a concerned expression, bruises too forming on his face. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder but then retracted it upon seeing your uncomfortable expression.

"I'm fine." You answered, struggling to keep your voice flat. "I think I'm just gonna go home-"

"No! Don't leave, Y/N." Pope interrupted you and as you looked at him you realised that he had really taken a beating. It only made your chest ache more. "We- We didn't want to upset you. We just care about you. And JJ is.. drunk. You know how he gets. You can calm him down and then it'll all be alright-"

"I'm going home." You repeated sterner, eyes hovering over to the confrontation for a moment before turning away.

Their voices followed you but you ignored them, jumping on your bike and leaving. The wall of denial you'd managed to build was crashing down and you were now having to wade through the truth - poisonous flashbacks engulfing your field of view. Barry's hands, his cock, his mouth. Rafe's words, his gaze, his smile. And not only did you have to deal with that truth, but there was also now the revolting revelation that the trauma hadn't just affected you, but your friends too. It took every part of you to stop yourself from imagining what they'd seen - how it had affected their view of you.

And then there had been what JJ had said in the Twinkie. How harsh it had been. How it seemed like maybe after all, he did blame you. And you weren't even sure if he was wrong for that.

With a panicked breath, you shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut for a second, desperately bringing yourself back to reality in a forced snap. You were lucky that you knew these roads so well, even in the dark.

The shouting of your friends had faded out into the distance now and there was an eery quiet, the squeaking of your wheels being the only sound other than the light wind.

You dipped your head and pedalled harder, trying to outrun the way your throat was tightening, the way your stomach turned every time JJ's voice replayed in your head; "Why the fuck couldn't you just stay clean?"

It only seemed to get louder, and then there was the noise of a motorbike behind you. Someone was following you - probably JJ - and so you started to pedal even harder, unable to bear his face. You were still drunk though, and your foot slipped, and then before you knew it you were on the ground, the bike on top of you and your side hurting.

You lay there for a moment, confused, distracted from everything, and it actually felt nice. An unexpected break in which all you felt was mild shock and confusion. But then you heard the motorbike again and became re-aware of your surroundings.

And it filled your body with despair.

A long, loud sob left your lungs - unlike any you'd ever released in front of anyone before - and then shorter copies continued to roll out, shaking your whole being as each one fell.

"Y/N! Shit. Are you hurt?" John B's voice came with the silence of the motor and he was quickly by your side, throwing the bike off you and bending down beside you.

You couldn't speak, shaking and choking on pain filled sobs. John B paused for a moment, trying to think of what he could say, before giving up and pulling you into a tight hug, relieved when you accepted it. He gently cooed as you cried into his chest, rocking side to side slightly in a desperate bid to soothe you.

"I'm sorry this happened, Y/N." He whispered, swallowing a hard lump in his throat.

There were no other words spoken for a short while, just your aching sobs. It hurt him to listen to and did nothing to quell the burning desire he had to hurt Rafe and Barry. He was at least able to keep that under control. After some time, your sobs eventually did die down and you were able to speak, lifting your head from John B's chest and wiping your eyes with your hands.

"I'm sorry." You choked out.

He looked at you with sorrow, his brows lifted and his eyes wide "Please stop apologising."

"I-I shouldn't have relapsed. I don't even want to be clean r-right now." You confessed, your voice shaking. Now that you had started you couldn’t stop though. It spilled out of you. "If JJ hadn't beat Barry up, I would be there getting high right now... A-And I know that's like- so fucked up, okay? I know that what he did- what-whatever the fuck happened- I know it was bad. But.. I deserved it."

"You didn't deserve it. How do we get this through your head?" John B sighed softly. "That's why JJ's so upset- he didn't mean all of that shit he said."

"Even if I somehow didn't ask for it- I've dragged you all into it and traumatised everyone with my bullshit. I just fucking hate it. I feel so humiliated. I wish you guys would just let things go."

John B put his hands on your shoulders and looked at you with sudden seriousness, his tone still soft but with an assertive edge.

"Why do you feel humiliated though? Because of them. Because of what they did." He held your gaze intensely. “You're not the one who should feel like that- they should. Imagine if it was Kie. You'd want to fucking kill them too."

"I know, I just- I don't know... It's all so much. I feel like I was kind of living in a world where it hadn't actually happened- until tonight. Now it's real and I... I feel... I don't know what I feel. It's like this horrible dread but.. it's already happened so what am I dreading?"

John B sighed again, feeling crushed by the weight of your question. He wished that he could do anything to take your pain away, but he couldn’t even think of the right words to quell you in a moment. He pulled you back into a hug.

"I don't know, but it's all gonna be alright. You've got us no matter what, the only reason any of us ever get mad at each other is because we care. And JJ cares the most and that's why he's always the maddest.”

"You think that's why he's such a hot head?" You scoffed with a sniffle, finally catching your breath.

"Yeah. I know it is. Trust me, I’ve known him forever.” John B answered. “And he is so in love with you, like- crazy in love with you… It just sucks that.. this is how you two finally fessed up. And he’s all like- fucked up over it and being a dick, but he doesn’t mean it.”

You nodded and agreed quietly “I know, it does suck.”

And then you both stood in comfortable silence for a short moment, your head finally calming down and your body no longer shaking. John B eventually broke the silence with a gentle question.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come back?”

You thought about it, considering what you would be coming back to. Kie and JJ were both unlikely to drop the subject, drunk and as stubborn as two mules. Even after they stopped arguing - if they did - you knew that the two of them would be talking about it for hours. Now that it had finally been brought up, maybe you did all need to talk about it for hours.

But you couldn’t do that. Not yet.

“Yeah I’m sure.” You answered, pulling away from his chest and then realising how wet you’d gotten his top. “Sorry about all the snot man.”

You both chuckled lightly at that.

“It’s cool, I’ll just wash it. Not like JJ hasn’t snot-rocketed on me more than a million times.”

“You’re both so gross for that.” You mused, having seen John B do it back to him just as many times.

He cracked a small smile, his heart rate finally slowing down.

“Yeah we are... Here look, I’ll drive you back now and pick up your bike on the way back, but you’ve got to promise me you’re not gonna do anything stupid to yourself.”

“Of course I’m not going to.” You almost sounded offended, then looked to your bike. “And what you’re just gonna leave my bike here while we’re gone?”

“Okay well I just had to check, these things aren’t always so obvious with you. And no one is going to steal that piece of shit bike. I’ll be ten minutes tops.”

With a light huff you gave in and soon you were on the back of JJ’s motorbike, racing to your house. When you arrived, you and John B both hugged tightly. He reminded you that he loved you and you said the same, then he sped back off into the night, certain to spend the next few hours deescalating conflict.

You watched him ride away, immensely grateful to have such a good friend. But when you stepped into your house, empty and dark, you remembered why you were there alone. The things that had happened as a direct result of you deciding to relapse and how much it had hurt the people around you.

And yet you still found yourself scrolling through your phone contacts, trying to work out if there was anyone you knew who could get you some pills.

Ahhh I really hope u all enjoyed! Let me know! <3

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kyloherrera · 1 year ago

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✦ ۫ 𑄼ల۫ ۪ FEB 8 — ROSES

featuring: dot, , abel, rayne, odler, mash, lance. finn x gn! reader

note: I opened a patreon if you want to support me, and also there will be extra , spicier and special content that I will post there <3.

summary: will mashle boys gift or receive roses?

genre: fluff || event || patreon

✦ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇

-Because mash is someone who values honesty, kindness, and simplicity, and he would likely see roses as a traditional and romantic gesture to express his affection he would more likely gift roses rather than receiving.

-He would approch the situation with genuine sincerity, wanting to express his affection in a clear and uncomplicated way.

-Mash would take the time to carefully select the roses, choosing the freshest and most beautiful ones he can find.

-Since he is a new one to buying roses he might seek advice from others or do some research to ensure he picks the right color and variety that symbolizes his feelings.

-He would probally add a personal touch to the gift, such as adding a little handwritten note expressing his feelings in his own earnest way.

-When delivering the rose, Mash would likely do so directly and without any grand gestures. He might approach his partner with a genuine smile and hand them the bouquet, simply saying something heartfelt like, "I got these for you because... well, because I like you a lot."

✦ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

-Lance would want to make a memorable and grand gesture to express his affection. He might plan an elaborate surprise to ensure that the moment is both romantic and unforgettable.

-When choosing the rose Lance would opt for a large bouquet of roses, maybe in a vibrant and eye-catching color like red or pink to convey passion and romance.

-He might even go the extra mile to find rare or exotic varieties to impress his partner.

-He would choose a picturesque location or create a romantic ambiance for the occasion

-Lance would likely accompany the gift of roses with a heartfelt declaration of affection. He might express his love in a bold and poetic manner, leaving his partner in no doubt about the depth of his feelings.

✦𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍

-Given Finn's reserved and serious demeanor he might be more likely to receive roses from his significant other rather than gifting them.

-He is not be as comfortable with openly expressing affection in grand gestures like gifting roses.

-So when he received the roses, he expressed a quiet surprise and a slight blush.

-Finn would thank you, and he will convey his appreciation with a genuine smile and a soft-spoken "Thank you," showing that he values the sentiment behind the gift.

-He takes his time to observe the rose appreciating their beauty and symbolism.He might reflect silently on the significance of the gesture and what it means for his relationship with his partner.

-While Finn may not be one to openly express his emotions, receiving the roses would likely touch him deeply, so he expressed his feelings

-He would probally put the roses in fresh water to keep them around him allowing them to brighten his surroundings and serve as a reminder of your love and thoughtfulness.

✦𝐃𝐎𝐓

-Being a perceptive and observant person, Dot , would first notice that their significant other admires roses or finds them meaningful.Dot might pick up on subtle cues or expressions of interest from their partner.

-He would do a meticolous planning, in which he ensures that every detail is gone through.

-He would research every type of roses and their meaning to select the most appropriate variety for their partner.

-He would choose a quiet moment to present the roses, perhaps during a private and intimate setting where they can express their feelings without drawing too much attention.

-He would accompany the deliver of the roses with a sincere heartfelt expression of their feelings choosing their words carefully to ensure they resonate with their partner.

✦𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋

-He is more likely to gift roses than to receive them, because he considerate it a gesture of affection and aprecciation.

-Abel would take the time to carefully consider the gesture, wanting to ensure that it's meaningful and well-received. He might pay attention to your preferences and interests to choose the perfect moment for the gift.

-He would choose the bouquet with care opting for a bouquet that reflects his partner's personality and style. He might select a mix of your favorite colors or varieties, or he might choose a single type of rose that holds special significance to you.

-He most likely add a personal touch to the gift, perhaps by hand-picking the roses himself or arranging them into a beautiful bouquet.

-He would also include a handwritten note expressing his feelings and appreciation for his partner.

-He doesn't often smile but for you, he will. He would present the bouquet with a genuine smile, conveying his affection through his actions and words.

-He would also say a few words to express gratitude for your presence in his life and the happiness you bring him.

✦𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

-He has a thoughtful and considerate personality, this makes him likely to express his affection through meaningful gestures like giving roses to someone he cares about.

-Rayne would pay close attention to your preferences and interests, including any hints you may have dropped about liking roses or flowers in general.

-He would carefully plan the gesture considering the timing and presentation to ensure it is meaningful and well-received.

-He would take the time to select the perfect bouquet of roses, choosing a variety that holds significance or symbolism for your relationship.

-He would also add a personal touch, by making a little love letter to you. Expressing his feelings and appreciation for you.

-He would choose a quiet and intimate moment to present to you the gift allowing you and him to to share the moment togheter.

-Along with the roses he would express his love and gratitude for you verbally , emphasizing the depth of his feelings and the importance of your relationship to him.

✦𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐑

-He would most likely be direct about his feelings and his love gestures.

-First he would approach the situation with confidence and decisiveness. He wouldn't hesitate to express his feelings and intentions clearly.

-He would select a single rose, likely in a bold and vibrant color like red to convey passion and intensity.

-He would also choose a high-quality rose to reflect his own standards of excellence.

-Odler would deliver the rose with a boldness and determination making his intentions clear since the begging.

-He would approch you with a direct gaze and a confident stride, holding out the rose as a symbol of his affection.

-He would also accompany the gift with a sincere expression of his feelings. He would speak from the heart, conveying his admiration and appreciation for you in his own assertive way.

-He would also be likely to fill your bed with roses in a valentine day and make love right there with you.

✦𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐎

-He would plan an extravagant and elaborate setup for presenting the rose to you

-He will choose a picturesque location or create a romantic ambiance with decorations, candles, and music.

-He would also carefully select the perfect rose, opting for a luxurious and visually striking bloom.

-He would choose a rare or exotic variety to impress his partner and make the gesture even more memorable. Like blue roses.

-He would also accompany the gift of the rose with a poetic and romantic declaration of his feelings

-He might recite a heartfelt love poem or deliver a passionate speech expressing his adoration for his partner.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@stvrlightt123 @Mysticalpersonpoetry @mailkyeom03

#mashle x reader #mashle x you #mashle fluff #mash x reader #lance x reader #dot barrett x reader #abel walker x reader #carpaccio x reader #finn ames x reader #rayne ames x reader #odler x reader #dot barrett x you #rayne ames x you #mash x you #lance x you #abel walker x you #odler x you #carpaccio x you

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artsninspo · 2 months ago

Text

010 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 009

♠ summary: Lorence is confronted with the realities of her current predicament, unchartered territory with her Boss. Her past and present collide while Terry is away on business. But, when he returns - old habits die hard. ❤️‍🩹 🌶️

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ warnings: NSFW, mature themes

♠ word-count: ~5K

⌖ - Multiple Locations

I walk alongside Joel with a smile as he holds Beau’s leash. The past week and a half he’s kept my dog to keep up with Beau’s physical needs, and allow me rest and recovery. My good boy Beau is having the time of his life with Joel’s kids, but now he won’t stop looking back at me. His usual brisk pace is moderate - it’s like he knows I’m hurt and his exuberance is why we’re a part.

“The wife keeps asking when you’re gonna let him sire a litter” Joel asks as we walk to the dog park.

“You know I’ll want to keep every single one of those puppies or make sure they’re close by and I don’t have six people who want a larger dog” I tell him.

“No working lines?” Joel asks to be funny.

“No, none of Beau's babies will be doing any scary shit” I tell him and he laughs.

“You’re not limping as much,” he says.

“I’m feeling better” I tell him honestly.

