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dcxdpdabbles · 9 months

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DC X DP Fic idea: Retired-Rouge.

Danny gets into making teddy bears. He didn't start that way; honestly, he was mostly trying to fix Bearbert Einstein after his mom accidentally burnt him with a misfired ray gun.

Jazz had broken down into tears, and it had ripped apart his heart and his core to see her so distressed. He went to the local- and only- fabric store in Amity Park to find materials and try to repair his sister's beloved teddy bear when his mom's attempts to fix the bear only made him look worse.

Just his luck that the only fabric shop for miles around was Weston Fabrics and that the person manning the cashier was Wes himself. The other boy had nearly thrown him out when Danny walked in, but thankfully his older brother Kyle had talked Wes down and helped Danny find fabrics for Bearbert.

Surprisingly, Wes had even helped him set up one of their sewing stations to get started on Bearbert.

The strange part was when Danny turned the machine on and found his hands moving independently. As if he had been doing it for years, he expertly put together the bear and even went through the other fabrics to make him new outfits. Wes had watched the whole time, raising a brow when Danny got up to pay.

"Thought you didn't know how to sew?"

"I thought so too. Must be a ghost thing." Danny replied then smirked as the redhead glared.

"A ghost thing?" Wes all but sneers. He still trying to expose Danny as Phantom and had yet to get proof, even with Danny teasing him in the open. As it were, Kyle, who was unpacking new needles rolled his eyes behind the red hair teenager.

"Yeah, since I have a protection core as Phantom, it sometimes transfers into my human side. Do you know how teddy bears guard children at night against bad dreams? Same thing"

Wes pauses, then slowly blinks; he whispers with a small baffled smile, "That's kind of adorable. A teddy bear to keep you safe through the night."

And Danny? He didn't mean to, but he found Wes sort of hot at that moment. Not the Wow, that guy is a celebrity hot but a Be careful who you call ugly in middle school because Puberty made them delicious over the summer break hot.

He will admit that he returned to Weston Fabrics to flirt more with Wes and made so many teddy bears as a disguise. The good news was that all his works were a hit, and even some kids at school started asking for special commissions when word got around about the special Nightmerica teddy bear he made for Sam's birthday.

He makes money, gets a boyfriend, and when he donates the teddy bears to a local hospital, he discovers a new power. Through items he made himself, Danny can send waves of comforting energy to the people around the item, like a miniature zen distributor. The patients that have his toys start to show greater rest from both nightmares and lower anxiety, depression, and general sadness.

He lets Wes name this power, which later becomes the name of his teddy bear business- Phantom Relief. After dating for two years and graduating, both boys agree the spark had been lost but remain good friends. Danny takes his thriving teddy bear-making skills to his new college in Gotham while Wes leaves for Star City.

In Gotham is where things get....stranger. See, Danny knows someone new to the city will never truly understand a city's problems. But the rapid amount of homeless kids is so shocking he starts making clothes and blankets to try and give them out because they shouldn't be out there freezing like that! He even tries passing along some teddy bears to them, hoping to soothe their pain with some Zen waves.

The key word is tries.

Gotham kids do not trust or like free handouts. Danny burst into tears when a thirteen-year-old asked if he wanted the kid to use his hand or mouth in exchange for the new blanket. The street kid seemed surprised when Danny was horrified by the question. No one else found it strange, the kid said, wrapped in a Superman blanket that Danny made only a day before, it's just how things are done around here.

The worst part is the homeless thirteen-year-old is right. Everywhere he looks, Danny finds more people needing protection- physically, emotionally, and mentally. Gotham is just filled with people suffering. He couldn't keep up. It's tearing him apart trying to help everyone.

His core feels like it will burst from all the overloaded cries of help it can pick up. One night Danny can't take it anymore, so he shifts into Phantom and flies out to the old Drake manner, abandoned since Janet Drake's murder, where the cries are muffled, and dials Wes' number with shaking hands.

His ex picks up listens to his sobs and tells him "You can't save people who don't want to be saved. But you can try to reach them in a way they understand."

It's precisely what he needs to hear.

Ancients, but he misses the man sometimes. Why did Danny ever let Wes Weston go? Well, as they say, Right person, wrong time. Maybe that was why.

So Danny decided the only way to get to Gotham was to be like Gotham. And who were the people that dramatically changed the city with every random plot? With every random heist?

Gotham Rogues.

So all Phantom had to do was become one, which shouldn't be too hard since people in Amity Park still debated if he was good or not years later. He fixes up his Phantom suit to something more Gotham villain, keeping the colors but removing the jumpsuit and adding a suit and vest alongside a mask and two giant needles.

He appears in Crime Alley- because that's where the most cries come from- and just challenges everything and everyone to take the area from him. He fights off so many gangs- even Red Hood, who puts up a great fight- but after the dust settles, he now runs the place.

He then starts- fixing the place. Starts sending out clothes for the homeless, starts fixing up buildings, gives Phantom Reflief out-teddy bears to kids, fake emulates to adults, starts sending the gang kids back to school, forces landlords to lower the housing, and illegally makes everyone get along.

He spreads his tyranny to the rest of the city, fighting the good and bad sides of the law. The bats give him one hell of a challenge, but Danny beat the Ghost King when he was an untrained brat. This is nothing. Batman gets better with every fight, and so do his associates.

Things look good until the Joker tries him too much when the clown somehow gets to Wes. Has the love of his life tied to a bomb with enough Joker Venom to fill half the city, and Danny sees red.

When he comes to, it's to Wes holding him in his arms, whispering reassurances, and Joker nothing but a smear on the ground. Danny can't live with what he's done; he runs away, shifts into his human side, and vows to never be Phantom again.

After four years of peace due to Phantom's hostile takeover, Gotham mourns the loss but doesn't fall into so much crime now that the ghost crime lord is gone. Danny thinks he's done his job and chooses to melt into the background. He opens a little shop for fabrics and custom-made teddy bears.

Wes finds him, agrees to try and rekindle their love, and a year later agrees to the marriage.

All is well until seventeen-year-old Tim Drake strolls into his fabric shop. Clutching a superboy teddy bear, he gave a shivering fourteen-year-old the first week as Phantom Gotham Villain with a stern look in his eye.

"Phantom- I need you to help me find Batman, who is lost in time, or I will expose your secret identity to the rest of Gotham."

Well, shit.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Wes Weston/Danny Fenton #Tim Drake blackmails his way #Danny became a villain to illegally get people to get along.#He's retired now!#And gotham 's dangerous rate went down 60% thanks to his efforts #No the bats still don't know who he is besides Tim #Danny is too old for this shit

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talaok · 1 year

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Us | pt. 2

Part 2 of this request because you asked for it and I can't say no to you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x pregnant!reader

summary: You decide it's time to tell Ellie you're pregnant, and she and Joel turn into overprotective babysitters until you give birth

It was time.

You had postponed it for too long and hiding your growing belly was starting to become impossible.

You had convinced Joel to invite Sam and Henry on the journey to Wyoming with you, but they didn't want to bother you anymore, which was stupid, they never bothered you in the first place... well maybe Joel a little bit, but he doesn't count.

Nonetheless, you had parted, and were now staying in an abandoned motel.

Everything was calm for the first time in a while, which meant it was time.

"Ellie we have to tell you something" Joel spoke. He might have looked and sounded calm, but you knew he was just as anxious as you.

"oh shit, who died?"

you forced yourself to smile through the nerves "No, it's not like that, it's... it's something happy"

Ellie raised her head, actually listening to you now.

"ok..." she said, urging you to go on.

You turned to Joel, suddenly unable to speak.

Why was this so hard? It's not like you were confessing to something awful.

Joel caught your look and understood he needed to help out.

"we're together," he said

There. It was out. Not all of it, but a part.

A weight lifted from your chest as Joel's hand intertwined with yours.

"yeah no shit" Ellie chuckled, making you freeze.

"you knew?" you spat out

"I mean you're kind of obvious" she grinned " especially you, man," he nodded to Joel, laughing to herself "You act like a thirteen-year-old around her"

The man shot her a look, but you could only smile.

"Alright Einstein, but that's not all"

She stopped smiling now, and instead, a frown took over her face as she looked up at you confusedly.

"It's not?"

"no" you shook your head "See, I..." you bit your lip as your heart started racing.

You had never said it out loud to anyone who wasn't Joel.

"Ellie, I'm pregnant"

Her eyes widened and then fell to your belly "shit, are- are you serious!?"

You nodded.

"wh-why didn't you tell me? Did Tess know?"

"We just... we wanted to be safe, and no, Tess didn't know"

"wow" she sighed eyeing you two "I mean- congratulations"

__ __ __

The journey to Wyoming changed from that point on.

Now instead of one person urging you to eat their food, you had two.

It was like they fed off each other's worry.

You must have carried your own backpack for just over five minutes total, the rest of the time, one or the other had forced you to let them hold it.

Neither of them left you alone if not to pee, and by the time you got to Jackson, you were just happy they could finally back off a little.

Turns out you were wrong.

They didn't back off, not at all, as you got more and more pregnant all it did was just make their apprehension grow.

It was funny really, watching as they fought for who could help you tie your shoes or make you breakfast.

The search for the fireflies became less and less important as you got closer to the ninth month, and by the time you had reached it, Ellie and Joel had decided they were gonna think about that only after the child was born.

Which wasn't long after that.

You woke up in stinging pain.

"fuck" you cried,

That was definitely a contraction

You let your fingers travel between your legs and found the sheets and your pants completely soaked.

shit

"Joel" you mumbled, the pain only getting worse.

"Joel!" you called, gripping his arm.

He woke up with a gasp, immediately turning to you.

"It's happening?"

"mh-mh" you could only hum, nodding as your nails dug into his flesh.

He looked at you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, before he leaned in to leave a quick kiss on your forehead.

"it's happening" he whispered again

__ __ __

You had always thought the women in the movies were exaggerating.

But they weren't. They fucking weren't.

It was a miracle Joel's hand was still intact considering how hard you had squeezed it.

It didn't matter how many times he told you you were doing so good or how it was almost done, it felt like a year had passed until you finally heard a little cry coming from the doctor's arms.

"it's a girl," he said, handing the minuscule child to you.

You took her in your arms, scared to even breathe.

She was beautiful... actually, she was perfect, so warm and small she didn't even look real.

You couldn't stop the tears running down your cheeks, and when you looked up at Joel, you noticed a watery glint covering his eyes too.

"You did it" he spoke, his voice shaky

"we did" you corrected him "We did it"

"she's so small" he murmured, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips.

"I know" You nodded, looking at her.

You couldn’t help the sob coming up your throat. There it was, a light in the darkest night.

So many emotions took over you at the same time that all you could do was cry and then cry some more.

“Hey” Joel cooed, moving some hair out of your face “what is it?” he asked, laying down next to you.

You sniffled, looking up at him.

“What is it sweetheart?”

“I-” you stuttered, looking down at your daughter “I’m scared Joel” you admitted “I’m- I’m terrified. I thought the birth was gonna be the hardest part but...” you had to stop to breathe “Joel, What if I’m not a good mother?”

He smiled then, stoking your cheek “y/n, baby, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You are smart, kind, funny and patient” he spoke without a single trace of hesitation “You are gonna be a great mom, I promise”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know you, and I know this kid is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mom” he said, causing a small smile to your lips.

“Thank you” you murmured, kissing his cheek “and Y’know, You’re gonna be a great father too”

He chuckled “with you by my side... I’m sure I will”

You laughed softly as both your eyes fell back to your daughter.

"you want to hold her?"

He hesitated a second.

"you ok?" you asked, noticing the shift in his look.

He looked at you, and that's all he needed. All the memories and fear melted away the moment his eyes met yours.

"I'm great" he smiled, taking the baby in his arms.

She looked even smaller when he was holding her.

Everything fell silent for a second, until, without so much as a warning, Ellie threw the door open.

"Finally," she said, "they said I could come in now"

"c'mere," you gestured,

"you ok?"

"Yeah"

"did it hurt a lot?"

"it did" you nodded, "but it was worth it" you said, your eyes moving up to where Joel was still gently holding her.

Ellie smiled at the sight. He had never seen Joel being so careful.

"you ok there man?" she teased

And when Joel raised his head to look at her, a small tear fled his eye.

"I love you," he promised "all of you. And if it's the last thing I ever do, I swear I'll protect you"

— —

Pt. 1

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baby-yongbok · 10 months

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Sunset

Bang Chan x Thick Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it up, guys), Cheating (Married reader/ Chan is dating someone) , Strangers to One night lovers, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving) Slightly rough, Uh.. that’s it really? It’s just Smut, Sorry if I missed any tags. Explicit content so MDNI please.

Word Count: 2677

Note: First Person POV + This was something that I just whipped up real quick and wanted to share. It’s short compared to what I usually like to write but I thought you’d enjoy it! Just a quick smutty Chan fic to entertain ya.

Summary: The Sunset diner is your go to place to retreat, it allows you to meet new people while immersing yourself in the arts. It’s become your routine to relax at the diner every night and seek some...company. One night a new customer arrives and you just cant seem to keep your eyes off of him. You have to have him.

The Sunset studio and diner has always been a safe haven for me, ever since I was thirteen years old my step dad would bring me here and buy me a hot chocolate and two cookies before letting me roam around the studio and stare at the artwork in awe. It bought him enough time to smash whatever girl he picked up along the way in the bathroom then come back and act like he was never gone. I never cared, I was too fascinated with the artwork and the soft melodies of the guitars that the customers brought from home, or the grand piano by the entrance being played by whoever thought they were good enough to have the entire studio hear them. I was always amazed by those people, by their confidence, it was different from the kind that I possessed and I enjoyed being in its presence. No one has dared to play the piano in months though, not in my visits to the diner.

"Thank you, Lali." I nod my head to the waitress that serves me almost every night and she smiles back as always.

I continue my watercolor painting enjoying the ambient sounds of guitars and what I’m pretty sure is a ukulele when suddenly I hear it. My head snaps up and my eyes land on the brown haired man focusing on the keys of the grand piano. Others in the diner still their movements as they stare, those who are sitting around me stop talking and listen to the melody that he's producing. He continues to play a song that I've never heard before, an original maybe? The beauty in the notes that he's playing makes me close my eyes as the music builds me up to a feeling of bliss that I haven’t felt in what feels like forever.

As the piece picks up speed I start to wonder about its purpose. Is it an ode to tragedy or love? They are both one in the same in the end but I'd love to pick his brain. Suddenly the melody comes to a halt before he lightly strokes the last three keys. The sound of the last key drags out beautifully and applause erupts quickly after. The young man's head jolts upward and a small dimpled grin plays upon his lips before he stands and playfully bows before the studio. As the studio calms down I watch him carefully as he picks up his bag and makes his way to the counter to order a drink. I can’t help myself as I find myself ear hustling.

"That was beautiful." One of the employees that I don't know that well raves.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." His response is dry, he's uninterested.

"Chan?" Lali calls from the pick up counter and I glance back to watch him pick up his drink. He smiles warmly at Lali but he's still uninterested, what is he interested in? He scans the studio searching for a spot to sit and I quickly continue painting. He makes his way past my booth and I decide to go in for the kill.

"Excuse me." He turns around to me and his eyes soften once they land on mine, why's he so tense?

"May I ask what you got to drink? It looks divine." The same small grin as before plays upon his lips as he turns completely to me.

"An iced black tea with mint and cream."

"Oh, wow that sounds as divine as it looks, thank you." His eyes stay on mine as I offer him a smile and for the first time since he's stood from the piano he seems interested.

"It's my pleasure, I can't help but notice your painting. It's beautiful, truly stunning." Tapping the end of my paint brush against the table I shrug at him.

"It's alright, I'm experimenting with watercolor tonight. Would you like to have a seat?" I wave my hand towards the seat across from me and he kindly accepts. Sliding into the booth I get a swift whiff of his scent, a musk of some sort, Egyptian? Himalayan maybe.

"I'm not much of an artist, the world of paint intimidates me." He chuckles and I bring my hand up to rest my chin in the palm.

"Funny, you don't seem like the type to be intimidated by much." His eyebrow raises at my response as he lets it linger, he clearly doesn't plan to ask what I mean. He's waiting for me to elaborate, but I'm not the type to volunteer information and he doesn't seem like the type to ask about it.

"Do you come here often?" He asks disregarding my previous comment, I can't help but chuckle.

"Every other week since I was thirteen, I upgraded to every day at 9pm a year ago." He shakes his head and sips his drink.

"I'm passing through this town, thought I'd look for a place to relax and stop driving for a while."

"You made a wonderful choice stopping here, especially since you seem to be a fellow creative. That was a beautiful piece you played earlier." He nods and offers a quiet thank you. "Have you always played? Or have you just recently learned how to move your fingers like that?"

There his eyebrow goes again, raised and displaying his curiosity. "I've always played."

"Oh, how wonderful you must have such a careful way of doing things then. I've always found that those who play the piano are drawn towards the more intricate things in life."

We stare at each other for a few seconds, both grinning and scanning each other. He breaks our gaze, sitting up straighter he pushes his drink over to me.

"Have a taste." His eyes meet mine again and this time I challenge his gaze, holding it as I wrap my lips around the straw and suck up the tasty liquid. "Don't be greedy, now."

A small moan escapes me at the sound of his warning. Releasing the straw from my lips I grin at him. "Delicious, the mint is a really nice touch."

"Would you like for me to get you one?"

"No thank you, I like yours." The chuckle that falls from his lips stirs something up in me that I haven't felt in a while. He's flipping a switch that no one has been able to in a while and I am loving it.

"What do you do for a living?" Eyebrows furrowed and both elbows on the table he awaits my answer.

"I'm an art professor." There goes that eyebrow raise.

"Professor? Excuse me for my rudeness but my curiosity is getting the best of me. May I ask your age?"

"You may." He's visibly amused by my answer. He's clearly a bit younger than me. He's easy to get to but not too easy.

"Twenty-five and yourself?"

"Twenty-three" I knew it, experienced but not too much. "Too young for you?"

"Not at all, you'll be fun to seduce." There go those damn eyebrows, I wonder if he knows he's doing that at this point. I'm not mad at it, it's just interesting.

"Seduce, huh?"

"Mhm, I'm already turning you on." He leans forward in his seat and folds his arms.

"How so?"

" You like that I'm not easy to read, you're also into the fact that we both dabble in the arts of some sort. You're impressed by my age and my beauty, and you've been keeping consistent eye contact with me. Not to mention your manspreading which when across from an attractive female is an invitation to make an advance." He leans back against the booth, arms still crossed.

"Are you sure you don't teach psychology?" Smiling in his direction I nod before checking the time.

"Drive me home?" Checking his watch he keeps his eyes on me as I pack my art supplies.

"Is 11:15pm your cut off time here?" Grabbing his bag and finishing his drink he slides over to the end of the seat.

