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murdockparker · 23 days

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Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

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

Word Count: 11.8k

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perfectly fulfilling,” his younger sister quipped back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know—”

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

“Oh?”

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

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

“Brother?”

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

“Ah, I suppose you’re finished?”

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

“Perhaps I should go inside to accompany her—”

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

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

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

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

“Business,” Eloise parroted. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need a hand?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.

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

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

“Benedict.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benedict.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She froze.

“Ah, what was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—of course not!”

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

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

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

He paused, clearly taken aback.

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

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

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

“That seems awfully specific—”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Did he give you a name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps I wished the opposite?”

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

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

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

“I wish to spend the afternoon with you.”

She blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if I do not care for tea?”

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

“Sweeter than my scones, you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a sponge cake is…?”

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

“And Harry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know of Lady Whistledown?”

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

“Only read the good bits, I take it?”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A park is a park.”

“Have you been before?”

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

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

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

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

“Paste your lips together?” She offered.

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

“Horse racing?”

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

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

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

“You are serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The winner?”

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

“So you lost?”

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

“I lost?” She scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Surely it was not the leaves—”

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

“Was I inhuman before?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” he shook his head. “I do not.”

“How freeing that must be,” she said.

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

“Why me?”

His head quirked. “I do not understand?”

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

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

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

“Perhaps the foolish one is you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

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

“I-I don’t understand—”

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I could help—”

“I do not need your help!”

“You obviously do!”

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

“You know that is not what I meant—”

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

“No—(Y/N)—”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And abandon our legacy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She insulted me!”

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

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

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

Rain.

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

In theory, anyway, it seemed.

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

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

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

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

“I am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.”

—

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

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

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

“A caller? In this weather?”

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)…”

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

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

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

“For what?” He asked genuinely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not wish to impose.”

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

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

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

“I could never ask you for that—”

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

“Benedict…”

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

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

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

“I-I am sorry—” she pulled away.

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

“I should not have done that…”

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

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

“But you cannot stay here…?”

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

He thought for a moment. “So… leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave town, leave the country—”

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

“I will pay your way.”

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

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

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

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

“France?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you…?”

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

She nodded, understanding.

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

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if you are vexed with me?”

“Especially if I am vexed with you.”

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

“Sounds perfect.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

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

Could it be?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart man,” she hummed.

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

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

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

“That is the only reason?”

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

Her heart fluttered again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leaves?"

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

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

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

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

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wineauntie · 2 months

Text

IT ISN’T THE END OF THE WORLD— q.hughes x hughes sister!reader

summary: three times that Quinn comforted you and one of the times you returned the favour.

notes: big brother Quinn is my Roman Empire, I can’t lie! You are five years younger than Quinn.

warnings: literally the fluffiest of fluffs, use of y/n and y/n/n, fem!reader.

word count: 3.5k+

1. being left out – aged six and eleven

You sat on the grass outside of your home, your knees tucked into your chest as tears dripped down your face. Ahead of you, Jack and Luke were skating around in rollerblades with a singular net set up on the tarmac as they played a game of hockey. You'd tried to join them, even going as far as strapping up your purple rollerskates but when you'd asked your two older brothers to join them, they'd outright told you that you weren't allowed.

"Y/n/n, this is boys only game," Jack had explained, half lifting you towards the grass and away from the road. "You can't play!"

"Yeah, you can't play," Luke piped up, fidgeting with his stick, his curls peeking out from beneath his helmet.

"But-" You'd tried to wiggle out of Jack's grasp as you reached the grass.

"Stay on the grass," Jack had urged, patting your head before he skated back towards Luke.

Your bottom lip trembled as you collapsed onto the grass beneath you, being forced to watch rather than partake. You couldn't understand why you couldn't just play with them. And as you cried, neither of the two boys noticed your tears or your splotchy face.

"Mom said dinner will be ready in an hour!"

Quinn's voice called out from the front door, in shock, you turned just in time for him to glance towards you. His face fell at the sight of your miserable eyes and he quickly shut the front door before making his way towards you.

"What's wrong?" His worried voice caused your lower lip to tremble once more. Even at eleven years old, Quinn was your protector. He was the one you ran to with every small problem, the one who'd sit you down and explain things and the one who you secretly favoured the most.

You cast a look over to Luke and Jack who continued their game, before you dropped your head between your knees. Quinn sighed and carefully sat beside you, his legs stretching out far beyond your own.

"What's wrong, y/n/n?"

That was what made you burst into tears again. A very startled Quinn rapidly put his arm around you, hugging you into his side. Your tears began to stain his shirt as he awkwardly patted your head.

"Jack and Luke won't let me play!" You wailed, as a small scowl crossed Quinn's face. "They said I have to stay here...I hate here!"

"C'mon now," Quinn tried to calm you. "We don't need to play with those two stupids." You let out a sniffly laugh as you rested against his shoulder.

"Mom said you can't call them stupid anymore," you croaked out, and now it was Quinn's turn to laugh.

"I know but I'll tell you a secret–they are!"

You smiled and looked towards your two brothers who were now fighting, pushing one another back and forth.

"How about you and me go in and have a tea party?" He suggested, scrunching his nose up as he watched Jack and Luke battle it out. "We can even dress up?" You jumped to your feet excitedly, dragging Quinn up with you.

"Please!" You giggled, pulling Quinn towards the house, your tears long forgotten. "I have a tiara for you!" Quinn painted an excited expression across his face, but very real happiness spread through his body at the sight of your joy.

2. the nightmares – aged eight and thirteen

You shot awake with a startled gasp, your small hands clutching your childhood teddy. You'd been getting nightmares for weeks yet you couldn't pinpoint where they'd begun— in reality, Jack had told you countless ghost stories about a small evil ghost lurking in your room, and you seemed to have taken that story to heart.

Tears welled in your eyes as you glanced around your room in terror, the light of a pink wall flower illuminated the majority of the room...yet the shadows that lingered left your body shaking. The horrors from your nightmares, which couldn't be remembered, haunted you and the thought of going back to sleep was virtually impossible.

Your bottom lip trembled as you clutched your teddy to your chest, and jumped out of the bed towards the hallway, not daring to look behind you. The light from the bathroom down the hall illuminated the darkness, as you stood dead centre with your head tilted slightly.

You didn't know where to go.

You'd already run to your mom and dad multiple times during the night and your little self felt rather guilty. You knew they needed their sleep– everyone did.

You stifled a whimper, your tears dripping down your face as you glanced down the hall, noticing a door slightly open. Without another thought, you rushed down the hall, your bare feet slapping against the wooden flooring as you entered the open door.

You slipped into the dark room, your teddy close to your chest as you approached the lump beneath the covers on the bed by the window. Soft snores echoed through the room as you crept towards the bed as quietly as possible. Your tears were still falling, as you sniffled and carefully tapped the lump's shoulder.

You watched as he stirred, and then a familiar voice broke through the darkness, "What time is it?" The voice was groggy with sleep, but the concern was evident.

"I had a nightmare again, Q," you whispered with bleary eyes, your voice trembling with pure fear and exhaustion. "I can't sleep. I'm sorry..."

Quinn sat up, rubbing his eyes before reaching out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "Shh, it's okay. C'mere," he yawned while reassuring you, his arms enveloping you in warmth and security. He lifted you onto the bed, his half-lidded eyes glancing towards his digital clock that blinked the time 3:45 am.

You buried your face into his chest, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear offered a soothing rhythm, calming your racing thoughts.

"Want me to go tell Mom?" He asked, earning him a rapid shake of the head from you.

"Okay...do you want to stay here?" Quinn hesitantly offered with as soft of a voice as he could muster so early in the morning. He pulled you away from his ever so slightly so that he could look down at you. With a half-nod, you cuddled closer to him, letting him drape half of his blanket over your body.

"Just don't hog the covers," he grumbled, lying back down on the bed, his head burying itself in his pillow. "And don't wake up early."

You smiled and melted into the comfort of Quinn's bed, your head on the edge of the pillow you were being forced to share. The feeling of the weight of exhaustion finally pulled you under and as you drifted off to sleep, the nightmares seemed to fade away, replaced by the comforting presence of your older brother by your side.

The next morning, your mom had woken up, ready to bring you to practice, only to find your bed empty. A flare of panic shot through her body, all those horror stories of child abduction running through her mind as she exited the room with pursed lips.

Ellen peered into Luke's room first, her head sticking around the wooden frame. For a mere second, she allowed herself to stifle a smile at the sight of Luke sprawled across the bed like a starfish, his covers abandoned on the floor as soft breath escaped his mouth. She nodded slowly and closed the door before checking the room beside his.

Jack's room was messy. That was the first thing she noticed. Clothes were strewn across any furniture left in sight, with muddy shoes thrown into the corner. Ellen covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the sight of Jack sleeping. Jack, like Luke, was sprawled across his bed, only instead of actually being on the bed– Jack was hanging half off of it. His head was almost touching the rug on his floor — his toes the same. His head was thrown back with snores periodically escaping his mouth.

She shook her head lightly before closing the door quietly and moving towards the last bedroom in the hall. Quinn's door was ajar, allowing Ellen to silently slip in. She paused in her steps at the sight ahead of her. You curled up around Quinn, your teddy snug between you two, as his arm wrapped around your head protectively. The two of you were fast asleep, oblivious to the utter relief Ellen was feeling.

She watched the two of you for a few seconds before taking a quick picture and sending it to Jim with a soft smile. Ellen looked down at you two once more and fixed the cover over the both of you. She backed away slowly and slipped out of the room leaving the two of you to sleep in for the day.

3. sickness – aged 10 and fifteen

"Are you sure you'll be okay looking after her?"

Ellen grabbed a bag from the floor beside the couch Quinn sat on, a bowl of cereal in his hands as he watched a game. You had fallen sick two days prior due to the flu and were currently bed-bound. Your dad was out of state, and your mom had to take Luke and Jack to a hockey match in the next town over.

"Yeah, Mom, don't worry," Quinn answered through muffled words as he swallowed a spoonful of food. "I can take care of her for a few hours, it'll be fine."

Ellen bit her lip in worry glancing towards the stairs before ruffling Quinn's hair. "Don't start a fire or kill either yourself or y/n," she instructed, "she might wake up soon and might want food, only give her toast and water or she'll throw it all up."

"Mom, I got it," Quinn reassured her, standing up and gathering Luke's hockey bag in his arms. "I'll help you bring these out."

Your mom had left ten minutes after with Jack and Luke, leaving Quinn in charge of the house. You had woken up to the sound of Luke yelling and the door slamming behind him. Your throat felt raw from the amount of coughing you were doing combined with the fact you could only breathe from your mouth as your nose was blocked up.

You groaned into your pillow, your clammy hands clutching your uneasy stomach as you buried yourself beneath your covers. Quinn cautiously peeked into your room at the noise of you moving around, his eyes wide and careful as they landed on your paled face and shaking body.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had never been in charge of taking care of you while you were sick before. But seeing you there, looking so vulnerable and unwell, he knew he had to step up.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn quietly approached your bed, trying not to startle you. "Hey, it's just me," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling?"

You managed to croak out a weak response, your voice barely audible. Quinn frowned and his eyebrows furrowed upon seeing how much you were struggling. Without another word, he hurried downstairs to grab a glass of water and a slice of bread for toast, just as your mom had instructed.

Returning to your room, Quinn carefully placed the items on your bedside table, as he helped you sit up, propping pillows behind your back for support. You moaned in discontent at the feeling of sickness that continued to roll through your body as he handed you the glass of water and a piece of toast.