“And your wrist?” He asks.

“Seems a bit slower to heal” I admit holding up the brace. “Have you heard anything?” I ask and his expression told me he has.

“Rich’s furious” he sighs, talking about the Boss but since that night on the beach I haven’t seen anger from him.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s his own personal project. Everyone’s talking about how he didn’t even wait to get war ready. He just went in there without protection and a handgun after you.” Joel says with eyes trained on me. He’s capable of sensing deception, and I’m no master at it so I swallow hard to give myself time to choose my words wisely.

“It wasn’t the smartest thing to do” I admit. Joel nods and I don’t realize I’m anxious until Beau puts his muzzle against my hand. I smile looking down and pet his head.

“I’m glad he did, sorry I wasn’t there” Joel says again.

“You’re taking care of Beau and I’m glad you were safe. You followed protocol” I remind.

“Emerson said he saw you and Richmond leave the Monaco accommodation together the night before.” Joel trails openly fishing for information..

“After three years of being a tyrant and an asshole he showed me he can be nice. It was surprising, we walked my routes together. He was trying to help me calm down.” I tell Joel and he nods. There’s no happiness in his expression. I swallow bracing for a lecture and he sighs.

“I know you and I know Terry…” He starts.

“Joel-”

“Let me finish” he says in a tone he doesn’t use often. I stop to look at him. “I know you’re type and Richmond isn’t that.” Joel sighs, letting Beau off his leash in the empty dog park. I watch my dog bound away freely. “Are you listening to me?” He asks.

“Yes, you said Richmond isn’t my type” I repeat beginning to shut down.

“He’s not a fling abroad, or a ‘call me whenever you’re in town’ kind of guy. I’m not judging you Lorence.” Joel says knowing me well.

“Sounds like you are,” I mutter.

“I’m not Lorence, I get it. I do. I’m a man. I get wanting freedom. I get that you’re independent and I respect it. But if you think for one minute whatever’s going between the two of you is something you can put away when you’re done I’m letting you know it isn’t that. I had a feeling Terry liked you but fuck did I underestimate how much. The man was willing to take on fire. He’s not the free spirited type you're comfortable with” Joel says stressed.

“Terry and I aren’t sleeping together” I tell him and he puts his head into his hands, sighing. “What?” I ask.

“That’s even worse” he exclaims.

“How?!” I respond.

“We all put ourselves in danger daily. If you meet a soldier who can keep it in his pants, the man is in love. If the display in Monaco isn’t enough - there it is. You need to be straight with him, Lorence. Tell him what you want and what you’re used to. Because Richmond’s not the kind of man I can say I can confidently protect you from” Joel says having had to play the role of crazy ‘older brother’ for me once or twice.

“He wouldn’t hurt me” I say before I can process it. It’s something I know deep down. Joel looks at me like I’m hopeless. It’s new territory for us and somehow this conversation has aged him. My happy go lucky friend is now a concerned father figure. “I’ll talk to him” I concede wanting nothing less than to air out my attachment issues to Terry. Beau comes back from his patrol of the area and Joel tosses his ball for him. I watch beau bound after the ball and retrieve it with a proud prance completely unaware of life's challenges.

“Lorence I’m not trying to beat up on you, okay?” Joel says and I sigh.

“I know, you're a good friend.” I sigh.

“I think you and Terry would be good together if that’s what you wanted. But I also know it takes you longer to settle and trust people.” Joel says knowing the number of men I’ve kept at arm's length, how many girlfriend requests I've declined over the years. I prefer to keep my romantic life as far away as possible from my personal life.

“I don’t even know how to cook well, Terry’s all distinguished company and social commitments. He’s probably like you and wants kids for his family name and I don’t” I start on all the reasons we wouldn’t work long term aloud.

“Stop it Lorence. You learned how to be an agent, you can learn how to cook but you have enough money to hire a live-in chef or order in every day. I’m not telling you to cut it out or end it. I’m telling you to think. You can’t do things the way you normally do. Rich’s your boss and you’re the best at what you do. Figure things out and move forward accordingly. Dont fuck up your work life for some excitement you’ll want to run from in a week. Maybe have Richmond go off on a tirade or two on you so you can figure out what’s going on between you without whispers. Just clean it up” Joel advises reading me for filth and giving me options. I smile appreciating that he doesn't coddle me.

“Okay” I concede. “Have you ever seen Richmond with women?” I ask, wondering if there was an ex wife or someone else.

“Not seriously, not without a reason” he says.

I raise a brow, “what’s that mean?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Joel says and I give him an exasperated huff.

“So he’s never asked about me?” I ask.

“Oh he did, but he asks about everyone so I thought nothing of it.” Joel says.

“What’d he ask?”

“If you were single, then if I thought pairing you with some of our colleagues would lead to intimate affairs,” he says. I smile at Terrance’s futile fishing expeditions.

“If you were me, what would you do?” I ask Joel.

“I can’t put myself in the shoes of a woman” he says and I push him playfully with my good hand..

“You know what I mean”

“I know you’re happy and your life is full already but I would like to see you with someone. Someone who loves you and takes care of you. Someone that's always there and you can't avoid. I don't know if that's Terrance Richmond but if it is you deserve it all. Just know that he’s not your usual free spirited guy that’s gonna sit around when you don't call back. He’s a grown man and your boss” Joel says and I sigh with a lot more than I bargained for on my plate. Joel pulls me into a caring hug and I know I’m lucky to have him even if it’s not what I want to hear. He’s right. He’s never steered me wrong before and he’s partly to thank for where I am now in life. So I heed his advice.

…

I’ve been sitting in it all day. From the moment I got home to right now, after midnight I’ve been ruminating on my discussion with Joel. I wish he was wrong about me or Terry but I know deep down he isn’t. Terrance Richmond is a grown ass man with his shit together and isn't chasing his peak. By all means he’s already settled and successful. That’s the kind of resume that would usually keep me away. I’m the girl who likes a summer fling or a vacation romance every now and then. I need the predetermined start and end dates to keep me grounded and sane. That way there’s not too much room for distraction - that way I never end up like my mom. I sigh, wishing Beau was here as I sit alone in my house. Typically it’s my safe space but right now it feels haunted with visions of what was and what could be. Terrance grilling with my father, getting along with my mother - us kissing.

I close my eyes wishing it wasn’t almost two in the morning and I could call Sin. I make my way to the kitchen for some melatonin when my phone rings. I frown seeing Terrance is calling.

“Hey” I respond.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he asks and I frown.

“Can’t sleep” I confess and I hear a car door close.

“What’s wrong, are your injuries keeping you up?” he asks.

“No,” I sigh. “How was your flight?” I ask, hearing a knock at my door. I pull up the security feed.

“It’s me” he says just as I confirm it. It’s like my brain shuts off in a second and I’m heading to let him in. He’s been gone for the past three days. I know now it was to do reconnaissance for what happened in Monaco but we haven’t talked about Monaco since the safehouse. He hugs me gently before putting a kiss on my head.

“Thought I’d drive past your place on my way home” he says, it would be weird if it were anyone else.

“How was your trip?” I ask.

“Could've been better, how are you feeling? If the meds are keeping you awake maybe have them adjusted” he says but I stopped needing my meds two days ago.

“It’s not the medication - I don’t want to be here alone tonight and I realized it after Sin went to bed” I tell Terry.

“I can drop you off there if that's what you want?” he asks.

“Not it's okay” I sigh looking up at him. Finding peace in his light eyes is the very last thing I thought would ever be possible. I feel my nerves settle and he smirks leaning in to give me a quick kiss.

“If you want me to stay I can or you can come over to my place” he offers.

“Let me pack a bag” I smiled, letting go of him. I head up to my room and throw everything I’ll need in an overnight bag. I realize I've been advised against lifting and call him. He emerges moments later looking around at my bedroom. I realize the decor isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I’m still finding my signature style.

“Are all these plants real?” he asks.

“Yeah” I nod, getting my slippers and putting them in my bag. When I look at him he’s looking at the plants with a smile again.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he yawns.

“You don’t like it, do you?” I ask, thinking of my father who still doesn't understand why I have so much ‘dirt’ in my room.

“I didn’t say that” he says coming over to my vanity as I pack my makeup bag. He dips his head sniffing my neck before placing a kiss on the same spot.

“Which one is that?” he asks, looking at the perfume bottles in front of me. I hand him the bottle.

“Sin and I did a perfume workshop in Paris. I made this” I say.

“Is Sin your best friend?” he asks.

“Yup, my mom was the babysitter while aunt Kaye was out, so we’re very close” I explain.

“Pack a swimsuit,” he says.

“Why?” I ask heading over to my drawers to find one.

“I have a pool and water therapy is good for recovery,” he says. Of course he has a pool.

“Of course you have a pool, how else would you come up with sick and twisted water endurance tests for us” I tease getting my swimsuit and putting it in the bag.

“Swimming is perfect low impact active recovery, that’s why I have a pool” he says as I zip my bag. He takes it with ease adding me to his load and descending the stairs. I lock up and I head to his car with him. I schedule send a text to Sin that I’m with Terrance so someone knows by location. My conversation gnaws at my consciousness as I get in with him.

“If you're having flashbacks from Monaco you can tell me, PTSD is better treated sooner than later” he says resting a hand on my thigh.

“I’m not” I tell him truthfully.

“Lorence, I know what you look like at peace and I know how you look stressed,” he says.

“The car is in darkness” I state matter of factly.

“Not dark enough” he responds.

“So the pretty cat eyes come with night vision?” I ask turning to his shadowy shadowy silhouette.

“I pay attention,” he says at the stoplight. Red hues are cast into the car and I make out worry in his expression.

“I’m just having a bad day,” I confess.

“Anything I can do?” He asks and it makes my heart swell. I lean on his shoulder.

“This is good” I admit and he gives my leg a squeeze. We drive for another twenty minutes in silence. I watch closely and find us in the most expensive residential part of town. I sit upright looking at the gorgeous homes as we enter the gated community. It’s not full of cookie-cutter houses; but architectural feats that are unique in their own way. We turn off the main road into a driveway lined with trees. We drive for another minute before arriving on a lit driveway and a castle-like house. I look at Terrance and wonder how much he actually makes. It makes my home look like a toy. He opens the garage and we drive in. He gets out with my bag and I follow suit. When we enter his home I step back and look around at his manor. It’s not that I didn't expect him to live in a nice place but I definitely didn't expect this. The room is white with black and grey accents all over. There are high ceilings and top of the line furnishings. Not a single thing is out of place and it’s classic but elevated like the man himself.

“Come on, let's take the elevator” he says. Of course he has an elevator. I follow him to a hidden elevator door that seamlessly integrates into the wall.

“DId you buy or build this?” I ask as we step in.

“I built it” he responds, pressing a console that takes us up. But the door in front of us doesn't open. One does to the side of us. He steps out first and by the scent of his cologne I know we’re in his closet. We enter the main part of his bedroom and his bed is bigger than any I've even seen before. “Let me get a shower, then if you're hungry we can get something to eat or drink.” he says leaving me to my own devices.

I’ve never been so out of step, actually Terrance Richmond keeps me in a state of frenzy. If he was a gentleman, he’d have offered me my own room. But we’re past that now aren't we? Joel's warning comes back to me as I change into pj’s instead of the silk negligee I packed. I sit on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and take it all in. I take off my wrist brace and massage the area as I take stock of his home. Why would he want me when he has all this and my own mother didn't want me? There it is, the thought that’s ruined every single one of my relationships. The pain that’s never really gone and keeps me in safe comfortable solitude. I wipe the silent tears and stand going to his full length mirror to wipe them away. I put on a brave face and sit back on the bed. Terry comes out minutes later smelling heavenly and with black silk pants.

“Your eyes are red,” he says.

“The tiredness hit me” I lie and he nods, pulling back the sheets for me to climb in. I do, facing away from him and he turns off the light. A moment passes before he reaches out and pulls me back against the heat of his bare chest, wrapping his arms around me. It takes a few minutes before our breaths sync and our chests rise and fall in tandem. It’s the most non sexually intimate exchange I've ever had with a man I don't consider family. I place my hand over his and he pulls me even closer.

“Feeling disoriented after a traumatic experience like what you went through in Monaco is normal. You don't have to be strong around me if you feel down” he says. “I know you’re crying - you don't have to tell me why. Just know I’m here” he says before kissing my cheek. He has the patience of a saint putting up with me like this when we should be keeping things light and fun.

“I’m sorry for ruining-”

“Lorence being real with me won't ruin anything” he says.

“Yes it will” I tell him.

“You’ve had a stressful few weeks. From Switzerland to now. In part because of me. You're having a bad day and telling me why won't ruin anything” he says in his usual cadence like he’s commanding time and there's no rush.

“Can we talk about it later? Or never?” I propose and he scoffs letting me go. It’s happening faster than I could have even imagined. He sits on the edge of the bed. It takes me a moment to swallow my fears and try to fix it.

“Tell me a joke, make me laugh” I say to break up the silence and distance but it stretches on. The rejection starts to sting until he clears his throat.

“What do me and elephants have in common?’ he asks, turning to me. It’s a trap, a well laid trap and I can't help but smile.

“You're tall and strong?” I propose not playing into it.

“What else?” he asks with humour in his voice. I shake my head not wanting to give him a complex about his ears anymore than I already have.

“I don't know” I lie.

“We both never forget” he says, subverting my expectations and I laugh relieved to have not said the wrong thing. “And we have big ears,” he adds. I sit beside him and he taps on the sconces above his bed giving us dim light.

“What do you call a cow with no legs?” I ask.

“No clue” he shrugs.

“Ground beef” I respond and he shakes his head. “Your’s was worse” I snicker.

“It still made you smile,” he shrugs.

“I hope you know I didn't mean anything by it. I just felt cornered and was popping off at the mouth” I apologize.

“I know you weren't being malicious. I’ve heard much worse from people I pushed less. It’s pretty wholesome stuff for an agent” he says.

“Here I was feeling bad” I shrug and he takes my chin kissing me softly.

“I’m not someone you have to handle with kid gloves Lorena.” The look he gives me is both scathing and sympathetic. My shoulders fall and I start to feel bad for my emotions today. Here I have this man that’s asking to be there for me and ran into a life threatening situation to rescue me, and I’m allowing the actions of others who never showed me that same concern decades ago ruin things.

“I’m so-”

“Let’s start tonight over” Terry says, cutting my apology off. I can’t help but smile.