"Not usually, but I have to get to the next step in seducing you." Laughing, he stands and grabs my bag for me.

"I should've probably told you this before but I'm actually driving down to see my girlfriend." Shrugging my shoulders I pass him.

"And I'm married, your point?" Making my way through the doors of the studio I close my eyes briefly as the night air brushes my skin, the beginning of fall is always so relaxing.

"This way." Brushing his hand along the small of my back he starts walking towards his black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I guess he's not bothered by my relationship status, I'm glad we're on the same page. "After you." Opening the door for me and placing my bag at my feet he closes it after me and I quickly do a breath and pit check before he gets to the driver's side. Once he's inside he asks where I live and I say nothing, looking over at me I meet his gaze and smile at him.

"I never got your name.” he relaxes into his seat

"Chan, and yours" I don't plan on answering him, it's actually best if I don't. His breath hitches in his throat as I begin to palm him through his jeans.

"I like to think about how you'll recall this memory over the next couple of months." Getting on my knees in the passenger seat I leaned over to unbuckle his belt. "How you'll recall the blissful feeling of my mouth on you, the nameless woman you met at the studio."

Unzipping his pants teasingly slow, neither of us break our continuous gaze. "How I'm so much better than the girl you're going to visit, sexier, more spontaneous. Has she ever sucked you off in your car?" He shakes his head revealing the obvious answer.

"I didn't think so." My mouth sinks down his shaft and he draws in a deep breath. His hand tangles into my hair and the other grips the steering wheel. He clearly hasn't received oral in awhile, I'd be surprised if he lasts longer than three minutes.

"Oh my fucking god" He rests his head against the headrest and his grip on my hair gets tighter as I work his shaft, my tongue playing with the underside of his dick where his head and shaft meet, my favorite part of any man's cock. "You're pretty fucking good at that, baby."

Humming in response I take his length deeper down my throat swallowing around him. I think that today I'll try not to use my hands, I'd like to make him finish strictly with my mouth. "Shit, babe let me kiss you."

Humming in response I continue to work my head up and down his dick. "I said let me fucking kiss you." Pulling my head up off of him he holds my chin in place as his lips aggressively meet mine. Moaning into him I part my lips allowing his tongue to explore the depths of my mouth as he pleases. His hand explores my body, fondling my breast and Tracing the dips of my curvy figure.

"You're a fucking slut aren't you?" Moaning at the sound of his husky voice I nod. "Finish a sluts job then." Pushing my head back down to his cock I open my mouth taking his member back down my throat. Groans and moans fall from our mouths as I sucked him, the anticipation of his sticky cum coating my throat excites me.

"Just like that, give me all of that pretty mouth." His cock twitches in my mouth and I start to slow down eliciting a frustrated groan from Chan as well as a slap on the ass. "Don't you tease me, slut."

Smiling slightly I pick up the pace finding my rhythm, it's not long before he explodes in my mouth gifting me with the taste of him. Swallowing every last drop I sit up and start preparing to make my escape when he grabs my wrist and ushers me over into his lap. Leaning back into the steering wheel I accidentally honk the car horn with my backside and we both chuckle after the surprise and panic subside. Adjusting his seat so that it's further away from the steering wheel and slightly leaned back I adjust myself so that I'm comfortable before crashing my lips to his. Grinding into him my skirt rides up revealing my bare ass and his hand wastes no time gripping a handful and landing a firm smack on either cheek eliciting a deep moan from me. Before I realize it his length slips inside of me filling me up and reaching every spot that I need him to.

"Fuck, oh my god." Moans uncontrollably spill as he thrusts up into me.

"What about you, huh? Are you going to think about the guy you met at the studio? How he seduced you just as effectively as you did him." Picking up his speed he finds a rhythm that is bound to make me cum early. " How he made you cum so quickly that you can't fathom what a night with him would be like." Just as those words leave his mouth my orgasm washes over me in a wave stronger than any man has ever caused before.

"Or how about the way he kept you coming over and over again." One of his hands snaked down to my pussy and started aggressively rubbing my currently sensitive clit. The other hand lifted my shirt to reveal my bare chest, lifting his knee a bit and pushing me forward. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth as he readjusts his other hand to replace his length with two fingers, as his thumb finds and rubs my clit. Bouncing with the rhythm of his fingers I end up riding his digits as my second orgasm crashes into me.

"Chan" All I manage to moan out is his name, the only thing I can remember at this point is his name and maybe how to breathe but even that seems to be failing me at the moment. I climax for a third time and he releases my nipple from his mouth.

"You look so pretty while you ride my fingers, go ahead and come for me again, kitten." I can't help but to completely let loose at the sound of him as my final orgasm rips through my body. I become limp on top of him and he slowly removes his fingers from me and slips them into his mouth. "Just as sweet as I thought you'd be."

Littering kisses up my neck and cheek he lifts me up a bit to meet his gaze. "You better clean yourself up, I'd hate for your husband to start a fight with you and ruin your night." Smiling over at him I sit up and pull down my shirt. Then climb back over into the passenger seat and pull down my skirt. Chan fixes the driver's side chair and I wipe my mouth with my forearm, my formerly messy hair is still messy so that's not a problem at all. Suddenly Chan grabs the back of my neck, ushering my face towards his and our lips meet In a heated kiss. I let his lips linger and dance with mine for a while before pulling away.

"Thank you for seducing me." He smiles teasingly as I laugh.

"It was my pleasure." Bending down and grabbing my bag I open the passenger door.

"Where are you -"

"My husband picks me up from here at 12:10am every night." Smiling over at him I almost close the door completely before opening it again. He looks at me hopefully with those damn eyebrows raised and his small grin painted upon his lips, I felt a wave of heat wash over me and I couldnt help what I said next. "Y/n."

"Y/n, thank you." Smiling, I look down at my feet before closing the car door and turning on my heels heading back inside of the studio. Walking up to the counter I smile at Lali as she asks what I'd like.

"A large iced black tea with mint and cream, please."

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theferrarieffect · 2 months

Text

pastry's girl (papaya problems - part 2)

masterlist

continuation of papaya problems (part 1).

Lando x reader, Oscar x reader (4.3k words)

summary: dating lando is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. until it is. oscar’s there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: cheating (not by reader), just the teensiest bit of smut (lol finally did it, nothing too explicit), angst, mild violence, colorful language, evil lando (i promise i love him irl)

pastry’s girl

There is, mercifully, a two-week break between Monaco and Canada. Several times, George invited the entire gaming squad over to his place (probably to show off how nice it was—and sometimes his cooking skills, which Oscar had to admit lived up to the hype). One night, they played a heated round of Call of Duty which resulted in a drunken Alex locking Lando inside of a massive pantry…and Lando drinking a fifty-year-old bottle of Cabernet in the wine cooler within. George had kicked Lando out for the night, rolling his eyes as he called his driver and asked him to please remove this miscreant from my residence. The rest of them fell asleep in various empty rooms around his massive house.

Oscar rubbed his eyes the next morning as he made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of pancakes that George was undoubtedly conjuring up.

“Well, don’t you look pretty today,” he heard George say.

“Thanks!” she chirped.

Oscar stopped dead in his tracks.

Wow. Her hair had been freed from its normal messy bun; soft, shiny waves cascaded down her back. She was wearing—not a dress, exactly, but a dusty blue top with scalloped sleeves and a neckline that plunged so deeply he felt a little like hyperventilating, flowing seamlessly into shorts that had the same lacy hem.

Oscar decided in that moment that dusty blue was his favorite color.

She turned to face him, and he saw her eyes, fringed with coal black lashes, widen. Her pink, glossy lips parted in a smile. As devastating as ever.

Oscar swallowed hard. “You look—” he forbade himself from glancing at her long, tanned legs, or that illegal neckline, “—really nice. What’s the occasion?”

“I have a date later,” she announced proudly.

“Oh,” he squeaked.

George’s eyes burned a hole in the back of Oscar’s neck.

“Lucky bloke,” Alex jumped in, casually raising a mug to his lips.

“More like,” George said, “who’s the lucky bloke?”

She blushed. Oscar stared at the ground. “Lando.”

Alex choked, spraying coffee everywhere. “Lando? Like, our Lando? McLaren Lando?” he spluttered.

“What are you gonna say next, McLaren Racing, thirteen-time podium holder, British Formula One driver Lando Norris?” George mocked, making all of them laugh.

“That is so weird,” Alex complained. Then he noticed the hurt look on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly backpedaled. “Just more that Lando would never just ask someone out. He’s more of the type to just drunkenly hit on a girl in a bar, you know?”

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “You’re right, he doesn’t seem like the most…romantic type.”

“Well,” George said, “I say good for you. You’re killing it.” He flipped the last of the pancakes on top of a neat stack, slid the plate smoothly towards Oscar, and patted her on the head as he left the kitchen. Alex trotted after him, the filthy traitor, leaving Oscar alone with her.

Last season, Oscar had been engaged in a rather physical match of football against Logan, Alex, and Lando, when Logan had kicked the ball way too aggressively, and it had shot out and hit Oscar right below his ribcage. Naturally, it had knocked the wind out of him, and a few of his ribs were bruised for ages.

He felt a lot like that right now.

Her eyes roamed his face. “You okay?” she asked uncertainly.

No. I’m really not okay. Even though I knew this was coming.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’m excited for you.”

She twirled a piece of hair around her pointer finger. Anxiously, Oscar thought. He watched her thin gold ring with a tiny jeweled flower set into it, flashing as she spun her finger around and around. “You know what Alex said?” she asked, frowning a little. “Do…do you think it’s true?”

Oscar sighed. Part of him wanted to tell her, Yes, it’s true. That’s just how Lando Norris operates. He doesn’t know how to commit, he’s always just looking for a good time, and he could think you’re hot even if you have absolutely nothing in common. But he knew he’d be a pretty shitty person if he said that, a terrible friend to the only person he truly had in McLaren—his own teammate. And as much as he hated to admit it, part of it would be out of selfishness.

So he tried to keep his face as impassive as possible as he responded, “What I can tell you is that Lando does really like you. And he knows you better than any girl he’d just meet in a bar.” He took a deep breath. “And if he means it in the slightest, he better treat you like it.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Oscar.”

You had suggested to Lando something chill, something low-key, for your first date, but he would have none of it. He takes you to dinner, a fancy French bistro where you definitely used the wrong fork at least a few times. He compliments your outfit, tells you that you look gorgeous and sexy and how-could-he-be-so-lucky. Then he takes you in his Spider—it’s custom, he says with a grin—to Jimmy’z, a luxurious nightclub illuminated by neon circles in the ceiling, moving strobes encircling a massive disco ball smack in the center. He brings you whatever drink you ask for, twirls you around on the dance floor, even whispers to the DJ to request your favorite song. He doesn’t get drunk, not in the way you were scared he might.

At the end of the night, he kisses you, tasting faintly of Jack Daniels, and you think his lips feel a little sloppy, but nice. You watch him drive away in the Spider, wondering if Oscar ever did finish watching Killing Eve, wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito.

Juggling being both a pit crew member and a driver’s girlfriend is...interesting, to say the least. You beg Lando to keep it quiet, at least for a little, and he agrees reluctantly. Alex and George are a tougher sell, requiring several thinly veiled threats and a few pointed glares during close calls. You know inside, for some reason, that Oscar would never gossip about you two.

Lando does tell Andrea, the team principal, who you know absolutely dotes on Lando like a son. Like the golden boy of McLaren that he is. Andrea looks surprised when he meets you, tells you he’s glad Lando finally has what appears to be a “smart, levelheaded girlfriend.”

Lando takes you to more fancy dinners, more bars, clubs where he occasionally DJs. Once, he takes you golfing, laughs at how inept your swing is, guides your arms with his. You ask Lando if he’s seen Killing Eve; he’s never heard of it. He’s not the biggest TV guy, prefers to spend his time streaming on his Twitch. The dates are fun, you suppose, but some nights end in you quite literally dragging yourself into bed, totally spent after an entire evening trying to match Lando’s energy. You know Lando’s face wears a look of disappointment on those nights.

You still game with Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar, and things are…well, mostly normal. Alex and George bicker like they always used to; if anything, they gleefully snatch any opportunity to poke fun at the two of you, liberally making kissy faces and rude noises. You don’t mind that. Lando is touchy as hell, perpetually leaning against you or putting his head in your lap or kissing you on the cheek. You don’t mind that too much, either.

But Oscar is different. Oscar is not normal. He stops laughing at Lando’s jokes, stops laughing at George and Alex taunting you two. And eventually, something you dreaded the most: Oscar stops coming to game altogether.

On the third night in a row without any sign of him, you wait until Lando makes a mad dash for the bathroom before confronting George and Alex about Oscar’s absence.

Alex looks uncharacteristically grim. “I mean, what did you expect?” he asks. “He doesn’t want to see you two making eyes at each other over Rocket League.”

“He's not blaming you,” George cuts in quickly.

“I blame Lando Norris,” mutters Alex under his breath.

“Tell him to come back,” you plead. “If we’re being annoying and couple-y, we can—we will—stop.”

Alex smirks. “Tell that to Norris. You’re not the one being annoying and couple-y.”

“Listen,” George says, suddenly serious. “I know we were giving you a hard time about Oscar earlier this season, and to be totally fair, he’s not exactly the most forthcoming guy about his feelings. But it felt pretty obvious to us that he was into you, and Norris just snatched you up out of nowhere.”

Alex nods in agreement. “Oscar never talks about girls. Or at least never talked about them, until you came around. Norris on the other hand…I mean, by now I’m sure you know his reputation. So can you really blame us for feeling bad for the guy?”

Your heart sinks. It can’t be. You open your mouth to protest, but Lando comes barging back into the room right then, and plants a big kiss on your forehead as Alex makes gagging noises in the background.

There was no winning. Not for Oscar. He could sit there and watch Lando manhandle her on a weekly basis, or he could spend Tuesday nights wondering about what stupid joke of Alex’s she was laughing at, what new show she was raving about that Oscar would promptly Google (and sometimes binge) over the following race weekend. To the great credit of George and Alex, they still made the time to game with him, separate from the happy couple.

So when he crashed out at Silverstone on Lap 45, having taken a hit to his rear left from Esteban, even he was surprised at the string of swearwords that he spit into the team radio. (He was pretty sure that fucking-10-second-penalty-for-fucking-Ocon was among them.) The silence from his engineers told him that they were just as shocked by the normally mild-mannered driver. Oscar instantly regretted it; angry radios were a one-way ticket to Memeville. He didn’t know how Yuki and Max cursed with such abandon.

Lando finished P3, narrowly snatching a podium over a soulless Charles Leclerc, whose team robbed him of a crucial pit stop. Oscar watched him shake Lando’s hand, eyes devoid of any emotion, and privately felt a bitter kinship with the tortured Monégasque.

She had sprinted over to his car as soon as he had driven it into the pit lane, fretted over whether he was okay. Helped him out of the car. As the drivers milled around the paddock after the race, she slipped a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk—his favorite—into his hand, and asked him to tell Lando that she had a bad headache and that she’d try to get to the hotel. Oscar nodded silently, handing her the keys to his driver’s room so she could at least take a nap in the meantime, watched her eyes light up in gratitude.

He begrudgingly relayed the information to Lando, who didn’t seem to register a word of what Oscar said as he raised his trophy victoriously, greeting his adoring British fans.

“Did you hear me?” Oscar growled. “She’ll be in my driver’s room. I told her you’d come see her as soon as you could.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lando waved him away.

George and Alex walked over after the race and clapped Oscar on the back in sympathy; they’d both had their fair share of crashes on Silverstone. Sensing that Oscar was in no mood to celebrate, the three of them decided just to go get dinner post-race instead. They followed George down to the Mercedes motorhome to grab a set of keys when, almost simultaneously, the three of them all noticed a flash of papaya among the black-and-teal-clad Mercedes crew.

Oscar froze. The papaya was Lando. And he was pressing up against some Mercedes girl, her smiling, him caressing her teal collar. Oscar knew George and Alex were both gaping next to him. He turned away in disgust as Lando leaned down to press his lips onto the girl’s.

So he had been listening, after all.

“Oscar, wait,” Alex’s voice floated behind him as he stalked out of the Mercedes motorhome and towards his own.

“I’m not going to dinner,” he snapped.

“I know, mate,” said Alex sympathetically. “This whole thing is such shit, and Norris is a little bastard.”

George caught up. “Someone’s got to tell her, don’t you think?”

A wave of nausea hit Oscar. He could already picture the look on her face, see the disbelief and betrayal and heartbreak.

“Let me do it,” Alex said gently. “If she wants to shoot the messenger, way better me than you.”

Oscar swallowed. “She’s in my driver’s room,” he told Alex. “She probably will want to go back to the hotel, though, if you don’t mind—”

“Yeah, mate,” said Alex definitively. “I’ll take her where she wants to go. And I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Thanks, man.” He closed his eyes, rubbed his throbbing temples. He felt Alex touch his shoulder briefly, then disappear. When he finally opened his eyes again, George was looking at him, face lined with concern.

“We should go on a walk,” he said quietly, and stood up.

Oscar numbly followed his lead.

“Or not,” George muttered, as Lando and his entourage of McLaren staff—including Andrea—sauntered into the motorhome.

Lando’s face wore a look of gleeful triumph as he made his way towards the two of them. But Oscar saw a flicker of something else—smugness. I always win, it seemed to say. And better yet—I can get away with anything.

And it was that tiny, tiny flicker that compelled Oscar to step forward, raise his right arm, and smoothly drive his fist straight into Lando’s nose in one fluid motion.

The entire room went silent.

“What the FUCK, man?!” Lando screeched. He covered his nose with his hands. Blood seeped out from between this fingers.

“You had no right,” Oscar snarled viciously.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Lando hissed back.

“We saw you kiss her, you piece of shit. In broad fucking daylight. In the fucking Mercedes motorhome, of all places.”

Oscar expected Lando’s face to crumple, whether in genuine or feigned shame, but not to glare defiantly back.

“Yeah, that’s rich, coming from you,” Lando snapped.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know she was obsessed with you,” he sneered. “You’re just as much of an asshole to her as I am.”

“I’m not,” Oscar said, stunned. What did Lando mean, obsessed? After that night—he winced at the memory—it looked like she was doing everything she could to avoid Oscar. And then, Lando told him that he wanted to ask her out. So he’d kept his distance. Didn’t Lando see that?

“Oscar and Lando,” Andrea said sternly. “I’ll be seeing you two in the office. Now.”

Oscar stared back at Lando unflinchingly.

“I did it for you,” he spat, before following Andrea to the back of the motorhome.

“MY drivers,” Andrea fumed. “MY FORMULA ONE drivers, punching each other out in MY motorhome! Would somebody care to explain what the hell happened out there?”