"Drink slowly," he spoke carefully, watching anxiously as you took small sips and nibbled on the food. "You don't feel like getting sick, do you?!"

You shook your head weakly, placing the leftover crusts on your plate. You felt a tickle grow in your throat as another cough wracked through your body. Quinn jumped into action, running your back as he'd seen Mom do countlessly over the past two days. His warm hand lent you comfort as your body contorted.

Once the coughing subsided, you leaned back against the pillows, feeling exhausted but a little better with Quinn by your side. He stayed with you, chatting softly and making sure you were comfortable until you drifted off to sleep again, knowing that you were in good hands.

As you rested, Quinn kept a watchful eye on you, ready to spring into action at any sign of distress. Halfway through your unrestful nap, your body shook violently, yet your forehead was beaded with sweat. Quinn gulped in worry as he covered you with a blanket and wiped your forehead with a cool cloth.

He hated seeing you like this, it made him want to kick whoever had passed the sickness onto you.

Throughout the day, Quinn checked in on you regularly, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He even brought up some of your favourite books and movies to help pass the time when you woke, staying by your side until you drifted off to sleep again.

When your mom finally returned home with Jack and Luke– both elated from their win, she was relieved to find you resting peacefully, thanks to Quinn's attentive care.

"You did well, Quinn," Your mom smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he scrunched up his nose. "Thank you."

Quinn simply shrugged it off as he looked towards your sleeping figure. Despite his nonchalant expression, deep down, he felt a sense of pride erupt inside of him knowing that he had been there for you when you needed him most.

"Let's hope you don't get sick now," Ellen hummed, brushing a hand through his hair. Quinn pushed a smile onto his face, getting sick would be worth it as long as you were better.

4. moving away – aged 16 and 20

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow into Quinn's room, illuminating the chaos of packing strewn across the floor. Hockey jerseys, equipment, and mementoes from his years of playing for the local team adorned his walls, each item holding memories of victories, defeats, and the camaraderie of teammates. But today, there was a sense of bittersweetness in the air, a mixture of excitement and sadness, as Quinn prepared to completely leave Michigan behind and embark on a new chapter of his life in Vancouver. He had been offered the opportunity to play for the Vancouver Canucks, a dream come true for any aspiring hockey player. But with it came the prospect of leaving behind everything he had ever known – our family, our home, our tight-knit community.

You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him carefully fold his clothes, a furrow of worry etched on his brow. "Are you okay, Quinn?" you asked softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He sighed, setting down the hoodie he was folding and meeting your gaze with a mix of apprehension and sadness in his eyes. "I don't know," he eventually admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I mean, Vancouver is such an incredible opportunity, but... I'm going to miss everyone and don't you dare tell that to the idiots out back."

You let a small smile grace your face at the thought of Jack and Luke catching wind of Quinn's unease. You found yourself nodding understandingly, feeling a pang of sadness yourself at the thought of Quinn leaving. He was not only your older brother but also one of your best friends, someone you had always looked up to and relied on for guidance and support. The idea of him being thousands of miles away was daunting, to say the least.

Even when he was in college he was only one measly phone call away and then another forty-minute drive. He was never thousands of miles away in a different country.

You nodded sympathetically, understanding the weight of his dilemma. Quinn had always been fiercely devoted to our family and friends, and the thought of leaving them behind was undoubtedly terrifying. But deep down, You knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away – not when it was his chance to shine on the ice and pursue his passion for hockey at the highest level.

"Quinn, listen to me," I said, stepping closer to him and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I know it's scary to leave, but this is your dream we're talking about. You've worked so hard for this moment, and you can't let fear hold you back."

"You'll do great, Quinn," you continued to reassure him, with a cracked smile. "And we'll still be here for you, no matter how far away you are. Plus, Vancouver should be nice, and I've only been there twice, maybe I can visit with Mom and Dad?"

Quinn managed a small smile at your words, though you could tell the worry still lingered in his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "But it won't be the same without having you all there with me." He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "I don't want to leave you all behind."

I smiled softly, feeling a swell of pride for my big brother. "We'll be okay, Quinn. Mom and Dad are proud of you, and so are Luke, Jack, and I. Hell, before you know it, Jack might be up there playing with you, who knows!"

A sense of calm washed over Quinn as your words sank in, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He knew that no matter where his hockey career took him, your family would always be his anchor, his support system through thick and thin. You scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"We'll always be here for you, Quinn," you whispered, feeling the weight of the impending separation settling over you both. "And we'll be cheering you no matter where you are, no matter what happens, every step of the way."

You sat there in silence for a moment, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go. But eventually, Quinn pulled away, a determined look in his eyes as he resumed packing his belongings.

"You're right," he sighed, his voice steady with newfound resolve.

"As always," you beamed with a laugh, as Quinn elbowed you playfully. You bowed your head glancing at Quinn briefly. "I'm gonna miss you, y'know?"

"I know," he hummed, "but like you said, you can come visit whenever you want and you can call or text me whenever you need to." You nodded silently, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You smiled, feeling a surge of pride welling up inside you. Your brother may be leaving Michigan behind, but you knew that he was destined for great things in Vancouver. And no matter where life took you, you would always be there for each other, bound by the unbreakable bond of family.

#wineauntie #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff #hughes brothers x reader #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hughes!sister #platonic!quinn hughes #hughes brothers x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #i love quinn hughes what a man

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 5 months

Text

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Car Sex (Matt)

Request: your writing makes me go wild. would you be able to write something about the reader and matt dating , so they get like zero privacy and fuck in the car the idea has been rotting my brain i fear/Matt takes you for a late-night drive and you end up fucking in the backseat/Earned It by The Weeknd plays on aux in Matt's car. Both Matt & y/n get in the mood, proceed to fuck in the car the rest of the night/Teasing Matt while he’s driving smut

Warnings: Sex, slight overstimulation, car sex, road head, fingering, cum eating, cute fluffy little moment at the end

Matt’s pov

I love living with my brothers, I really do, but I hate that they don’t know what privacy is. Y/n, my girlfriend of 3 years, lives with us as well, me and her have the master bedroom, which is the biggest. As much as I love my brothers, I don’t love when Nick literally steals Y/n away when we’re having movie nights or cuddling. And I most definitely fucking hate it when Chris ALWAYS ruins the mood, even if we lock the door he’ll pound on it until we open it. Sometimes he’ll even come into our room at night just to sleep next to me like when we were younger, thank god Y/n loves them both as much as I do, or else shit would be awkward.

Tonight I had planned for us to go see a movie at the drive-in, I even put down the seats in the back of her SUV and put blankets and squishmallows (Y/n’s favorite) as pillows back there to make it comfy. Nick and Chris had tried to invite themselves but I wasn’t going to let them ruin another one of my dates just because they think of Y/n as a little sister. Y/n and I hadn’t seen each other all day, we were both super busy so we were really looking forward to tonight but we definitely had an unexpected change of plans. When Y/n got back from her day with Madi she took a shower and got dressed in some comfy clothes, opting to blow dry her hair because it was cold outside.

I love seeing her like this when she only wears mascara and that damn strawberry lipgloss that I love so much along with some sweatpants and a sweatshirt. God, it was my favorite look on her, especially when the sweater she’d wear was mine. I was wearing basically the same thing but I had a backwards fitted on as well. It was starting to get dark so we decided to leave, the universe however, clearly didn’t want us to go on a fucking date because when we started driving on the freeway towards the drive-in theater, it started pouring, meaning all movies were now canceled. “Fuck, man! Why can’t I just take my girlfriend out on a decent date!” I yelled, hitting the steering wheel.

Y/n’s pov

I understand why Matt got mad, but honestly, there was no reason for him to be, I was already just enjoying being alone with him right now. “Babe it’s okay, we can still go up to that one private view. And we can watch something on my Macbook, it’s still in my car from yesterday. Let’s make the most of our alone time” I told him while rubbing his arm. Matt just nodded, clearly upset that his plan got ruined by the weather, “Plus I can finally makeout with you and not have to worry about getting interrupted” I added, half-joking.

Matt still looked upset so I moved my hand onto his thigh, I saw Matt quickly glance at me but neither of us said anything. I kept my hand there while I changed the playlist to a more relaxed and vibey one, occasionally tightening my grip on his thigh. I noticed the way that simple action got to him as he slowly started to get hard. We were almost to the overlook so I decided to start teasing Matt a bit, we hadn’t been able to have sex for a while so I moved my hand to rest over his growing hard-on. “Y/n” he said in a warning tone, “Matthew” I tested back with a smirk.

I started rubbing Matt over his sweatpants as we started driving up the little mountain when Earned It by The Weeknd started playing. This song seems to always get us in the mood so I decided to slip my hand into Matt’s sweatpants, lightly squeezing and rubbing his cock over his boxers. The car stopped and the music ended as Matt threw it in park and took the keys out of the ignition. He grabbed my wrist, pulling it out of his pants, and clicked the thing to unbuckle both of our seatbelts before he grabbed my jaw turning me to face him.

“Why are you always such a fucking tease” he asked in frustration, “Because I miss being able to touch my boyfriend whenever I want. I miss your cock Matty” I whined back as a response. Matt sighed, knowing I was right and he missed that too, but still pressed a very needy kiss to my lips. “Fuck I missed this side of you! Get in the back for me princess, we’re gonna take advantage of this alone time” he smirked as he kicked off his shoes. I did the same before hoping in the back through the center console area, Matt followed right after he took off his fitted.

“Hi” he giggled “Hi Matt” I giggled back, Matt looked at me with a smirk while biting his lip as he turned on the overhead light like they do in car videos. “Stop looking at me like that, you’re making me nervous” I blushed as he scooted closer to me, “I want you to get naked for me so I can finally feel your tight pussy around my cock again” he whispered in my ear before helping me take my hoodie off. We both took our sweats off as well, as well as my panties, Matt had pushed me so my back was against the door behind the driver’s side, sitting to the right of me.

He gripped my jaw, pulling me closer and mumbling, “God, I missed this” before smashing our lips together. Matt did this one thing that makes me literally go feral, he straddles me and essentially sits on my lap. I literally find it so fucking hot when he does that, especially when he’s the dominant one. I immediately moved one hand to start palming his hard cock, moving my kisses down his jaw to his neck where I sucked multiple hickies into the skin, probably more than I should’ve.

“That’s right baby, mark me up and claim me so everyone knows I’m yours” Matt groaned before pulling my head up to makeout again. This time the makeout was rough and wet, full of clashing teeth and needy tongues. Moans were exchanged between each other’s mouths until Matt pulled away, due to me starting to jerk him off over his boxers. “Babe don’t d-do that, you’re gonna make me cum before I can even get inside of you” he mumbled before moving us to lay down. “Then take your boxers off and fuck me already, I need it so bad Matty” I whined in frustration, making him laugh as we moved so I was laying down.

“Mhm I forgot how bossy you can be, I’ve missed it but I gotta stretch you out first babe” he said while hovering over me, slipping his right hand between our bodies. He ran his fingers through my folds, “Who got you this wet baby” he teased cockily as he brought up his shiny wet fingers. “You did! You did Matt, missed your cock so much” I whined before he shoved those two fingers into my mouth, making me taste myself. “Suck” he demanded, causing me to moan around his fingers, “That’s right baby, make those fingers nice and wet for me, even though you don’t really need to” he added, smirking at me.

Once Matt deemed my fingers wet enough, he stuck them both into me, groaning at how I could barely take his two fingers. After a couple of minutes of stretching me out I had to stop him, “Matt, I think I’m stretched out enough and if you don’t stop I’m going to end up cumming on your fingers instead of your cock” I whined. “Alright” is all he replied with, taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth “Mmm fuck, I love the way you taste” he added before pulling down his boxers.