“Okay” I nod and he lifts me off the bed and sits me across his lap.

“I missed you” he says, smothering me in quick kisses.

“I missed you too” I take his chin, bringing his lips to mine.

“When you miss me, call me, as long as I’m not in the middle of something I’ll answer” he says.

“Okay”

“Got you something” he says and I sit up.

“Really?” I ask and he nods.

“It’s in the car let me go get it” he says standing and setting me down gently.

“Okay” I agree and he leaves. I look at my bag before going into it and grabbing the negligee. The bathroom lights flick on as I enter. It’s as impressive as what I've seen of the rest of the house. I rid myself of the pajama pants set and put on the night dress. I look myself over before walking back into the bedroom. I sit on the couch in the sitting area instead of the bed and he emerges with two bags. He looks up after setting them down. It takes a moment for him to locate me. His eyes focus on the change and he comes over holding a frame and something wrapped.

“The dress is nice,” he comments, drinking me in with his eyes.

“I don't sleep in pants usually - unless it's winter” I tell him as he takes the seat next to me.

“Good to know,” he says, placing the wrapped square on my lap. He turns on another lamp and I tear the brown wrapping paper. A night scene is in front of me and I smile the moment I recognize it. The beach at night, in Monaco where we sat together. I run my hand over the coarse texture of the sand.

“The artist used sand from the beach,” he says, confirming that’s where he spent the last few days.

“It’s gorgeous” I smile and he does too.

“You like it?” He asks and I nod. Getting this made for me only confirms I was on his mind while he was away.

“I do, thank you” I smile giving him a hug. He kisses my cheek before pulling out the frame housing the caricature art of us. In the chaos of my stuff being cleared out I thought for sure that art piece was left behind.

“I can't believe you had this framed” I laugh looking at it.

“The person at the studio said a frame was the best way to preserve it” he says and I kiss him.

“Now I’ve got to find somewhere to put this. I know where I’m gonna put the canvas” I tell him. “Thank you for thinking of me” I tell him and he seems to take a back.

“Lorena, I haven't stopped thinking about you since you walked into my office wearing that striped blue shirt and grey slacks.” he says stopping time. I turn to him and try to go back to that day. My heart races as I come up short on the memory. “Your hair was straight, parted in the middle and you smelled like flowers” he says. I swallow hard, blinking fast to keep the emotions at bay. My favorite perfume then was Miss Dior. Guilt swells as my appreciation grows and my emotions are a seesaw. “What?” he asks.

“I was doubting the logistics of us today. Not because I don't want to see where things go but … Terrance this is new for me. Not just that you're my boss and the CEO of the company I work for - I have to figure out to toe the line there. But even this; the sharing space … I probably don't make any sense. You already know I avoid uncomfortable situations and I like to run but I know I can't run from you … not that I want to but today it’s felt like my head wa in a pressure cooker” I confess struggling to articulate my complicated feelings and fears. Terry looks at me. His usual expression is replaced by an empathetic one. He reaches for me and places a kiss on my forehead instead of responding with words.

“What do you think?” I ask with a racing heart.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day” he says holding me instead of taking issue with my honest emotions. He’s so different from who I thought I knew him to be.

“You're not upset?” I ask.

“No” he says without needing to consider it. I take a moment before pulling back to look him over. He's resolute in his answer, his hand slides down over my dress resting on my hip. “You’re here now - in my arms, in my home, telling me how you felt, smelling good and looking better. What do I have to be upset about?” he asks, surprising me. “I’m not a CEO in this dynamic,” he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder.

“Your dominance is not something you can turn off” I tell him and he smiles. “I’m not asking you to either but it's there” I tell him and he takes a moment smiling again.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s not productive” he says, keeping whatever it is to himself.

“Tell me”

“There are better ways to clear your head,” he advises. After our walk on the beach, I sit forward ready to hear his advice.

“I’m listening?’ I say and he comes in for a kiss, when he pulls away he gets up and then somehow ends up on his knees in front of me. His eyes tell me where his mind is. I take a breath more familiar with this territory. He kisses each of my inner thighs.

“You have the CEO on his knees” he says, still dominating me in a submissive position. My heart races as passion pools in me. He waits for permission and I nod giving him the green light. His hands slide up my legs and under my thong, grabbing the sides he pulls it off. He scoots me forward gently on the side of my injury, he places kisses on my inner thighs sliding me onto my back comfortably before setting my legs over his shoulders so he’s locked in to my center and I’m locked in his hold. Terry caresses me, upping the tension and kindling sparks I didn't know existed. It leaves searing anticipation igniting all the parts of my body that drive sensory pleasure. He gives me a final look at the same time he takes my hand - our fingers interlock and his head dips out of sight and under the hiked up negligee. His beard tickles my center as he parts my other set of lips with his tongue.

The kiss builds to one of the ones my mouth is used to being treated with. My body’s reaction to him is something new as the tension builds. My hand caresses his waves in a gesture of encouragement and appreciation. There’s nothing to be said as my breaths grow increasingly more shallow. I go to cover my mouth but his fingers don’t release their grip on mine, not allowing the contact to break.

“Be as loud as you want baby” he says, giving me the green light. I swallow my moan and he blows on my clit sending a wave of pleasure through me. My moan is inevitable and when he starts sucking on it I'm finished. I squirm but he has me locked firmly in position giving me more and more.

“Stay still for me baby” he says, sounding so patient. I moan trying to oblige him but it's so much and so good.

“Let me hear you Lorence” he says pausing, before I can obey he adds one of his long fingers into me sucking and fucking me. Taunting me. My nipples are harder than ever. The nerve endings in my core are stimulated to the point of delirium.

“It feels so good” I praise his efforts.

“You’re perfect” he whispers finger fucking me as I come. His eyes are on me as I try to handle the sensations from the orgasmic relief. My body is several degrees hotter and I know he can see my nipples fighting to be seen and tended to under the silk dress. He keeps his eyes on me, letting one of my legs down and allowing me to watch him lap up my pleasure with the same attention to detail as he has for everything else. He's a perfectionist and that was nothing less. I sit up needing to kiss him, I pull him up to meet me so we’re face to face. Terry obliges the heat of his bare chest radiating into me, melting the apprehension away. I wrap my legs around his and feel his manhood poking me in my sternum through his pants. I want more, I need him. His eyes tell me we’re just getting started when the kiss is broken.

“Did you like that Lorence?” he smiles, licking what's left of my orgasm from his lips. His eyes spark as my expression changes. We’re so far gone from like, it’s time to practice making love.

authors note: sound off in the comments and let me know how you felt about getting to know Lorence's softer side and insecurities and how Terry's handling everything on his plate. Also, yes theres more 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ in the next chapter - had to break it up because it was getting too long.

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satansdarlin · 6 months ago

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Marigold Margins: Chapter one

Wayne Enterprises CEO!Tim Drake x Fem!reader

Notes: a thank you to my lovely gf for beta reading this for me, this has been set up to at least to have ten chapters but I might combine some into one. Tim and the reader are both in their early twenties between 21-25ish. (Also indi and scarlet might be the yns of their own up coming stories :^ if yall would be interested). Drop a comment or a reblog! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, slightly toxic work environment, dick being shameless and trying to set you and Tim up, timmy being cute

Word count: 8.4K

Rating: T

Shit, your feet hurt like a bitch. Your heels clicked against the marble floor, each step sending sharp reminders of the blisters forming on your skin. The golden stilettos had seemed like the perfect accent to your outfit this morning - now they felt like an exercise in masochism. Fashion over comfort: the eternal struggle.

"Morning, Gary," you called out to the janitor, who was already familiar with your early arrivals.

He paused his work, offering a knowing smile. "Good morning, miss. Mr. Drake hasn't made it in yet."

"Thanks for the heads up." You appreciated Gary's small kindnesses - they were rare enough in this department, where your rapid promotion to executive secretary had earned you more enemies than friends.

The executive elevator hummed to life as you pressed the button for the top floor. While waiting, you shifted your weight, trying to ease the pressure on your aching feet. Tension. The word perfectly described your entire situation at Wayne Enterprises. Was the forty-dollar hourly rate worth it? Absolutely. What secretary made that kind of money, complete with generous paid leave? But loving the job? That was... complicated.

The work itself came naturally to you. The real challenge was Timothy Jackson Drake himself. Everyone knew about him - Gotham's wonder boy, the youngest CEO in the country, part of the infamous Wayne family. But after a year as his secretary, you'd learned there was more to him than the nepotism narrative suggested. He'd earned his position through genuine brilliance and dedication. That same drive, however, meant he had... expectations. While never openly cruel, he could be relentlessly demanding.

The elevator announced your arrival with a soft chime. Your morning routine unfolded with practiced efficiency: lights on, computers booting up, files arranged on your desk. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the office with its rich aroma. You prepared Mr. Drake's desk with military precision - work files stacked just so, his favorite mug ready, a banana and granola bar positioned nearby (which he'd likely ignore until you forced lunch upon him).

Settling at your desk, you dove into the morning's emails and calls. The sound of dragging footsteps announced Tim's arrival, and you glanced up to find him looking like he'd just crawled out of bed - or perhaps never made it there at all. He mumbled something vaguely resembling gratitude before shuffling into his office, his silhouette visible through the frosted glass partition that separated your workspace from his. You watched as he slumped into his chair, took a long drink of coffee, and gradually transformed from zombie to CEO. It was a fascinating metamorphosis you'd witnessed countless times. The way his shoulders would straighten, how his eyes would sharpen from bleary to laser-focused. Even his typing changed - from hunt-and-peck to a rapid-fire staccato that filled the office.

"Meeting minutes from yesterday?" His voice carried through the intercom, significantly more human than his earlier greeting.

"Already uploaded to the shared drive and hard copies are in the blue folder on your desk," you replied, allowing yourself a small smile. After a year, you'd learned to anticipate his needs with almost supernatural accuracy.

"The Robertson contract?"

"Legal returned it this morning. I've highlighted the changes they suggested in yellow. Green tabs mark where you need to sign."

There was a pause, then: "What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork and caffeine withdrawal," you answered before you could stop yourself. These little moments of casual banter were dangerous - they made it too easy to forget he was Timothy Drake-Wayne, your boss, and not just Tim, the overworked genius who occasionally made you laugh.

The intercom crackled with what might have been a chuckle. "Fair enough."

The morning proceeded with its usual rhythm until your phone buzzed with a text from Bruce Wayne's secretary. Your stomach dropped as you read the message: the Wayne patriarch was making one of his surprise visits. These always put Tim on edge, though he'd never admit it.

You pressed the intercom. "Mr. Wayne will be here in fifteen minutes."

The typing sounds from Tim's office stopped abruptly. Through the frosted glass, you could see him run a hand through his hair - a nervous tell you'd picked up on months ago.

"Right," he said, voice tight. "Can you-"

"I'll get fresh coffee, clear your schedule for the next hour, and make sure the quarterly reports are ready," you interrupted, already standing. "And yes, I'll grab you a proper breakfast from the café downstairs. You'll need more than a forgotten granola bar for this."

Another pause. "Have I mentioned you're terrifying sometimes?"

"Only when necessary, sir." You slipped on your torturous heels again, ignoring the protest from your feet. Bruce Wayne's visits always meant a performance - from everyone.

As you rushed to prepare for the impromptu meeting, you couldn't help but wonder what drama today would bring. Bruce Wayne's "casual visits" were never actually casual, and being caught in the crossfire between two of Gotham's most powerful men was not how you'd planned to spend your morning.

But then again, when did anything at Wayne Enterprises go according to plan?

You stood up when the elevator binged, quickly tapping the intercom to alert Tim with a short chirp. Your hands clasped professionally in front of you as your eyes landed on Mr. Wayne, himself. The man commanded attention without even trying, filling the space with his presence in a way that made your spacious reception area feel suddenly cramped.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake is in his office." Your greeting was the perfect blend of professional courtesy and careful distance. Your gaze slid over to Samantha, Mr. Wayne's assistant, and you felt your smile tighten imperceptibly. She returned it with one of her trademark saccharine smiles, so sweet it could rot teeth. The fakeness radiated off her like cheap perfume.

Last thing you needed was another gentle lecture from Tim about "trying" to be nice to her. You still remembered his exact words from last time: "I know she's... difficult, but we need to maintain good relations with Bruce's office." Easy for him to say – he didn't have to deal with her passive-aggressive emails and tendency to "accidentally" schedule conflicts with Bruce's calendar.

Bruce Wayne nodded in acknowledgment, his steel-blue eyes taking in every detail of the office with that unnerving intensity he was famous for. "Thank you. The quarterly reports?"

You smoothly retrieved the leather portfolio from your desk. "All prepared, sir. I've included the updated projections you requested, along with the comparative analysis from last quarter." You handed it to him with practiced grace, careful to maintain eye contact for exactly the right amount of time – long enough to show confidence, short enough to show deference.

"Excellent." He accepted the portfolio, and you caught the slight raise of his eyebrows – approval? surprise? With Bruce Wayne, it was impossible to tell.

Samantha's voice cut through the moment like a dulled knife. "I hope those numbers match what we have downstairs. It would be... awkward if there were any discrepancies." Her tone suggested she'd enjoy nothing more.

You felt your smile freeze in place. "Everything has been triple-checked against the master database, of course." And quadruple-checked, because you'd learned early on that giving Samantha any ammunition was like handing matches to a pyromaniac.

The sound of Tim's office door opening saved you from further interaction. He emerged looking every inch the CEO – tie straight, jacket buttoned, not a hair out of place. The transformation from his earlier zombie state was complete.

"Bruce," he greeted, managing to make the single syllable sound both warm and professional. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Best meetings are the unexpected ones," Bruce replied with that particular smile that always made you wonder if he actually believed that or just enjoyed keeping everyone on their toes.

You caught Tim's slight shoulder tension as he gestured toward his office. "Shall we?"

As they moved past your desk, Tim gave you the briefest of glances – a look you'd learned to interpret over months of working together. This one clearly said: "Hold all calls unless the building's on fire, and maybe even then."

Samantha lingered, adjusting her designer handbag with deliberate slowness. "I'll need copies of all correspondence between our offices from the last month," she announced, as if she hadn't already received them twice.

"I'll have those ready by the time the meeting concludes," you replied smoothly, silently adding 'you insufferable paper-pusher' in your head.