Both Lando and Oscar stared at the floor.

“Yeah, about that,” said George, somehow having invited himself into the meeting. “Sooooo….Lando here decided to suck face with one of the staff over at Mercedes while his girlfriend is dying of a headache back in the driver’s room.”

Andrea’s nostrils flared.

“Did I mention his girlfriend?” George added, clearly trying to get a point across.

Andrea stalked around his desk and leaned in, face close to Oscar’s. He’d never seen Andrea this mad before, and he had to admit, he was a tad afraid of what the principal might do to him.

He squinted. “Did you put your weight behind it?”

“Excuse me?” Oscar said, not sure if he heard correctly.

“Did you put your weight behind it, Piastri?” Andrea repeated impatiently.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Andrea gave a singular heaving sigh, rubbing his hands together. “Well. Alright then.” And he gestured for the three of them to leave his office with a flourish.

In your hotel room, the only source of light comes from your laptop, which is playing The Art of Racing in the Rain. Despite it being a tearjerker of a movie, you always felt compelled to reach for it whenever your own life felt like it was crumbling into dust.

Denny is taking Enzo for a run in the rain when your phone lights up with a text.

Oscar Hey Alex told me he brought you back to the hotel Me yeah he did

Alex had been incredibly kind as he broke the news to you, wiping your tears with the sleeve of his undersuit, borrowing a Williams staff car to drive you back to your hotel instead of calling you an Uber, buying you a little pack of extremely overpriced hotel Advil for your headache. He asked you if you wanted to be with anyone. You briefly considered the people you knew on staff, the drivers, thought about whether any of them could make you feel…if not better, at least comfortable.

But really, there was only one answer.

Oscar Can I come in?

And for only the second time ever, you open your door to Oscar standing there. As soon as you see him, gazing at you with the most heartbreaking sadness in his eyes, you start to cry.

“Shhh,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s sit down.”

You nod, sniffling, and Oscar eases the door closed behind him, joins you on the bed.

“Art of Racing,” he notes quietly. “It’s a good movie.”

You admit that it’s your go-to sad film. Oscar offers up an arm, and you slide in next to him, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

“Thanks for coming.” Your voice is shaky.

Oscar gives you a light squeeze. “I’ll always come,” he whispers.

You sit there, side by side, watching Enzo’s golden ears flap in the wind of Denny’s racecar. Oscar orders food, and as you pull a slice of Hawaiian-without-the-pineapple from the box, watching the cheese stretch into thin strings, you wonder how things could have changed so much since the last time you ate pizza together. Before everything went so terribly, horribly wrong.

“Are you tired?” Oscar asks you a few hours later. Killing Eve is playing on the TV, even though you’ve both watched the whole show now. Just background noise. It's what you need. You’re lying on his arm, face nestled between his neck and chest. Not unlike the morning you woke up to him.

“I don’t know if I can sleep tonight,” you admit. “So feel free to go back if you want to go to bed.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Oscar says, gently but insistently. Warmth fills your body at his words, which gives way to longing. You want closer. You want him. You press yourself against his chest, angle your jaw upwards, closer to his lips…

And Oscar pulls away, his body suddenly rigid.

An icy chill pours into your stomach, supplanting the warmth that had filled your body just a moment earlier.

“It’s my fault,” mumbles Oscar, barely comprehensible.

What? “What are you talking about?” you eke out.

“George’s kitchen,” he says.

You shiver, feeling like you’re in a dark cave, and Oscar’s holding the sole flashlight between the two of you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Oscar.”

“In Monaco. I told you that Lando likes you. I told you that you should go out with Lando.”

Your heart twists. “Oscar,” you say fiercely, “you can’t blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head.

“It’s only Lando’s fault,” you insist. “And honestly…I shouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place. I didn’t feel it...for him.”

“Lando came up to me one day,” Oscar says slowly. “He asked me about you, about that night I slept over. He asked how I’d feel about him asking you out…”

The ice climbs up your arms, down to your fingers that are still touching Oscar’s jawline. You wrench them away, knowing what's coming.

“And you told him you’re okay with it,” you whisper dejectedly. You understand now.

You need to tell him.

“Oscar…all this time, you’ve been so sweet and kind and caring…” You furiously blink back the fresh tears gathering in the crevices of your eyes. “And since basically day one, I’ve just been letting myself read into it, letting myself think that you weren’t just being nice. I let myself think that you wanted me…because I wanted you.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He looks almost fearful, you think.

“And when Lando asked me out, I said yes thinking that dating him…would help me get over you,” you continue. The tears have long since started streaming down your face; it’s all you can do to stop your voice from shaking. “To get over how badly I wanted you, but you never wanted me—”

You gasp as Oscar grabs you roughly by the waist, a stark contrast to the gentle arm around the shoulders earlier. He presses his body right up against yours, and what you feel on him—on his body—may well be lighting you on fire.

“Look at me,” he says. A shiver runs down your spine. “I said, look at me,” he repeats, more forcefully.

You obey, looking into his eyes, and are met with something so raw and ferocious, so unlike the Oscar that you've known, that you’re afraid you’re going to faint.

“Still think I don’t want you?” Oscar asks in a low voice.

A small choke escapes your throat. Wordlessly, you bring your hand back up to his jaw, tracing the bottom edge of his lips.

Oscar needs no more invitation. He seals the chasm between you.

His mouth explores yours, tentatively at first, then hungrily. Your lips part as a breath hitches in your throat, and Oscar uses the opportunity to slip his tongue in between them. His hand slides up your back from your waist, around your neck, then dances around your jaw. You play with that perfect, smooth wave of hair near his temples with one hand, feel the tension in the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his abs with the other. Playing with the hem of his white t-shirt.

As soon as he feels your fingers graze his stomach, Oscar breaks the kiss, looking at you imploringly with those beautiful brown eyes.

“If you’re okay with it,” you whisper.

Oscar answers by tugging the shirt over his head, letting it dangle from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the floor. He leans in again, but his lips are now everywhere besides your lips—your neck, tracing your collarbone, moving up your jaw. An involuntary hiss escapes you as he takes your earlobe between them. The sound seems to energize Oscar, his own breathing growing ragged as he slips the silky straps of your top down your shoulders and kisses you dangerously low on your chest, thumbs brushing little circles on them, making you whimper.

“Tell me when you want me to stop,” he murmurs into the fabric.

You never want him to stop. You need all of him, need him like a wilting plant needs water, like a blazing fire needs oxygen.

You have no idea…

You shake your head, and all restraint is gone. Oscar makes up for all the ground he’d been holding back on, with his hands, with his lips.

…how long I’ve been waiting…

You pull off his shorts, sigh as he reciprocates. There’s not a stitch of clothing left in between your bodies.

…for you to be here.

One more pleading look, one more fervent nod, and Oscar, so tender even in the middle of an aching, desperate storm, finally closes the gap.

Freckles. Three of them. But there’s no t-shirt this time.

“Wake up, sleepy,” you whisper.

Oscar stirs. “You must have mistaken me for your pillow,” he says, smiling at you. Your stomach flutters.

“I hope you didn’t mind,” you tell him. He laughs, pulls you fully into a hug, kisses you gently on the top of your head.

“So, I got an interesting text from George yesterday…” you trail off.

“Uh oh,” Oscar says.

You show him your phone, where George had outlined the events that took place in the motorhome in great detail.

“I can’t believe you socked him,” you say, a little incredulously.

Oscar rolls his eyes. “I’m not proud of it, doesn't mean he didn't deserve it.”

Then he sees something on your screen, and grabs your phone. “Wait a sec.”

Me i asked alex to ask oscar to come to the hotel is that bad George Russell Nah. You’re Pastry’s girl. Always have been, always will be. 😏

“I didn’t come up with that nickname,” you protest, blushing. “In fact, I told George to stop calling me that ages ago.”

“Pastry’s girl,” Oscar muses. “Pastry’s girl…I gotta say, I like the sound of that.”

And the sound of his laughter as he scoops you into his arms is, really, as sweet as pastries.

notes:

just realized how real of homies george and alex are…like they also totally get involved with charles in jealousy jealousy 😭 i’m highkey procrastinating on the george x alex fic bc i will not settle for anything less than stellar w those two…

the scene where andrea starts to chew them out? fully stolen from grey’s anatomy, of all places 😂

10 second penalty for ocon

chuck leclerc is soulless fr

yuki and max raging on team radio

part 1 here! more fics here!

#f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #lando norris x you #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #op81 #ln4 #thank you to the two dms i got asking for a sequel and my inability to sit down and work on my one long george x alex fic #i will atone for my actions with a fluffy lando fic i promise

142 notes · View notes

cursedkeyboard · 5 months

Text

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.5)

What does Jason do after he tries his best and fails spectacularly to keep his nosy family away from his kid? Make sure he is still your favorite when everyone starts spoiling you rotten, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

Pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader / Batfamily & Child GN!Reader

When everything was said and done, Jason explaining why he didn't want to expose you to more dangers by introducing you but also the reason why he felt compelled to be honest with you about their identities, the bats soon started to try and bond with you

Dick was the first one, as always, and introduced himself as "little wing's one and only older brother"

You giggled when Jason groaned at that, embarrassed, and Dick took that as a win

Dick's older bro charms 1 - Bruce's gloomy dad stare 0

After getting called out by you so directly and plainly, Bruce had been awfully quiet as everyone interacted with you

It wasn't every day he got called out for the worst mistakes he comitted

But he also was still reeling at the fact that he was a damn grandfather

Steph cooed at how small you were, pointing out how even Damian was taller

Which, in Jason's opinion, was totally unfair since you were only eleven while Damian was thirteen, going on fourteen, and had been trained for along time

Also, excuse him, only he could tease you

Dick would be asking Jason one and a million questions about how he'd been taking care of you, your education, health, etc

"Of course I– You think I wouldn't send my kid to school, Grayson?"

His kid, they thought, part giddy part dumbfounded

"Woah, woah, I'm just asking! Technically you're legally dead and the little angel over here doesn't exactly look like you."

Wow, for some reason that really pissed Jason off

He tucked you under his chin, squeezing you gently as you rested your head on his collarbone

"I signed the papers. I'm not fucking dumb, Dick, I've been the legal guardian for about a year now."

At that, Steph stopped trying to take pictures of you with her eyes alone and quirked one of her eyebrows

"Legally?"

"... For the most part."

No one said anything at that, it's not like any of them really followed the law, especially not the old man behind them

You huffed in amusement at that, making Dick and Steph's hearts warm up

Damn, not even an hour into meeting you and they were already feeling those fuzzy, soft feelings in their chests

Needless to say, it wasn't a casual evening but it wasn't what Jason had been dreading, not at all

There was no screaming about him being reckless, no one tried to take you away from him, Bruce didn't even say much

Damian was still a brat and tried to pick on you, judgy little shit, only to get the nastiest clapback that made Dick choke on his spit

They all knew he was just feeling jealous, like every kid feels when a younger, cuter child shows up in the family

Boohoo, Jason thought as he watched fondly as you and Damian bickered, the demon brat was never as cute as my kid

Bruce, despite his melancholic gaze and awkward nature, managed to talk a bit to the both of you

He'd tell Jason that if you ever needed anything, to just use his credit card, no questions asked

Bruce would always be a call away and with Cass slowly taking over the mantle, he had a bit more time in his hands when the League didn't need him

He'd support the both of you to hell and back, his own way of repenting, and all he asked in return was...

For Jason to visit more

Because he was still upset about not having all of his kids home for Christmas

And bring you with him

it was high time you met everyone and became an official member of the family, he already knew exactly where your portrait would go

And despite his hesitance, you wanted to be a part of Jason's entire life, not just a hidden piece

Jason could never say no when you did a terrible impression of puppy dog eyes

So this is how it started; the start of the bats spoiling the hell out of you

After a couple of dinners together, lunch, and a tour around the manor and the batcave, seeing all of their old and new suits, ("Tell me you didnt actually wear this." "Shut it, I was a child." "I'm a child and I'd rather die than ever touch this."), with you glued to Jason's side always, packages started showing up at the doorstep

At first it'd be cute and silly things like a plush of the newest Pokémon and matching scarves for the incoming winter

Maybe even their own merch, because they're all losers deep inside

Then it was Bruce taking over any kind of expenses you and Jason had because, in his words, he wanted Jason to focus on raising you instead of worrying about rent

–Not like he wasn't already using Bruce's money to pay for everything

But he still felt begrudgingly soft at having his dad care for him and his kiddo like that, though he'd never admit it–

And then Babs and Tim upgrading the cyber security all around your block in the chance of a villain attack or any creeps following you home

From Duke and Cass asking Jason to spend time with you for some bonding time to your entire wardrobe turning into designer and your school materials updated by Wayne tech

Fuck, you even had terribly expensive yet thoughtful action figurines from your and Damian's favorite animated shows

The brat tried to hate you for ripping everyone's attention away from him, for making Bruce and Dick all... gooey, but it was hard when you had Todd's knowing eyes and a developing charm that always cracked a smile out of him

Infuriating, like father like kid

But... he liked you, quite a lot

And, throughout it all, Jason was panicking bad

Look, Jason Todd was always a jealous person by nature

He never liked his things touched, never liked sharing his interests in case someone also got interested in it, and he was particularly possessive with the few romantic partners he had

So when your attention was suddenly split among all of his family, Jason felt a little upset

It's like when a cat that usually only likes you allows other people pet it

Jason didn't quite feel betrayed but... that childish fear of not being your favorite person was very real in his head

So he upped his game

Whenever any member of his family gave you a gift, he'd get something better the next day

If they took you to a cool place, say an arcade or the mall to hang out and get to know you better

Jason was already booking tickets to go to Universal and taking you out for nightly motorcycle rides

Damian was insisting on watching the new season of your favorite show?

Next weekend he'd have prepared the living room to look like a cinema, with snacks and popcorn, for a movie marathon

Babs and Steph got you interested in makeup?

Regardless of gender identity, you know Jason would watchevery YouTube tutorial known to man about makeup so you won't have to ask the girls about it

Bruce would grow all fond of you once you got past, but did not forgive nor forget, the things he's done to Jason and started interacting more with him

So once he's talking about how he learned multiple different languages growing up, during one of the monthly family dinners, Jason would already be Googling how to learn another language fast

And god forbid Dick messed with your hair

He was not above picking a fight with Nightwing for ruining the hairstyle he spent hours doing for you

Look, Jason wouldn't be as petty as to keep you away from his family

No, in the contrary, he really, really loved watching you be coddled and loved by some of the most powerful people on earth

Getting the childhood he had so desperately wanted

It allowed that restless part of his soul to settle knowing you had them looking out for you, always

But Jason also would always want to be your number one

Your favorite person

Your hero

You dad

Yeah, he could admit it now without fear, he's definitely your old man

How could he not be when he's cutting apples for your school snack and making sure you go to bed before nine?

Never mind his age, Jason even bought a grill so you two could barbecue on the rooftop, there's no other more dad move than that

So, after a few months of this real life sitcom, when you were both on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice (Jason's choice tonight), all cuddled up and cozy

You'd rest your head on his shoulder and sigh happily

"You don't need to do all this, you know?"

"Hm? Do what, kiddo?"

"Trying to one up everyone. It's funny and I'm not exactly opposed to being spoiled as hell–"

"You're such a brat."

"Shut up– but you'll always be my favorite, you know that, dad."

Oh.

Ok. Wow. He was tearing up.

"Oh, fuck off, don't do this to me."

His voice would be a little wobbly as he hid his face in your hair, squeezing you gently in his arms

And you'd giggle and hug him tighter too, your face warming up nervously but no longer afraid of muttering that one little word that had been stuck in your throat for so long

You two were so, so similar in that regard, afraid of overstepping despite the bubbling emotions inside you, the overflowing love threatening to spill out

So much faith and trust, devotion, care, and adoration

And all it took was one sentence to make it all better

"I still wanna go to the convention next week, though."

And Jason would laugh, teary and almost breathless, and press a kiss to your forehead, feeling happier than he's ever felt

"Yeah, okay, you nerd."

Wonder who you got it from

That night solidified it for him, calming his anxieties and petty jealousy

Jason would always be your favorite person

And you wouldalways be his favorite little one

Nothing would ever change that

To be continued... for one last time.

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shuchu · 8 months

Note

im not even a kyo stan but like 😳 imagining the trope where childhood friends get seperated for a while and when they reuinte again, person a is shocked at how much person b has changed and now person a is confused and flustered around person b 🥺

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ different but familiar ₊˚ෆ

character(s): kyo kaneko

note: gn!reader ; fluff ; not proof read!

a/n: oh gosh i haven't written a proper fic in ages... i apologise if this is sloppy ;w; but hey, my first kyo fic o_o despite being a kyomie for a while now lol oops. i actually really enjoyed writing this, it made me feel all soft and warm on the inside hehe. this kinda ended on a cliffhanger, let me know if you guys want a part two!! thank you anon for the idea!! enjoy lovelies ♡

art credit

you were on your way to the coffee shop nearby to get your coffee before heading to work. you take a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as you walk through a carpet of leaves, hearing them crunch beneath your feet. you swing open the door and hear the little jingle of the bell before the delicious smell of freshly baked pastries mixed with the fragrant scent of coffee wafts towards your nose. a faint smile graces your features as you walk towards the counter to order.

"hi what can i get for you today?" the cheerful cashier asks.

"i'll have an oat milk cappuccino with 2 shots of espresso as well as a croissant please." you respond, giving the cashier a friendly smile.

"will that be all?"

"yep! thank you!"

just as you were about to pull out your card to pay, you see someone reach forward to tap their card on the machine. you turn to your left to see who it was. a guy with light blue hair smiles at you and says, "my treat."

as you walked over to the collection counter with him, you were trying to figure out why this guy looked so familiar. did you know him?

and then it hit you...your eyes widened as you looked at him

"kyo?"

he turned towards you with a soft chuckle, "took you long enough."

"oh my gosh...i haven't seen you in..." your voice falters as you try to recall the number of years

"thirteen years." he says as he looks at you with a small smile

"oh wow...it's been that long huh? how've you been? i hope mr. and mrs. kaneko have been well."

"oh yeah i've been busy, got a job that literally takes up all of my time. my parents are doing good though, thank you for asking about them."

"so...what brings you back to our quaint little town?"

"well...my mom and dad wanted to meet some old friends and catch up with them. i've been working tirelessly for months without a break so i decided..."

kyo's voice drifts off, melting together with the background ambiance of the coffee shop as you stare shamelessly at him, noticing the changes in his appearance since you last saw him.

oh wow, when did he get his ear pierced? his face changed a lot...it's a lot more defined now. also, he shot up so much what the heck?! i was taller than him when we were kids...that's so unfair, why do guys get so much taller after puberty...wait, was he always this handsome...?