Matt leaned down to start sucking hickies onto my boobs as he eased himself into me but I wasn’t here for slow sex. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer so his cock slammed into me “Shit baby, you’re so tight” he groaned. Matt started to slowly thrust into me, letting me get used to his size, “Matty please stop being gentle, need you to really fuck me!” I whimpered out. That was all Matt needed to hear before he ruthlessly started pounding into me. It’s a good thing nobody really knows about this place because if anyone came up here they’d definitely know we were having sex.

The car was shaking, windows were fogged up, and I’m sure our lewd moaning could be heard from outside of the car. I pulled Matt’s head away from my neck, where he was leaving lots of hickies to match his neck, and placed our lips together. I started sucking on Matt’s tongue and running my tongue across the roof of his mouth, two things that drive him absolutely insane. He let out a deep, throaty groan as his left arm, my favorite because of the tattoos, came up to start toying with my nipples, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers.

“Babe— FUCK- pl-please choke me! I’m so close, I just need a little bit more” I moaned as we pulled apart, one of my hands was scratching down Matt’s back while the other was tightly gripping his hair. “Yeah? Want me to choke you so you can cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock while I fill you up?” he rambled out between grunts. His left hand wrapped tightly around my throat, applying just the right amount of pressure as Matt’s thrusts got both faster and harder.

“Shit! Matt, cum with me!” I moaned right before I came hard around his cock. After a few more thrusts, Matt let out an animalistic growl as he shot his load into me. I didn’t even have time to calm down from cumming when Matt did something he’s never done before. He pulled out and immediately went down and started eating me out as both of our cum oozed out of me, he’s literally never eaten me out after cumming in me before. And as amazing as this felt I was already feeling overstimulated, considering I didn’t get to come down from my first high.

Matt’s Pov

I missed eating Y/n out so much that when we both finally came I couldn’t control myself, she hadn’t even caught her breath before I went down on her. Usually, I would have never even thought about eating Y/n out after cumming in her, I always do it before we fuck, but today I was just in the moment. It honestly might sound disgusting, but my own cum tastes pretty good, and mixed with hers it’s just 10x better. “Fuck— Matt! M-Matt, stop I’m too sen-sensitive!” Y/n moaned about me as she pulled on my hair and kept trying to wriggle away.

I was in such a daze right now that I got fed up with her continuous moving. I slapped Y/n’s thigh pretty hard, a lot harder than I intended anyway, and pulled away for a second. “Y/n, stop fucking moving! I’m finally getting to give my sexy ass girlfriend head and I’m not stopping!” I growled out. Grabbing her thighs, I held them down as I started sucking our cum out of her pussy before I started fucking it with my tongue.

Y/n pulled my hair as I was sucking on her clit, causing me to groan against her. “Mhm Matt I’m gonna cum again— FUCK!” she cried out as she came all over my face. I let her actually catch her breath and come down from her high this time while I put my boxers and sweats back on since we needed to go home soon. It was now about 2:45am and I was exhausted, “I love you so much Y/n, I missed doing this” I said right before I softly kissed her, helping her put her panties back on.

“God, that was so hot babe! I totally wasn’t expecting you to do that” she said, still in shock. I felt myself slowly starting to get hard again while I put my shirt back on, helping Y/n/n get dressed. I gave her another soft kiss before climbing back into the front, offering Y/n my hand so she could do the same before putting my hat back on. “Are you ready to go back home princess?” I asked softly, placing a short kiss on her lips with a smile. “Mmm, I dunno. I think I need another kiss” Y/n replied softly, the only sound to be heard was the pitter-patter of the rain against the SUV.

We shared a few more soft kisses, smiling into them, but I had to pull away before we started making out again. “All better?” I asked, getting a hum back as an answer before I started driving. “Hey Matty, are you still hard?” Y/n pouted, “Uhh ye-yeah, don’t worry about it though. You just looked so hot and fucked out after I ate you out that I got hard again. It’s not a problem” I nervously replied back, not wanting her to think it wasn’t good enough.

Before I knew it, Y/n had her hand in my sweats and was teasingly rubbing my cock. “Babe-“ I started but Y/n cut me off, “You’re gonna say ‘you don’t have to do that’ and I know, but I want to” she said in a dominating tone. I just stayed quiet, knowing I wouldn’t win this fight. I was at a stop light when Y/n moved to lean over the center console and pulled my dick out making my breath hitch at both her cold hand and the air. I was at a loss for words as I’ve never gotten road head before and Y/n usually isn’t this bold or dominating.

“Y/n/n, what are you doing?” I asked in a panic as she spit on my cock, spreading it and the precum across my throbbing cock. “Shut up and drive Matthew” she said before taking my tip into her mouth. Unexpectedly, she deepthroated me causing my grip on the wheel to tighten and my breathing to pick up. Y/n started to hollow out her cheeks, creating a tight suction around my cock as she moved back up to suck on the head again. She started humming around my cock causing me to whimper as I tried to maintain focus on the road, which thankfully was empty.

“You like that, don’t you Matty” she asked in a seductive voice before going back to sucking me off, “Y-Yeah, but it’s- fuck- it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re doing that” I whined back. “B-But don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop!” I added as I was getting closer to cumming. Thankfully we had just stopped at another red light, I pushed her head all the way down on my cock, causing her to gag and holding it there while I came down her throat. “Shit— So good for me baby! Fuck, just like that!” I groaned loudly as she swirled her tongue around the tip before pulling off with a pop.

Y/n swallowed my cum before tucking my, now soft, dick back into my pants. “The lights green Matty” she laughed, pulling me out of my trance, “Huh? Oh shit” I said when I realized the was, in fact, now green. The rest of the way home, we sat in a comfortable silence and held hands on the center console. When we pulled up into the driveway, I got out and rushed to the other side to open Y/n’s door. What I didn’t expect was for her to take off my hat and grab me by the collar of my shirt before kissing me in the pouring rain.

As cheesy as it sounds, it was like a scene straight out of a movie, us standing there kissing while our hair and clothes got wet, stupidly smiling into the kiss. Unfortunately, unlike the movies, we got interrupted after like 3 or 4 minutes by none other than, you guessed it! Nicolas Sturniolo, “Can you guys stop fucking making out and come inside? It’s late, you were supposed to be back hours ago!” both me and Y/n let out a groan before walking inside. “Sorry dad, we got busy” Y/n joked, “I am NOT your father, this isn’t fucking Star Wars” Nick replied dramatically. As expected, we found Chris in our room on his phone.

“Out” is all I said while rolling my eyes, “And a hello to you too Matthew” he replied sarcastically, finally looking up at us. “Why are you wet?” he asked but Y/n just grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the door. “I’m cold and want to change, get out or I’ll suck Matt’s dick again in front of you” she said shoving him out. “Again!?” both my brothers questioned, “Yeah, again! Deadass had to fuck my girlfriend in the car on a mountain because you two fuckers don’t give us any privacy!” I yelled at them slamming and locking the door. Y/n just giggled, pulling me to our closet to get changed before we laid down. Finally getting to cuddle and have the rest of the day to ourselves without any annoying distractions.

#matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplet smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets imagine #smut #sturniolo fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for letting my dog correct (nip) my niece to prove a point and refusing to punish him?

I own an ex-K9 called Biggles. Biggles is impeccably trained, a total gentleman when you're not being an asshole to him, but also has no time for your bullshit. He'll tolerate a lot more hassle from the younger kids in our family, but if they're allowed to persist in bullying him, he will correct them, just like he would the adults of the family.

Mostly Biggles will just push them over and walk away. Its his way of saying to leave him alone. Sometimes he'll bark loudly, a kind of 'fuck off now' bark. At the very extreme, he'll give them a tiny little warning nip on the arm or hand.

(Biggles has only ever nip corrected kids twice in all the years I've had him. Once when my cousin thought it was 'cute' to dump her toddler right on top of Biggles and let him rip at his fur and try to bite at his face, and once when my nephew was having a tantrum, Biggles tried to snuggle up to him to soothe him and my nephew hit him in the face.)

I firmly believe in learning how your pet communicates and respecting their reasonable boundaries. To me, if you're yanking on a dog's tail and ignoring everyone warning you to stop and you get a nip to the back of the hand for it, that's a valid consequence of your actions and you've just learned to respect the dog enough not to try pulling its tail out of its spine.

(This likely seems unfathomable to a lot of you, but I must clarify that Biggles isn't some hyper-reactive aggressive, dangerous dog like my sister thinks. He will more than happily play around with the little ones, faux wrestle with them, let them paw all over him and fuss at him, ect. He loves children, they're his babies. He does not love being in pain, and if the person causing it will not respect him or me enough to listen to my warnings, I believe they earn it when he warns them too.)

Anyway. Like you might've guessed, yanking on his tail was what my niece was doing at the beer-and-barbeque this weekend. I told her not to. My parents told her not to. Even my sister half-assedly suggested 'maybe Biggles wants to play a different game.' Biggles got up and moved away from her twice and she followed him both times to 'keep playing.'

My entire family knows how Biggles works. I warned my sister Biggles wouldn't tolerate what was happening. My sister told me I shouldn't own such a dangerous, unpredictable dog and he should be put down if he can't handle some 'rough love from a kid.'

(This was not rough love. This was my niece literally ripping at his tail thinking his pain responses were funny.)

I didn't want to cause a scene or subject Biggles to further harassment so I decided just once I'd cave and take Biggles inside so he could get some peace and I could enjoy my burnt ends without my sister squealing in my ear about being cruel to her child by telling her off.

Unfortunately, Biggles' patience ran out before I could make my way over. My niece yanked at his tail again, hard enough that it actually jolted him on the grass, and Biggles whipped around and nipped at her hand. I got to see her hand afterward and there was just a little red mark, no blood or broken skin. He'd just pinched her a little.

My niece screamed bloody murder like he'd taken her hand off and my sister screamed bloody murder about my 'vicious animal.' It devolved into a massive family-wide argument against my sister because my entire family knows its just basic respect and kindness not to cause an animal pain deliberately, and that its my sister's fault for not listening to anyone when we all told her and my niece not to hurt Biggles.

My sister stormed off and has since been blowing up the entire family demanding that Biggles be put down. She's threatened to call the cops, animal control, you name it. None of us are worried about that. There wasn't even a proper mark left on her hand and Biggles will pass any behavioral test with flying colors, but my sister is giving everyone grief and is refusing to attend any family events if Biggles will be there.

My dad is firmly on my side, but my mom is imploring me to just fake apologise to get some peace back. When I recounted the story to my colleague this morning, he said she got what she earned, but also why would I bring Biggles to an event I knew a disrespectful little shit of a kid was at?

I don't feel like an asshole in terms of allowing my dog to establish his boundaries. In my and my family's opinion pets are their own entities and should be treated with belonging and respect when part of a family. Its also just common sense not to cause an animal pain for the fun of it.

However, I'm also very aware that getting nipped by a dog, especially at such a young age, can be catastrophic. My niece could be terrified of dogs for the rest of her life, and while I don't feel guilty she got corrected, I do feel somewhat guilty that I didn't intervene sooner and have possibly set her up for failure in the future. And I do feel like an asshole for letting it get to that point, but it did all happen pretty quickly.

All things considered I do love my niece, she's family, she just gets away with murder because my sister thinks being a little girl is an automatic pass to do whatever you want without consequence.

I've probably painted Biggles out in a real bad light here, but I can assure you that in general Biggles is the perfect family dog. He's loving, playful, he tries to share his kibble with everyone at dinner, he helped us teach my uncle's puppy tricks and how to behave and potty outside ect.