As she finally followed the men into Tim's office, you sank back into your chair, already pulling up the correspondence files. At least you'd had the foresight to grab that extra shot of espresso in your morning coffee. Something told you this was going to be a long day.

Eventually, as you'd expected, Samantha was ushered out of the room to give the two men privacy. The glass frosted further, obscuring Bruce and Tim from view – a clear signal that whatever discussion followed would be more about family than business. You mentally added "pick up comfort donuts" to your afternoon agenda, already knowing Tim's favorites: chocolate-glazed for regular bad days, Boston cream for family drama.

The rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filled the silence, punctuated only by Samantha's restless shuffling. She cleared her throat with obvious intent, and you looked up, raising an eyebrow in what you hoped was a passably polite expression.

"You know we've never actually talked," she began, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Which is so weird considering aren't we the same age?"

You bit back the urge to point out that she was actually five years your senior and somehow acted a decade younger. The irony wasn't lost on you.

"How did you exactly get this job?" she pressed on, tilting her head in practiced curiosity. "I always heard Mr. Drake was... picky."

Your eye twitched at the obvious implication, but you maintained your composure. Years of advanced placement courses had taught you patience, if nothing else. "Mr. Drake hand picked me for this job," you responded, keeping your tone professional and detached.

She gasped with theatrical surprise, as if this wasn't common knowledge in the Wayne Enterprises gossip circuit. "Really? Do you mind if I ask why?"

'Yes,' you thought, but instead rolled your head side to side, releasing some tension with a satisfying pop. "No, I don't mind. Mr. Drake chose me because he met me through the Martha Wayne scholarship. I was looking for a job during that time and my professors recommended me for the position."

You deliberately omitted how Tim had tracked your academic career with interest long before that – how you'd graduated high school two years early, earned a full ride to Gotham University, and excelled in advanced courses he'd specifically recommended. Let her draw her own conclusions; you had nothing to prove to Samantha or anyone else.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. You could practically see her trying to piece together a narrative that fit her preconceptions, one that wouldn't force her to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, you'd earned your position through merit rather than whatever implications she was so eager to make.

Before she could formulate another sugar-coated barb, your phone buzzed with an incoming email. The subject line made you suppress a smile: it was from Tim, sent from his phone.

"If you'll excuse me," you said, turning back to your computer with practiced dismissal, "I have some urgent matters to attend to."

You could feel her hovering, reluctant to give up her fishing expedition. But years of dealing with Gotham's elite had taught you the art of creating an impenetrable wall of professional busy-ness. After a few more moments, she finally retreated to one of the waiting area chairs, her designer heels clicking in defeat.

Opening Tim's email, you found a single line: "Order lunch in. This might take a while."

You glanced at the frosted glass of his office, wondering what family drama was unfolding behind it. In your year working here, you'd learned to read the signs: the level of frosting on the glass, the tension in Tim's shoulders, the particular way Bruce Wayne's visits seemed timed to maximize inconvenience. Something was definitely up, and judging by the atmosphere, it was bigger than the usual Wayne family dynamics.

"The Martha Wayne scholarship?" Samantha's voice dripped with faux interest, her voice cutting through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. "That must have been... nice. Getting a free ride like that."

Your fingers paused briefly over your keyboard before resuming their steady rhythm. Two could play at this game. "It was an honor," you replied evenly. "The foundation only selects the top 1% of applicants. I'm sure you're familiar with the process, working so closely with Mr. Wayne."

Her smile flickered for just a moment. "Oh, I handle more of the... executive side of things."

"Of course." You kept your eyes on your screen, responding to an urgent email from R&D while she processed your subtle jab.

"Still," she persisted, examining her manicured nails, "it must be challenging, working for someone so... young. Especially given your... background."

You felt your jaw clench but maintained your professional demeanor. "Mr. Drake's age has nothing to do with his capabilities. He's one of the most brilliant minds in Gotham's business sector." Your tone carried just enough edge to make it clear you wouldn't tolerate any disparagement of Tim.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Samantha backpedaled, though her smirk suggested otherwise. "It's just that some of us had to work our way up the traditional path. But I suppose there are... other ways to advance."

You actually had to bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that her "traditional path" had involved an uncle on the board of directors. Instead, you smiled pleasantly and reached for your coffee. "Everyone's path is different. For instance, I started in the scholarship program at fifteen, finished my degree at twenty, and earned this position through academic excellence and practical capability. But you're right – there are many ways to advance."

The subtle emphasis on your achievements made her shift uncomfortably in her chair. Before she could respond, your intercom buzzed.

"Miss (L/N), could you send in the Miller files?" Tim's voice was perfectly professional, but you caught the underlying tension.

"Right away, Mr. Drake." You stood, gathering the requested documents, grateful for the interruption. As you moved toward his office, you called back to Samantha, "Please excuse me. Duty calls."

You could feel her glare burning into your back as you approached Tim's door, but you kept your posture straight and your stride confident. You'd worked too hard to let someone like Samantha make you doubt your place here, even for a second.

Besides, you had more important things to worry about – like what kind of family drama was causing that muscle in Tim's jaw to twitch visible even through the frosted glass, and whether you should upgrade those comfort donuts to a full stress-eating care package. You handed him the files before going back to your desk.

Your phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up with a notification that made your stomach turn.

Text notification: 1

Asshole: hey bbg can we talk? I know you're probably still mad at me…

You swiped away Josh's message with perhaps more force than necessary. Josh. Your sweet, charming, lying ex-boyfriend who apparently thought "probably still mad" was an adequate response to finding him in bed with your supposed best friend. You'd been playing an exhausting game of dodge-the-ex across Gotham for weeks now, removing yourself from your usual haunts just to avoid his attempts at "explaining." The mere thought of him made your skin crawl.

"Whose that? Your little boyfriend?" Samantha's sugary voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. How someone could have such a grating voice was beyond you.

"Ex. Ex-boyfriend," you corrected automatically, then mentally kicked yourself for engaging. You shook your head, redirecting to safer, professional territory. "I'd rather not talk about it. Do you think you could send over the info for the upcoming Christmas gala when you get back to your office?"

Samantha's face fell into an exaggerated pout at your deflection, clearly disappointed at being denied fresh gossip fodder. You could practically see her filing away this nugget of personal information for future use. Nothing stayed private for long in Wayne Enterprises, but you'd be damned if you gave her the satisfaction of spreading this particular story.

Your phone buzzed again, and you flipped it face-down with a bit more force than necessary. The movement caught Samantha's attention, her eyes lighting up with predatory interest.

"Bad breakup?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Those are always so... difficult. Especially when you have to maintain a professional image at work."

The implied threat in her words – that she could make this gossip very public, very quickly – wasn't lost on you. But you'd handled worse than Samantha's attempts at social manipulation.

"The Christmas gala details?" you repeated, your tone making it clear the previous topic was closed for discussion. "Mr. Drake needs to review the schedule, and I'd like to avoid any potential conflicts with Mr. Wayne's calendar."

Her lips pursed at your professional pivot, but before she could attempt another probe into your personal life, the sound of approaching footsteps from Tim's office made you both straighten instinctively. The frosting on the glass cleared as Bruce emerged first, his expression unreadable as always. Tim followed, and your trained eye caught the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw that spelled out family drama in neon letters.

"I'll expect those reports by Friday," Bruce stated, though something in his tone suggested this wasn't really about reports at all.

"Of course," Tim replied, professional mask firmly in place. Only someone who knew him well would catch the slight strain in his voice.

Samantha jumped to attention, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "I'll send over the gala information this afternoon," she chirped, finally, blessedly ready to leave.

You watched as Bruce and Samantha departed, waiting until the elevator doors closed before turning to Tim. He was still standing there, staring at the closed elevator doors as if they held the secrets of the universe.

"I ordered Thai from that place you like," you said softly. "And I can have someone grab those donuts from downtown if-"

"You're a lifesaver," he interrupted, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, completely destroying its professional arrangement. "But can we... can we not eat in the office?"

You blinked in surprise. In all your time working here, Tim had never suggested leaving the office for lunch. "Of course. Where would you prefer?"

"The roof?" He looked almost sheepish suggesting it. "I just... I need air that doesn't smell like Wayne Enterprises for a few minutes."

Your phone buzzed again – probably Josh – but you ignored it. "I'll grab the food when it arrives. You should go up now, get some fresh air."

He nodded, already loosening his tie as he headed for the stairwell. Twenty minutes later, you found him sitting on the maintenance ledge, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a college student than a CEO.

"One Pad Thai with extra peanuts," you announced, settling down beside him with the takeout bags. "And yes, I grabbed extra spring rolls."

"You know me too well," he managed a small smile, accepting the container you handed him. "I'm sorry about..." he gestured vaguely with his chopsticks, "all that."

"Family's complicated," you offered, carefully keeping your tone neutral as you opened your own lunch.

"Bruce wants me to relocate to the Metropolis office," he said suddenly, staring out at the Gotham skyline. "Says it would be 'good for my professional development.'"

You nearly choked on your spring roll. "Metropolis?"

"Yeah." He stabbed at his noodles with more force than necessary. "Because apparently running the Gotham office isn't enough of a challenge."

"That's ridiculous," you said before you could stop yourself. "You've increased productivity by 40% since taking over, our client retention is at an all-time high, and the employee satisfaction surveys-"

"Have you been memorizing my achievements?" He turned to look at you, a hint of amusement breaking through his stress.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "It's my job to know these things."

"Right. Your job." Something flickered across his face too quickly to read. "Speaking of jobs... you'd have to come too, you know. To Metropolis. If I agreed."

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest. "Are you... considering it?"

"No," he said quickly, then paused. "Maybe. I don't know." He set down his food and turned to face you fully. "Would you? Come to Metropolis, I mean? If I asked?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications neither of you were ready to address. Your phone buzzed again in your pocket, but for once, you didn't even notice.

You hummed softly, letting your gaze drift over Gotham's sprawling landscape. From this height, you could actually see past the city's ever-present smog, though any true Gothamite knew the city's real beauty emerged after dark. The endless sea of lights, the way the neon cut through the darkness – it was home, or at least it had been.

Your phone buzzed again, another message from Josh joining the pile. You glanced down at the string of notifications, each one a reminder of how quickly your social circle had imploded. Some friends they'd turned out to be – taking his side, sending nasty messages about how a "prude" like you had it coming. The betrayal still stung, but maybe not as sharply as it should. Maybe that said something about how ready you were to leave it all behind.

Your parents had always encouraged you to spread your wings beyond Gotham's borders anyway. "The world's bigger than Crime Alley," your mom used to say. You slipped the phone back into your pocket, silencing the ghosts of relationships past.

"Yeah, I'd come with you," you said finally, turning back to Tim with a slight smile. "It's my job to be at your side during all the professional hours anyway."

Something shifted in his expression at your words. "'Professional hours,'" he repeated, as if testing the phrase. "Right. Because that's what this is about. Professional... obligations."

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. There was a weight to his words that seemed to encompass more than just office dynamics and working relationships. The autumn breeze picked up, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city below, and you found yourself hyperaware of how close you were sitting, how his rolled-up sleeves revealed surprisingly toned forearms, how his hair was still slightly mussed from running his hands through it.

"Tim," you started, then caught yourself. "Mr. Drake-"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "Don't do that. Not up here." He gestured to the expanse around you. "We're literally above all that right now."

Your phone buzzed again, and this time Tim noticed your slight wince. "Everything okay?"

"Just..." you waved a hand dismissively, "ex-boyfriend drama. Nothing important."

His expression darkened slightly. "Josh?" At your surprised look, he added quickly, "I... might have overheard some break room gossip. About what happened."

"Great," you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Good to know my humiliation made it all the way to the executive floor."

"Hey," his voice was gentle but firm, "you're not the one who should be humiliated. He's the idiot who-" he cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Sorry. Not my place."

"No, it's..." you found yourself smiling despite everything, "it's kind of nice. Hearing someone take my side for once."

The look he gave you then made your breath catch. "I'm always on your side," he said quietly, and somehow you knew he meant more than just the Josh situation.

You forced yourself to take a steady breath, trying to calm your racing heart. No. Absolutely not. You were not going to develop feelings for your boss. It didn't matter that Tim was barely a year older than you, or that his disheveled appearance right now made him look unfairly attractive, or that the way he was looking at you made your stomach do flips. This was a completely professional relationship and it would stay that way. You cleared your throat and offered him a carefully measured smile.

"Well, if we do end up moving to the Metropolis office, I'd have to start looking at apartments over there," you murmured, already running calculations in your head. Even with your generous salary, Metropolis real estate prices were notorious. Maybe you could find something affordable downtown, though the commute would be rough. Your inner penny-pincher was already cringing at the potential security deposits and elevated cost of living.

"About that," Tim straightened slightly, his expression shifting to something you couldn't quite read. "Wayne Enterprises has corporate housing in Metropolis. High-rise apartments, actually. Usually reserved for executives and their... key personnel."

The way he said 'key personnel' made your pulse jump again. Traitor heart.

"Key personnel?" you echoed, trying to keep your tone light.

"Well," he shifted slightly closer, and you caught a whiff of his expensive cologne mixed with coffee, "can't have my irreplaceable assistant living in some sketchy downtown apartment, can I?"

"I'm hardly irreplaceable," you protested weakly, even as your brain helpfully reminded you that no other assistant had lasted more than three months before you.

Tim's expression turned serious. "You are, though. You're the only one who's ever..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, "understood. The job. The pressure. Me."

The last word hung in the air between you, loaded with unspoken implications. You became acutely aware of how close you were sitting, how easy it would be to just lean a little closer, how his eyes seemed to darken as they met yours.

Your phone buzzed again, shattering the moment. Tim's gaze flickered to your pocket, then back to your face, something almost like frustration crossing his features.

You sighed, glancing down at your persistently buzzing pocket. "I should probably..." you mumbled, finally pulling out your phone. You knew Josh well enough to know he wouldn't stop until you dealt with him directly. Your face twisted in disgust as you scrolled through the barrage of messages – a nauseating mix of sweet manipulation ("baby, please, we can work this out"), degrading insults, and crude comments about your intimate life together. The last ones made your skin crawl, especially his boasts about being the 'only one who could make you feel that good.' Gross.

You could feel Tim's eyes on you as you stared at the screen, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't just feed into Josh's need for attention. The weight of Tim's gaze was different from the usual scrutiny you felt in the office – more protective than professional.

"Maybe you should just block him?" Tim suggested, his voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. The CEO tone, as you privately called it – the one that made board members squirm.