"hey...hey y/n...are you done checking me out?" kyo's voice gets clearer again as you snap out of your thoughts. you feel your cheeks heat up after getting caught staring at him and because of the close proximity between the both of you. he leaned in to get your attention and now both of your faces were just a few inches apart.

you avert your gaze to compose yourself and mumble, "i wasn't checking you out..."

he leans back and chuckles, "uh huh...so tell me what i said then." he teases, a smirk evident on his face.

you stay silent because obviously you didn't hear what he said, he chuckles and flicks your forehead gently, "you haven't changed a bit, always spacing out."

you move your hand to rub the spot he flicked with a pout, "quit it, you're still as annoying as you were back then." you giggle after and he laughs too. it felt nice to joke around with him again. your heart swells with happiness, you've missed him — more than you thought you did.

the barista calls out your name and you go to grab your order.

"i'm assuming you're headed off to work now, where do you work by the way?"

"oh it's just 3 blocks down, that massive office building?"

"oh yeah, i know which one you're talking about. what time do you get off work?"

"6pm."

"oh perfect, i'll see you then. we need to have a proper catchup. dinner's on me too." he says with a boyish grin.

"no that's okay, i can-"

"nuh uh uh, no can do. um...i'm sure you have to start walking, it's almost 9am. you don't wanna be late to work do you?" he says as he places his hands on your shoulders and swivels you around to face the direction of your office.

you click your tongue and start walking, turning your head back to respond to him, "we'll see mr kaneko. i'll have my card ready this time."

"byeee! good luck at work! i'll see you at 6!" he calls out as he waves at you

you wave too and turn back around with a sappy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed. well that's something to motivate me to get through work today

#kyo kaneko #kyo kaneko x reader #kyo kaneko fluff #iluna #iluna x reader #iluna fluff #hana replies ♡#anon ♡#nijisanji en

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phoebepheebsphibs · 22 days

Text

Where Are We Going? (And Where Have We Been??)

@littlemissartemisia @tmntaucompetition

Prev || Next

Dee-Dee -- er, Donatello took Misa to a small side desk in the far corner of the room while April and Karai took the three boys into the bathroom to wash their faces and brush their teeth.

Misa was so confused and nervous. She wasn't sure why she felt so anxious about this whole situation. It was only Donnie... It was just "DvD". Huh. She'd forgotten that nickname...

"Alright then, Misa, sit down," he instructed. His voice was stern, commanding, but not at all scary like she'd figured he would be. He seemed pretty steamed when he'd first seen her.

Misa sat down at the corner of a bed, while DvD got the chair out from the desk and turned it around, sitting the wrong way down on it so that he could rest his arms on the back, his legs dangling out from the edges.

"So," he said, pure exhaustion in his voice, "How. Did. This. Happen."

"I don't know," she responded. "Last thing I remember, I was with my dads --"

"Wait, what? What do you mean, 'last I remember'? You were here with us the whole time."

Misa stared at him.

"...No, I wasn't. I was home with Hypno and Warren, we were getting ice cream, when suddenly a pink cloud exploded around me and then I was here!"

Donnie's eyes went wide. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to understand.

"Okay, so either you just somehow... got pulled through time, or the magic that turned you into an adult transformed your memories to fit accordingly. Which means you're either a time-traveler, or a precognitive clairvoyant. Both are equally terrifying and incredible."

Misa swallowed, her fingers twiddling as she looked around the room.

"Where... where are we?" she finally asked.

"The TMNT AU Competition. More specifically, the apartments they give to the contestants. Do you... remember that?"

Misa thought hard.

"I... kind of remember the competition. It was this big arena, right? Lots of stalls and stands selling all kinds of stuff, and people giving out gifts, and the med ward where I met --" she froze, suddenly remembering it all. "Mikey. I met Mikey in the med ward. I gave him..."

Her hand went down to the friendship bracelet on her wrist. It was old and frayed, the colours were slowly fading, but she wore it every day. Even after she'd forgotten who she'd given the other bracelet to. She made so many and gave away so many as a kid, she couldn't keep track after a few years. But each one had signature colours, and this one was a mix between bright orange and cotton candy pink.

"...I gave him a friendship bracelet and 'adopted' him. I forgot that, I can't believe I forgot that." She smiled before her eyes started to sting with tears. She looked up at DvD. "Why did you leave me?"

"What are you referring to?" he asked, obviously confused. "Misa, you've been with us the entire time!"

"I... what? No, I told you, I--"

"Based on what you've told me, from your perspective you left the competition and went back to your own home dimension?"

"Well, yes!" she exclaimed. "Most of my early childhood is kind of a blur... hopping from one dimension to the other... but I did go back to my own world, where I was taken in by Warren Stone and Hypno Potomus! They raised me, pretty much."

"You mean... that mutant hippo and the worm guy? I think I remember them from my universe..."

"Yeah, Hypno took me in to help me learn how to control my powers."

"What powers?" Donnie asked, eyes wide as he stood up suddenly. "You never said you had any powers!"

"You didn't know?"

"No! Of course not! Obviously not!" DvD calmed himself down, smoothed out his shirt, and sat back down. "You were four years old... possibly you didn't know that you had abilities, or more likely you just didn't think to tell us. Perhaps you purposefully didn't tell us..."

"Has it really been nine years?" Misa wondered out loud. Wow. So much could change and be forgotten in only nine years...

"So you're thirteen now?" DvD asked.

"Yup."

"You're the same age as Mikey is-- was."

Misa looked up in fear.

"Was?? What happened to Mikey?"

"Didn't you see the kids go into the bathroom?"

"THAT was MIKEY?!" she yelled, standing up and looking back to the door, behind which three toddlers were getting ready for bed. "He's... he's teensy! What happened to him?!"

"The exact opposite of what happened to you," Donatello said with irritation, as he slapped his face and slid his hand down his face.

"That doesn't explain much..."

"I suppose not. Basically, there's been a weird epidemic of people being turned into different ages. So far, it turned Leon, 'Phael, and Mikey into 7, 6, and 4-ish years of age. Apparently, it turned you into a 13 year old."

"That's weird."

"No weirder than a talking mushroom with a musical fetish."

"OH MY GOSH, I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!" she laughed. "I thought I dreamt that up!!"

DvD smiled softly as she cackled at the crazy memories.

She could just barely catch the dark circles under his eyes, the weak hold he had on that fragile smile. When she was a kid, she remembered seeing him and thinking he was kind of scary or grumpy all the time... Lee-Lee Leo had called him 'Grumples' once, didn't he? But she remembered seeing him sometimes with a wide grin and strange smile. He would say funny things about arson and world domination. While she hadn't understood it at that age, it made her giggle. She smiled at the memory...

"So your brothers are basically toddlers now?"

"OUR brothers, yes."

Misa smiled.

Well, at least one thing never changed. Once a family, always a family.

She had assumed that because they'd never visited her world, that meant maybe they hadn't cared after all, or they'd forgotten her. But that didn't seem to be the case after all... if anything, it might have been the other way around.

"So... we should probably catch each other up to speed, hmm?" Donnie suggested.

"I guess so..."

"Alright then, you start."

Misa began giving him the gist of her life, her abilities, her friends and family and the many adventures she'd been on during her 'absence'. Donnie filled in some details about their situation afterwards, how the pink mist had transformed their little brothers into little-er brothers, and even helped fill in the blanks from some other memories, such as Karai's arrival, the fear fungus, the other competitors that met her, and so on. After a few minutes, Karai and April took the boys out of the washroom.

Misa couldn't help but stare at the boys. Mikey was all smiles, and had to be held back to keep him from running up to her and slamming into her knees for a hug. Raph looked at her with curiosity, but held onto April's leg with desperation. Leon just simply glared at her, half-hiding behind April and Karai.

"Hi, guys!" she said with a smile, kneeling down on the floor to get closer to their height.

Mikey wriggled himself free and pounced on her, giggling like a madman as he wrapped himself around her like a monkey.

"Meezie!"

She laughed at that nickname. The vaguest of memories came back, of a tiny toddler in rags calling her that...

"Is it really Misa?" Karai asked. She hadn't apparently witnessed the transformation, having been in the kitchenette making some tea.

"Yep. It's her," Dee said with a nod.

Leon grumbled angrily.

"Traitor..."

"Leo, be nice," April rebuked.

Raph slowly meandered out from behind the teenage girls and crept towards her.

"Misa? How'd ya get so big?"

"Magic, apparently," she said, rubbing the back of Mikey's shell. He was still clinging onto her.

"Stupid, bad magic," Leon grumbled again.

"Aw, c'mon Lee-Lee, I'm the same as before! Just... taller."

"You're a stinky grownup now," he said, crossing his arms and pouting. "You're a traitor."

"You'll have to grow up one day too, ya know."

He pouted again, hot tears in his eyes. Tears? Oh, he wasn't mad that she 'betrayed' him and grew up. What was he mad about?

"I don't wanna be a stinky grownup. They're mean."

Misa slowly recalled his adverse reaction to Raphael when he'd first been turned into a tot. He hadn't even trusted Mikey when he saw him! He'd said something about... what was it, a mean place? The orphanage! He'd grown in an orphanage. With mean adults... and now Misa was an 'adult'. So to him, did it correlated that since she was now a grownup, she was automatically going to be mean to him, just like all the others. He thought she was a 'traitor'...

Misa tried to smile at him, to reassure him that she wasn't going to betray him or hurt him. Leo refused to meet her eyes.

"Hey, I promise that I'm not a stinky grownup," she said, scooting closer to him. "You're still my big brother, okay?"

Misa held out her pinky to him. He eyeballed it with concern, trying to decide whether or not to trust her... Well, if he could trust Miss Karai and Miss April... he could trust Misa again, right?

He wrapped his pinky around hers.

"Okay, big sister."

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corrodedbisexual · 9 months

Text

Suck it better

Steddie | E | ~3.5k | AO3 link

Featuring: Porn With Plot (a little bit of plot ok I tried), Hand & Finger Kink, Thumb-sucking, Praise Kink, Competence Kink (if you squint), Hand Job, Blow Job, Masturbation, Fluff and Smut, Boys Kissing, Experienced Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington

A slightly belated gift for @stobinesque 🥰 happy birthday new friend!!!

“Sorry, sorry, just a sec,” Steve chuckles, scrambling to tug his sweatshirt from underneath Eddie’s butt. “I’d really rather not have a needle stuck in my dick.” Above him, Eddie giggles. Steve tosses the shirt away and looks up. “What?” Steve raises his eyebrows, unable not to smile back at Eddie’s cheeky expression. Eddie bites on his fist, looks away, then back to Steve, his grin impossibly wide. “Well. If that happened, I could always suck it better, you know.” *** An impromptu lesson in mending clothes takes an unexpected turn when Steve accidentally stabs his thumb with the needle.

They are in the middle of their weekly hangout at Eddie’s trailer, stretched out on the bed in his room, when Eddie suddenly says, “Hey, you’ve got a hole in your shirt, Stevie.”

Steve tugs on the edge of his green sweatshirt to see where Eddie’s pointing. There, he sees it; just below his armpit, the seams have come apart, revealing a gap about two inches long.

It was about time that happened, he supposes. He’s had this shirt for years, and it’s a little tighter on him now that he doesn’t regularly play sports or adhere to a diet. But it’s one of his comfiest ones, so soft and worn. Also, kind of a bittersweet reminder of simpler times, when he was just a high school student, blissfully clueless of what lurks beneath Hawkins.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “I really liked this one.”

Eddie snorts.

“You sound like it got set on fire, or something. It’s fine, it just needs stitches.”

“Right, if only I had a… girlfriend who could fix it for me,” Steve replies. He almost said mother, catching himself at the last moment; it’s kind of pathetic to assume your mom would be mending your clothes at nineteen years old.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, maybe not a girlfriend, but you do have a friend. ”

Steve shakes his head.

“Robin doesn’t know how to sew.”

Eddie groans, kicking him lightly against his shin.

“And that is exactly why it’s sexist to assume you need a girl for the task, Steve.”

Eddie bends over the edge of the bed and reaches under it, pushing some items around audibly, then letting out a triumphant grunt and coming back up with a metal tin box. Bigger than the one he usually carries weed in. He opens the lid, and when Steve looks inside, he sees a bunch of various colored threads, a small pillow of different sized needles and pins, scissors, and several other items he can’t quite place.

“Not all girls can sew,” Eddie speaks, taking a couple of green thread rolls and bringing them to Steve’s sleeve in turn, putting aside the one that looks almost the exact same color. “And not all those who can are girls.”

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly. “I wasn’t… trying to be sexist, sorry. I didn’t know you can sew.”

“What, did you think my battle vest was custom ordered?” Eddie smirks, untangling the thread and biting through it once he has the length he needs; Steve’s too ashamed to admit that it’s kind of exactly what he assumed. “I made it myself. I make a lot of things. Been sewing my Halloween costumes from scratch since I was thirteen. Plus, I patch up my own and Wayne’s clothes all the time. This kinda skill saves you a whole lot of cash.”

“That’s… really cool,” Steve finally says, genuinely impressed. Narrowing his eyes, Eddie pokes the thread into the needle once, twice, then swiftly pulling it through the eye. “Wow, how’d you do that so fast?” Steve laughs. “I remember my mum cursing up a storm for several minutes every time. She was obsessed with embroidery for a while.”

Eddie smirks, setting the thread down and wriggling his fingers in the air. “I guess I just have very talented hands, Stevie.”

Steve swallows, hoping his cheeks don’t look as red as they suddenly feel, because… he’s having a really, really hard time not thinking about exactly how talented Eddie’s hands could be.

Steve blinks back to reality when he realizes Eddie’s saying something to him.

“What?”

“I said, gimme.” Eddie chuckles and tugs on Steve’s sleeve.

“Oh.” Steve looks down at his sweatshirt, then up at Eddie, needle with a green thread already in hand. “Eds, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m aware, I don’t see you holding me at gunpoint,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I can’t bear witness to a perfectly good thing being thrown in the trash. Also, it literally takes five minutes, do I look busy to you? Come on, shirt off.”

Read the rest on AO3

#took a break from my virgin Eddie agenda for this and it was fun to write #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #smut #misha-bawlins fanfic #tw blood #(very minor literally just a pinprick)

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rafecameronsslxt · 1 year

Text

Hooked

Warnings: Smut? (Barely a paragraph), Toxic (Always), complete angst.

Synopsis: Adriana learns she's pregnant with Rafe's child. Rafe traumatizes Adriana even further, destroying the once almost perfect life they had. Adriana picks Rafe over her friends. Topper and her kiss, leaving secrets to be hidden and uncovered later.

Rafe Cameron x OC

Part FIVE of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Part ONE- Part TWO- Part THREE- Part FOUR- Part SIX- Part SEVEN

Masterlist

A/N: Season three coming out on Thursday AND a season FOUR is coming!!! Drew Starkey IS ALMOST 30 girl he looks early 20s!?

Words: 4,536

I spent an hour rehearsing what I’d be saying to Wheezie. She was the only person I could trust not to tell anyone this information. “Wheezie, hi- No. Wheezie, your brother– ugh, Wheezie, I trust you a lot.” Instead of repeating her name a million times to myself, I call her and tell Wheezie to meet me at the park in our neighborhood, but make myself clear for her to walk.

Today was sunny, hot, and nerve-racking. At this point, I’d fixed Rafe’s hat on my head about a million times, waiting on Wheezie. The wind barely blows while I stare blankly at the palm trees. They were moving, but it was faint, like they were deciding whether to go with the flow or defy it, or I shouldn’t be using palm trees as an analogy.

“Hey, loser. You sounded urgent and scared me.” Wheezie says, out of breath with her hands on her knees. I look over to the swing next to me. She sits down. “Wheezie I’mpregnantandtooscaredtotellanyoneandyoucan’t tell anyone either, not even Sarah.” Although the words coming out of me sounded more gibberish than actual English, her jaw dropped, and she stood up from the swing. “WOW, play back what you just said because I don’t know if I HEARD right.” She puts her hands to her face in astonishment.

“I’m pregnant with Rafe’s child.” She started jumping around, laughing, and I wished that was me when I’d found out. “That’s amazing, Adriana! I’ll be a step-aunt!” Wheezie seems genuinely happy and proud of me. She takes my hands, let's go and squeals. By the time Wheezie is done freaking out, I’m smiling ear to ear at her silliness. “Wait, since this is a top-secret thing, I can come with you to those baby ultrasounds, so you're not alone.” She sits down on the swing, grinning.

I forgot to mention it’s been three weeks since that night with Rafe and me. He hasn’t gotten better. Actually, he owes his drug dealer money but spends it on a new bike like an idiot. Rafe isn’t ready for a child, and neither am I. We’re nineteen, just out of high school a year ago.

Wheezie turns her head to me. “Why are you sad? This is the best thing ever. I mean, A BABY. Rafe Cameron's baby! Top news article; Kook gets knocked up by high school sweetheart, kook prince, and psychopath Rafe Cameron. BOOM.” She makes an explosion with her hands. I glance at her with intense sorrow at her insensitive comment. Wheezie throws her hands into the air, surrendering and mumbles, sorry.

We start walking to her house. She holds my hand, giving me as much comfort as a thirteen-year-old can. Wheezie had been such a precious child; I know she means a lot to Sarah.

I wave to Wheez as she walks inside, a smile engraved on her face. I turned my back and was about to leave when I heard Rafe call out my name.

He’s slouched against his bike, looking down at his wrist and cursing. “What happened!?” I get on my knees, taking his forearm into my hand. His wrist is burnt and red. My eyes widen at the look of it. “Rafe, come on. Baby, get up.” I force him to put his arm around my shoulder, and we get up together and walk inside the house to his bathroom.

I look through the cabinets and find antiseptic; locating a rag might’ve been for the better, but I poured the alcohol on his wrist. Rafe throws his head back, and tears of pain fall down his cheeks. Then I find gauze, wrapping the white cotton around his reddened wrist. My hands go to his face wiping away his tears.

My hands run under Rafe’s shirt, feeling his abs. I could think of a million ways to alleviate his pain.

Something I’ve realized about being pregnant is my sex drive has been off the rails this week. “Not today, baby. I have to talk to my dad about something.” Rafe removes my wandering hands and pulls me up from my knees. “I hope things go ok.” I give Rafe an open-mouthed kiss.

Not much more happened. I walked home, fell asleep, and woke up to my phone ringing.

“Hello?” I answered groggily while rubbing my eyes. “We're locking Sarah and Kie on the boat together. You should come, loser.” John B laughs over the phone to me. I start smiling. “Kie is killing you guys and Sarah all in one day. I’m sure of it, but I can’t come. Sorry JB.” I laugh while walking downstairs to the kitchen, skimming the fridge to see if anything entices me. “I’ll give you the details later then. Love you, Ad.” Then Pope and JJ chime in, saying their goodbyes and I love you’s. “Ok, ok, I love you guys too.” I shut the fridge, not finding anything suitable to my cravings.