So I guess I'm really asking am I the asshole in this situation, as the one responsible for Biggles?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sunshine-theseus · 6 months

Text

Apple and Chocolate Muffins | Katie McCabe x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: owning a café apparently brings you the girl of your dreams Warnings: fluff

Having your own little book café on a corner of a small street in St Albans, London, brings you things you’d never expect.

I’d first bought the place from an older lady, Ms Nelson, who sold antiques. She’d decided she wanted to spend whatever time she had left travelling. She tried to simply give it to me, but I couldn’t accept and ended up paying her half of what was listed.

She likes to send me post cards whenever she’s about to leave a place. I put the most recent on display on the counter and the rest go in an antique memento box she gifted me before she left.

Ms Nelson also introduced me to my best friend Juniper, one of her old workers who helps run the place now.

“3 years here and you still refuse to tell me what your special recipe is. Whyyy?” Juniper’s favourite item, was my special apple and chocolate muffins. It was an item I refused to take off no matter how many times we changed the menu.

“They wouldn’t be a secret then would they June?”

“But I’m your best friend. And I need these in my life daily.”

“I literally make an extra 3, every night, just for you.”

The ringing of the bell on the door stops her from retaliating, and I approach the counter while June finally makes an order for Mr Byrne, one of our regulars.

“Welcome to the Inkwell Café! What can I get you?” I look at the customer, but my breath gets caught in my throat.

It’s like the Gods just sent down and angel to derail my day. Her eyes were a greyish blue and her skin was sun kissed, freckles scattering her cheeks. And her arms… well fuck me.

“Hello?” I hadn’t even realised I’d stopped paying attention until she waves a hand in front of my face.

“S- sorry could you repeat that?” I let out a nervous chuckle, but she just smiles a magnificent smile.

She starts listing off an order and I momentarily get caught off by her Irish accent, but I manage to take down the 3 different drinks. I’m about to tell her the total when she stops me again.

“Oh! And can I get one of those apple and chocolate muffins? Jonas is going to kill me, but I hear they’re worth it.” I give her a confused look.

“My friend Steph, she comes here once a month as a treat and raves about it at training.” Training?

“Oh! Well, here’s an extra one for her! For free of course. What’s the name for the order?”

“Katie”

“It will be ready soon.” I flash a smile before going to make the coffees.

June comes out of nowhere.

“Why is Katie fucking McCabe in here?” she whispers into my ear.

“Who?”

“Katie McCabe. One of the best Arsenal players ever? Captain for the Republic of Ireland Women’s National Football team? How do you not know her? I talk about Arsenal all the time. They literally train right down the road.” I stare blankly back at her.

“How did she even find us? You don’t casually find this café on your way to work.”

“She said her friend Steph comes here, told her about it.”

“Steph Cately!? I’ve never seen Steph Cately walk through those doors.”

“…Who? And you do tend to not pay attention.” Juniper just groans and I finish making the coffees.

“Katie!” as I give her the drinks, her hand brushes against my own. Tingles run up my arm, but I bid her adieu with a small smile and wave.

~~~~~

Katie begins coming in every Tuesday and Friday, and we slowly get to know each other while Juniper freaks out in the corner. Or sometimes Katie liked to just sit and read in a corner for whatever time she had before she left for training. Either way it was nice.

She loved telling me about her younger sister Lauryn who was on her way to joining Katie on their senior national team, and her crazy encounters on the pitch during games. I tell her about how and why I decided to open a book café and retell the stories Ms Nelson sends me. I also desperately try to repress all my feelings for the Irish angel that blessed my shop every week.

I also find out who Steph is. A very nice Australian woman, who does in fact come in once a month for the Apple and Chocolate muffin. I get to know her a bit too, but she usually grabs her muffin and something for her fiancée and leaves.

The first time Katie misses a Tuesday is 4 months after her first visit. I’m disappointed but don’t think much of it until she doesn’t show up on Friday, or either day the week following. That’s when I decide to visit their training ground, obviously dragging June along to do any talking, to see if I can figure out what happened.

I don’t think about how weird it is until Juniper pulls me out of the car in front of their training centre at 9am on Friday after hurriedly closing the café. And a promise for a free coffee to everyone we had to kick out.

“June this was stupid, this is something you do, not me. Why didn’t you talk me out of it.”

“I’m about to meet the whole Arsenal team just because your huge crush failed to come for her regular coffee a few times.”

“But like it is weird she just stopped coming so abruptly, right? Like we were getting along.”

“I mean sure, but you didn’t freak out like this when Mickie stopped coming. And it took us another six months to find out she’d moved to fucking Glasgow.”

“We should leave shouldn’t we.”

I turn around to head back to the car right as we’re about to enter the reception but come face to face with a slightly shorter brunette. One I’ve seen the face of in some recent team photo Katie had shown me, but was otherwise completely unfamiliar.

“Are you trying to get in? The door can be a little tricky sometimes.” How many Australians did they have here?

“Oh no-“

“Yes! We’re friends of Katie; Y/n and Juniper, and we haven’t seen her in a few weeks. We were hoping to catch her.”

“Oh! I think she’s shown us a picture of you actually! She talks about you both quite a bit. I’m Kyra by the way.”

“I know.”

“Nice to meet you.” I talk over Juniper and hold out a hand for Kyra to shake.

“Well, I’m not quite sure why she hasn’t come to see you, but I can bring you back to the locker room, you’ll just need to fill some forms out probably.” She’s already leading us to the front desk before I can deny her offer.

Not 5 minutes later Kyra is happily dragging us to the locker room, and I can see Juniper skipping next to me, clearly excited.

“Dude you’ve gotta calm down.” I whisper to her.

“More like you need to stop being so uptight. Kyra Cooney-Cross is literally leading us to the whole Arsenal women’s team.”

“McCaaaabe! Someone’s here to see yoouuu.” Kyra calls out as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not my bloody mum again is it? I swear she decides to come surprise me far too often.”

I peak out from behind Kyra and give a small wave.

“Hiii” I say meekly as Juniper jumps into talking to her favourite players.

“What are you doing here?” Katie gives me a quick hug.

“Well, you kinda stopped showing up and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh, y- yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just, I started getting feelings for you and freaked out and thought that cutting you off would help.”

“Y- you like me?”

“Yeah. Like a lot. I obviously totally understand you don’t like me back.” She lets out a sigh and looks at her boots.

“Shh shoosh shut up.” I place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head up.

It was hard to escape the doom of falling in love with Katie McCabe. Her eyes were the perfect shade of blue, her lips the softest of pinks, her freckles like the stars. She had the kindest of hearts and the most beautiful laugh. A creation made by Aphrodite herself.

“I really like you too.” And her lips are softer than you could imagine as she presses her’s hard against my own.

We’re broken apart by an array of whistles and shouts from Juniper and Katie’s teammates and I hide my flushed face in her neck.

“I can’t believe we finally get to meet the girl Katie hasn’t shut up about for like 4 months.” Alessia Russo, one player I am familiar with, comments from across the room.

“You talk about me?” I poke her in the side.

“Y/n you can’t talk you literally don’t shut up about Katie. ‘Oh my god she’s sooo funny and pretty.’”

“Bro what the fuck? That was a secret you were meant to take to your grave.” Juniper simply shrugs.

“As much as I want to stay and tease you about how much you talk about me, and kiss you, we do unfortunately have training.” Katie pouts as she hugs me.

“Oh! Before I forget. I brought you an apple and chocolate muffin.” I pull the baked good from my bag and hand it to her.

“Fuuuck yees! You are literally the best person ever. I need to know your recipe so bad.”

“Mmmm maybe I could teach you how to make them. Tonight, at the café?”

“I’VE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT RECIPE FOR 3 FUCKING YEARS AND YOU’RE GOING TO JUST HAND IT OVER TO HER?” Juniper’s outburst makes the room erupt in giggles.

“How about for your birthday?” She nods solemnly and begins to say goodbye to the other girls as they begin to head out to the pitch for training.

I turn back to Katie.

“I’ll see you tonight…” She leans up and kisses me one more time.

“Girlfriend.” She leaves before I can reply, and I’m left to giggle as Juniper drives us back to the café, to reluctantly reopen for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

The clock shows 6:13 and I begin to think Katie flaked, but right as I’m packing up the ingredients, the bell rings and in rushes a flushed, panting, Katie McCabe.

“I’m so… sorry! Caitlin could only… drop me… a few blocks away… so I had to… run.” She pants out.

“It’s ok.” I peck her on the cheek and take her coat, then offer her some water which she sculls down.

We spend hours baking and messing around. Mostly kissing.

~~~~~

Another 6 months pass before Katie and I decide to move in together in a small apartment down the street from the café.

She now helps me bake my apple and chocolate muffins once a week, insisting she has to always be in a simple cropped singlet after I had made a comment about how good her arms looked when she mixes the batter.

There was something so domestic about baking together that made it hard not to just scream to the world how much I loved the woman. Instead, I stick to wrapping my arms around her waist and whispering it in her ear, periodically kissing her while she cuts the apples or mixes whatever needs mixing.

I can’t wait to tell Ms Nelson her apple and chocolate muffins brought me the most beautiful girl in the world. She and her wife have been begging for a new post card.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #woso #womens soccer #wwc 2023

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stargirlrchive · 1 year

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ocean eyes: chapter four ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

chapter four in collaboration with @tarrynightss <3

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, smut, p in v, oral - fem receiving + wc - 5,646

comments: part four lovers, holy shit this is my favorite chapter, oh my god! i just want to give the biggest thanks to liz @tarrynightss <3 my pookie woookie ! she literally made this chapter what it is! <3 and if you do not follow her already, do it RIGHT NOW! she is so talented and amazing and RAHHH i love her !!!! she wrote the smut and let me just say, delicious, amazing, spectacular! we were so in sync with this and i am so proud of this chapter <3 i hope you all love her just as much as we do! okay bye, love you!!!!

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Your weeks consisted of avoiding Ronal and Tonowari, training Jake for hours, and then slipping away to your favorite cove for the rest of the night. You had even begun to join Jake’s family on a few dinners, wanting to avoid your sister as best you could. But it had only been a few times, still feeling awkward around his children, and your distaste for the situation had not simmered.

You had even begun to gather your own fruits and scout your own fish, just to avoid being in your home. It had been weeks but Ronal’s words were still seared into your skin, selfish, selfish, selfish.

If only she knew how hard it had been for you once she left. Your mother always said she did not have favorites, although everyone knew that was not true. It had always been Ronal. In your mother’s eyes your sister held the moon, she was born to lead the people. And she was right, your sister was fierce, strong willed and bound by duty.

As a child you were the same, though you had a knack for trouble, something that did not sit well with her.

It had been a few years since Ronal had left, mated with Tonowari and you slipped away from her priorities. She was barely able to find time for you, which hurt more so than your mother not having time for you. You were not used to it.

So you decided being invisible would work best for you, putting in everything you had into becoming a warrior for the clan.

Younger than most, but twice as dedicated. You took every free moment you had to train, sharpen your skill. But still, the attention from your sister never came. She only ever really acknowledged your efforts until the day of your celebration. You were the smallest of the class, and in Ronal’s eyes it was silly. How even at the age of thirteen you were so sure of yourself.

But Ronal disappeared again, at least that was how you saw it. For those two years between completing your Iknimaya and your Mother’s death you have very little memories with your sister.

What you do remember is the feeling of accomplishing something new, and looking around only to find you were completely alone.

That feeling was embedded into every crevice of your body, similar to the one you felt at the age of eighteen. Foolish and naive, thinking you were in love. Expecting that by sharing intimate moments with one of the Na’vi warriors would keep him bound to you.