You shook your head, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "No way. I need him to see I can live without him." The admission hung in the air, more vulnerable than you'd intended. Your fingers hovered over your phone's keypad as you entered your passcode, very aware of how childish that might sound to someone like Tim.

But when you glanced up, there was no judgment in his expression – just something fierce and protective that made your breath catch. He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the cool rooftop air.

"He already sees it," Tim said quietly, his eyes fixed on your face. "Every day you walk into this building, every meeting you handle perfectly, every time you prove you're exactly where you belong – that's you living without him. And doing it better than he could ever imagine."

The intensity in his voice made you look up, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze, your phone temporarily forgotten in your hands. This wasn't your boss speaking anymore – this was something else entirely, something that made your heart race and your professional boundaries start to blur.

Your breath caught as you suddenly became hyperaware of every point of contact between you – his fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your bicep, his head tilted toward yours, close enough that you could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. "Mr. Drake, I-"

He rolled his eyes, but there was a playful warmth in the gesture that made your stomach flip. "Tim. Just Tim for right now."

Your lips parted to respond, but the creak of the rooftop door shattered the moment. Dick Grayson, the eldest Wayne sibling, emerged into the afternoon light, and Tim immediately pulled back, professional distance snapping into place like a shield. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling oddly bereft.

"Hey Timbo, sorry to interrupt your lunch but I need a favor." Dick's trademark charming smile did nothing to soften Tim's exasperated expression.

"Sure, just let me finish my food-" Tim paused, catching something in Dick's expression. "This is kind of favor you need now?" When Dick nodded apologetically, Tim grumbled but began closing his takeout container.

Before standing, he turned back to you, placing his hand over your phone. His eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your knees weak despite sitting down. "Block him." It wasn't a request – it was pure CEO Tim Drake, the voice that brokered no argument. "We won't have room for people like him if we move to Metropolis, am I understood?"

The 'we' in that sentence felt weighted with possibility, but you pushed that thought aside. "Yes, Mr. Drake."

You watched as he gathered his things, noting how his professional mask slipped perfectly back into place, though something in his eyes remained softer when he looked at you. As he followed Dick toward the door, you could have sworn you saw him shoot his brother an irritated look.

Your phone buzzed again in your hands, but this time, instead of anxiety, you felt a surge of determination. Tim was right – you didn't need Josh's validation. With steady fingers, you pulled up his contact information and hit 'block.'

The city stretched out below you, Metropolis somewhere beyond the horizon, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe properly.

Red and blue lights pulsed across your face as the bass thundered through your chest, making your ribs vibrate with each beat. The news of the Metropolis transfer was official now – you and Tim would be heading the new office. You couldn't quite suppress the smug satisfaction you'd felt watching Samantha's face fall when the announcement was made, her practiced smile cracking just slightly at the edges.

Now, though, you were somewhat regretting sharing the news with your family. Your elder sisters had immediately sprung into celebration mode: Indi, the successful Gotham model, had easily swept you all past the velvet ropes of one of the city's hottest clubs, while Scarlet had managed a few congratulatory drinks before motherhood called her home to your nephew.

That left you nursing a dirty triple Shirley temple (which had been a mouthful to order over the deafening music) and hugging the wall like it was your job. From your vantage point, you could see Indi on the dance floor, practically melded to some guy she'd been flirting with all night. The sequins on her dress caught the strobing lights, making her look like some sort of disco ball goddess – exactly the kind of attention-grabbing presence she was known for.

You took another sip of your drink, the cherry sweetness a sharp contrast to the adult addition of vodka. The music shifted, something with a heavier beat that made the crowd surge with renewed energy. You checked your phone out of habit – no more texts from Josh, thank god, but there was a work email notification that made your heart skip:

From: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Subject: Tomorrow's Schedule Change

Time Sent: 10:47 PM

Your finger hovered over the notification, debating whether to open it. Tim had been... different since that day on the roof. Not obviously so – you both maintained perfect professionalism in the office – but there were moments: lingering glances, fingers brushing when passing documents, the way he'd started saying your name just a touch softer than necessary.

As you hesitated to open it someone bumped into you, luckily you saved your drink from spilling all over the black halter dress you were wearing showing off your back.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't-” the masculine voice was cut off as you looked up and you both stilled. Seeing Tim out of a suit was jarring, seeing tim out of a suit and in a club? That was wild.

“Mr. Drake!”

“We are out of work. Just tim” he sighed at you but it was almost in a pleased exasperation.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Drake but you'll have to try harder than that,” The teasing words slipped out before you could stop them. Tim blinked and then a wry smirk pulled on his face.

Tim's eyes darkened at your challenge, that CEO intensity suddenly focused entirely on you. "Try harder?" He stepped closer, just shy of improper, voice dropping low enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. "What exactly would that take?"

The bass pulsed through your bodies, and you were acutely aware of how different this felt from your usual office dynamics. Here, in the strobing lights and thundering music, with your back exposed by the halter dress and his suit traded for dark jeans and a fitted black henley, the careful professional distance you maintained seemed to blur and shift.

"Tim!" A familiar voice cut through the moment. Dick Grayson emerged from the crowd, another brother – Jason – trailing behind him. "Thought I saw you come this way." His eyes landed on you, and his grin widened. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly very conscious of how close you and Tim were standing. "Mr. Grayson," you managed, trying to sound professional despite the club setting.

"Oh god, not you too," Dick groaned. "It's just Dick, please. We're not at work."

"Leave her alone," Jason cut in, giving you a knowing look. "Some of us appreciate proper manners." He turned to Tim with a smirk. "Though I gotta say, baby bird, running into your secretary at a club? That's some rom-com level timing."

"Assistant," you and Tim corrected simultaneously, then shared a quick glance that made Dick's grin grow impossibly wider.

"Right, assistant," Jason drawled, making the word sound far more suggestive than it had any right to be. "The one Bruce mentioned is moving to Metropolis with you?"

The music shifted again, something slower but still thrumming with energy. Tim's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Bruce, and you found yourself unconsciously shifting closer, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by his brothers.

"Speaking of Metropolis," Dick's eyes gleamed with mischief, "I hear the nightlife there is pretty tame compared to Gotham. You two might have to make your own entertainment."

"Dick," Tim's voice carried a warning edge that made you think of board meetings and difficult clients.

"What? I'm just saying, all those late nights in the office..." Dick trailed off suggestively.

You took a long sip of your drink, using the moment to steady yourself. "I should probably find my sister," you said, looking for an escape from this increasingly dangerous conversation. "She tends to get... ambitious when left unsupervised too long."

"The model?" Jason asked, eyebrows rising. "Tall, sequined dress, currently wrapped around that guy by the DJ booth?"

You turned to look where he was pointing, and sure enough, there was Indi, having apparently upgraded from her previous dance partner. "That's her."

"Runs in the family, huh?" Dick muttered, too quiet for anyone but Jason to hear, though the sharp look Tim shot him suggested he'd caught it too.

"I'll walk you over," Tim said suddenly, placing a hand on the small of your back. The touch sent electricity down your spine, his fingers warm against your exposed skin.

As you moved through the crowd, Tim's hand stayed steady on your back, guiding you through the press of bodies. The contact felt simultaneously too much and not enough, and you found yourself hyperaware of every brush of his fingers, every slight pressure as he steered you around dancing couples.

"I didn't know you came to places like this," you said, having to lean close to his ear to be heard over the music. His cologne filled your senses, different from his usual office scent – something darker, spicier.

He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear as he replied, "I don't, usually. Dick dragged me out to 'celebrate' the Metropolis news." His tone on 'celebrate' suggested this wasn't entirely voluntary. "Though it's looking up now."

The implications in that last statement made your heart race, and you were grateful for the dim lighting hiding your blush. You were nearing the DJ booth now, Indi's sequined dress acting like a beacon in the strobing lights.

Tim's hand slipped from your back as you reached the edge of the dance floor, and the loss of contact felt almost physical. You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on you, intense despite the chaotic lighting.

"About that email," he said, stepping closer to be heard over the music. "I was wondering if you'd like to-"

"Baby sis!" Indi's voice cut through whatever Tim was about to say. She detached herself from her dance partner, practically bouncing over to you. "There you are! And with company?" Her eyes raked over Tim appreciatively. "Very nice company."

"Mr. Drake-Wayne," you introduced formally, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as Indi's eyebrows shot up in recognition.

"Your boss?" she stage-whispered, not nearly as quietly as she probably thought. "The one you're moving to Metropolis with?" Her grin turned predatory. "Oh, this is interesting."

You felt your face flame. "Indi-"

"Dance with us!" she declared, already reaching for both you and Tim. "Consider it a pre-Metropolis celebration!"

The music swelled, and you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor, Tim's amused expression the last thing you saw before the crowd swallowed you up. His hand found yours in the chaos, steady and warm, and suddenly the bass didn't seem quite so overwhelming.

As Indi disappeared back into the crowd, presumably to find her previous dance partner, you felt Tim pull you closer, his other hand finding its way back to your exposed back.

"So," he said, mouth close to your ear, "about that email..."

Your heart thundered in time with the music as you waited for him to continue, but a commotion near the bar caught your attention. Your eyes widened as you recognized a familiar figure being escorted out by security.

"Is that...?" Tim followed your gaze.

"Josh," you confirmed, watching as your ex-boyfriend was firmly guided toward the exit, his protests lost in the music. "I didn't even know he came here."

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your back. "Want me to have security make sure he stays out?"

The protective edge in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest. "No," you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it. "He's not worth the effort anymore."

Tim's eyes softened as he looked at you, and suddenly the club, the music, even Josh's dramatic exit – it all faded into background noise. "Good," he said quietly, though you heard him perfectly despite the chaos around you. "Because I was thinking..."

The music shifted again, something slower, more intimate, and Tim pulled you imperceptibly closer.

"Yes?" you prompted, your heart racing as his hand traced small circles on your back.

"Maybe we should discuss those Metropolis arrangements... over dinner?"

The implications in his tone made it clear this wasn't about corporate housing or office logistics. You looked up at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and felt a smile tug at your lips.

"That would be highly unprofessional, Mr. Drake," you said, but there was no real protest in your voice.

His answering smile was worth every HR regulation you were about to break. "I thought you told me to try harder, hm?"

And there, in the middle of a Gotham nightclub, with your ex being thrown out and your sister probably watching with glee, you finally let yourself lean into the warmth of Timothy Drake-Wayne's embrace.

"Dinner sounds perfect," you whispered, "Tim."

His smile could have lit up all of Gotham.

That's how you and Tim had gotten swept over into a booth and were actually just talking for once. Well. You both might have been a bit tipsy.

“Honestly Josh wasn't even my worst ex. There was this one girl, Maxine. Max and I dated for like all of college but she'd never bring me home or anything cause she was still closeted and stuff which I mean I get it. I didn't come out til I was like sixteenish luckily my family had enough things to worry about with my sister scarlet becoming a mom that one of us being bi-sexual was kinda glossed over. But anyway Max ended up breaking up with me and getting engaged to just some guy within like a month.” Your hands moved as you spoke, nearly sloshing your drink but Tim steadied it for you and gave a sympathetic nod.

“I get that,” he murmured. Your eyes trailed over the crowd again silently checking up on your sister. You nearly spat your drink out causing Tim to also look over. “I think your brother is trying to serenade my sister.”

You watched in horror and slight pride as indi and dick were clearly flirting with each other on the other side of the club.

“Probably planning how to embarrass us next too,” Tim hummed his hand resting on your thigh.

You let out a soft laugh, not moving away from his touch. "Oh god, can you imagine the family dinners? Indi would absolutely weaponize her model status to terrorize Bruce Wayne."

Tim's thumb traced absent patterns on your thigh, sending little sparks of electricity through your body. "Honestly? I'd pay to see that. Bruce needs someone to ruffle his feathers occasionally." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, you've been doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"Me?" You blinked in surprise, taking another sip of your drink.

"Mmhmm." Tim shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours in the intimate space of the booth. "The way you handle Samantha? Your complete overhaul of the filing system? That presentation you gave last week?" His voice dropped lower. "Bruce hasn't been this impressed by anyone since Barbara Gordon herself."

The comparison to the legendary Barbara Gordon – now CFO of Wayne Tech – made you flush with pride and embarrassment. "I just do my job."

"No," Tim's voice was serious now, though his hand remained warm on your thigh. "You do so much more than that. You..." he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "You make everything better. Easier. Not just the work stuff, but..." he gestured vaguely with his free hand, "everything."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart clench. You'd never seen him quite like this – guard down, words flowing freely, eyes soft in the dim club lighting. It was a far cry from the composed CEO who commanded boardrooms and managed million-dollar deals.

"Speaking of making things better," you said, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy moment, "remember that time you caught me stress-eating donuts in the supply closet after the Johnson meeting?"

Tim's laugh rumbled through his chest. "And instead of being professional about it, I just sat down and asked for one?" His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Best decision I ever made. Though I still maintain Boston cream is superior to your chocolate glazed preference."

"Excuse you, chocolate glazed is a classic for a reason." You nudged his shoulder playfully, then froze as you caught sight of Dick and Indi again. "Oh my god, they're exchanging numbers."

Tim followed your gaze and groaned. "Dick's never going to let this go. He's probably already planning double dates."

The casual way he said 'double dates' made your stomach flip. "Is that what this is?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "A date?"

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your thigh as he turned to face you fully. The booth suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate. "Do you want it to be?"

Your breath caught as you met his gaze. There was no trace of the CEO now – this was just Tim, looking at you like you were something precious and dangerous all at once.

"I..." you started, then jumped as someone slid into the booth opposite you.

"Baby bird!" Jason's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "And the assistant who's definitely just an assistant." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tim's hand didn't move from your thigh, though you saw his jaw clench slightly. "What do you want, Jason?"

"Can't a guy check on his baby brother?" Jason's grin was positively feral. "Especially when said brother is getting cozy with his very attractive employee in a very public place?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Indi appeared at the table, Dick in tow.

"Sister swap!" she announced cheerfully. "Dick's taking me to this amazing late-night food truck, and you" she pointed at you with a perfectly manicured finger, "are coming with us because I refuse to eat street food alone with a strange man, even if he is unreasonably attractive."

"Hey!" Dick protested, though he was grinning.