A soft knock comes from the front door. I open the door finding Rafe with tears in his gorgeous blue eyes. He leans down and hugs me. I don’t question it and snake my arms around his back. Rafe’s tears start wetting my shirt.

We stay like this, in the middle of the doorway, hugging each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I softly ask while my hand is on his cheek and my thumb brushes against his smooth skin. Rafe doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks up at the bland ceiling, his arms lying on his stomach. One of my legs is laid over his, and I stare at the side of his face.

Rafe’s head turns toward mine. A blank stare. His eyes are unreadable because they're everywhere but here. Rafe’s eyes bore into mine. “Imagine if we had a child right now. We’d be so fucked.” He laughs humorlessly. My breathing stops. The oxygen in my lungs dissipates but returns relatively quickly.

I nod slowly, Inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“If we had a child, what would you name them.” Rafe placed his hand on my thigh. My heart is beating too fast like it’ll burst out of my chest. “Uh, for a girl, I’d name her Lilith and a boy for sure, Renner.” I’d thought about baby names so much that I didn’t need time to ponder. “Mhm, those are pretty.” He mumbles.

His fingers trail over my shorts. I grab Rafe’s hand and move it away from me. I started to become weird about him getting close to my stomach because a bump had begun to form, and I wasn’t sure if he’d feel that my stomach was hard or more solid.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Just let me,” I say slowly. This whole week he’s been trying to touch me, but I pushed him away every time, and I’ve probably given him a record of blowjobs this week, so he’ll shut up.

I throw my legs on either side of Rafe’s hips sitting directly on his crotch. I bend down and kiss him. It wasn’t chaste. It had been lustful and needed. I began to roll my hips onto Rafe feeling his dick push into me through his shorts. Since I was home alone, all I had on was an oversized long-sleeve that went down to my knees and silk lace panties, and as much as I wanted to feel him, my nerves got the best of me, defying my body.

I slide my lips to Rafe’s neck, sucking on his skin until it turns a reddish-purple. My body glides down his. I take his shorts and underwear off, all in one swift movement.

Adriana wraps her hands around Rafe’s erect dick. She looked up at him, her forest-green eyes searing into his sea-colored ones. Adriana wrapped her plump lips around his tip, running her tongue roughly over him and then spitting onto Rafe’s cock.

Her hand surrounds him again, moving up and down.

Rafe couldn’t understand why she was pushing him away, both physically and mentally. He felt they’d become two different people, and he needed her. She was his world, and without Adriana, his world would be in pieces.

When I go to suck him, Rafe pushes his body up against the headboard. I sit on my knees and give him a questioning face. “I- I can’t do this, baby.” Rafe gets up, putting his boxers and shorts on. My eyes start watering. “I’m not leaving. I think we should just talk, ok, baby.” He says calmly, reassuring my doubts.

Rafe and me lay down again, looking at each other. His arm was resting on my lower back and hip. “So, I lied. I was stealing my dad's money and got caught, and shit happened.” I run my hand through Rafe’s dishevelled hair. He waits for me to tell him what’s wrong with me and to get mad at him for trying to steal Ward's money, but I don’t do either.

“Rafe, I’m not mad. I just want you to hold me and tell me that things will be ok with us after tomorrow.” My voice starts breaking like chemicals that leak into the sea. I turn around and push my body so close to his that there isn’t any room left. Rafe puts his hurt wrist around my waist and doesn’t seem to notice anything about my stomach. Which I was worrying about for so long.

He kisses my shoulder gently. “It’s going to be ok, baby.” Rafe’s soft voice says, comforting me. It wasn’t going to be ok because the pogues were filling me in about what’s been happening and their plan. Which is great, but I’m afraid. I am so fucking terrified.

I hear Rafe’s voice soothing me like a lullaby until I’m deep asleep.

The room is dark when I open my eyes. The sun barely shone through the closed curtains leaving streaks in my pitch-black room. My hands move around, finding nothing other than crumpled sheets.

I throw my comforter off me and turn my light on. The room is vacant of, Rafe. I check my phone. It’s two in the afternoon! I hate sleeping in for too long. I run to my closet, throwing out clothes to wear on my bed.

One of Rafe’s striped grey and white button-ups that I tuck into high-waisted white shorts with a brown belt. My phone starts ringing; it's John B. “Hey, listen, me and the pogues are going to stop Ward from taking off with the gold.” John B sounds out of breath. “Ok, be careful. Seriously JB. I love you.” We say our goodbyes to each other, feeling like it’ll be my last time.

I walk into my bathroom and put my hands on the counter, feeling a substance on my palms. The marbled counter has a perfect line of excess white powder. It coats my hand; I run the water and wash the cocaine down the drain, wiping the rest into the sink.

My phone starts ringing for the second time. “Hey, baby. You’re coming with me to visit Ward and Sarah since they’ve decided to go to the Bahamas today.” My face drops at Rafe’s demand.

He wasn’t asking. He was telling me I’d be going with him. “I’ll be at your house in a minute. Just wait outside.” His voice isn’t his, and he hangs up.

While walking as slowly as possible down the stairs, I call John B over and over. He doesn’t answer, and Rafe’s truck pulls up. No, no, this can’t be happening.

On the ride there, we don’t talk to each other.

The only thing being heard was Rafe’s light breaths, cars passing by too quickly, or Rafe had been driving fast. “Rafe, can you please slow down.” He keeps his eyes on the road, maintaining the truck at a steady rapid pace. I place my hand on his thigh, feeling a little more secure, but I know I’m not. Rafe doesn’t acknowledge my hand or how it’s squeezing his thigh tightly.

I tried stopping him. I really did.

Then, a shot rings throughout my ears loudly, I’m listening, but things aren’t going through, properly. It’s white noise running through my body. Sarah looks at me, crying and just as traumatized as myself, but the difference is my body is next to Rafe’s. His murderous hands, while Rafe stands there looking down at John B, trying to help Sheriff Peterkin.

John B starts talking to the walkie talkie asking for help, and Rafe doesn’t take it lightly, hovering the gun close to John B’s head. The next thing I know, John B starts running, and Rafe begins to shoot, and the three of us get him to stop.

My head turns to Rafe, a vacant expression with feelings racing throughout my veins. “Rafe, wha- what did you just do?” My voice is shaky, and so are my hands. My whole body feels like it might fall to the ground at any moment. Rafe’s hands go to my face, and the gun presses against the side of my hair. My hands push his off. I walk back wobbly and unbalanced.

“Take Sarah and Adriana to the house. Take them home!” Ward yells at him. Rafe grabs Sarah’s arms, and she fights back, trying to get away from her brother. Her brother that caused death and destruction to the lives we once knew.

His red hands grabbed my clean ones, dragging me along with Sarah. I didn’t fight back. I walked and sat in Rafe’s truck lifelessly, but I was carrying a human in my stomach. Would this trauma affect the baby? What if I die while having this baby of a murder?

Sarah, the girl I’ve known since fourth grade and told everything to, will never trust me again. JJ a boy who was like my brother and probably wouldn’t understand. Pope was someone I could go to for comfort. John B protected me throughout many things in my life. Kiara, Kie, my girl, she would especially hate me for not being the first person to know I was pregnant.

Rafe’s sea eyes glance into the rearview mirror at me while he and Sarah argue. When he does, I’m biting my nails, looking at the trees we pass by quickly. Things- life doesn’t feel expectant. I can’t wrap my head around this situation.

My Rafe. Rafe Cameron is unhinged but never a murderer. The guy I’ve known since fifth grade killed someone in cold blood and then told himself he was doing it for the greater good. This is not my boyfriend, the man who kissed my lips and said I love you. We planned our lives together.

Tears fall silently. I bite my tongue to keep quiet and wipe my face every time one does fall.

Rafe and I had started separating like toxic chemicals, but somehow are hanging onto each other. We’d become two separate people but fused the both of us together simultaneously. This baby and our love would keep us together. I feel outlandish for even loving Rafe. I feel crazy.

The truck door opens, and we’re at the Cameron’s house. Rose is watering pretty flowers that are full of life and color. Rafe holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I don’t and get out myself. Rose starts talking, but words aren’t comprehending with me. We walk inside.

“Adriana, look at me. Please, baby.” Rafe says softly, closing and locking his bedroom door. I can’t bring myself to look into his dark blue eyes. “Baby, please. I need you to tell me you still love me. Adriana!” His words are bouncing off the walls to my ears. So much is happening. I stare into his eyes and see Rafe, but then the gun, blood, everything.

He starts crying. His sea is overflowing, while my ocean has been flooding. I push my brunette hair stuck to my wet face behind my ears.

Rafe gets close to me, and I stumble back into his desk. “Me or them?” He closes me in along with the indignant question. The flooded ocean cries out more. I shake my head. “No, no, no. Rafe, don’t do this to me, please.” My head lays against his chest, his shirt getting soaked. He knows; he just wants me to say it out loud because it’ll be real. I’ll speak it into existence.

“You, Rafe.” I fall, but he picks up my limp body and lays me on the bed. His face brightens, and mine darkens, signing away my friends. The people I betrayed and backstabbed. “I’m pregnant, too,” I whisper; his face drops. Rafe’s slicked-back hair is a mess.

Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, I think I would’ve still chosen Rafe, and I hate myself for that. But, sometimes love takes you like a storm, a hurricane, no- a tsunami, and despite every wrong, I decided him because I’m stupid. But I didn’t want to risk my unborn child's life, running, and the chances of getting shot were high by the police.

“Adriana, we- we talked about that last night, and you didn’t say anything.” Rafe stutters, but he’s angry.

Rafe stands up, pacing around his room, hands on his head; they ball into a fist, he lets go, and his fingers curl in the air. Rafe starts throwing things. First, a fake potted plant at the door, smashing to pieces by the impact, then everything from his desk falls to the floor; pens, a random book, and two of our framed pictures when we were happy. Finally, the glass shatters into fragments on the wood floor, incorporating indentations into the wood.

I cautiously touch my manic boyfriend's shoulder. He turns around quickly, and I take a step back. “Rafe, please stop. We can- you and me can talk about this, baby.” There was so much to talk about, and we’d have to tell our parents. Rafe isn’t in a good place, and neither am I.

“What’s there to talk about. We have to fucking do this. Adriana, things fucking suck right now. Do you understand that? A baby! My fucking baby! Is this what you wanted. A perfect life, Adriana. Well, here it is.” His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth. “I think I need to go. I’ll come back later.” I folded my arms over my chest and bit my bottom lip hard until blood drew.

Rafe shakes his head at me. “Stop doing that.” He says lowly and opens the door. As I walked out the door, I turned back around. Rafe kisses me. It was grim and full of anger, but it wasn’t rough like he usually would. Instead, it was soft, like I would kiss when we were in fights.

Rather than driving to my house, I make my way to The Cut, specifically the beach and call Kiara. I made myself clear when I only wanted Kie to come because I couldn’t handle the whole group's criticism, but I know Kie would not take this lightly either, but she’s my best friend and deserves to know from me.

After a few minutes, I see Kiara walking in the distance. She runs to me and smothers me with her tight hug, which I take for remembrance. “I’ll start. Why were you with Rafe when that happened?” She makes hand motions but gets straight to the point. “He made me come, or maybe I had a choice to run away, but in the long run, I would've come either way. But Kie, I have to tell you two big things.” My eyes start to sting from tears, and she looks worried. My fingers run through the soft sand. She nods, waiting for me to go on. “I’m pregnant and cannot run with you guys. Rafe made me choose and- I’m sorry.” Tears slip down my cheeks, and she looks at me, processing the words.

“Adriana- what. A baby. A murders, baby, and you chose him.” Her eyes widen. “What am I supposed to do, Kie? I will not put this child in danger. I know you're mad at me, and I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t go with you guys.” Her face softens, realizing this might be the last time I see her for a while. Her eyes go red.

Kiara takes a deep breath in and then out. She clutches onto me, and I hold onto her. “Can I?” She asks, referring to my stomach. I nod and lift my shirt to see a little bump. She puts her hand on my stomach, feeling its hardness. “Can’t wait to see this beautiful baby. He or she will have some good genes from their mother.” She jokes, looking at me with tears in her pretty brown eyes and smiling.

“I love you, Kie.” I laugh, crying. “I love you, Ad.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “Make sure you tell the others,” I yell to her from a distance. Kiara puts her thumb up and turns back around into the darkness fading, already turning into a dream.

That night I told my parents about me being pregnant, and news about John B had already been going around. They weren’t mad at me, but they did lecture me about John B thinking he’s a murderer when he’s not. Rafe is.

Today was my first ultrasound, and just as Wheezie asked, I did. I didn’t tell Rafe about this because I wanted support from a stable person, but I feel bad because it’s his child too.

Wheezie turns on music and blasts it throughout my jeep. The sonographer, for which I had to look up the technical term because I don’t know what they’re called, had thought Wheezie was my child. I giggled no, and Wheezie started coughing because she choked on her saliva. The building was comfy instead of all white and brick.

I pulled into the driveway and saw Rafe. “Bye, Wheez.” I smile at the little girl walking past Rafe and into the house. Rafe gets in the jeep, squinting at me. I sigh, and a tingly wave goes to my fingers. I get nervous. “Where were you guys?” He questions me as if I have something to hide, and I don’t because I was planning to tell Rafe about the ultrasound afterwards.

“I was at the ultrasound place with Wheezie. Here are the pictures.” I hand him the black and white strip of pictures. “Wow. He’s adorable.” Rafe looks genuinely happy. He gets tears in his eyes. “I think it’s going to be a boy.” Rafe nods and kisses me. I bask in the feeling of this euphoric moment. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” I squeeze his hand, and we let go at the same time. Rafe gets out of the jeep and walks inside with a grin on his sharp face. He took the pictures with him. I did want to hang them up.

The last stop was Topper. Sometimes I hated Topper and wanted to punch him like Rafe, but it was different. My boyfriend Rafe messes things up because that’s Rafe, but Topper is Top. He sides with his friends over anything despite them being wrong, and at this point, I only have Topper. I haven’t talked with him since Pope or the one sentence at Midsummers, but that doesn’t count.

I hesitated to knock on the door, already regretting this. Just before I knocked on the door, it opened. The dyed blonde-haired boy bumped into me. Topper's eyebrows knit together. “Adriana?” He questions, bringing me inside. “Hey, Top.” The smile barely makes it to my face. Seeing Topper is a relief because I know I can tell him things, and he wouldn’t speak to Rafe about it.

I start walking back and forth in the foyer of his house. “It’s been so bad, Topper.” I stop pacing around and stare at him. Tears threaten to fall from the ocean. The ocean seems to be a thunderstorm every day, never letting me down. “Ad, what do you mean. If Rafe is hurting you again.” Topper changes from confused to angry in a millisecond. “I’m pregnant. Rafe’s baby.” I start biting my nails. They’re down to the ends and can feel the skin.

Topper’s tall figure leans down and wraps his arms around me. I hadn’t felt this safe in a while; Being secured by someone felt pleasant. It was now a foreign sensation. My body falls to the white marble flooring just before Topper can catch me. He quickly picks me up, takes me to the boring white couch, and lays me down.

Thirty minutes pass, and I’m covered with a blanket and have water in my hand. “Rafe made me choose, like him or my friends. I know Rafe, and you hate the pouges, but they were my only friend's Topper, and he made me pick, but at the same time, I understand and don’t-” My head is laying on Topper's shoulder blade while we both look at each other. I kiss him.

He kisses back for a second. Topper has a stubble that scratches against my face, which I never liked. Rafe knew I didn’t like his stubble rubbing against my face, so he shaved it for me. His lips are soft, but not Rafe’s. Rafe’s lips were kissable and mine, and he’d let me kiss him all day if it was possible, and I’d take him in a moment.

We both pull back, instant regret washing over us. Another wave of hurt falls over me. “Adriana, this- I- no.” He doesn’t know what to say and simply sighs. “I’m sorry. I- it just happened. You’re like my brother.” I spit out in absolute disgust as my voice sharpens like the end of a razor. Topper burst out laughing. “Wow, ok. Honesty is key?” He says in a questioning manner. A smile crosses my face, and I let out a deep breath. “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” I cover my mouth before I start dying of laughter.

We talk more about Rafe. The rest of our conversation consists of random discussions and the baby. Mostly the baby.

Besides the awkward lips-to-lips thing, it felt like another night I would’ve spent at Top’s house. I would describe it as brother and sister type, but I feel weird saying siblings after we kissed.

By the end of the night or morning, the kiss is forgotten and drowned out by laughs and smiles carved into our gorgeous faces. I arrived home by two in the morning and texted Rafe, making plans to have dinner today around three in the afternoon.

When I lay down, my body instantly loosens up. The fluffy white comforter envelops me in the warmth and Rafe's intense fragrance, still keeping its place in my room. My hands lay on my stomach, which is making a baby as we speak.

This is really happening, a baby. My child.

@beautifulvoidwinner

#rafe cameron #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe obx #obx fanfiction #obx #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey

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thelustybraavosimaid · 2 months

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This is among some of the stupidest theories I have ever seen and that's...well, that's saying a lot. George really hammers in their ages and establishes this in AGoT, but somehow George is secretly lying in both the books and interviews about Jon and Dany's ages.

Are you kidding me?

Holy shit, blue. "If your best defense is that the age difference between Jon and Dany is somehow a concrete time span from an interview source rather than the book, you have a very weak defense."

Alright bro I got you

For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister's house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos. (Daenerys I, AGoT)

"Ass," Jon muttered, low enough so Greyjoy did not hear. He put a hand on Bran's shoulder, and Bran looked over at his bastard brother. "You did well," Jon told him solemnly. Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice. (Bran I, AGoT)

"I am almost a man grown," Jon protested. "I will turn fifteen on my next name day, and Maester Luwin says bastards grow up faster than other children." (Jon I, AGoT)

"He said he'd be back by my name day," he admitted. His name day had come and gone, unremarked, a fortnight past. (Jon III, AGoT)

"I know," Dany told her.

It was her fourteenth name day. (Daenerys III, AGoT)

The problem with this fandom is that they 100% believe that George is playing 4D chess and that nothing is as it seems despite the books spelling this out plainly. Dany is younger than Jon. This is not a conspiracy lol

What would be the purpose of this inclusion in the narrative, anyway? The "truth" that Dany is older than Jon?

What would it serve?

Fr this is just as bad as that one guy saying that Bran's vision of seeing Lyanna and Ned being a "sentimental father" is proof that Arya doesn't *actually* look like Lyanna. Bran was just drugged up and Ned wanted to reassure her! (Of fucken what? It's not like she asked if she looked like her aunt!)