That was why you refused to share your life with anyone else. You had been alone for so long, why start now?

You were ripped away from your thoughts as a grunt of frustration left Jake’s mouth. Your ears twitched at the sound, snapping your head to look at him. “Stupid fish.”

Your lips twitched at his frustration, trying not to laugh. “Position yourself, want to see if you are doing it correctly.”

“Why can I not just use a bow? I am well versed with that weapon.”

Your eyes rolled at him, “The current is too rough, it will snap your arrow in half. Now learn to use the spear.”

Jake grunted, his muscles achy and stiff as he lifted his arms again. Your hand slapped on the underside of his arm, the sting furthering his irritation. “Don’t do that.”

“You are weak!”

His heated gaze flickered to your face, the intensity of it halting a bit as he noticed the glossy look in your eyes, “You enjoy pushing my buttons.”

Your eyes rolled, “Believe it or not, I do not enjoy anything when it comes to you.”

He scoffed, dropping his arm down and it caused you to hiss at him, “Up! We are not done.”

“Do you know how to shoot an arrow?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer my question.”

Your face scrunched up in annoyance, “Get a catch and then I will answer you.”

Out of pure annoyance, Jake did what you asked. Drawing his hand back and focusing his gaze in the water, when he saw a fish, a large one too, his spear sunk in, missing the catch.

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you pulled the weapon from his hands, “Skxawng.”

“Clearly I am not going to catch anything today, so answer my question. Do you know how to shoot an arrow?”

Your lips pursed as you walked away from him, you purposely threw your hair behind your shoulder and splashing Jake’s face in the process. “I have no need to use a bow, so no. I do not know how to use one.”

Jake felt his tail thump in the water, excitement bubbling in his chest, “Let me teach you then.”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you continued to walk towards the beach, “There is nothing I have to learn from you.”

Another jab, one of the few that actually bothered Jake. Those had become more frequent, and the fine line between the excitement he had and the irritation they caused were beginning to blur together. His fingers wrapped around your forearm, the unexpected movement caused your body to jolt roughly against his. You gasped quietly, “Let go of me!”

“Are you scared you’ll fail?”

Your motions stilled, no longer pulling away from him but trying to fight the need to whack him with your tail, “No-I just do not wish to spend any more time with you than absolutely necessary.”

Jake’s fingers let go of you, he knew just how to push your buttons too. “Fine. Truth be told, I know you’d fail. Better not waste our time.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, his words bothering you beyond belief, “Fine then. Teach me.”

Jake had moved from you, circling in front of you, a look of utter satisfaction on his features and you wanted to stomp down on his foot, “Don’t think I will. Like you said, why waste more time than necessary with each other.”

He was walking away from you, the stupid look still on his face. The Toruk Makto, doubting in your skill stung more than you’d care to admit, your finger wrapped around his wrist, halting his movement, “No-I want to learn.”

You actually wanted to prove him wrong, but who cared. You caved, and that was all Jake cared about. “Follow me then.”

He turned away, trying to hide the satisfaction that began to consume his chest but his tail betrayed him, swaying lazily in the water as he walked out. You grunted quietly, following behind him as he made his way towards his marui. You were growing impatient with how leisurely his actions were, “I do not have all day.”

Jake paused briefly, ears twitching in irritation as he noticed the bite in your voice. His fingers balled into a tight fist before he took a deep breath, quickening his steps despite not wanting you to know that you did get under his skin in a way he couldn't explain. But along with that annoyingly irritating way your voice always seemed to disgruntle him, he enjoyed it all the same. Because he knew he got under your skin as well, you were just unwilling to admit it. Unwilling to bite at the hook he sent you, but it would happen, he was sure of it.

He picked up his bow and arrow, your foot tapping as your arms crossed over your chest was making Jake anxious. He was trying to still the pounding of his chest, feeling unnerved by the way you seemed to find fault in everything he did.

Nerves bubbling so much so his fingers fumbled and the arrows fell from his fingers, “Eywa, you want to teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow and you’re fumbling like a child.”

Another jab that irritated deep in his soul, that thin line completely blending together and now he was just annoyed with you. Annoyed with every sly comment that fell from your mouth. He huffed in anger, roughly yanking the arrows back into his arms. And you noticed the change in his demeanor, mouth flattening into a straight line as his angry gaze fixated on you.

Nerves bubbled in your chest, along with an excitement that you had not felt in a long time, it settled in your lower stomach. Your tail swished behind you gently, raising your brows in challenge, practically asking him to bite back. He just shook his head, sighing quietly as he moved past you, walking towards the forest. You were following behind him closely, your steps quickening and you just felt his frustration with you.

You were hoping he’d finally snap, run to Ronal and Tonowari and beg to pick someone else for him. The thought caused a bitter taste in your mouth, but you would never admit that. You would never willingly open your heart to someone else, especially someone who had already loved someone. Loved them enough to spend years with, have children with, you were not able to do it.

When did things in your life become so difficult? So complicated to the point where all you wish for was to be left alone? You weren’t sure, but it was lonely. And although uncommon within your people, you did find Na’vi to quelch the bitterness that had consumed your heart.

You were so deep in thought you had not noticed Jake stopped walking, stumbling roughly into him. Your face squished against his back, your nose throbbing from the pain. You hissed out, instantly pushing yourself off of him as your face warmed up in both embarrassment and pain. Jake snickered quietly, “You need to pay attention.”

“You are so infuriating!”

Jake laughed, ears pinning back in amusement as he looked over his shoulder to look at you. Smiling harder as he saw your face pinched up in anger. He fully turned to you, thrusting the bow and arrows into your hand, your eyes narrowed in on him in annoyance.

He did not spare you a second glance, walking deeper into the forest until he was a few trees away from you. He removed the knife from its sheath, carving deeply into the tree a large ‘X’. He pointed to it before telling you, “This will be your target.”

“Really? I could not tell.”

Jake’s features glossed over once more with anger, his ears pinned back roughly against his head as he made quick steps to get back to you. “Let’s see it then.”

“I do not know the first thing about shooting an arrow, how do you expect me to know how to hold it properly?”

Jake roughly pulled on you, a quiet yelp fell from your mouth as your back crashed against his chest. His whole body caging yours in as he placed your arms in the position you needed to be, “Well, you act as if you know all. Excuse me for the confusion.”

You were unable to say anything more, the words caught in your throat as the heat from his body consumed yours. His fingers were anything but gentle, covering yours as he pulled the string back. He let it go quickly, your hands still in his and it hit the target dead center.

A small laugh of excitement left your mouth, Jake finally stepped away from you. You were too distracted to notice the way he was watching you. “Now position yourself.”

And you did, trying to copy his motions but it was clear you were off, even in the way you were standing there was an ache between your shoulders that had not been there. Jake’s hand lightly swatted your arm, just as you had earlier, moving to push down on your stomach and your stance was thrown off. Your feet wobbled as your body jolted. “Your strength needs to come from here.”

He pushed on your upper abdomen again, “You should not move if I push.”

Your eyes rolled back, “I just did not expect it.”

Jake threw you a snarky smile, “If you say so.”

You huffed out a breath, pulling your fingers back again. Jake found less things to adjust this time and he could see you were a quick learner. “Straighten your back.”

You listened, shoulders squaring out and the ache eased from between them. “Let go.”

Your arrow went flying but missed the target by a long shot. Jake whistled, “You were a bit off.”

“You dont say.”

Jake admired how you instantly grabbed another arrow, your fingers placing themselves correctly as you pulled the arrow back, “Again.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Hours had trickled by and it was starting to get dark, your fingers were raw from the string of the bow, muscles aching from the constant tug. Even after going at this for so long, you had nothing to show for it. Your arrows continuously missed, and it was only getting worse the weaker your limbs became. “It is not that difficult.”

Jake’s voice only spiked your frustrations, snapping the small chord that was already wearing thin from your exhaustion. You turned to him and pushed the bow straight into his chest, “Maybe you are just a poor teacher.”

His tail flicked in irritation and he turned around to pick up the arrows that had landed in the grass below your target.

“Maybe you are just a poor student, hm? My seven-year-old listens better than you.”

An angered hiss made your lips curl up into a snarl. “That’s because only a child would listen to you! You are infuriating!”

Ronal nagging at you and pointing out your flaws was more than enough, Jake did not have to join in as well.

A dry chuckle left his mouth as he pulled the last two arrows out of the bark of the tree, shooting a skeptical glance over at you. “From the way you’re acting, I would say you fall under that category.”

Your broad tail almost thumped against the ground in frustration, but you stopped it just in time, knowing it would only strengthen his point. You inched closer to him so you could spit your venom more clearly.

“If we were mated I would want to pluck your eyes out for the rest of my life,” you snarled at him, adding an annoyed ‘pak’ when the stupid man merely grinned.

Jake strode over to you with bow and arrows in his hands, looking more smug than offended at your words. His eyes traveled shamelessly over your form, delighting in the way your cheeks tinged a darker blue and your eyes narrowed at him. There was so much fire in you, luring him in to feel if your skin would burn under his touch.

“You would be so lucky,” he practically purred.

Your jaw almost dropped at his shameless flirting, far more forward than the men of your clan. As he smirked down at you he truly did look like a demon, you thought, and your ears folded back slightly as you felt an old fire ignite within you.

You refused to give in to it. “Why? So I can have a mate who cannot hunt fish? Who can’t ride a Tsurak?” You circled around him as your gaze blatantly judged every part of him. Your tail swatted against his legs, almost making him lose his balance. “There is nothing you have to offer me, JakeSully. I could find a man half your age with more skills.”

You seemed to have mastered how to provoke him, that old frustration bubbling back up in his chest and coming out in a light hiss. Your pupils narrowed at his challenge, stopping in front of him. For a moment everything was quiet, your gazes staying connected and tails swaying in anticipation.

Slowly, you moved your hand forward, not even blinking as you slapped the arrows and bow out of his hands. They fell down onto the grass below in soft thumps, Jake’s eyes flicking down to them before coming back up to stare straight at you. He breathed in heavily through his nose, his brow creasing into a scowl.

You seemed pleased with yourself, the corners of your mouth quirking up as you cocked your head. No words had to be used, your message loud and clear. What are you going to do about it?

An odd yet intoxicating tension rose and rose as your gazes remained locked, sharp eyes watching one another. Perhaps he should just walk away, turn around and have his children pack their bags once again. He shouldn’t want to mate with such a frustrating, stubborn woman like you, but Eywa knows he did.

Suddenly, Jake’s hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you closer till he pressed his lips against yours. His grip on you was loose, the kiss testing the waters to see if you would push him away. An agonizing heartbeat passed before you gasped softly, one hand coming up to rest against his chest. As soon as he felt you accept him he kissed you more passionately, hungry to deepen the little taste of you that he’d gotten.

So many thoughts crossed your mind that you could barely pick one to focus on. It had been years since you had been with a man, having sworn to not give yourself so intimately to someone again, yet you could not find it in yourself to push Jake away. He was a skxawng, with his smug smiles and overconfidence, and a touch that set you ablaze. You shivered as his lips parted yours, his tongue slipping past them.

As he deepened the kiss his hands moved to your waist, stroking over your naked skin. As your tongues stroked together you knew where this would lead, and a weight pressed down in your heart as you also knew where it would end. When he had found his pleasure, Jake would go, leaving you alone in the forest to clean off your shame.

You knew this would happen, yet the firm press of his calloused hands promised something else. Security.