You felt Tim's hand squeeze your thigh once before reluctantly withdrawing. "Rain check on that answer?" he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest as you nodded. As you slid out of the booth, letting Indi pull you toward the exit, you couldn't help but look back. Tim was watching you go, something intense and promising in his expression that made your skin tingle.

"So," Indi linked her arm through yours as you emerged into the cool Gotham night, Dick and Jason trailing behind you. "Want to tell me why you never mentioned how hot your boss is? Or why his hand was very obviously on your thigh for the past hour?"

"Or why you're both looking at each other like you're starring in your own personal rom-com?" Dick added helpfully.

You groaned, but couldn't quite suppress your smile. "Can we just focus on finding this amazing food truck you mentioned?"

"Oh honey," Indi's grin was wicked, "you really think we're letting this go? You're about to move to Metropolis with that man. This is prime sisterly interrogation material."

As your sister dragged you through the neon-lit streets of Gotham, Dick and Jason providing running commentary on the best late-night eateries, you found your thoughts drifting back to the booth, to Tim's touch, to that unanswered question hanging between you.

Your phone buzzed in your purse:

From: Tim

Message: Dinner tomorrow? Somewhere without nosy siblings?

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you typed back a response:

To: Tim

Message: Only if you promise to let me order chocolate glazed dessert.

His reply was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: Deal. Though I still say Boston cream is superior.

"Oh my god, you're texting him already, aren't you?" Indi peered over your shoulder. "This is adorable. Dick, look how adorable they are!"

"I hate all of you," you declared, but your grin betrayed you.

"No you don't," Dick said cheerfully. "Just wait until family game night. Bruce is going to have an aneurysm."

As your sister and the Wayne brothers debated the merits of various food trucks, your phone buzzed one last time:

From: Tim

Message: For the record? I definitely want it to be a date.

The Gotham night suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"You know, we do have another sister-"

"Indi! Stop it!"

You lunged for your eldest sister, but she was already showing Dick and Jason photos of Scarlet on her phone. Running a hand down your face, you fought the urge to text your other sister a warning about Indi's matchmaking schemes.

"Scarlet might actually kill you, you know," you deadpanned. Indi just shrugged, elegant and unrepentant in her sequined glory.

"That girl needs more to life than her shop and Harkin," she stated with a dramatic eye roll, scrolling to another photo.

"Harkin brings up my point. She's a mom, Indi. She can't just—"

"Lalalala can't hear you!" Indi sang out, covering her ears like a child rather than the successful model she was.

"I swear you are not the oldest out of all of us," you muttered, watching as Dick and Jason peered at the phone with increasing interest. "She runs a successful business, has an adorable kid, and is actually happy. Why are you like this?"

Dick looked up from the phone, his expression thoughtful. "The flower shop on Kane Street? With the blue awning?"

"You know it?" you asked, surprised.

"Bruce gets arrangements from there sometimes," Jason supplied, then smirked. "Though I'm betting he'll be ordering a lot more now that his son's dating the owner's sister."

"We're not—" you started automatically, then stopped, thinking of Tim's text burning a hole in your phone. Were you? The memory of his hand on your thigh, his quiet question in the booth, made your cheeks warm.

"Oooh, she's blushing!" Indi crowed triumphantly. "And here I thought Scarlet would be the one to snag a Wayne. She always was the pretty one—"

"Shut up," you groaned, snatching her phone. "Scarlet will murder us both if she finds out you're showing her photos to random men in clubs."

"Random men?" Dick pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know we are now practically family. In fact..." He plucked Indi's phone from your grasp with surprising agility and continued scrolling. "As your future brother-in-law, I think I have a right to know all about my new sisters."

"Oh my god," you muttered, watching helplessly as Indi and Dick huddled over the phone, Jason offering commentary that was absolutely not helping.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Everything okay? Jason just sent me a very cryptic text about flower shops.

You looked up to find Jason watching you with a knowing smirk. "Did you seriously just text him?"

"Someone's gotta keep baby bird in the loop," he shrugged. "Besides, your sister's shop really does do nice arrangements. Bruce wasn't lying about that."

"The pink roses last month were from there," Dick added absently, still scrolling with Indi. "The ones for that charity gala?"

You remembered those roses. Scarlet had spent hours getting the gradient just right, each bloom a slightly different shade of pink fading to white. She'd been so proud of that order, even if she hadn't known it was for Wayne Enterprises.

"Speaking of flowers," Indi's eyes gleamed dangerously, "didn't Scarlet just hire that new delivery guy? The one with the motorcycle?"

"Indi, I swear to god—"

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Should I be worried that Dick just asked Alfred for the flower shop's number?

You typed back quickly:

To: Tim

Message: Your brothers are conspiring with my sister. Send help.

His response was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: On my way. Though I should warn you, once Dick gets an idea in his head...

You looked up to find Indi and Dick exchanging contact information, presumably to better coordinate their matchmaking schemes, while Jason watched the whole thing with undisguised amusement.

To: Tim

Message: Too late. I think we're going to be seeing a lot of family dinners in our future.

From: Tim

Message: Good thing I like your family then. Even if Indi is currently plotting with Dick to revolutionize Wayne Enterprises' floral arrangements.

Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Your ridiculous family and his ridiculous brothers, all tangled up in each other's lives now. It should have been terrifying, but somehow...

"See?" Indi nudged you, having apparently finished her plotting with Dick. "This is what happens when you finally let yourself have some fun. Now come on, that food truck isn't going to wait forever."

As you let yourself be pulled along the Gotham streets, your phone warm with Tim's messages in your hand, you thought maybe – just maybe – your sister had a point.

Even if you'd never, ever admit it to her face.

Taglist:

@ahqkas

@prettyktarou

@a-candle-maker

@mact85

@babxtxxn-blog

@mercys-manic-episode

@lilithskywalker

@princesstrunkz

@a-taken-url

#fluff #timothy drake #tim drake #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #ceo!tim drake

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staliamazing · 19 days ago

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Bet On You

@into-the-jeggyverse | prompt: white | wc: 951

James Potter loved Regulus Black. That much was clear. The general consensus in the dorm room that evening however, was that it would be nice if he could love him a little quieter.

"When the sun's out, his curls glisten in the light. Honestly, they glisten."

"Congratulations," Remus responded sarcastically, having already bared witness to James' speech about his skin, his voice, his smell.

"His eyes. Even those little white bits are beautiful."

"Jesus wept," Remus groaned, putting a pillow over his head.

"Mate, are you sure you didn't drink a love potion?" Peter asked once again as he walked over to James and ripped the glasses of his face to get a better look at his friend. "Pupils are a normal size, still ugly as a Moonkuckles's backside though." He returned the glasses to James' face as the latter feigned offence.

With a hand to his heart, James cried out. "You wound me, Wormy. Sirius will be back shortly, I need to get it all out. Remember what happened last time I dared mention anything vaguely positive about Regulus? I still have the bloody bruises to prove it!"

As if on cue, Sirius Black strolled into their dormitory and made a beeline for his boyfriend, who was still lying in his bed with a pillow where his face should be.

"Boys, boys, you're supposed to tell me when Moony over here tries to end his suffering via silky down!" Sirius threw the comment to the rest of the room as he mounts Remus, swiping the pillow off the bed and peppering his lover's face with kisses.

James sternly watched the interaction from where he was sitting, irritation bubbling inside him. He fiddled with a spare piece of parchment, squeezing it so tight it ended up as a crumpled ball in his hand. If Sirius and Remus were allowed to openly defile each other in their shared dorm room, a place which was supposed to represent the sacred bond of the four young men's friendship, why was the smallest hint of James' affections for Regulus rejected? By Sirius, at least.

Refusing to watch Sirius slobber over Remus' face any longer, James yanked Pete by the robe and led them both down the stairs.

"Fancy a game of chess, Prongs?" Pete asked as he settled into a chair by the fire.

"Hmph, maybe later, Pete. Seeing as those two have made the dorm an utterly foul affair I think I'm gonna take a walk, see if I can find-"

"Regulus?"

James smiled at him sheepishly. "Back in an hour?"

As promised, the tall Gryffindor returned in an hours time, accompanied by a particularly infamous Slytherin.

"Reckon we could find something three-player, Pete? Reg here will be joining us."

With a quick glance to the stairs that led up to the boys sleeping chambers, Peter nodded and walked over to the games cupboard, cautiously yanking at a box about halfway down until it broke free.

After a couple of rounds, Regulus had the two Gryffindors in a chokehold. He had won every single time and was much too nonchalant about his success in a game which Peter had called "easily one of the toughest to beat". Growing more comfortable in the unfamiliar territory of the rival common room, he now had a single leg draped over his boyfriend's thick thigh and was biting his lip in concentration as he prepared to make his next move on the board.

"Game night without us? I'm heartbroken." A voice called from the stairwell at Sirius and Remus appeared at the base. Peter stood instantly, face scrunched in preparation for Sirius' lecture on betrayal. "At ease, Wormtail. Nothing wrong with a friendly game or two. Mind if we join?"

Remus followed as Sirius took a seat at the table, but diverted at the last second to fold onto the couch, grabbing a small book out of his back pocket.

"Regulus," he nodded across the table to his brother, who silently returned the gesture. "Mighty comfy there I see," Sirius motioned to where James and Regulus' legs made contact.

"Alright, enough. You need to quit being so dramatic." Regulus snapped, then paused. "So, I have a proposition." He added, keeping his leg firmly attached to his boyfriend's. Tighter now, even.

"A proposition, he says", Sirius replied, leaning in.

"If I win, you stop giving James a hard time about us being together. If you win-"

"You break up?"

"No. If you win, I'll wear red to the next Quidditch match."

Both James and Sirius gasped.

"Reg, are you sure about this?" James whispered in his ear.

"Peter, deal us in." Regulus announced to the table.

"You're on, little bro. Someone grab the tissues because this emotionally stunted Black is about to cry like a baby."

Approximately ten minutes later, there was outrage.

"You little fucker! He's cheated, he must have!" Sirius cried, pushing his pieces away from his side of the table in protest.

Regulus merely smiled, folding up the game board and dumping it back in the box along with the pieces. He leaned over to kiss a very obliging James on the cheek and stood to leave.

"Come on, boyfriend. Let's go snog in the astronomy tower. Remus and Peter both stifled a laugh, while Sirius mouth dangled open in shock. James practically jumped across the table to join Regulus as he began to walk out the portrait hole, grabbing his hand as they went.

"No way you would've actually done your end of the deal." James said as they made their way to the tower.

Regulus shrugged. "Maybe. Could I wear yours?"

James blushed, pulling Regulus hand until their arms touched. "Whatever you want, love."

#this is all in jest #james and sirius love each other okay #they need to beef about petty things to maintain the balance #sirius comes around x #jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #peter honorary third character in jeggy fics #this was fun i havent written in a while

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kookygobbledygook · 1 year ago

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Some people have been saying this, but I don't think it's been said enough and I'm just going to add my voice to the mix.

Nimona's nomination is being framed as an example of "Look at what Disney missed out on!" and I get it. It's a nice, tasty schadenfreude situation and we all like to see The Mouse get taken down a peg.

But I think we need to be very clear; Disney did not miss out on anything because they were never going to take that sort of risk.

Disney was never going to release anything close to the Nimona we got. It would have been sanded down until anything obviously queer or controversial was as faint and unnoticeable as possible by the casual viewer. And then they would still be too scared of any potential backlash. So they would have given the film a limited release at theatres, with no advertising, or social media or support.

Like what happened with Strange World.

You remember Strange World, right?

No?

That's because no one does.

And I believe that was deliberate, because that way Disney can go "Weeellll... obviously we would LOVEto take more risks and have more inclusive stories but that's clearly not what the public wants!"

Look at the original concepts for Wish. The evil royal couple? The peter-panesque star boy that would have made the gen zers go feral the same way millenials went feral for Jack Frost? These could have been the best things about the movie, and even they were scrapped, and replaced with something more homogenised. And those ideas are nowhere near the level of the concepts and discussions Nimona brought to the table.

Disney can barely have explicit gay people. Nimona has a gay south Asian man in a relationship with an east Asian man. As a protagonist! But more than that, you think Disney could ever come up with a relationship as complicated and difficult as Boldheart and Goldenloin's? They would never have the guts to show one love interest cutting off the other's arm in a straight relationship. Let alone a gay one! And then for them to be on opposite sides of the conflict, shifting between feelings of betrayal, and questioning each other motives? That's some adult dark shit for a kids film.

Asha as a character was forced into the quirky girl role that Disney has already flogged to death with Anna and Rapunzel. You ever think they would allow a Disney princess to be as dark and violent and nuanced as Nimona? You ever picture the titial character of a Disney film AS the third act conflict, rampaging through a city in a self destructive rage? Nimona is anti authoritarian, vengeful, bloodthirsty, a pretty explicit trans allegory, and even, by the climax, openly suicidal. You KNOW that terrified Disney.

I had a thing about the Director here too but I was shocked by how long that got so I'll have to save her for a different post.

My point is the things that make Nimona art, that make Nimona a great story, that make the film important and Oscar worthy, are all things that Disney has become too chicken shit to produce. If Disney had released a film called Nimona it wouldn't have been Nimona. I fully believe that if the film hadn't had been 90% finished it wouldn't have been shelved. It would have been lobotomised and vivisected. Everything special and vital about the movie and its message would have been removed, and no one would have known what could have been. Once again we would have gotten scraps and been thankful for them.

It makes me think about films like Wish (and others we don't know the name of, and never will) and think of what they could have been if studio's like Disney were braver and let their artists make art, instead of content.

tl;dr Disney didn't miss out on Nimona because they are incapable of making Nimona. If they had produced it the real Nimona wouldn't exist. We didn't miss out on Nimona. And that's purely by luck.

#nimona #disney critical #wish critical

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raynaisanerd · 4 months ago

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Too much of the fandom really likes Renee. I hate her. I can understand that people find her attractive, because she is, but I can’t stand her. Obviously each to their own, and I can acknowledge that if you don’t particularly like both Andrew and Ashley you will find Renee’s actions less hate-able. This is just my thoughts shoved into text format. Sorry for any errors.

Abuse of Andrew

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ Renee made Andrew into a parent for Ashley, which in turn didn’t allow him to have a proper childhood. It’s also teased in the Episode 3 trailer that there’s rumours of incest between the siblings around school which is no doubt stemmed from the two being forced in such close proximities due to the mother and fathers neglect. This more than likely affected a lot of Andrew’s social life, pushing him towards other women to ‘prove’ he isn’t ’like that’, which isn’t particularly healthy for a teen boy.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ Renee and the father are likely the cause of Andrew’s anxiety in fear of pissing her off, or generally bothering her. Andrew represses his true feelings so he can please his parents, Both parents seem to brush off any concerns Andrew has, making him internalise his feelings and not seek any mental or emotional support for what he is going through.