Wow. I just...wow.

#asoiaf #??????

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

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A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part Twelve (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: Trauma and betrayal O.O

Part eleven Part thirteen

Tag list: Open

Y/N and Eris are struggling to go back to normal, and Eris and Sam still don't like each other.

Sorry I'm not keeping up with posting! I've been having trouble sitting down and writing, and my motivation is waning 😭

Maybe it was petty, but I didn’t care. I was quiet, a smile on my face that I didn’t feel the whole time we got ready, and still once we made it into the nearby forest.

“And you’re absolutely fine?” Eris questioned again as he followed me through the forest.

Sam had taught me long ago how to find the almost invisible traces he left if I ever needed to find him. And sure enough, I found them here.

“Again, why wouldn’t I be? Nothing bad happened.” I say, and I feel a twinge of guilt for not being honest with him.

But I need his help, and I do not need him storming off in a huff and leaving me alone to figure this out.

So I continued to lie.

I don’t know what would happen if he actually figured out what was wrong before I told him, but I didn’t really want to know.

All my years in the afterlife, I never found anyone I cared for as much as I had Eris. It wasn’t like I was waiting for him, but I had never found someone I could truly be myself with besides him.

It hurt too much to remember that he’s not interested, that we were just friends.

But it is enough for me.

If I can keep my damn emotions in check that is.

Eventually I found the old withered cabin Sam must be staying in. Eris made to just stride in the front door, but I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Are you trying to die?” I ask him sharply.

He gives me a baffled look, and I roll my eyes, using my magic to open the door from a distance.

A flurry of arrows rained down in the doorway, and Eris paled.

“You seriously weren't expecting him to have defenses up?” I ask, a brow raising in question.

Eris grimaced, “Do you?”

I nod. “Not so violent or obvious, but you work with what you have.”

“Wow. Rude.” Sam said from one of the trees above us, and I snorted as Eris’s head swiveled back and around, trying to find him in the trees.

Sam gracefully landed on the ground, and I could tell Eris was highly unnerved.

I on the other hand chuckled, moving to give my friend a hug. “I’m guessing you haven’t figured out how to use that thing we stole yet, have you?” I tease a bit, pulling away after a moment.

I could feel Eris willing me to look at him like a physical string, but I ignored it.

He sighed, obviously already tired of me. “No, I haven’t. Though, from the research I’ve done, I found it’s called an Astral, and is somehow linked to the Astrei.” He said, a slight edge to his tone.

I stiffened. In my small group of trusted friends in afterlife, Sam and Asterin were the only two who hadn’t had direct contact with the Asteri in some way, so they still only had a faint clue as to what they could do.

“We’ll have to be careful then.” I murmur, more to myself than to him.

What we’ve been working at for years was to put a stop to the Asteri. The last thing we needed was them showing up here where no one was ready for a battle.

It wouldn’t be a battle, it would be a massacre. The thought hit me like an arrow, making me wince.

“Let’s see it then.” Eris said, a bit impatiently.

Sam glared at him. “You’re not in charge here.” Sam gritted out, and I rolled my eyes.

“Both of you cut it the fuck out.” I snapped, and Eris seemed taken aback. Sam was used to this me though, and shrugged.

Letting Sam lead us through the remaining traps, we all took a seat at the kitchen table, if you could call the rotting piece of wood even that.

The Astral was now sitting in the middle of the table, and I examined it, prodding it with my magic.

I could scent both of my friends' agitation and finally growled, “If you two are going to be pissy and beat your chests, can you do it where it’s not breaking my concentration?”

Sam must have shot Eris a look as he rises, because Eris growls as he watches Sam leave.

“That included you.” I say, not taking my eyes off of the Astral.

Eris shifted uncomfortably. “You’re upset with me.” He says plainly, and I stiffen.

“Yes.” I say, sighing as I temporarily give up on studying the Astral. I tilt my head as I look at him, letting him see my displeasure.

“What-”

A crash makes me shoot to my feet. Eris and I give each other only one look before we’re both sprinting out the front door to find Sam holding a dagger against someone's neck.

Azriel’s neck.

Our eyes meet and I watch his face flicker to surprise and then hurt as he sees who I’m with.

“Sam, let him go.” I hiss, storming over and leaving Eris behind me.

Sam raised an eyebrow, quickly taking the knife away and stepping back, but still eyeing him cautiously. “Another friend of yours?” He asked, and Azriel eyed him also, sizing up this human who had gotten the drop on him.

My lip twitched up in a smirk as I thought about how everyone would tease Az for letting a human sneak up on him.

Sam wasn’t just any human though.

Any semblance of a smile fled from my face as Azriel turned his gaze onto me. “Y/N, what’s going on here?”

He was still used to me being sweet and pliant. So he wasn’t expecting me to roll my eyes, sticking my hands in my pockets and say, “I don’t know Azriel, maybe you should keep a closer eye on family members.”

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring slightly as he realized who exactly Erica was.

The cool mask he usually wore was cracked, and I took that moment of him being unsure to say, “I’m trying to fix things, and the last thing I need is you and my brother interfering right now.”

His face snapped into it’s cool unbothered state. “But you need him?” Azriel half growled, his eyes burrowing into me.

My shoulders straightened. I was not letting fucking Azriel make me back down. I had faced the Asteri and won, my brother’s friend was like a goddamned angry puppy in comparison.

“Well, maybe it’s-” Eris started, but shut up when I shot him a glare.

“Contrary to popular opinion-” I say, turning my head back to Azriel who only had a glimmer of shock in his hazel eyes. “Eris can be helpful, nice even.”

Azriel studied me carefully. “What happened to you?”

I sigh. I relax slightly as I run my hand through my hair. “I was always like this Az. I’m sure you remember dear old dad?” I ask, looking up at him.

His eyes darted to Sam and Eris, as if waiting for them to leave.

Both of them had heard this story before.

Azriel, realizing no one was going to leave, tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Of course.

“I wasn’t allowed to be anything other than what everyone saw. The pretty lady of night who was as harmless as a dove. That was never who I really was, but I had to hide who I was because of my father.” As I spoke, I saw Azriel’s gaze darken.

“You could have told us. You could have been yourself around us.”

His voice was angry, and I shouldn’t blame him, I really shouldn’t.

But my day was already shit, and he wasn’t fucking listening.

“When were we ever in a room where my father, or someone loyal to my father wasn’t also in there?” I ask, staring at him.

“We are going home.” He snarled, walking up and attempting to grab my arm.

I say attempting because Sam was right back at him with the dagger and Eris stepped in front of me, protecting us with a wall of fire.

“It looks like no one is going anywhere for awhile.” Eris said with a smug smile.

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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Trouble In Paradise | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Part | Next Part

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, pinv, oral (f and brief m), pet names, dirty talk etc. Feel like Rooster deserves his own warning by this point in the fic

…

“So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

The ugly ass boot is gone, your stitches are out and you don’t need crutches anymore. Rooster watches as you turn and smile at him, tugging your hoodie over your head before you’re even out of the hospital. You’re wearing a black bikini top and a pair of shorts.

“Hey, I don’t know if swimming is such a good idea… you’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Rooster comments as he watches you walk off ahead, stepping out into the warm morning sun. You smile at him over your shoulder like you know better than him.

He pushes his hands into his pockets as he follows after you, watching you toss the hoodie into the backseat of the bronco and pull yourself up into the driver’s seat. Wordlessly, smiling softly at your determination, Rooster slides into the passenger seat.

“What was up with you and the real life Ken doll from last night? — Seems like you don’t like him too much.”

Rooster holds back a sigh. He had been expecting this question, but had successfully avoided it all morning before now.

“Hangman just… likes to get under people’s skin. I’ve known him since I was in the academy.” Rooster clearly isn’t interested in going into depth about this. Noted. You turn on the radio softly as you reverse out of the space.

Your ankle twinges with a faint pain as you press down on the pedal. You engage the best poker face you’ve got. If he knows your ankle still hurts he’s going to have you on bed rest or something. You can’t stand the thought of being on those crutches for one more day.

Plus, the weather is incredible this morning. The kind of warmth that makes you want to close your eyes with your nose turned toward the sky and just breathe. It’s not so hot that’s uncomfortable, there’s a soft breeze that compliments the building morning heat.

He would have to physically restrain you to keep you from the beach today. You’ve noticed that he’s in board shorts too — perfect swim attire.

“How long ago was that?”

Rooster shrugs his shoulder as he tries to count back the years, he shakes his head softly, “Uh… like thirteen years ago. Something like that, I think.”

“Wow, I was in elementary school then.” You blurt.

His head turns towards you so quickly that you worry for a moment he’s going to give himself whiplash. Your eyes turn back to the road once you’re secure in the realisation that he hasn’t broken his neck.

“That’s… that’s not fun to think about,” He groans, letting out a half-hearted laugh as he shifts in his seat and parts his knees. He rests his fist against his temple, shaking his head. “Shit.”

You giggle and slide one hand over onto his thigh, patting his skin playfully, “Don’t worry, older guys are sexy. I’ll help you dye your greys.”

“Greys?” Rooster frowns, offended by the insinuation that he’s old enough for that. “Watch your mouth.”

You nudge your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, looking across at him and shooting him a wink.

He chuckles softly and adjusts his own sunglasses, watching you drive. You slap his knee, “Hey! This is the song you were singing the other day.”

His brows furrow for a moment as he turns the radio up. He smiles slightly at the fact that you not only remember the soft tune he was humming whilst he helped you shower, but that you can recognise it from the three opening bars. He smiles even more at the fact that you don’t know this song outside of his rendition of it.

“You don’t know Stevie Wonder?” Rooster raises his brows at you. He drums his fingers on the side of the door to the song.

“I’ve heard of him. What else does he sing?” You ask, like he’s one of the obscure bands Rooster has heard you listening to from time to time.

“I’m yours,” Rooster harmonises along to the chorus first, making you smile, then answers your question, “Isn’t she lovely, superstition — just called to say I love you?”

You shrug like those words mean nothing to you. You’re sure you would recognise the songs if you heard them, but the titles alone aren’t ringing any bells for you.

“Are all the songs you listen to love songs?” You tease him, earning one of those deep, rich laughs that comes from deep within his chest.

“Are all the songs you listen to about casual hookups?” He answers back, thinking to the song you were listening to on the way here. Something about moving forward — SZA, was it? You laugh too. “Come on, didn’t your parents ever teach you about the classics?”

You turn your head to look at him as you pull into your driveway. Your beach is your favourite to swim on because it’s usually quieter than the ones near Honolulu. Rooster bites his tongue. The two of you don’t talk about your parents.

You ignore the question and push open the door to the truck, “Come on. Need a grown up to supervise me while I swim.” You tease. He scoffs as he follows you.

Even with a healing ankle, you take off ahead of him. He’s still headed down those wooden steps as you’re kicking off your shorts and rushing into the water.

“Cold?” He calls to you, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it down next to your shorts. Your eyes rake shamelessly over his bare torso, lips curving up into a smile as you dip your shoulders under the waves. That never gets old.

“Fucking freezing!” You call back, making him laugh. He takes in a sharp breath as the water pools around his feet, then throws his head back and groans.

You giggle as he forces himself into the water until it’s around his ribs. He grabs your waist and pulls you against him, pressing his lips against you.

“I’m freezing my balls off for you.” He mutters against your mouth, making you grin. You slide your fingertips along each ridge of his abs, dipping your hand into the waistband of his shorts.

He watches as you jut your bottom lip out in mock sympathy.

“Poor baby.” You tease, squeezing your hand around his soft cock once and giggling as he pinches your sides. He guides your legs around his waist and grinds his hips against you, squeezing your thighs as he kisses your mouth.

Rooster presses his lips to your jaw, your cheek, your temple, then the spot where your stitches were.

“Signed, sealed, delivered,” You sway in his arms as you sing what you remember from the song playing in the car. Admittedly, it’s been kind of on repeat in your head since he was singing it to you a couple of days ago. “I’m yours.”

He pulls you tighter against him with one arm and lifts your sunglasses up onto your head with his other hand. His lips hint at a smile.

Rooster didn’t sleep at all last night. Tossing and turning for hours, wondering how the hell he was supposed to face you this morning knowing that he was caught. Knowing that he had fucked up enough to have something to be caught doing. He hasn’t ever done this — he’s never fucked up this bad. He’s never hurt someone like he’s hurting Amy right now.

It’s so peaceful to be awake with you. Here, at 9am, standing chest deep in saltwater that hasn’t had a chance to heat up under the sun yet, listening to you sing a song you don’t even know just because you liked the way it sounded coming from his lips. His hand trails the length of your spine and back down again.

Your eyes are on his, warm and so happy. He leans forwards and kisses your lips. As he pulls back, you lift your chin and let the sun beam down onto your face. He raises his shoulders out of the water, the sun warming his skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmurs, barely out loud. Almost a whisper. If you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have heard it. You look back at him, admiring the wonder in his soft brown eyes. “You look so beautiful right now.”

“Not bad yourself, Bradshaw.” You tease, trailing your fingers over the slightly raised scarring on his cheek, pressing your lips to his temple. He smiles at you, pulling you impossibly closer. His bare chest presses against yours as he kisses your mouth softly. You slip your tongue into his mouth but he’s the one who leads the kiss.

“Now, how about you take me home and fuck me ‘til I cry?”

Rooster pulls back and stares at you. He squints his eyes, but smiles, then shakes his head. He can’t help but let out a laugh.

“That was a really nice moment up until you said that.” He laments playfully, pressing his lips to your temple. His hands slide down to squeeze at your ass, pulling you tighter around his waist. He hasn’t ever made a girl cry during sex before, and he can’t lie, the thought of it has all the blood in his body rushing south. “We’re going to have to do something about you saying shit like this when we’re in public.”

You laugh as you drape your arms over his broad shoulders, “Because I told that old lady that we were just fucking the other week?” Bradley nods his head, brushing his palms over your as as he grinds his hips against you.

“It’s not my fault I’m funny.” You answer back. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“You do realise that when you say things like ‘we’re just fucking’ — people look at me and assume I’m some kind of pervert taking advantage of this young girl.” Rooster’s hands squeeze softly at your hips, pulling you closer to him. His eyes study your features. There’s no way in the world he’s going to be able to forget this.

The sun on your features as you smile at him then say the dirtiest things you can think of. He wonders if, when he’s thinking about this in his old age, he’ll remember how dirty your mouth was. Or just how pretty your smile is.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” You tease, leaning forward to kiss his neck. He hmms and slides his hands down to grab at your ass, rocking his hips against you.

“Next time I might just make it your problem, baby.”

Your grin widens. You raise an eyebrow at him suggestively, “Promise?”

He turns his head toward the beach. There’s just a young couple walking a dog before the day gets too hot, but he’s still not willing to fuck you in the ocean. He lifts you off of him and turns you toward the shore.

“You’re lucky it’s too cold for me to get hard in this water.” He mumbles, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him out of the water. You giggle as he adjusts himself through the shorts.

“Don’t worry, I have a couple ideas on how to warm the little guy up.”

“Little?”

And then you scoop his shirt and your clothes up off of the sand and take off running. He shoots a glance towards the couple with the dog, aware that if he sprints after you, they’re going to think he’s a predator. Luckily, they’re headed the other way and aren’t looking back.

You have a little bit of a head start. You’re already on the wooden steps and climbing when he starts running. You know you don’t have time to fiddle with the back fence, your keys are in your shorts and the damn lock always gets stuck. Instead, you run around to the front of the house and leap up onto the small porch, throwing your body weight against the front door as you swing it open.

He’s lots of things. Taller, stronger, faster. Right behind you being the most prevalent on your mind right now.

Rooster is aware of his size, but also not exactly gentle as tackles you into the wall just through the door, both of you falling into it laughing. He does protect your head, though, stopping it from hitting the drywall with his hand on the back of your skull. You drop the clothes onto the floor and grab his face in your hands as he presses his cold body against yours.

His mouth is on yours between the laughter, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair as he grinds his hips against you. You grin against his lips, hiking one leg up around his waist, moaning softly as he presses you harder into the wall.

“Your ankle seems better.” Rooster mumbles, still impressed by how fast you just made it up those stairs after being on crutches for a week. Your ankle may hurt, but your competitiveness will always outweigh any physical pain.

You laugh breathily, then tug at the waistband of his board shorts.

“Woah, woah, woah — hold on!” You jump at the sound, both of your heads turning towards Ella. She’s standing in the doorway to her room, with a spectacular view of more of Rooster than she was expecting to see.

He’s still covered, but your hand in his waistband has exposed his v-lines and the peak of neatly groomed hair above his dick. Bradley pulls his hips back and fixes his waistband before she gets any more of a show. She pulls a disgusted face at the two of you, shrugging her bag closer to her body. “I’m going, just give me a chance to get out the door. It’s too early in the morning for me to see his dick.”

“Speak for yourself.” You mumble, enjoying the way that Rooster’s cheeks flush as you playfully tug at his waistband once more. He stands up a little straighter, putting slight distance between your bodies.

“Have fun! Please don’t tell me which surfaces you fuck on, I’d rather not know.” Ella pulls her sunglasses down onto her face and steps around the two of you, hurrying outside to her car.

“Have a good day at work!” You call back, lifting your head to smile at Rooster as the front door swings shut. He groans and grabs at your hips, shaking his head at you.

“This is what I meant by working on filtering what we say to people. She doesn’t need to know how excited you are to see me naked, baby.” There’s a soft playfulness to his voice, he’s half joking. You push your hips against his, looking up at him and smiling.

“There are worse things than people knowing that you’re having sex with a pretty girl.” You answer back, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him against you. Your lips find his quickly, humming contentedly as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He presses you into the wall, his body flush against yours and keeping you steady. He shakes his head, “Maybe that whole fucking you ‘til you cry thing wasn’t such a bad idea if you wanna keep talking back.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You agree, making him chuckle softly. He grabs the backs of your thighs and tugs hard, lifting you off of your feet and stepping the eight steps forward until he’s in your room.

He presses one knee into your mattress, lowering you down onto it with a little too much chivalry for your liking. After seven entire days of him treating you like glass, you want Rooster back. You grab him by his dog tags and pull him down on top of you, feeling him groan into your mouth. You push hard against his shoulder until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his waist.

“Fuck,” He breathes out, his hands grabbing at your ass as he grinds his cock hard against you. You tug at the strings of your bikini, pulling the top away from your body and discarding it.

You lean forwards, pressing both of your palms against his pecks — maybe using your arms to squeeze your tits together just a little, grinding your ass against him through his shorts.

His raises a palm, then stops his hand at your neck for a moment. He rubs his thumb across your pulse point. He loves the way you look at him. Like every last part of you belongs to him. Your breath hitches slightly as you suck your lip between your teeth.

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. The happy sound that falls from your lips spurs him on as his other hand pushes up your body.