It made you sad, angry even. Not your parents nor sister had been able to promise you that, and yet here was the former Olo'eyktan spinning a tale with his touches. With a snarl, you bit at his bottom lip and Jake backed away slightly in shock. As he touched his lip, he could feel a familiar wet warmth there, his fingers stained red when he retracted them. He wasn’t bleeding that bad, but it was enough to shock him, the man’s ears folding back in alert.

He had no time to consider if you were angry with his advances, your mouth clashing to his once again. You practically threw yourself at him, greedy hands rubbing over his muscled chest as you nipped at his injured lip once again. He groaned into your mouth. Everything just had to go the hard way with you.

Every stroke of your fingers against his body sent pleasant chills down yours. Every look that you had gotten of him had already made it clear that he was an attractive man, one that many would be pleased to have by their side, but feeling him was a whole different story. You almost moaned into the kiss as your fingers delved lower, tracing where his muscles dipped into a delicious V as you neared his loincloth. You cupped him boldly, instantly feeling the strong press of his hard cock against the fabric.

You smirked as you pulled back from his lips, batting your lashes at him. “My…”

Jake assumed that you were going to praise his size, his chest already swelling with pride.

“I had expected more self-restraint from Toruk Makto.” Your amused tone made it clear that you were mocking him. Your fingers wrapped tighter around his bulge and he bit back a groan. “Perhaps you have lost your touch.”

That statement seemed to ignite a fire in his eyes, hand shooting up to grab hold of your wrist. His brow scrunched up, face so serious and determined that it had your lips parting at the sight. You had never seen him like this before, and you imagined this is what he must’ve looked like when he stood before the clans all those years ago.

“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you.”

Before your lips could form a word, Jake swept you off your feet, landing you in the grass with a soft ‘oof’. Your wide eyes stared up at him as his large hand took hold of your thighs, spreading you open for him and propping up your legs.

A hiss formed at the back of your throat, head lifting to spit another insult at him before he shamelessly licked over your clothed cunt. Your hiss turned into a pathetic little mewl as his tongue formed wet stripes over your loincloth, pressing the material eagerly into your folds. He groaned as he tasted your wetness even through the material, every swipe of his tongue only revealing more of your sweet taste.

“Talk a big game for someone who’s this wet by just having a man stick his tongue into your mouth,” he groaned against you, his chuckle muffled as he was unwilling to pull away from your heat just yet.

You kicked lightly at his back with your heels, groaning in protest of what Jake was saying (though you only understood about half of it). It was foolish to deny it, the evidence staining your loincloth more and more by the second.

A disappointed whine left your mouth when he pulled back, his hands fumbling to untie your loincloth. You watched in impatience as he seemed to not understand how to get it off, cursing under his breath.

You rolled your eyes and pushed away his hands to do it yourself. “Bah! Can’t do anything.”

Jake flung the wet piece of clothing out of sight as soon as you had it off, face delving back in between your legs. It seems that though he wasn’t going to respond to your words with ones of his own, he wasn’t letting it slide either. His tongue only lapped over your wet cunt once to part your folds, his attentions instantly turning to your clit afterward. Your fingers dug into the grass below you as he sucked at your clit, pleasure rippling through your body like a wave. You had forgotten just how pleasing another’s touch could be.

Jake was clearly experienced, alternating in sucking at the sensitive bud and then flicking the tip of his tongue over it in hard strokes. His eyes peered up at you as you moaned, his cock now painfully straining against his loincloth. You looked like a goddess. Head thrown back in ecstasy, hair splayed out over the forest floor and your body flushed and writhing at every pleasurable movement of his tongue. Your sister might be Tsahík, but Jake felt far closer to Eywa when he was near you.

Your hands flew to the back of his head as you felt yourself getting close to cumming, fingers gripping tightly at his hair. When he groaned it sent more pleasant tingles through your core and you couldn’t help but press his face even tighter against you. He didn’t mind in the slightest, tongue only working against your clit with renewed vigor.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your body tensing up, finally tipping over that sweet edge. Your mouth stayed open in a silent scream, little sounds of pleasure leaving you as Jake continued his movements as you orgasmed. You hadn’t come this hard for Eywa knows how long and the moment almost makes you sigh in relief, feeling every muscle in your body tensing and then relaxing, a peaceful ecstasy washing over you.

Jake finally pulled back, lidded gaze watching you intensely. A small, relieved smile pulled at your lips as you panted, eyes tightly shut. You looked so relaxed, your face usually tense and scrunched up whenever he saw you.

“Damn, that must’ve truly been good, huh?I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

He just couldn’t help himself, feeling more than pleased with his own performance. You huffed and your hands swatted at his head. For a moment he thought he had won the upper hand, but after a second to recover you sprung up. You pounced on him like a Viperwolf and it quickly became his turn to have his back pressed into the grass.

Your eyes were glossed over with desire as you tore at his loincloth, some strings definitely ripping in the process as you roughly took it off of him. Jake sat up with wide eyes, breath hitching in his throat as you straddled him. This close he could see every little speck of color in your eyes, every tiny luminescent dot or stripe on your face. You were beautiful, but he had little more than a second to admire you as you took hold of his hard cock and positioned yourself over it.

You didn’t want to look down, sure that if you did you would lose your confidence. He felt big in your hand, and you tried your best not to nervously swallow when the thick head nudged against your entrance. No, he would not see your nerves, would not get to know how long it had truly been for you and mock you for it. Little did you know that the man beneath you was perhaps even more nervous, Jake not having sought out another after his late mate’s death.

A stifled grunt sounded from you as you sank down onto his cock, already feeling more than full enough after the first few inches. Your hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin to an almost painful extent. Good, he thought, Jake bracing himself against cumming as soon as your tight heat engulfed him.

You were not a quitter, biting at the inside of your cheeks as you continued slowly impaling yourself on his length till your ass was snuggly rested against his balls. A violent shiver rocked your body as you sat still like that, filled so well by him that you could feel your clit start to throb all over again.

After taking a shuddering breath, you braced yourself and started riding him, his cock easily sliding in and out of your wet cunt. Every stroke of his length against your insides had moans falling from both of you, Jake’s hands finding your hips to softly guide your movements. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, the need to scream his name growing stronger by the second. He felt so good inside you, like you were made for one another.

You bite at your bottom lip, no, you can’t think that way.

Your ears perk up as Jake groans loudly, face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Not so mighty now, are you, Toruk Makto?” you cooed at him, snickering in between your pants.

His lips peeled back to reveal his teeth as a light snarl graced his face. “Don’t get too cocky now, kid, you still have much to learn.”

You cocked your head. “Really?” You watched his eyes roll back as you rolled your hips in a way that made him reach deep inside you, biting back your own moan. “Seems like I’m the one who’s teaching you a thing or two here.”

Jake panted harshly, grip on your hips increasing till it was almost bruising. “Oh, we’ll see.”

You squealed as he flipped the position and pinned you down underneath him. He pulled your legs up to rest them over his shoulders, a hint of a grin pulling at his lips before he thrust his cock back into you. You screamed, your walls clenching around him as he started to fuck into you hard and fast. His pace was relentless, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling underneath his skin at the strain.

He laughed as he watched your face warp in pleasure, your hands trying wildly to find something to grab onto. “What? Can’t keep up?”

You couldn’t seem to manage to properly respond to him, eyes desperate as you cried out his name. He couldn’t resist leaning forward, bending you till your legs were almost pressed to your chest, his lips finding yours once again.

He kissed you passionately, groaning into your mouth as he continued his rapid strokes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good, his cock twitching inside of your slick cunt at every movement. Jake wouldn’t last long anymore.

Any soul unlucky enough to stray too far into the forest would quickly be able to hear the wet slaps of him fucking into your body, the sounds falling from your mouths everything but silent as well.

He moved away from your lips to bury his head into the crook of your shoulder, teeth nipping at the skin there. He felt so tempted to mark you, to place a bite on your shoulder that would make sure everyone knew you were his. But he couldn’t, not yet.

Jake purred your name so sweetly into your neck that it almost made your eyes roll back. It was becoming too much, your cunt throbbing around him as his fast pace rushed you towards your second orgasm, familiar tears stinging at your eyes.

His wet tongue came out to lap over your neck and it sent a shiver over your body. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut. Just a bit more.

With a well-aimed roll of his hips, he had you cumming yet again, your toes curling as your hot walls clamped down around his length. You could feel him shudder against you, your hands finding his back and clawing at it wildly. For every jolt of pleasure that shook your body, you scratched past his skin and Jake groaned loudly in response.

He grit his teeth, thrusts stuttering as he tried to hold himself back from instantly following behind you. He just wanted a few more minutes of feeling your tight cunt wrapped around him.

Though the sky was still blue, you swore you saw stars, head thrown back into the grass. All you could do was hold on tight and mumble out your desires as Jake continued to fuck you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You could feel his body tensing and heard his breath hitch right before he came, the man’s face scrunching up in pure ecstasy. He held himself deep inside you, letting you feel exactly how he was filling you up, his cum seeping inside of you.

Jake let out a pleased sigh and pressed a kiss to your temple. Your scent was intoxicating right now, full of desire and laced with his own. This is what he wanted you to smell like for the rest of his days, and he inhaled it eagerly.

He couldn’t pull himself away from you, his pelvis still flush against yours as his fingers sought out your clit. A high-pitched sound of surprise left you as his rough fingertips stroked over the swollen bud. You writhed underneath him, legs shaking as he tried to bring you to orgasm yet again.

“J-Jake!” you choked out, hands pushing uselessly at his arms.

He was reveling in the way your cunt squeezed and twitched around his length at every stroke of his fingers, the thought of his cum getting taken even deeper inside you this way making him hard all over again. His fingers didn’t stop no matter how much you whined and your body shook, this time ripping a loud scream from you when you came. It felt like being swept away in a tidal wave, yet instead of fighting it you let it take you completely.

You were still letting out little moans at the aftershocks when Jake pulled his cock out of you. He groaned at the sight of some of his seed slipping out of your used cunt, unconsciously licking his lips.

As soon as he shifted his position on top of you, your mind cleared up a bit and your mood dropped. This was the part where he rolled off of you, maybe shot you a thanks, and then left you tainted and alone in the forest. Your throat bobbed at the thought, hands retreating from him to lay them against your own stomach, almost protecting yourself against what was to come.

Jake reached out to touch your face and his fingers gently traced over the intricate patterns of your tattoos. His eyes shone with adoration, a genuine smile pulling at his lips.

“Beautiful.”

Out of all the things the two of you had just shared, this was the hardest part for you to accept. This man who you had belittled and mocked looked at you as if you held the moon in your hands.

His lips met yours again, so tender in his kiss that it almost hurt. This wasn’t out of desire, this was a true display of affection, of appreciation, and you felt yourself start to choke up. Though Jake noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t comment on it, merely rolling off of you so he could pull you against his chest.

He was warm, firm, his arms tightly wrapped around your form as henuzzled his nose into your hair. You pushed away the tears that continued to threaten to fall. He was not leaving, he was here, and though he did not say it, you knew that would be Jake Sully’s biggest promise to you if you were to mate. He would be there, no matter what.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

🏷️; @mashiromochi @midhito @neteyamforlife @adaiasafira @ambria @sillyfreakfanparty @fanboyluvr @jakescumdump @itscheybaby @iwanttohitmyself @janeety @haitanismainhoe @daribakugo @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lemonmoonmochi @dazedshoon @amanda-678 @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wekiamo @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @theroyalbrownbarbie @1ntefly @nyylovestowrite @rianapntn @crazy4books1 @jakesullylongjuicyshlong @kikookii @ducks118 @bucky12345 @elegantkidfansoul @bold-writing @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @graysonmalik2550 @milequaritchsslut @23victoria @kamcrazy123 @annamarieisbae @k----a27s @tojigirl @lynbubble @outspokenmatters

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

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Let's Be Alone Together || Part One

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Ever since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband, you've been a part of the Shelby family. Two years have passed and the two of you are still weighed down by grief but perhaps you can find solace in one another's company.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: ptsd, mention of death, implied drug use, language, not beta-read

A/N: My first Tommy fic after embarking on a rewatch of Peaky Blinders. If there's interest in this, I have more chapters in mind!