Abuse of Ashley

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Renee forcing Andrew to be Ashley’s caretaker tore away any form of other support network for the young girl. This is clearly shown with how she struggles to make friends and genuine connections with others outside of Andrew, seen with Julia and Nina. It is also why she never sought out support for herself, Renee would never get help for her clearly neurodivergent or somewhere on the ASPD spectrum, so Ashley in turn also did not.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Renee not allowing Ashley to have birthdays may seem like a small and insignificant detail but it speaks volumes of what she was like as a parent to me. She never allowed to have nice things and Renee made sure of that. Or didn’t. She didn’t care enough to even check up in the girl, probably didn’t even remember her birthday.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Renee calling her a problem and an annoyance, again, something insignificant to some that I am reading into far too much. Your parent is supposed to be your biggest supporter in life, the one that brought you to life, who is supposed to love you unconditionally. Ashley has none of that. The only unconditional love and support she has is from her older brother. Not having support from your parents, your mother actively calling her an annoyance doesn’t help with her obviously festering insecurities and self hatred.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Renee thinking and openly expressing that the only way Ashley could have value to anyone (specifically Andrew) is if she is having sex with them. Ashley’s mindset about sex is very contractual (I will probably go into further detail about this in a later post) and I believe that that has been taken from her mother.

—

🌺 Selling her children to the organ harvesting scheme is just generally fucked up, and how she shows absolutely no remorse is even more concerning. She happily collected the life insurance money, moved to a nicer home in a nicer place intending to forget about the two whole children she had.

🌺 Renee may not be the cause of all of the siblings problems, there are external influences as well as the father, though I feel with the lack of content we have around their father that I am unable to judge him on his actions, bar being equally responsible for his children. I just find the fandoms treatment of Renee to be odd considering how fandoms usually absolutely flame abusive parents in fiction. As I said, each to their own, if you like her this isn’t a post to try and change your mind, it’s just my opinion.

#ashley graves #andrew graves #andrew x ashley #gravecest #coffincest #renee graves #andy graves #leyley graves #gravescest #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andy and leyley

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prettycalla · 2 months ago

Text

CARACALLA || ALPHABET HEADCANONS

(I’ve been in the Emperor trenches for months now, so I had to write something for this pretty boy.)

Pairing: Caracalla/Reader

Word count: 1.4k (approx.)

(Alphabet template by @ the-coldest-goodbye)

Masterlist

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This would depend on your relationship with Caracalla. I don’t feel as though he’s particularly affectionate with his concubines or one-time lovers, but if he takes a liking to you, it’s a whole other story. You’ll have to physically pry him off of you if you want to get anything done. Wherever you go, he’s right behind you. His chambers become your chambers. He tells you every little thought that comes to him, and he’ll expect your full attention at all times.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You certainly wouldn’t meet under normal circumstances. Caracalla may not have the greatest attention span at times, but if someone catches his eye, it’ll be damn near impossible to get out from under his gaze. He’s persistent, and no one can say no to an Emperor.

He would have a very small circle of those he can trust - likely consisting of his brother and Dondus.

As much as Caracalla has issues with his brother (and vice versa), I feel as though they’ve always been fiercely loyal to each other and it would take a lot to tear them apart (spoilers: it did).

(And if Dondus doesn’t like you, you’re as good as gone.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Caracalla is 100% a clinger if he feels comfortable with you. I feel as though he has to be the big spoon, regardless of any size difference there might be between the two of you. He might not openly seem as though as he’s desperate for power and control like his brother, but he still needs you to know who’s in charge. Only when he grows very close to someone will he let himself be vulnerable and allow them to hold him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As someone who has been waited on night and day his entire life, I don’t think Caracalla knows how to take care of himself at all. If you’re in his favour, then you won’t have to lift a finger ever again either.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This can go a few ways, I think. If Caracalla is attached to you, then only death will pull you from him. If you try to leave him…Well, it was nice knowing you.

I also feel as though he gets tired of people easily. If you’re one of the unlucky ones, there won’t even be a goodbye. He won’t register your existence at all anymore.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

If Caracalla falls for you, he’ll fall hard and fast. He insists that he’s the older brother, and I think between that and Geta being the one with more obvious power, it would push Caracalla to want to marry before his brother does.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

This one’s tricky. Caracalla’s moods can and do swing violently. I believe he has a gentle side - he has his moments with Dondus that are so sweet - and if you’re lucky to witness them, he would treat you like a prized jewel.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Again, the boy’s gonna cling if he likes you. You’ll be in his lap, he’ll have his arms and legs wrapped around you when he’s sleeping, your hand is rarely out of his.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Caracalla is intense. He could fall in love with someone the moment he lays eyes on them. Whether or not he really does love you is a whole other thing, but he would certainly feel as though he means it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Both Emperors have deep-rooted insecurities, from their childhood and from the pressures of ruling an empire. Caracalla hates to share and wants things that he can call his own. If you’re allowed to have friends or acquaintances after he’s set his sights on you, you’re incredibly lucky. And be careful with how you speak to Geta when he’s around.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I feel like he’d be very affectionate with kisses. Mouth, cheeks, hands, wrists, neck, anywhere he can reach. He isn’t one for embarrassing easily and he’s just as happy to kiss you in public as he is in private.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Sometimes Caracalla has the temperament of a child, and I feel as though he would get along with children very well, without even meaning to. Although I don’t think he’d recognise himself as the adult in the situation, so he’d be prone to bickering as though they’re on equal playing ground.

I don’t know if Caracalla would be the most suited to being a parent. Being Emperor brings with it a lot of responsibility, but I feel as though a lot of that falls on Geta. I think he would struggle as a father, and would be better as an older brother figure.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

‘Early to bed, early to rise’ is not an expression Caracalla has ever heard. He goes to bed when he feels like it (or when he passes out) and Gods help the poor attendants who have to drag him from his chambers in the mornings. He likes to sleep and it takes him at least an hour to open his eyes fully, much less speak in anything beyond irritated grunts.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This all depends on his mood. I don’t think Caracalla likes to be alone, and the more occupied, and even over-stimulated, he is, the less he can think and ruminate. You’ll very likely find yourself staying up with him well into the small hours, telling him stories and reassuring him (or keeping him entertained in other ways).

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

From minute one, Caracalla is telling you everything. He doesn’t mean to, it just keeps slipping out. He wears his heart on his sleeve, especially when he’s intoxicated, and he’ll want to know everything about you in return.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

No patience at all. He may have had a difficult childhood, but he’s also very used to getting what he wants. You’ll need the patience of a God yourself to keep his temper in check.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Caracalla will ask you every single question that pops into his head. Your favourite food, favourite colour, favourite animal, what instruments you like, everything. Whether he’ll remember or not is another story, but if he likes you, he’ll certainly try, and he’ll gift you things often.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Caracalla’s memory can be tricky. He may not remember a conversation from an hour ago, but he’ll remember the feeling of your hands petting through his hair when he was stricken with fever, or the very first time he saw you and realised that you had to be his.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Caracalla is paranoid, and rightfully so. He and his brother are surrounded by men who both mean them harm and want rid of them entirely. You will have at least one guard trailing after you at all times, and arguing with Caracalla is useless, regardless of how well you may be able to take care of yourself.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Caracalla might not remember dates well, but he will certainly lavish you with gifts - from little trinkets that cost more than a year’s salary to ridiculously extravagant things, like exotic animals. He won’t take no for an answer either.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I wouldn’t call them bad habits, but he struggles with his skin, and he will want to hide his insecurities from you. It won’t do for an Emperor to look weak, after all. It would take a long time for him to really show himself to you, bare of his make-up and jewellery.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Again, he worries about how he looks - the worse he feels, the more dressed-up he must be. It’s not so much vanity as it is fear of what people might think, particularly those he cares about.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If Caracalla has let you into his heart, it would take Pluto himself to tear him from you. He’s difficult when he has to leave you to attend to his duties, and inconsolable when you’re unwell. Every second he has to be apart from you is a second too long.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He likes to match with you. He’d take his time each day choosing clothing and jewellery for the two of you to wear.

I read that the real Caracalla got his name from the military cloak he often wore (‘caracallus’), and I think film Caracalla would have a robe or tunic that he wears until it’s in tatters.

Apparently the real Caracalla also kept a lion as a pet, and I feel like film Caracalla would be a menace for bringing exotic animals into the palace and having to be wrestled away from them for his own safety.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t take well to being told what to do, even if it’s for his own good. You’d need to tread very carefully and make anything you say seem as if it was his own idea to begin with.

He’d also dislike hearing you say anything negative about yourself. The Emperor of Rome surrounds himself with only the most beautiful things, and this includes you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Caracalla fights sleep to the death, but when he does eventually succumb, he’ll cling to you and refuse to let go. He might be small, but his grip is iron, so you aren’t getting out of bed until he does.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

#caracalla x reader #caracalla x you #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #caracalla headcanons #gladiator #caracalla #emperor caracalla #angie writes #prettycalla writes

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insomniac4000 · 9 months ago

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I have an idea for a fic about will! So u get invited onto the fellas or saving graces podcast and since their in the same building where will films his videos you could like bump into him and just something along those lines aha

Fellas to lovers

1517 words

Y/N felt the nerves build up with each step she took walking down the East London Street, eventually she made it and looked up at the light brick building with big windows; The Fellas Studio’s where inside were some of her favourite Youtubers and content creators. For months and years y/n had watched these people form the comfort of her own home but now, she was considered their contemporary but she had a huge case of imposter syndrome.

“Hi, I’m Y/N I’m here for The Fella’s podcast?” She said to the receptionist politely. The receptionist gave her a pass and sent her up on her way. Cal and Chip were waiting, just talking casually on the chairs when they heard footsteps on the stars and a very nervous y/n entered the room. The boys were lovely, they spent a few minutes trying to ease nerves and ran over some questions before the recording was about to start. Y/N clutched the microphone, steadying the slight shake of the hand just as Calum announced recording.

"Welcome back to The Fellas Podcast, the place where we get the most interesting people on the internet to sit down and chat. Today, we're excited to have someone who’s not just interesting but downright viral. She’s been breaking the internet with her hilarious skits, relatable content, and just that magnetic personality. Please welcome TikTok sensation, Y/N!" Freezy did the intro and y/n smiled through the nerves as much as she could.

"Thank you so much for having me, guys! I’m a huge fan of the podcast, so this is a bit surreal for me."

"We’re excited to have you here too! First off, how does it feel to be the queen of TikTok right now? I mean, your rise has been insane—millions of followers in such a short time." Cal started off with an easy question to try and ease y/n in as much as he could.

"Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I wake up and have to remind myself that this is actually happening. It all happened so quickly, you know? I started posting just for fun, and suddenly it’s like—boom—everyone’s watching."

"Let’s talk about that ‘boom’ moment. Was there a specific video or a moment where you thought, ‘Okay, this is really taking off’?" Chip asked

"Yeah, there was one video that really kicked things off. It was a skit about dealing with overprotective parents, and I guess it just resonated with a lot of people. The comments were flooded with ‘This is literally me!’ and people tagging their friends. The video hit a million views in like 24 hours, and from there, things just snowballed."

"I remember that video! It was everywhere on my feed for days. What do you think it is about your content that connects with so many people?" Freezy added in, by this point y/n’s nerves had subsided massively, her body language relaxed more, she stopped playing with her long brown hair as much and she allowed to self to sink back on the sofa a little bit more.

"I think a lot of it is just about being relatable. I try to tap into those everyday moments that everyone experiences but maybe doesn’t talk about openly. Whether it’s dealing with awkward social situations, struggling with mental health, or just the weird quirks we all have—if I find it funny or interesting, chances are someone else will too."

"And you’re not afraid to get personal, either. You’ve shared a lot about your own life and struggles. Was that a conscious decision from the start?" Chip was now coming in with a more personal question, it was one of the ones they had shown y/n at the start so it didn’t come as a shock and she was ready to answer it.

"At first, not really. I was just making content that felt natural to me. But as I started getting more followers, I realized that people appreciated that openness. I think it helps people feel less alone when they see someone else going through the same things they are. It’s therapeutic in a way, for both me and my audience."

"Has that openness ever backfired? We all know the internet can be a brutal place sometimes." Cal already knew the answer to this question, it was something all content creators needed to know how to toe the line.

"Oh, for sure. I’ve had my share of trolls and negative comments. There were times when it really got to me. But over time, I’ve developed a thicker skin. You have to, in this line of work. At the end of the day, I try to focus on the positive feedback and the amazing community that’s been built around my content."

“And you definitely have at least one massive fan in this office, apart from us a certain Mr Lenney always comes in and shows us your videos,” Chip added and as him and Cal had a little laugh about it.

“No way really?” Y/n tried to laugh along and tried to seem like she was calm and just going with the flow but on the inside her heart was beating faster, Will? That beautiful blue eyed boy who’s content she had been watching for years? He liked her stuff?

“He’s also single now so feel free to drop downstairs to his office once you’ve finished here, I bet he’ll go wild! Anyway enough about the lanky Geordie idiot what does the future hold for Y/N? Are you sticking with TikTok, or do you have other plans in the works?" Chip asked, y/n was grateful that the conversation had changed now, although she was now thinking some thoughts about that Geordie male that she could never talk about in public.

"I’ll always have a love for TikTok, but I definitely want to branch out. I’m working on a YouTube channel right now, and I’ve been talking to some brands about collaborations. Maybe even a podcast—who knows? The possibilities are endless, and I’m excited to see where this journey takes me."

"That’s awesome! We’re sure whatever you do next is going to be huge. Before we wrap up, any advice for aspiring creators out there?" Cal asked as the podcast was about to wrap up.

"My biggest advice is just to be yourself. Don’t try to imitate what’s already out there. People are drawn to authenticity, so find what makes you unique and run with it. And most importantly, have fun with it, if you’re not enjoying what you’re doing, it’s not worth it."

"Wise words! Thanks so much for joining us today, Y/N. It’s been a blast having you on." Chip smiled

"Thanks for having me, guys! This was a lot of fun."