The hand that’s on your pulse point squeezes softly as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Then you lose track. His hands are everywhere. You’re moaning into his mouth and he’s rocking against you. Then you’re on his back and his lips are on your throat. He cups your tits in his hands, thumb brushing over one nipple whilst his mouth finds the other.

You moan softly, taking your lip between your teeth as you admire him doing what he does best - making your toes curl.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you.” Rooster murmurs. You smile softly, lifting your hips as his mouth works along your bare torso. His tongue wets his bottom lip as he glances up at you. Your eyes go wide with excitement as he takes your lifted hips in his hands, grabbing them tight. His tongue, still resting on his bottom lip, slides forward and begins at the edge of your belly button.

You whine excitedly. Rooster holds you nice and still, keeping you exactly where he likes you - at his mercy - as the tip of his tongue trails to the edge of your skimpy bikini bottoms. He licks across your hipbone, then covers the skin with his mouth. Excitement pools between your legs as he presses firm, warm kisses along the line of your bikini.

He groans out a soft fuck against your skin, making you grin and bite into your lip as you slide a hand into his hair. He squeezes his hands around your hips as he lifts them higher. Your shoulders are the only thing still on the mattress now, your knees over his shoulders and his mouth on your thigh.

"Rooster, please." You can't wait anymore, wriggling in his grasp, desperate for something - anything - to soothe that pulse between your legs. He groans out, pleased by your desperation. Enamoured by the way that you really do seem to need him, not just want him.

He nudges the tip of his nose against your clit over the material, then parts your thighs further and presses his mouth just about as high up on your thigh as he could be without giving you what you want.

"Rooster. Please!"

You feel him smirking against your core. He nudges the bikini to the side and trails his thumb between your folds, pressing it delicately against your hole and then sliding it back up to circle your clit. He tuts softly, pressing his lips to your hip once more,

"It's yours, baby," He murmurs affectionately, punctuating his sentence with an open-mouthed kiss to your navel. Your eyes feel like they're about to roll back in your head. Your hips buck against him, his one hand squeezing at your hip to steady you as your thumb works your clit. "Just hold out a little longer for me. I've got you."

Rooster's fingers curl around the ties on either side of your hips, tugging at them until they come loose and the fabric falls out of his way. His mouth is on you instantly. You gasp out, hips rocking softly as his tongue curls just slightly into you.

"Fuck," Your heel presses into his shoulder blade for leverage, eyes squeezing shut as his lips clasp over your clit. Your ankle really does feel a lot better right now. "Rooster, holy shit!"

He presses two fingers into you, earning himself another shaking moan. Your knuckles whiten around your sheets as he fucks his fingers into you, you throw your head back against the mattress. He sucks softly around the bundle of nerves. Your other hand is still tangled in his sun-kissed curls as you hold him right where you want him. Rooster grunts as your walls clench around his fingers.

It should be embarrassing, how fast it all is. If you were a guy, this would be humiliating. How quickly he has your entire body tightening, clenching, flexing. You tug hard at his roots and press your heel harder into his shoulder. He grunts softly against your clit.

He isn't ashamed in the slightest. Every day he spends with you, he's amazed by the wonders you do for his confidence. It's a special thing to look at a girl as gorgeous as you and know that the most prevalent thought in that pretty little head, every single day, is of his cock.

"Be a good girl for me, huh?" He murmurs, mouth leaving your pussy just long enough to tell you that before he's flicking his tongue against you again. "You can go a couple more times, right?"

"Yes, Daddy."

And then his mouth isn't on you anymore. He still his fingers inside of you, lifting his head. It's only when you finally close your mouth, swallow hard and take in a shaky breath that gives you the brainpower to force your eyes open that you see the way he's staring at you.

Really, you can't tell how he feels about it. You haven't seen him looking at you like this before.

You begin to wince, realising that this is the same guy who was monogamous for the past six years and living in Virginia of all places for most of that time. Then, you realise that you aren't embarrassed about that either. You kick at his shoulder.

"Oh, don't be so conservativ-"

You gasp as he pulls his fingers out of you and uses the hand that's still on your hip to flip you onto your front. His fingertips curl around your hips, lifting them up off of the mattress whilst you're still trying to pull your arms out from under you so that you can lift your head.

Rooster's shoving his shorts down his legs, the mattress barely dipping behind you before you feel him guiding his tip between your legs.

"Roo- Ah! Oh, fuck." Your face is still smushed into your sheets, eyes rolling back as your body tries desperately to adjust to the stretch of him, all whilst he gives you no time at all to do so.

"Christ," Rooster chokes out, grabbing your hips so hard they threaten to break under his grip. "So fucking good, you're so good for me."

You grin, finally managing to pull your arms out from under you. You fold your elbows and rest your chin on your forearms, taking your lip between your teeth, moaning out his name. You grind your hips back against his, lifting your chin enough to look back at him over your shoulder.

Rooster lets out a breathy chuckle, leaning forwards and grabbing your jaw, he turns it more towards him, kissing you hard. Then, he lets go and drives himself into you even harder. Fucking you hard and fast, one hand snaking between your legs to work his fingertips against your clit.

"Taking it so well for daddy, baby." You swear you might come again. He knows the same to be true, feeling you clench around his cock.

You giggle softly, interrupted as he forces another moan from somewhere deep inside of you. You force your brain to function. Every atom of your being pulls together to allow you to curl your fingers into your sheets, lift your shoulders and curl one hand over the top of his, rocking your hips back.

Rooster's mind goes totally blank for a split second before he blinks hard enough to focus, watching with his lip between his teeth as you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Like this?"

The sound that leaves his lips is heavenly. His hips stutter for just a moment as he tries to meet your thrusts. He stills, biting his lip so hard that he starts to taste blood.

"C'mere." It's barely even a word, let alone a request or instruction. He pulls out long enough to put you on you back, push your knees back to your shoulders, then he fills you again. You curl your fingers around the nape of his neck, the delicious sound of your moans right in his ear.

The muscles in his arms flex as he grips your hips, pounding into you until you're shaking and begging. You'll never get tired of looking at him either. Your mouth hangs open, like you're about to say something but your brain just can't keep up. Rooster wishes that didn't please him as much as it does.

Still, it would be a shame to leave that pretty mouth hanging open, empty. He raises his hand and slips his ring and middle fingers between your lips. You happily take them, bobbing your head just slightly on the digits.

"My dirty fucking girl." He punctuates each word with a snap of his hips. You smile around his fingers. Rooster's brain downright short circuits. He presses his chest against the backs of your thighs, making you inhale sharply as he drives into you deeper.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way your eyes roll back so hard that tears brim in them when you look back at him. He snaps his hips into you. You gasp, pushing your head back against the mattress.

You're seeing stars, squeezing your eyes shut and moaning around his fingers as your second orgasm hits you blindingly. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and replaces them with his tongue, gripping tight onto your hips, fucking into you wildly. You feel his thumb brush away the tears on your cheeks. Kept his end of the deal, you think.

You smirk against his mouth, grabbing onto the back of his neck, pressing your lips to his earlobe, "You want to cum in my mouth, daddy?"

Rooster groans and sits back on his knees. His brows are furrowed as he nods furiously. You grin, pushing yourself up and sliding between his legs. He straddles your ribs as you prop yourself up on your palm. You part your lips and stick out your tongue, gathering the precum spilling from his tip. You wrap your lips around him, giving just a gentle suck, bobbing your head once around his length.

He curls his hand in your hair, head lulled back as he grunts through the initial shocks of his orgasm. You keep your mouth on him until he's spent, then pull back and swallow obediently, kissing the v-lines on his hip.

"Christ, baby, come here." He pants out, laying down and tugging you into his arms. You giggle softly at his breathlessness, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

He isn't wearing his watch today but as he looks out of your window, he would guess that it's about noon. The sun is brighter now, the air is a little heavier with heat. He holds you against him nonetheless as he fixes his shorts.

"Just so we're clear," He murmurs, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead. "That conversation we had earlier - about things that we do and don't say in public,"

You giggle softly against his shoulder as you realise where he's going with this.

"This - today, that's just for us. You know that, right, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." You tease, pressing your mouth against his, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. He chuckles, pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss.

He holds you, mouth working affectionately against yours for a while. It's a moment of peace. Not so hot that it's gross yet, enough of a breeze that you can hear the leaves outside rustling just a little louder than the sounds of the ocean. Rooster has to pinch the bridge of his nose to stop himself from drifting off.

“Ah, shit, I left my phone in your car.” Rooster mumbles against the top of your head. It’s in the pocket of the door. You push against his chest.

“I’ll grab it.” Rooster groans at your suggestion and rolls further into his front, pulling you under him and shaking his head at you.

“No, baby, stay in bed. I’ll grab it in a bit.” He brushes some hair back delicately from your face. You pinch his nipple and use the moment of shock to slip out of his arms. “Hey!”

“I’m doing something nice, just savour the moment!” You joke as you grab a pair of shorts and a shirt, then head back out of the room. He chuckles, rolling onto his back.

He takes in a deep breath, lifts his chin and lets the sun hit his face. For a moment, he gets it. Understands you, why you do the things that you do. Why you love it here. He stretches his arms up over his head and turns his head towards the picture on the wall. It's a framed photo of you, you look a little younger but not by much. You're with a group of people at the top of one of the mountains. He knows that it's here but he couldn't make a guess as to which one it is.

You're in the middle of saying something and absolutely everyone around you is cracking up. He remembers the first time you smiled at him. How sad he was that day. The way he had found your smile to be just so infectious. How he hadn't felt sad like that for as long as he had known you.

“Who’s Amy?”

Moment of peace over.

He lifts his head and pushes himself up onto his elbows. You’re standing in the doorway, holding his phone. He can’t read the look on your face. It isn’t explicitly mad, it isn’t upset. Truthfully, you haven’t made your mind up on how you're supposed to be feeling just yet. He hasn't ever given you reason not to trust him. Your gut has already told you exactly who this woman is - it's half of the reason you bring it up.

“You have 18 missed calls from her.”

“What?” Something’s wrong. The concern on his face stings a little. He stands up and grabs the phone from your hand before he thinks to reassure you. You watch as he scrolls through his notifications, brows knotted together as he opens his texts to her.

Your heart sinks as you catch a glimpse of his phone screen. There are thousands of texts between the two of them.

“Rooster.” You remind him that you’re still standing there. He looks up from the phone and blinks, seemingly genuinely surprised by your presence.

“I’m sorry, I-I have to call her back. Just give me two minutes.” He steps around you and passes through the house. You’re stuck there, right where he leaves you. You lean against your doorframe, craning your neck to watch as he steps out onto the back deck, your feet remaining planted exactly where they were.

You fold your arms over your chest, just watching. Observing the concern on his face, the way you can see him apologising. He’s pacing along the deck. You can’t make out everything that he’s saying, but you can tell that it’s something he’s worried about.

You aren’t counting, but you’d say he’s out there almost eight minutes before he turns back and opens the door. He stands there, frozen, once he sees that you’ve been watching.

“Hey, baby.” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying not to upset you any further.

“Is Amy the girl you were engaged to?” You ask, even more gently.

He nods his head and finally steps inside, letting the door swing shut. You stay where you are.

“Our nephew got into an accident while she was watching him. He’s in the hospital.” Bradley explains. You feel guilty for a split second. Then frown at him.

“Her nephew, you mean.”

“Well, y-yeah, kinda... look, I was there when this kid was born, he’s known me every day of his life. I’m his godfather. I can’t just cut him out just because I’m not with her anymore, his first word was my name.”

“No, yeah… I’m sorry.” Why are you the one apologising? You let him wrap his arms around you. He kisses the top of your head and tucks your in against his chest, rubbing your back affectionately. You press your cheek against his chest, frowning.

“I need to go back,” Rooster says softly. This time is even more gentle than the first, because he knows this one will hurt. He feels you press harder against him. “Just for a couple days. He’s having surgery tomorrow, I have to be there.”

“B-But… what about work?” You don’t want to keep asking about Amy when the focus is clearly on their nephew, but you can’t get her name out of your head. So, instead, you ask about work. He knows that really you mean 'what about me?'. Rooster rests his cheek against the top of your head,

“I can figure it out. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You can’t help it. The part of you that’s desperately trying to be mature and keep a level head about this has been violently shoved out of the driver’s seat. You don’t know which part of you has the wheel right now.

“Promise me that it’s over between you and her.” You lift your head and look at him, taking both of you by surprise. You’re not supposed to care like this. This is serious — you don’t get jealous, this isn’t a feeling you ever let yourself develop. But you do care. The thought of him still having feelings for her makes it feel like your heart is going to fall into your stomach.

Rooster slides a hand up to cup your jaw, brows furrowing slightly, “Wha - baby…”

“Promise me. I just need to hear you say it,” You will your voice not to crack and mentally scold yourself. You’re being pathetic, this is pathetic. “Because I swear to god — you will never hear from me again if I find out that you’re lying.”

“I swear,” Rooster says it a little too quickly. The threat of losing you makes him act a little faster than is rational. His thumb grazes your cheek, his eyes soft and sincere. “I promise. It's over between me and her. I just have to be there right now — I don’t have a family, her family… t-they’re…”

He's simultaneously rambling and not saying much. You should question it further, but you don't.

He shakes his head, at a loss for words. You push harder against him and squeeze your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his chest as you close your eyes.

“I believe you.” You say quietly. His arms tighten around you as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. He closes his eyes, glad that you can’t see the relief on his face.

An hour later, Amy has already text him details of the flights that she has organised and he's back on base, hurrying through the hall toward his room.

"Bradley!"

Rooster closes his eyes and sighs at the sound of Jake's voice. He had been out of here early enough this morning that Jake hadn't had time to corner him.

"I heard about Carter, man. Scary stuff, I'm sorry to hear it."

Bradley almost does a complete one-eighty. Instead, he presses his key into his door and forces it open. Packing takes precedent over Jake's personality transplant right now. He doesn't have time to focus on the fact that Jake already knows about this. He wonders how much Chloe knows about what's happening here.

"Yeah. I appreciate it." Rooster mumbles, leaving the door open behind him as he grabs a backpack and tears open his wardrobe. Jake leans against the door frame and scratches his neck.

"Gonna be hell for Amy, isn't it?" Rooster's surprised about how delicately Jake approaches the situation. He's not paying enough attention, really.

"How's that?" Rooster asks, grabbing handfuls of clothes and stuffing them into the backpack. Jake's brows furrow slightly.

"I mean... when you tell her?"

Rooster almost scoffs at the idea. That's when he realises how much of an asshole he is. He swallows, then shakes his head, "There's a time and a place for that shit and it's not during our nephew's surgery."

"Yeah, but, like, after. You have to tell her."

"Thanks for the input, dude." The annoyance in Bradley's voice is venomous. Jake can't believe what he's hearing. He steps further into the room.

"Rooster, you've been fucking this kid for what - four months, you don't think your fuckin' future bride deserves to know?" Jake snaps. He doesn't give a shit that the door's still open, or that just about anyone could over hear them. Rooster feels differently. He rounds on Jake, looming and dark-eyed.

"Stay the fuck out of it." Rooster growls.

Jake squares his shoulders, standing up straighter and staying firm. He shakes his head, disgusted. "I'll bet that hero daddy of yours would be real proud of you right now."

...

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dapandapod · 1 year

Note

A few days ago you reblogged an "incorrect Witcher quotes gifset" where Ciri interrogates Geralt about him being in love with Jaskier. JUST SAYING but I'd read that a million times over if you wrote it 👀

Based on this gif-set by @lamberts

Why, thank you Nonnie-love! Because I don't need sleep anyway (I do) I decided that flattery gets you everywhere, so I pulled together this.

Though, I do have Ciri Science and the Idiot Syndrome, if you are looking for some more idiots being called out.

Thank you for the ask, love, hope you enjoy! On Ao3 here

The morning is still freezing cold, the sun barely up to melt the lingering frost clinging to the cliffs and forest floor. Their steps are quiet, precise, their breathing measured.

Ciri doesn’t need the guidance anymore, but sometimes it’s nice to just run. The path around the keep has many traps, many tricks to watch out for. Geralt watches Ciri bounce over the icy rocks of a creak, then follows closely behind her.

Just in front of a log, she sidesteps, easily avoiding the fall trap there. She uses a branch to swing between two rock formations, balances along its side until she can simply slide down it safely.

Geralt follows, he meant to keep an eye on her, but he finds himself zoning out. The mind numbing task is something he could probably do in his sleep by now.

His mind drifts to lazy evenings by the fire, with easy banter and friendly ribbing. With songs, filthier than any brothel, or older than Vesemir himself.

After the mountain, Geralt wasn’t sure he would get that again. Talking it out was one of the worst things he has done, but a wound must be cleaned, or it will fester.

Ugly truths and shaky apologies were exchanged with the help of some dwarven spirit. Bitter stuff.

Geralt had woken up the next morning on the floor in Jaskier’s room, reclining over a tipped over footstool. His back was hurting, his ass was freezing, but his chest was lighter than it’s been for many years.

“Keep up, Geralt!” Ciri calls from up ahead, and the forest comes back into focus around them.

“As if you can keep up with me, cub.” Geralt smirks, lengthening his stride.

Of course Geralt out paces her. Ciri got sloppy and slipped in the frost, swearing as colorfully as Lambert when she found her feet again.

Together they walk through the gates and inside the keep to join the others for breakfast. Most of them are still on their respective morning duty, so the main hall is more or less empty except for them.

Among the many bookshelves along the walls, Geralt spots Jaskier’s cloak. The eggs are still steaming hot, but he peels one absently anyway, eyes lingering on the forgotten cloak.

“I have a question.” Ciri announces, working her knife on the hard cheese between them.

“Ask it.” Geralt replies, gathering the shells in a neat little pile.

“How long have you known Jaskier?”

Geralt considers this, to be completely honest, he haven’t given it much thought. Maybe he should have.

“How old are you again? Eight?” He asks teasingly, and she gasps in mock offense.

“Thirteen!”

“Right. I had known him for six years at your parents' betrothal.” Wow, time really passes by fast.

Ciri frowns at this, considering this information.

“But… No, that can’t be right.”

“What?” Geralt bites into the steaming egg, already eyeing another one.

“He doesn’t look older than twenty five, does he?” She says, finally managing to get herself a piece of cheese.

That… could technically be true. Geralt is spending too much time with people who doesn’t age the human way, he doesn’t really react to it anymore.

“Ask him about that.” Geralt advises, even if he himself is a bit curious now.

They chew in silence for a moment, sounds from the keep waking up filtering in through the thick wooden doors.

“I have another question.” Ciri says at last, tearing a bread bun into two. Geralt nods at her to go on.

“You are in love with Jaskier.”

Thank the crazy scientists of the past for gifting witchers close to perfect control of their bodies.