Part Two

“Where the fuck is Tommy?”

Arthur Shelby’s commanding voice cuts through the buzz of chatter. Gradually, the small crowd gathered in The Garrison’s snug falls silent. Not as quickly as they would have done for Arthur’s younger brother, but he has their attention at least.

Glaring at the occupants of the private side room, the eldest Shelby brother takes another breath. “I said, where the fuck is-”

“We heard you the first time, Arthur,” Pol pauses her chain-smoking to interject. Even with the cigarette now resting between her painted fingers, her burgundy lips are pursed, displeasure evident in the fine lines of her face. “Shouting louder isn’t going to make him magically appear. Let’s just get on with it.”

Sitting quietly in the background - quite literally, you are tucked away in the corner of the room - it strikes you that they should have noticed earlier. The presence - or lack thereof - of the head of the Shelby family rarely goes unobserved. After all, Tommy is usually the one to call for council. For him to be missing, something must be wrong.

All eyes are fixed on the centre of the room as a discussion breaks out between Arthur and John on the merits of waiting for Tommy, so it’s easy for you to slip away. You’ve often wondered why you’re invited to these family meetings in the first place. A sense of duty to your late husband, perhaps? Ensuring you don’t feel left out? Or maybe it’s just their way of keeping an eye on you.

Two years have passed since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband as they fought side by side in the Somme, and still the Shelbys treat you as one of their own. Pol, the family’s matriarch with a temper to match the size of her heart; sweet Ada who treats you like the older sister she never had; Arthur and John - a pair of brothers watching out for you as you navigate your way through widowhood.

And then there’s Tommy.

Tommy, who delivered the news of your husband’s death in person and held you while you broke down. Tommy, who put a roof over your head and food on your table when you could no longer afford the cost of rent. Tommy, who gave you a job and a purpose and a family.

You owe a lot to the Shelbys, but none more so than Tommy.

It’s likely your imagination, but sometimes it feels as if he acts differently around you. Like he’s more open with you than he is with the others. Maybe it’s the loss the two of you share. The grief that, given half a chance, might have swallowed you whole had Tommy not saved you.

But who is there to save him?

The streets are quiet at such a late hour, the rain having long since driven everyone inside so there’s no one around to witness your hurried approach to Tommy’s front door. You rap firmly, but you’re not surprised by the lack of response. Instead, you slip the spare key from your coat pocket. The one given to you for emergencies. The door opens with a soft creak.

Climbing the stairs, your heart races. The sweet scent of smoke fills your lungs and you hesitate at the bedroom door, suddenly fearful of what you might find on the other side. Tommy's habit isn’t quite the secret he’d like to think it is, but he’s usually so careful not to let it affect his business.

Upon entering the room, your eyes immediately fall to the bed. Tommy is stretched out across the mattress, but this is no peaceful slumber. Impossibly long, dark lashes kiss his pale skin as sweat beads across his creased brow. The muscle in his jaw works as his scarred fingers clutch at the rumpled white sheets.

“Tommy,” you murmur softly, once, twice, three times until his eyelids twitch.

A familiar yet unnerving pair of bright blue eyes fly open and his hard gaze instantly meets your own, his chapped lips parting as he rasps your name. “What are you doing here?”

Fighting off the instinct that makes you want to reach for him, you hold your position a few steps away. “You’re late for Arthur’s family meeting. They’re all waiting for you.”

In a flash, he’s sitting up, curses roughly spilling from his mouth. The movement startles you, not least because he’s dressed in only his undershirt and slacks, the sweat-dampened fabric clinging to his skin. He seems vulnerable like this - without the armour of his sharp suits, so perfectly tailored to the hard lines of his body.

Of course, you’ve noticed him. Despite your history, you’re far from immune to his striking appearance. Thomas Shelby has both the look and will of a Greek God. Beautiful and damned.

When Tommy’s attention lands on the pipe discarded on the bedside table, the briefest flicker of shame mars his fine features but it’s gone just as quickly. With a soft groan he begins to straighten himself.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, averting your gaze. Without waiting for an answer, you add, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You raise your head in time to see his lips twitch but there’s no smile for you. Not today. “What would I do without you?”

Your cheeks grow warm and you turn away to fetch a damp washcloth from the adjoining bathroom. The weight of Tommy’s gaze follows you across the room. “I should be the one thanking you,” you call over the sound of the running water.

Tommy waits until you’re by his side again before replying. “I promised him I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

“I think you’ve already gone above and beyond.”

A beat of silence passes between you, not awkward but not quite comfortable either. The scent of the smoke is slowly dispersing but a heaviness lingers in the air. Searching for something to say to offset the tension growing in your chest, you perch on the edge of the bed and angle your body towards him.

“They haunt me, too,” you murmur, offering him the washcloth. “The nightmares.” You might not have witnessed it first hand like Tommy, but at your steadfast request he had painted an unflinching picture of your husband’s final moments. Enough to ensure you plenty of sleepless nights.

Tommy’s piercing eyes search your face and you’d kill for an insight into what he’s thinking. To know what’s going on behind that unwavering stare. Despite your outstretched hand, he’s making no move to take the cloth from your hands.

Tentatively inching closer, you reach out and press the cloth to Tommy’s brow. His eyes shutter, feather-like lashes brushing his delicate cheekbones. Only when you’re certain he’s not going to push you away do you continue, smoothing the cloth along his temple and down to his jaw, carefully erasing the evidence of his troubles.

When his skin is clean you move to pull away, but Tommy places his warm hand over yours, keeping your hand and the cloth pressed against his skin.

“Does it help?” you wonder, almost breathlessly as you nod to the discarded pipe. Time might be ticking as the family waits but you find yourself in no hurry to return to The Garrison.

“I used to think so,” he tells you, firmly holding your gaze. “But now, I’m not so sure. Now…” He trails off. Turning his head ever so slightly, Tommy tilts his jaw until his lips brush against the tips of your fingers.

“And now?” you prompt hoarsely, as his warm breath fans your skin.

“Now, I think it might be better to feel something rather than nothing at all.”

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

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igotanidea · 1 year

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More than blood: batboys x bat!sister

Dick was not the first one who was adopted by Bruce.

Y/N was.

And if you talk about the eldest daughter complex she was the perfect example of it.

Y/N was so much like her adoptive father. Quiet, observant, seemingly emotionally cold yet charming and enticing when circumstances called for it. Smart like hell. She knew exactly how to take care of herself, and yet, Bruce being himself was always hesitant to let her out into the streets of Gotham at night. But she fought for it. Hard. She had no natural talent for fight, but she was fast, flexible and imperceptible in the shadows. Slowly, but steadfastly she gathered enough strength and skills to become the very first Batman’s sidekick. She was not a fan of a traditional way of training. Boxing, weight lifting and throwing punches wasn’t exactly her style, but she was extremely good with skates and rollerblades and all the moves that involved a bit of dance-like moves. So that was how Bruce trained her. Three-turns, brackets and rockers just came naturally to her, both on ice on the ground and she was soon the best of the best. When she was ready to come on patrol, Bruce created the most cliche name for her.

Batgirl.

Which she instantly refused, instead choosing to go by the name of Cover. After all, that was what she was doing. Covering.

At first, it was only Bruce and Alfred she was taking care of. Never pushing anything but always finding a way to make sure they did the right thing. Listening carefully to their every word, getting her head around any possible situation and just being there when they needed her. She was not a people pleaser and definitely wasn’t going out of her own way for them (and that was the hot spot between her and Bruce), but in times of need and crisis she was the best possible support. Unwavering. Strong. Persistent.

And then, Dick came in. Of course, having younger brother (even if there was barely half a year age gap) put a lot more pressure on her shoulder. So she did her best to connect with him. It was hard, no denying. Dick has just lost his parents and he was harsh and murky and a bit unpredictable. But she did not give up making sure he will finally warm up to her. And maybe Bruce.

“What are you doing?” one day, after particularly rough training with Bruce he came across her while she was working out

“Oh, you know. I was never good with all those flips” she lowly lifted herself from the floor, rubbing sweat from her forehead, her hair being a total mess. “Bruce insisted I learned some, but I was always better with my speed, skate figures and fast-thinking than actual acrobatics. However” she raised an eyebrow at the boy “I heard you are the master in the field. Care to show me a few tricks? Unless you prefer to sulk in the corner….” She smirked

And so they connected. Creating a lot of inside jokes during the year, being the support for each other. Of course, as older sister Y/N had no problem in literally smacking his head when he did something stupid and as younger brother he had no inhibitions in scaring her potential boyfriends away, but yes, they were close.

And then, Jason came in. The rowdy kid from the Crime Alley and she had to figure out another way to reach him. It didn’t take a lot of time to notice he was interested in literature, so she started leaving books around in the manor. Mostly classics, like Jane Austen and Shakespeare, but from time to time she risked more modern writers. He always took them from the place they were and returned a couple days later. He was a fast reader. One night, when he returned from patrol, all fuming and on the verge of breaking, he noticed a light coming out of her room and due to some crazy feelings took a few steps towards there.

“Hello, Jason” he might have been quiet, but she was the first trained by Bruce, so the poor boy has no chance not to be noticed. She turned in her chair and smiled lightly “It’s good to see you. So it happens I got tickets for a midsummer night’s dream. Two tickets. Would you maybe ….”

“Yes. Yes, please, take me with you.” his eyes was glistening with so much hope she would choose him, it made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. Pushing aside the urge to hug Jason (it was too early for that and he would not appreciate) she just nodded. And there was the connection.

And then, there was Tim. The Brainiac. Coffee addict. Sleep deprived. Constantly working, cracking cases. And being quite successful at it, even if sometimes he took the long road instead of connecting the dots to create the shortcuts.

“How’s the case going?” she asked at breakfast one time, noticing Tim’s tired eyes and disheveled hair. He wasn’t sleeping well that night, but what’s new.

“It’s not.” he groaned pecking at his food not really eating any of it “and stop making fun out of me because of it!”

“Fun?” she almost choked on her toast “Really, Tim? I’m not happy at all that you are missing the most obvious piece of the puzzle.”

“The most ob….? You were compromising my work?!”

“I was …. Checking your work” now, she had to be extremely careful with words “And what I found out is that you definitely have a criminal mind. But” she raised a hand stopping him before he could say a thing “you are also awfully messy, Tim. You splattered some coffee on the sheets and blurred the numbers. And that is why you couldn’t reach the conclusion.”

“I…. What!?”

“Hate to break it to you, champ.” She shrugged taking a sip of her own coffee “but apart from that, you did a really good job with the task.”

And with a couple more cases like this they got into real sibling relationship.

Damian was the hardest one. Trained by the assassin, treated like a threat and a menace, far more tough than Jason, cruel and with no moral compass. Not by his fault. He was the one who needed some soft care most of them all, but would never accept. So there were two options, get to him with fighting skills or by using his art adoration. She couldn’t just leave art supplies for him like she did with Jason and books, but she got one more idea, which required a bit of Alfred’s help.

‘Rough night miss y/n?” the butler asked when the girl emerged from the batcave, covered in bandages and patches.