"And to all our listeners, make sure you’re following Y/N on TikTok if you aren’t already and keep an eye out for her next big move. Until next time, take care!" Cal signed off the Podcast and once the recording has stopped y/n exhaled a deep breath.

“You did really well, you should be proud of yourself,” Cal smiled giving y/n a small hug.

“Thank you so much, I’ve never done a Podcast before and I was really nervous but you two made me feel really welcome so thank you,” y/n told both of the boys sincerely. There was a little small talk but then Chip and Freezy needed to leave as they had a meeting. Y/N thanked them again and made her way downstairs, she momentarily paused remembering what The Fella’s had to say about a certain someone. She continued down the stairs, pulling out her phone ready film a TikTok when she felt her body collide with something.

“Oh my God I’m sorry,” y/n cried as she looked up and saw a male, dressed in all black, a mullet on top of his head, smile on his face and an iced coffee in his hand, it was him.

“No harm done. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his northern accent thick, as if often got when he was excited.

“Oh I’ve just filmed a Podcast for the fellas. I’m Y/N,”

“Oh I know who you are,” Will’s smile got even bigger, y/n tried to push back a blush.

“I just didn’t want you to think there’s a weird fan running around all of your offices,” y/n joked. Will sipped his coffee slightly smiling.

“No, I know who you are. Hopefully the guys were nice to you?”

“Oh they were, they erm…” y/n hesitated for a moment to think about if you wanted to say the next bit but there was a spark in her which told her to go for it. “They said you might be a bit of a fan?” y/n asked cheekily, biting her bottom lip slightly with a smile. Will sighed.

“Those fuckin’ morons. I do enjoy your TikTok’ yes.”

“It’s okay, I’ve been known to binge your videos too. And not for James,” y/n added. Will’s eyes sparkled.

“Well that’s new. Say, what are you doing now?” Will asked, his smiled dropped a little bit and he started to play around with the straw in his drink, y/n shook her head.

“Nothing really.”

“Fancy joining me for a coffee?” Will asked, trying to steady his voice, he was doing a good job of it, he looked very calm and cool. Y/N smiled, her heart beating out of her chest.

“I’d love to.”

#willne #will lenney #willne x reader

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babextoken · 6 months ago

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There's not enough ii/iii/f!reader for me. I need more. 🥹 Can I get a ii/iii/f!reader fic where she asks to watch them together as a birthday present but they invite her to join when she does? Love the idea that ii/iii have a switch dynamic and reader gets to watch one dominate the other but then gets the other side for herself.

You’ll be getting a bill from a neurologist because this broke my brain🫶 @adenobabe @inv3ga imagine me mushing your boys together like Ken dolls.

Ahem…*mic feedback*

Switch!Brat!iii x Switch!ii x Soft!FemDom!Reader

Your birthday was this weekend and you were feeling restless. You made some lowkey plans but when your besties, ii and iii, (The Boyfriends™️ as you called them) asked what you wanted for your birthday, something snapped in your mind.

You: Ok. I know what I want 👉🏻👈🏻 remember that little offer you two had made?

In your mind you still heard III’s slurred words one night as you both eyed II across the pub: “If you think he looks good now, imagine him on top of me. Bet you’d like that…watching your two friends fuck, hm? Little freak.” At the time you laughed it off. III was such a kidder and knew not what he did when he was drunk, so what does it hurt to play along?

“Oh, can’t even imagine what you two get up to,” you purr, but the sarcasm saturates your words.

“What shit are you two talking now?” II appeared behind you silently, thus sandwiching you between him and III. The bassist loomed over both of you yet II’s piercing blue eyes was what kept both of you in place. Lifting your chin, II appraised your cheeks. “III, babes, what were you saying to her?”

“That she should watch sometime,” III responded, sounding stone-cold sober. Maybe he was lucid when he whispered those filthy things. II nodded and shrugged as if to say, ‘she should. Why shouldn’t she?’ The only thing you could do was burst into a nervous laugh which caused the boys to laugh, too; the proposition long forgotten. Or unspoken at least. But you didn’t forget. That was three months ago, allowing you 90 some odd days of the fantasy evolving in your head from something simple such as watching II go down on III to being made to touch yourself while one fucked the other. You could never decide who you liked getting fucked more in your fantasy. There was something obvious about III taking II but that didn’t make it less exciting. The thought of II fucking III made you giggle at first, thinking of iii’s legs all lanky around ii’s little waist, but soon it intrigued you…imagining II claiming III. You felt ashamed for thinking about it even though it wasn’t your original idea…the two of them literally offered themselves to you…you were allowed to enjoy the thought. And more than that…you were allowed to ask for it.

ii: are you sure that’s what you want?

iii: that doesn’t mean “no,” btw, dove.

iii: just means we want to know if we should book a room or not 😈

ii: stop double texting and give her second

iii:🖕

You: I’m sure. Saturday night.

ii: one more thing. If you’re up to it, we want you to join. No pressure, honestly. Even if you change your mind day of, yeah?

All week your mind was on its own little hellish rollercoaster. One minute was “yes! I WILL fuck my best friends!” The next was “no. I will watch respectfully.” And sometimes, but not too often, it was “I should call it off. I should be in horny jail.” But when Saturday night came and you instinctively pulled out your little red dress, you knew your mind was made up. And the boys knew it, too.

When you met up with them in the hotel bar, the energy crackled. There was a giddiness about the three of you, and you found yourself being more openly affectionate with them. It started out innocent enough. Pushing iii’s hair behind his ear mindlessly, resting your hand on ii’s arm when you asked him something—all innocent fun. Until of course they asked if you could tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

“Obviously I can. Watch and learn,” you teased. II leaned forward on the table letting his chin rest in his hand, watching intently, while iii crossed his arms.

“What are you even doing?” III laughed, asking what everyone was thinking. This was so much harder than you remembered. “Such a liar.”

“I dunno…it’s kind of hot. Persistent little thing,” II said not taking his eyes off you. You spit out the cherry stem, not even bent much less tied. A rosy blush covers your face as you giggle at yourself. “Look at her,” ii teases as he scoots near you, “she’s a mess. Aren’t you?” You lean into him as you laugh a little too loud. Suddenly iii looks serious.

“Doll. Before you get too faded…”

You instantly straighten up but shudder because II runs his fingertips across your shoulder blades. “What’s up?”

“Are you joining us tonight…or just spectating?”

This sobered you up instantly. You nearly forgot about the end goal here, watching them together or actually joining them. You took a deep breath and looked at them both for a second as you considered your options for the last time. Finally, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” a wide smile broke across iii’s face, “shall we?”

Moments later, you were being pushed into the empty elevator with them. II made sure no one else was approaching as iii pressed you into the wall opposite the doors. His wide palm thumped beside your head on the wall, trapping you. You didn’t want to be completely passive tonight. You could just stand there and let him toy as he pleases, but it’s your birthday, and he’s a part of your gift. You lean up and gently tease his lips with your tongue. As he lets out an amused huff, he pulls your face forward in a rough kiss. II hums contentedly as he leans against the wall, just watching. III nibbles and pulls your bottom lip just a bit as he breaks the kiss. “That’s a good girl,” he laughs softly. Suddenly he flings you into ii, who captures your lips with a patient intensity. III’s kiss excited you, but ii’s seduced you. When the lift got to your floor, ii’s pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking you up and down.

“You’re trouble.”

You look back at III as he gently guides you to the room. “Is that a good thing for you two…trouble?”

III rolls his eyes and laughs dryly. “I’m always trouble with him, love,” he says as you enter the room. Seeing the soft lighting and comfy king sized bed helps you get in the mood but it also serves as a reality check. You are here! With your besties! And it becomes even more real when…oh shit.

“You’ve got such a mouth on you,” ii growls as he pulls iii to the bed. “Definition of trouble.” II climbs on top of iii to kiss and suck at his neck. III moans softly as ii marks him, but he reaches out his hand to you. He wants to lay beside him. That’s when you realize you’re staring. Gawping. You slip out of your shoes and slot beside iii with his arm wrapped around you. His hazy eyes wander to yours.

“Come here, good girl.” He whispers. III pulls you to him and your lips meet again. You don’t know what to do with your hands but you remind yourself that this is your gift. Make the most of it. Your hand drifts from iii’s chest to ii’s hair. The urge to stir the pot is too strong. You pull at ii’s hair and wrench him from the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. III breaths out a little “fuck” as you and II make out right above his face. II licks your bottom lip playfully and nudges your noses together.

“Let me take care of him and then I’m all yours, love.”

Loud and clear. III let’s go of you to sit up and take off his shirt; ii follows suit, still in iii’s lap. Their kisses are rough, needy, as if they don’t do this whenever they want. II grinds into iii’s lap and moans. “Fuck yeah…fuck…bite me,” ii murmurs as iii licks a long stripe up his neck. This is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and they’re not even naked yet. “Lay back and take your pants off, handsome,” ii whispers. You bite your lip as iii lays back to shuffle out his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. You’re desperate to touch it, to have it in your mouth, but ii beats you to it. He drags his fingertips up the underside of iii’s cock teasingly, relishing in the way he squirms beneath him. “What’s wrong? Squirming away from me?”

“Fuck just stroke it…”

“That’s an idea.”

“You want to…come on just…” iii swipes a hand down his face and grabs for ii’s hand, but it’s slapped aside.

“Hands behind your back. Now.”

III huffs and groans. “Yeah…yeah alright. Fine.” He lifts his core and folds his forearms under his back.

“Looks you have a good boy, ii,” you murmur, finally finding your confidence. II’s smirk makes you want to kiss it right off of him. Finally he starts jerking iii’s cock while staring through you. You’re under his spell, basically eye-fucking him. III is whimpering and moaning pathetically; the only attention he’s getting is ii jerking him off and he keeps looking at you…begging for anything with his blue puppy eyes.

“Babe…babe…take that pretty dres-“

“Don’t tell her what to do,” ii snaps, “it’s her birthday…have some respect.”

III chuckles breathlessly through his moans as ii slows his strokes. “Sorry. Sorry, pretty.” But there’s no love lost, you’re entertained by their dynamic. You roll closer and pepper little kisses on cheek.

“Didn’t take you for a sub, iii,” you whisper. He shrugs as ii takes a little break to fetch something from his overnight bag.

III moves his face to kiss you softly, his cock twitching when you run your hands down his stomach. “I can be…but so can he,” he whispers back, referencing ii. “Switchy, like me.”

Your jaw drops, and a shocked laugh fills the room. “II? Really, hun? You like being thrown around a little…told what to do?”

“He so does. Honestly, one time…with IVy of all peop-“ but iii doesn’t get to finish. II puts his hand over iii’s mouth, muffling his mischievous snicker.

“Runs his mouth too much. Love, show me how you’d shut him up,” ii says with a cocked eyebrow.

You take your cue to slip off the bed and undress. They both watch you in reverence. If iii didn’t have his brat mouth covered, it would have been agape. “II,” you purr, “take your hand off my seat.” II moves his hand, and iii exclaims ‘oh fuck yes,’ as you straddle his face. Since his arms are still tucked behind him, you press your desperate pussy to his mouth. Your palms press into his tummy as he laps at your clit. You can’t help the slutty noises he’s pulling from you. II has slipped out of his clothes and positions himself between iii’s legs. He’s brought a small bottle of lube with him. “Are…are you gonna fuck him,” you ask…or at least try. It’s hard when you’ve got a tongue prying at your slit and two hard throbbing cocks before you.

II squirts the liquid in his palm and pumps iii with a renewed lust. “Hah…no, no. This cock is yours first.” Poor iii doesn’t last long with your pussy gushing against his lips and ii’s deft touches. Your eyes roll back as iii moans into your pussy. “Alright, love, hop off.” You roll off and watch as the two of team meet in a hot, passionate kiss. III undoubtedly stiff arms wrap around ii and hold him like he’s the most precious thing.

“Taste her on me, babe?” iii whispers against ii’s mouth. II nods with a dumb little smile and playfully licks at iii’s mustache. “Alright…hopping in the shower.”

“Aw…but…” you pout.

“I’ll be back, doll. Don’t worry.” III chuckles as he saunters into the bathroom, leaving you and ii on the bed. As if it has to be a secret, you both sit silently until you hear the shower run. II is immediately on you, groping your tummy and breasts as he kisses at your neck. Your eyes roll back as breathy pants leave your lips. Your chest heaves as his mouth greedily works down to your breasts.

“Be a good boy for me…hm?” Your finger gently tilts his chin up. “C’mere…” He’s a goner as your lips rub up against his. They’re so puffy from kissing iii. “You’ve been good haven’t you…waiting your turn…haven’t even touched yourself.”

“Heh, stop,” he saying looking away with the sweetest blush. “Where’d this Mommy act come from, hm?” He peppers your cheek with kisses as he whispers.

“It’s not an act,” you whisper as you adjust his cock to slide in. III got you beyond wet enough for ii, so only a gentle nudge was needed for him to go in fully. II’s head falls forward with a low groan. “Let me see you…” your hand now rests firmly under his jaw, wrapped around his neck. He grins like any subby good boy would when your fingers flex. “There he is…eyes on me…” His eyes are dreamy and hazy as they flutter shut or roll back as his cock twitches inside of you. You squirm a little just to get comfy and enjoy teasing him as your bodies writhe against one another.

“Please,” he whimpers. He’s getting impatient.

“You want to cum so soon?” You question mocking pout.

“I…fuck…I can cum again later. Just please….”

His sweet puppy eyes glisten as he bites his lip, practically whining. His adam’s apple bobs against your palm but he doesn’t break. “Show me how happy this makes you…” He shudders and slowly thrusts. His body wants to slump forward but your grip holds him steady. “You want to cum before he gets back in here? Hm?” II nods quickly and squeezes his eyes shut, the overall excitement from the night and your tight softness overstimulating him. “Heh yeah…just for me and my good boy…I’m going to let go of you now—“

“No please…please keep it there…feels so good…so good for you…” he begs. “Just a little harder…” When you squeeze a little harder, a fire lights in II. He fucks you fast and rough trying to play this little game where you have to finish before iii comes out. His lips form a little pout, dying for a kiss. You can’t resist that. Instead of letting him move, you lean up and capture his lips. He moans against your mouth as the first kiss makes him lose it. You move your hand to let him breathe as he cries out against your chest.

II is still nestled against your chest, and in your pussy, when iii comes out of the steamy bathroom…already rock hard again. “Alright, loves…who’s next?”

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