Geralt too reaches for a bread bun and tears into it, only to keep himself focused on anything else but what the little brat princess just said.

“That wasn’t a question.” He remarks, attempting to play it off. But no such luck.

“So you agree it’s a fact.” Ciri says, a victorious smile playing on her lips.

Geralt is just about to disagree with her, as the doors to the main hall swings open and the bard himself walks in.

“Oh, that's where I left my cloak!” He says to no one in particular, saunters over to it, and swiftly drapes it over his shoulders. “It is dreadfully cold this morning, don’t you think?”

Jaskier sits down next to Geralt and reaches for the jug of watered down ale.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Jaskier asks when neither Ciri nor Geralt picks up conversation.

“You look fine.” Geralt mutters, finishing his egg in one bite.

Ciri just keeps smiling her sneaky little smile, that only grows wider when Geralt rolls his eyes and thumbs away a smear of ink on his chin.

“I have another question….”

#of course you do cub #rip him to shreds #with love #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier the bard #cirilla of cintra #kaer morhen #dapanda writes #who needs sleep i need words #thank you for the ask anon it was much sweet and much kind #sparked much joy #jaskier x geralt

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padawansuggest · 1 year

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Obi-Wan: *summoned to the council at age 28, his Padawan and master both refusing to leave his side when they hear who’s come to the temple to see him for fear of them stealing him away* Alright, let’s do this, what can I help you… all… wow. There sure are a lot of you…

Kenobi Matriarch: O’ben! My sweet little freckled boy, come give your mummy a hug! *pulls him in forcibly so she can kiss his cheeks and pinch them* Oh you are just the cutest! Ernian, isn’t he just cute?

Kenobi Patriarch: Adorable. Are you sure he’s ours, Mimi?

Mimi: Of course I am, a mother always knows. *lets Obi-Wan be dragged into a crowd of redheads so Ernian can introduce him to his four sisters, two brothers and three cousins that took the journey with them, takes the chance to glare at Jinn before grinning and pulling Anakin into her bosom* You must be my baby’s baby, huh? Lookit that blonde hair, so pretty. How old are you, cherry pie?

Anakin: *confused* Um, almost thirteen.

Mimi: Oh, that’s a good age. You look healthy for it, your teacher was a waif at that age, from the pictures we were sent while he was growing up.

Anakin: *knows that Obi-Wan was very paranoid and thin at that age, but not why* Yeah. He’s bigger now. He says he wants to grow a beard.

Mimi: Oh, that’ll be nice. His uncle on his papa’s side has a very nice beard.

Yoda: *comes dottering over* Happy we are, to connect a child to their home past the impressionable age of childhood that can confuse them, but wonder we do, why now?

Mimi: Does he always talk like that? Been doin it since we got here?

Qui-Gon: Heh, yeah, try growing up with him. O’ben used to mock him straight to his face as a kid.

Yoda: Spirit, he has! Gumption!

Qui-Gon: O’ben’s his favorite.

Mimi: He’s everyone’s favorite, from what I’ve heard. Now now, we don’t want to get O’ben all in a tizzy by inviting him to a family gathering, that would just be too much family for him to handle.

Anakin: Master handles parties very well?

Qui-Gon: *puts his hands on Anakin’s shoulders* He /survives/ parties, grandpadawan, he handles them by surviving them.

Mimi: Exactly. Just like my Ernian, from what nice Master Mace tells me.

Qui-Gon: *glares at Mace because he knows damn well her initial glare at him was from Mace’s storytelling*

Mimi: Anyways, a bunch of us had reason to head this way, decided to make it a mini reunion of sorts. Well, more like O’ben’s first time meeting most of them, but listen, my brother and husband and I got a bet to settle once and for all. Which we need to see O’ben to settle it.

Qui-Gon: *loves bets* Oh??

Mimi: Yessiree, we been wondering how many adult fangs O’ben has.

Qui-Gon: …I don’t actually know the answer to that one? He hasn’t bitten me in years.

Mace: He bit me less than two months ago after a spar. I startled him while he was in attack mode, but he was also still in sparring mindset, didn’t make the fangs drop.

Anakin: I’m sorry, what? Master has fangs?

Mimi: Sure does, baby! Alla us do. It’s Stewjoni genetics. See I got a total of eight droppable fangs, and Ernian’s only got four, so all of our kids have had a mix. We’ve even seen five in onea the boys, but he chose to get that one replaced, since it bothered him. We need to know how many fangs O’ben has to settle the bet.

Anakin: *eyes sparkling* How do you drop them?

Mimi: *pulls up her upper lip, and presses down on the gums above her canines on the left side, dropping two sharp fangs* Jus like that, sugar.

Anakin: *firm nod* Okay, I got this. *darts off into the crowd and manages to drag Obi-Wan outta the thick of it, before climbing him till he sighs and sits down, climbs into his lap*

Obi-Wan: *ignoring his cooing and snickering family while his child sits on him* Can I help you, Padawan mine?

Anakin: I wanna see the fangs.

Obi-Wan: *blushes super hard* I… really?

Anakin: Yeah. Your mom has super cool fangs, I want to see yours too.

Obi-Wan: *gives his mom a wary look before sighing, opening his mouth and manually depressing on each section, ignoring the way everyone in the room is watching* See? Not all that interesting.

Anakin: *looks back at Mimi* He has six. Who wins the bet.

Cousin 3: Gimme a minute to do the math for averages- *has the pad in his hands snatched by deft little fingers as Anakin steals it to do his math for him*

Anakin: Average looks like five?

Brother 2: Shit. I threw off the average, didn’t I?

Anakin: Were you the one with only five?

Brother 2: Yeah.

Anakin: Then yes.

Ernian: *fist pump in the air* I win! The pot is mine!

Mimi: *deep sigh, before coming over to sit next to her youngest and who she’s decided is a pretty good grandson* Well, we tried. *pulls a very confused Obi-Wan into her side for a hug* Still, we’ll be on the planet for a few days, it’d be nice to get to know you a bit better.

Obi-Wan: *blushy blushy* Oh, um, okay. That sounds nice. Anakin too?

Mimi: Yeah, O’ben, Anakin too.

Anakin: *snuggling against his master’s shoulder* We should all go to the room of a thousand fountains. It’s bigger. Less crowded. My mom works in the garages, she can come too?

Mimi: *absolutely enchanted with little baby grandson just like Obi-Wan is* Yeah, I’d like to meet her.

#then when they leave finally they actually take Shmi with them #Shmi is gonna end up with Obi’s brother Owen #it’s gonna be cute #star wars #obi wan kenobi #incorrect star wars quotes #anakin skywalker #kenobi mother #kenobi father #OC Kenobi family #it like the weasleys lol they aren’t all redhead on Stewjon but they are all redhead in the clan #bant is gonna be super shy to meet her brothers mom and dad but she gets adopted instantly #Quinlan is immediately labeled a scoundrel and invited to stay forever #when he admits he loves Obi and Obi loves him they demand to be invited to the handfasting #Ernian is pronounced er nin #they are loud and have Scottish accents but southern nicknames #aayla and Anakin are given their first ales with the Kenobi clan it’s like 15% guys wtf #Qui gon is flailing so he tells Tahl and their daughter to come act as buffers lmao #they join in on tossing Qui instead of helping #Grogu crashes the party and now the creche masters have to actively make sure no one kidnaps him on the way out #qui gon jinn #qui gon lives #Kenobi family reunion #Kenobi family #why the kriff do you guys let me write typos #no Shmi ends up in love with Obi’s older brother Cleigg who already has a son Owen lol

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ktwritesstuff · 9 months

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Then Comes Marriage (a Last of Us fic)

Title: Then Comes Marriage Fandom: The Last of Us (no-pocalypse AU) Rating: PG Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x plus size!Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: The rough and ready followup to First Comes Love. Wedding day fluff.

A/N: Apologies for the lack of smuttiness, but I feel that wedding night sex is overrated. Un-beta'd, may God have mercy on my soul.

In lieu of a bachelor party, Joel and Tommy chartered a fishing boat out of Galveston the week before the wedding. You hadn’t vetoed strippers–it would hardly be fair after the Cirque du Soleil-level adult performer your sister had hired for the bachelorette weekend you spent with her in New York. You suspected it was more for Sarah’s sake than yours, but Joel had politely insisted (to Tommy’s great disappointment) he was getting too old for that sort of thing.

While the Miller boys spent some quality time on the Gulf, you and Sarah got to have your own girls’ weekend. You went to the mall for mani-pedis and had lunch at the Chinese buffet. In J.C. Penney, a saleswoman at the makeup counter helped you both pick out new lipstick and eye-shadow for the big day. Just because it was a simple courthouse affair didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun with it. After you took Sarah over to the jewelry counter as well.

“Why don’t you pick something out?” you said. “I want to get you something for being my bridesmaid.”

Sarah looked over the display case and ran her fingers over a display of charm bracelets. Her fingers paused on a gold bracelet bearing the word MOM.

“What should I call you,” she asked. “After you and my dad get married?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said. “I’d love it if you decide to call me mom one day, but I certainly don’t expect it.”

Sarah shrugged. “Do you think you’ll have kids of your own?”

“We’ve talked about it,” you said. “We’re going to try, but it doesn’t always work out.”

Neither you nor Joel were exactly spring chickens and unless you wanted to be mistaken for grandparents in the kindergarten pickup line you’d have to get started. The truth was you had already thrown protection to the wind the past few months, so far without success and you could already feel the anxiety mounting. You told yourself that three was enough; three was a family, but there was still a powerful yearning inside you.

Of course, Sarah didn’t need to hear about that. You could sympathize with her reservations. Not many of her friends or classmates had a thirteen year age gap with their siblings.

“I know it’d probably be weird for you to have a baby brother or sister,” you admitted. “But I hope you know no matter what, you’ll always be your daddy’s baby girl.”

Sarah turned the bracelet over in her hands so the lettering formed a different word as she waved it in front of your face.

“Wow,” she teased. “That was cheesy as hell.”

“You know what I mean,” you said, nudging her arm.

“No wonder you and my dad fell in love,” she said, rolling her eyes.

When the clerk came back around the counter, Sarah chose a teardrop shaped ruby on a gold chain that would compliment the dress that Joel had gotten her to wear for the ceremony.

“I think you should have a baby,” Sarah said as you walked through the parking lot, content with your purchases. “I charge $20 an hour for babysitting.”

You laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“$15 once they’re out of diapers,” she added.

“Fair enough.”

You took Sarah home and stayed with her until Joel and Tommy got back, sun-kissed and still a little hungover. You and Joel had agreed not to see each other again before the ceremony on Friday, which gave you some time to pack up your apartment and put the finishing touches on the flowers.

Your sister flew in the day before to scout the best locations around the courthouse for family photos. She did your hair and makeup in the morning and offered to drive you to the courthouse, but you didn’t quite trust her behind the wheel.

Once you made it through courthouse security you met Tommy in the lobby and he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Are we all checked in?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’ve got us in courtroom 6,” Tommy pointed down the hall. “Supposed to be about a half hour.”

You realized you were shaking as you swapped out your flats for a more elegant pair of heels and Tommy reached out to steady you.

“How you holding up, buddy?”

“You know, I’m good,” you said. “How is he?”

“The same,” Tommy said with a bright smile. “I think he’s really keeping it together; only asked me about 50 times if I thought you were still coming.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you said, letting out a peal of nervous laughter.

“I’m running down to the cafe to grab a coffee, do you want anything?”

“Water,” you said, your stomach churning at the thought of fried food and burnt coffee. “Maybe a ginger ale–with a straw–” Your sister would kill you if you ruined your lipstick before taking a single photo.

“You got it, Sis,” Tommy gave you a thumbs up.

“Emma’s got your boutonniere if you want to grab it on your way down,” you explained, pointing back to the metal detectors where your sister was still reinstalling her various piercings.

Once you were both sorted, you gathered the rest of the flowers and started down the hall. Then you saw Joel. He was pacing back and forth across the hall, but froze on the spot when he saw you.

You always thought he was handsome (or at least, almost always) but seeing him all put together in a dark navy suit, with a vest no less! It was surreal, for a moment you forgot this was the man you were supposed to be marrying in a little less than half an hour.

“You look beautiful,” Joel said, leaning over to kiss you.

“Not on the mouth!” Emma screamed, still lagging a few steps behind you and Joel leapt back in alarm.

“I did not bring enough makeup wipes to clean you both up,” she warned, combing her fingers through Joel’s hair unsolicited, arranging his curls more to her liking. For his part, Joel was very patient with her or at least too nervous to protest.

“You two shouldn’t be kissing before the ceremony anyway,” Sarah chimed in.

“You look beautiful, sweetie,” you said, beaming at Sarah.

Emma handed you Joel’s boutonniere and snapped a few pictures as you pinned it to his lapel–a red rosebud and yellow alyssum to match the sunflowers in your bouquet with a few sprigs of evergreen for balance.

“You look very handsome,” you said, resting your hand on his chest.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Joel said.

“Me, too,” you giggled.

Joel rested his big hands on your bare arms and pressed his forehead toward yours. You felt like a teenager with butterflies in your stomach and bubbles in your throat.

“We got you something, too,” Joel said, taking a small box out of his jacket.

Inside was a delicate gold necklace with “MOM” in cursive letters suspended between the two sides of the chain. As simple as it was, it felt like a great honor as Joel reached to fasten it around your neck.

“Dad, you put it on wrong,” Sarah protested, reaching for the charm nestled at the base of your throat and flipping it over “It’s supposed to go like this. Now you’re my Wow.”

You laughed, holding the charm between your fingers, contemplating your own special nickname.

“I love it,” you said, pulling Sarah into a hug. You heard the click of Emma’s camera as you embraced, but you ignored it. “I love it so much.”

Emma had the three of you pose for more photographs and then you took a seat on the wooden bench while she had Sarah and Joel stand together on their own.

“For the bride,” Tommy said, trotting down the hallway with a can of soda in hand. “With a straw.”

“Now let’s get one of the boys,” Emma said, herding Tommy and Joel into the good lighting.

Sarah took a seat beside you as you sipped the ginger ale to try settle your stomach.

“How are your feet?” you asked, watching her point and flex her toes in her sweet little kitten heels. “Mine are already killing me. Try not to lock your knees–cuts off the circulation.”

Sarah shrugged, leaning against your shoulder. You reached for her hand, looping your pinky finger around hers. You never imagined as a child that your wedding day would come complete with a nearly grown up daughter, but now that it was here you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“We’re ready for you,” a clerk announced, poking his head out the door.

In the judge’s chamber you signed the marriage certificate and recited your vows with Tommy and Emma as witnesses.

“I’m told you’re exchanging rings,” the judge said.

“Oh shit,” Tommy rifled through the inner pockets of his jacket while you laughed nervously.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groaned as Tommy finally handed over the rings.

Joel went first, gripping your hand as if he still expected you to try to run as he repeated after the judge and slipped the ring on your finger. Then it was your turn.

“Joel,” you said. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, my faith in our strength together, and my covenant to learn and grow with you.”

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Texas,” the judge declared finally. “In the presence of God and the witness of friends and family, it is my great privilege to pronounce you husband and wife–”

Without hesitation, Joel took your face in both his hands and kissed you on the mouth. You smiled against his lips as a wave of relief flooded your body. A tornado hadn’t destroyed the courthouse, aliens hadn’t invaded, you had done it. You were officially married.

Tommy had a friend from the service who had opened up a Salvadoran restaurant in San Antonio who had offered you the use of the back room to host a small reception with friends. You ate pupusas and drank sangria and danced your first dance when “Love Me Tender” came on over the classic radio station playing from the bar.

You were surprised to learn Joel was actually a quite willing dance partner, at least after a few beers. His strong arms and firm hold on your waist made it easy to follow his lead despite how out of practice you were.

By the end of the day you were so tired (and at least a little tipsy) that you nearly got into a car with one of Tommy’s army buddies while Joel went to pull the truck around and gave everyone a good laugh.

“I’m going to stay with Uncle Tommy tonight,” Sarah said as you loaded up the car.

“Are you sure?” you asked as Emma made sure you were safely arranged in the passenger seat of the truck. You worried about putting Sarah out of her home as your first act as her step-mother.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” Tommy said, handing you a doggy-bag from the restaurant. “This is from Dan and Gia. Good night, guys. Love you both.”

“I love you, too,” you crooned out the window as he closed the car door for you. “I always wanted a baby brother named Tommy.”

The last of the guests waved sparklers as Joel pulled out of the parking lot. You opened the bag on your lap and squealed with excitement at the sight of a large piece of tres leches cake.

“Oh my god, this was so good,” you moaned. “I had two pieces! I had seis leches.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Joel chuckled as you ripped open the little plastic package of flatware. “I’m pretty sure that’s for the anniversary.”

“You think I’m going to let this cake get freezer-burn for a year?”

You stabbed the cake with a fork, scooping the moist, creamy cake into your mouth. And just to be fair, you held the next bite out to Joel as you were stopped at an intersection.

“That’s good, right?” you said, wiping a bit of cream from his chin. “You want more?”

“I’m stuffed,” Joel waved you off, pulling the car into the driveway. “Home sweet home.”

Joel came around to open the car door and help you out of the truck. On the porch you both paused, having a moment of internal debate. Joel clearly thought he should carry you over the threshold, but you didn’t want him throwing out his back on your wedding night.

“I can lift you,” he said. “It’s bad luck, you know, for the bride to walk over the threshold.”

“It’s bad luck for the bride to trip,” you said. “Just don’t let me fall.”

You reached for Joel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Inside the house you indulged in loud moans and sloppy love-drunk kisses on your way to the bedroom, but once your ass made contact with the bed you remembered all at once that you had been up since five in the morning being primped and poked and coiffed to perfection.

“I’m so tired,” you moaned.

“You don’t want to?” Joel paused, his hands knotted in your panties already half-way down your thighs.

“No,” you sighed. “I want to, just don’t be offended if I nod off half-way through, okay?”

“You’re sure,” he said, sitting up in bed.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face first." You reluctantly climbed out of the bed.

Joel let his hands linger on your face, placing a kiss on your mouth.

“Unzip me?” you said, turning your back to him and sweeping your hair off your neck.

“Of course, Mrs. Miller.”

Joel slid your zipper down carefully, but as he moved his hands lower you ducked away from him, wagging a finger in his face. You slipped out of your dress and went to the bathroom to scrub your face, putting on a satin night dress.

Back in the bedroom Joel was stretched out on his stomach in bed, snoring softly, and you chuckled, slipping under the covers beside him. You snugged yourself against his solid warmth and ran one manicured nail down his nose as he slept.

“I love you, Mr. Miller.”

#the last of us fanfiction #last of us au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x plus size reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #troy baker adjacent #tlou smut #joel miller smut

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