“You have no idea, Alfred” she yawned “At first B had me running around the streets creating some sort of diversion for him, since none of the Robins where available “ a quick glance towards her three brothers “and when I got back I got lost into my latest painting…..” she trailed waiting for Damian’s reaction. Seemingly nothing has changed, but she looked carefully enough to notice his eyebrows lifting slightly and his body shift towards her to hear better. Gotcha!

“The castle?” Alfred asked, curiosity in his voice

“Yes. I’m almost finished and I think I will need some help in hanging it in the living room soon. Will you be so kind with it Alfred?”

“Of course, miss Y/N.”

A couple days later, the painting did hang on the wall and some Sunday afternoon she found Damian standing in front of it and looking it up and down.

“I could have used a bit more blue on the edges.” She said stopping by his right side.

“Not just blue.” He retorted

“Nighttime blue?” she asked

“Nighttime blue” he said at the same time and their gazes met. She tilted her head slightly while Damian’s face showed a bit of surprise. He was so young and so wrongly treated it was almost unfair.

“I know, but it’s too close to the color of Dick’s suit. He would never let me live it through.” She let out a laugh and Damian smirked.

“I got an idea of how we can improve your next painting if you ever were to create another.”

“Oh, you think you are better than me in the art field?” she gasped grabbing her heart in fake hurt

“I know I am.”

“Wanna bet?”

And so he warmed up to her as well. It seemed like all of the batboys were prone to her silent charm. But obviously there were times when she had bad days. Being the one with the longest training, seeing most of the violent things and crimes and living thought her own tragic events sometimes, in the times of greatest stress she was just becoming completely silent. Not able to say a word, getting through the days like a ghost, wanting to disappear, getting lost inside her own head. Usually, it lasted up to four or five days, and it was normal. Just a sign for Bruce to put her off the patrol so she can get through whatever was going on inside her head. He wasn’t the one to actually talk a lot about feelings and emotions, but even Batman had to be alerted after two weeks of radio silence on her part.

From the little intel he had on her since she left the manor he learned that for the last days she wasn’t eating properly, struggling with her work, looking tired and worn out even though she was sleeping a lot. Something was off and the only people who could actually be of help would be her brothers. Dick was in Bludhaven, Jason was running around the Crime Alley, Tim was busy with work for Wayne Enterprises and Damian, well…there was no way of figuring out what he was up to. Bruce groaned not really sure how to call the boys for rescue but it was about Y/N so he just used the unofficial channel and simply called all of them. He did not expect that they would gang up and show at the manor at the exact same time. Those stone walls haven’t; heard that much of a banter and silly fights for a while and despite everything, deep, deep inside Bruce was glad they came.

“Let’s be clear. I’m here only because of Y/n.” Jason stated bluntly “nothing more”

“thank god, I thought Red Hood was getting soft” Dick punched his arm playfully and was surprised with how hard his little brother’s muscle were.

“If you want me to show you…..”

“Where exactly is Y/N?” Tim interrupted his brothers fight, focusing on the most important matter

“And where are her paintings?” Damian frowned looking around.

“She moved out some time ago and took her works with her.” Bruce hissed. It was somewhat …. painful to admit that she left.

“Where?” Jason hissed

None of them cared that it was the middle of the day and their sister was probably at work. They had their own methods of getting inside the building unnoticed and years of training came extremely useful in that case.

Poor Y/N. Work was hard, as usual during the last couple days, she was tired and sad and dealing with a lot of thoughts. Even her usual way of blowing steam off while skating or rollerblading wasn’t helping. She might have left her vigilante persona behind, but old habits die hard and when she climbed up the step to her apartment she could not fail to notice shadows on the floor and almost inaudible voices coming from the inside. Her instincts immediately kicked in when she put the bag down, bracing herself and busted through the door. Her first, perfectly aimed punch met with Tim’s stomach and the half-turn kick got Damian falling onto the ground. It took both Dick and Jason to stop her from making any more damage.

“Calm down Y/N! It’s just us” Jason calmed her down smirking, surprised with her skills that wasn’t gone.

“Will you behave?” Dick added making sure she wasn’t going to attack them again and only then letting her go

“What the hell?!” she hissed getting free of her brother’s grip “what are you four doing here?!”

“since when do you know how to punch?” Tim groaned “I thought that wasn’t your style?”

“I expanded my skill set. Out of everyone here you should be the one to appreciate it, Tim.”

“I would esteem it better if it wasn’t aimed at me.”

“Right. Sorry. But the question remains. What the hell are you doing here?! You know, I;m used to one Robin, or former Robin, come around from time to time, but this?”

“Father called upon us. He was worried something was off with you.” Damian spat getting off the floor, embarrassment visible on his face.

“Bruce was worried?” she laughed ironically “Right. Sure. He was the reason I left the manor. Should have taken example from you Dick and run the hell away ten years ago.”

“It was five….” Dick tried to chime in but she did not let him

“And now he’s so worried he won’t even visit me by himself. Instead he just send a rescue party?” she turned around and slumped on the couch

“Y/N…..” Jason tried to reason with her “come on, tell your favorite brother what happened”

“For once I agree with Todd. Tell your favorite brother what is wrong. I mean, me, of course in case someone does not get the clue” Damian hissed taking a spot next to Y/N before anyone else could do it.

“Cut it guys, everyone knows I’m her favorite. I know her the longest of us all and I know everything about her.” Dick objected, crossing his arms with a wide smile, being so sure no one could threaten his position

“Everything?” Tim scoffed “You have no idea about half of the things she likes. I learned them. By myself.”

“Yeah, by spying on her. You call that a good relationship?”

“I do not spy!”

“Cut it, replacement. We all know the most bonding thing are inside jokes. And we have plenty since we read the same books. You wouldn’t even get half of our quotes!”

“Let me get my gear and I’ll show you how half of a quote look like. Art is what connects people and you all are just nonentity in that area. Not like me. Besides, I was training with her the most, so…..” Damian interrupted and at this moment all four boys were just shouting at each other while their sister was sitting on the sofa watching the scene in front of her eyes without any word.

“Get out.” She finally said. Quietly, but they heard her and stopped immediately “All of you. Get out. Now. “

“Y/n….” Dick was first to notice his sister’s pale skin and shaking hands “Please….”

“No.” she shook her head “I;ve had enough. This is exactly why I was always making sure you won’t show up at my place at once. You just can’t seem to fight who’s better or stronger or smarter or more skilled. It’s been like that all our time together. You just try so hard to outdo one another. “

“Well, I mean, she’s not wrong” Jason smirked running a hand through his hair and was instantly met with four pairs of reproachfully eyes “sorry….”

“Is that what bothers you?” Tim asked silently bending down to look into her eyes.

“What? No. Hell no. Why do you think something bothers me?” she stood up abruptly heading to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water. Shit, Tim was always the one to crack her faster than others.

“You have cuts on your forearms.” Red Robin pointed and she tried to cover them quickly

“And a bruise on the neck.” Damian added following her

“Those kind of traces that does not come from skating.” Jason poked at her skates thrown on the floor in the corridor

“And that means you….I mean, Cover, has been active again.” Dick finalized. “Why?”

“Oh, come in….” she was getting more and more nervous with every minute “is this an interrogation now?”

“No. This are four brothers concerned about their sister well-being. Does that sound better.”

“Vaguely.”

“Why did you put on the suit again?”

“Because I wasn’t feeling enough!” she spat and immediately covered her mouth to stop the sob coming next

“What?!” Jason hissed and grabbed her hand which made her flinch “oh, so you hurt your hands as well. Not so much about expanding your skills in punching, hm?”

“Shut up.” She hissed back at him, sticking her tongue out

“That’s a very mature behavior for the oldest one” Damian pointed “but Grayson’s question is still on. Why did you pick up the mantle again? You said you were done?”

“I was. Until one night I heard the weeps and screams of my neighbor being beaten by her boyfriend.”

“Y/N….”

“And the other time, when I heard on the news how Nightwing got beaten while protecting people who were trapped in the fire….”

“I did not…..”

“Oh, and that one time when some little bird brought the news about Red Hood getting in trouble in the Crime Alley and almost dying? Again.”

“ok, it wasn’t even half as bad…..” Jason tried to defend himself

“And then, Red Robin and Robin. Running loose without batman. Dealing with criminals on their own accords and getting involved in the shooting?”

“It was Drake’s fault!” Damian cried out and Tim just punched him lightly

“Stop it.” Red Robin hissed at his younger brother “let her make a point, because it’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

“Come on, sis, tell us” Jason crouched next to her and squeezed her hands lightly

“I…. I can’t”

“Of course you can. There’s no shame in anything. Safe space. And as your big brother, I have duty to make sure you are all right.”

“You are younger than me, Dick.”

“Barely younger. And still, the oldest brother. “

“Come on, Y/N. Just spit it out.”

“Fine. Fine. Just quit looking at me like that. It’s creepy. I… I might have gotten into a bad relationship…..

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down, Damian. It wasn’t that serious. I kicked his butt first time he came at me….”

“WHAT?! I’m gonna find him. I’m gonna find him and…..” Dick caught his younger brother before he could get out and really find and eliminate the guy.

“It’s in the past. But you know, all that got me thinking. About who I was in the past. The cover. And how you guys were always out there, putting your lives at risk while I was just sitting at home, watching and doing nothing…..”

“so you thought it would be good idea to just go out on patrol by yourself.” Tim threw his arms in the air in frustration “Y/N, you know better than that.”

“Come on, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Call me….” Jason said, but corrected himself due to Damian poking him in the ribs “I mean…. Us.”

“How could I?” she rolled her eyes. “You guys have enough on your plates without me.”

“This is unbelievable” Tim scoffed

“You never patrol alone and we would never let you do it” Damian added

“What do you mean without you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at their sister “do you think you are some sort of burden?”

“Well…. I…. um…..”

“Are you insane?” Jason was the first one to burst. “Are you insane?”

“You do realize we are family, right?”

“This is a pretty crazy family.”

“Sure, but at the end of the day we watch each other’s back and that’s why we are all….alive.”

“Ekhem….”

“Sorry, Jayson, but we are alive. Some of us get to be alive more than once, but still.”

“I hate you, Dickhead”

“Look Y/N, no matter what you need to know you are important. You were the one to always take care of all of us, so, just for once, let us do the same.”

“But isn’t that what the eldest sibling of the family is supposed to do?”

“Since when do you care about supposed to do?”

“Never did. But I care about you guys and…..”

“Let us help Y/N. You are not alone. “

“I know. “

“So why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“You are!”

“Stop it! It’s just …. Nice, to know someone cares about you, all right? That is… new.”

“Come here, you silly one.” Dick crushed her in a bear hug to the point where it was nearly impossible to breathe “you’re not doing it again alone, you hear me?”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I’m thinking.….. just for the sake of all times…. A little night patrol with all your crazy brothers?”

“Dunno. Is Red Hood ready to work with the bats?” she smirked at Jason.

“Just this once. And we stay out of the Crime Alley.” He shook his head in disapproval but his words were contradiction to his action.

“How about our little Robins?”

“I’m not little!” Damian yelled

“Neither am I, but still I’m down. It’s been a while and I’m wondering if you really did enhanced your fighting skills.” Tim smiled

“So, it’s settled. Everyone meet me here at the dawn?”

“You sure you can handle four vigilantes in your tiny apartment?”

“I’ve been doing it my whole life. And I can always ground you. Big sister privilege.”

She smiled at her brothers and despite their protests she was now feeling so much better. Just knowing that she had someone (more than one) to rely on made her feel valued and cared for. This family was more than blood and they were protectors of each other as much as of Gotham.

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