#Gratitudes and First Dates

[berryfairyluvr]

hihi I loved the zayne princess treatment post could you do a sylus one as well please 🥹💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

sylus and his princess (queen) treatment

pairings: bf!sylus x fem!reader

warnings: none really, maybe minor mentions of some memories

a/n: thank you for the love and the request xx hope you enjoy <3

With a high bounty on his head Sylus has many enemies. Now having you as his beloved partner in this dangerous life (and all the ones before and after) your life has taken priority over his own. Despite your stubborn tendencies, he always has eyes on you ensuring your safety.

He not so slyly suggests you stay at his place 99% of the time as an answer to any of your complaints claiming he has 'this and that' but really it’s to keep you close by.

You insist on waiting up for him after his many late night outings much to his opposition. The lamps dim lighting catching his eye through the window each time he returns to find you cutely tucked into yourself sound asleep on the plush couch. He’d chuckle quietly and scoop you into his arms carrying you bridal style down the dark hallways to the bedroom.

You often complained about the coldness of his marble flooring even in socks. He’s made sure to have his staff keep you slippers in your most visited rooms ever since.

You thought his shower was huge before? He had it expanded and added multiple shower heads. When you asked why, he responded with “Time is of the essence, now we can save it by showering together sweetie.”

He loves to accommodate you, adding a vanity to his bedroom, his and hers closet, shared armory access personalized just to your liking… The list goes on.

He’s discreetly possessive with his touches but it’s usually masked by his powerful demeanor. For instance, when the two of you are out he’s often guiding you on his arm or with his large hand splayed on the small of your back. At meals and meetings his hand finds its way to rest on your thigh.

He will not stand for any sign of disrespect towards you, those who haven’t learned that are met with something violently unpleasant. (Most times completely unbeknownst to you— Sylus makes sure you’re occupied)

You yap and he listens. Earnestly. And I mean undivided and devoted attention. He is so very fond of the way you light up like a child when speaking about your life.

His attention to detail is remarkable and he shows that in your everyday life. Whether it’s picking up on your favorite scent or noting what things make you relax more than others, he provides you with them as much as possible.

That travel magazine you’d been reading hadn’t gone unnoticed and to your surprise, he’d arranged for the two of you to escape reality and venture out for a vacation.

This man can compliment, and he can compliment goooood. He has no issue expressing his gratitude and respect for you through his words and oh boy is he good with his words.

Seeing you scared or fearful wounded him enough the first few times that it now melts him into a puddle at the first sign of worry from you.

this is his *please don’t be worried/upset* look

He doesn’t mind one bit helping you bathe and dress after a long day of work. He even brushes your hair.

Your words mean everything to him, he wants to hear it. (He praises you for it in return 🤭)

For all the excursions you often clung to him like a backpack atop his bike— he decided a spare motorcycle helmet just wouldn’t do for you anymore and had one made to match his.

His date at any and every auction, he revels in getting to flaunt you around all dolled up and on his arm. Some even say his demeanor changed since you began attending these events with him..

read zayne’s version here

read caleb’s version here

requests open ❤︎

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 23: June 2024 - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of fresh croissants filled the apartment by the time Belle heard the knock at the door.

She padded barefoot across the kitchen tiles, hair still messy from sleep, and opened it to find Emilie standing there — oversized sunglasses perched on her head, a tote bag dangling from one arm, and a smug, very satisfied smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"You brought pastries," Belle said, immediately stepping aside to let her in.

"I also bring gossip," Emilie said, sweeping dramatically into the kitchen. "And judgment. Lots of judgment."

Belle laughed under her breath and grabbed two mugs from the shelf. "Coffee?"

"Obviously," Emilie said, dropping the tote on the counter. "You’ll need it for this."

Belle handed her a cup and sat down at the table, folding her legs beneath her. "Okay, what did you do?"

Emilie beamed. "I may or may not have verbally eviscerated Charles last night."

Belle blinked. "You what?"

"Ran into him and Alexandra while you were busy being majestic and ignoring his fifty desperate texts," Emilie said, taking a sip of coffee like she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb into the kitchen. "He stomped over, full of righteous panic, and I… handled it."

Belle covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to choke on a laugh. "Handled it how?"

"I told him," Emilie said sweetly, "that maybe, just maybe, if he had spent half as much time seeing you as he does now trying to fix his own guilt, he wouldn't be in this mess."

Belle’s eyebrows shot up. "You said that?"

"And more," Emilie said brightly. "I told him he doesn’t get to be upset about the horse. Or the apartment. Or the job. Because every one of those things was him not noticing, not you hiding."

Belle stared at her, heart twisting — with affection, with shock, with a deep, raw kind of gratitude she couldn’t quite put into words.

"You’re terrifying," Belle said softly.

Emilie grinned. "And yet you love me."

"I do," Belle admitted, smiling even as she felt the sting of tears at the back of her throat. "I really, really do."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes — Belle tearing apart a croissant, Emilie scrolling through her phone — before Emilie casually said, "Oh, and by the way, I also had a date last night."

Belle blinked. "You what?"

Emilie sipped her coffee like it was no big deal. "With Lando."

Belle nearly dropped her croissant. "With—LANDO?"

"Don’t yell," Emilie said, laughing. "You’ll scare the cats."

Belle gaped at her. "You had a date with Lando Norris and you’re just… casually dropping that like it’s nothing?"

"I mean, it’s not nothing," Emilie said, suddenly a little shy, cheeks pinking. "It was… nice. Really nice."

Belle set her coffee down carefully. "You like him."

"I might," Emilie admitted, voice soft. "I really might."

Belle sat back, a slow, warm smile spreading across her face. "You deserve nice."

Emilie shrugged, but she was smiling too. "He makes me laugh. A lot. And he listens. And he doesn’t… I don’t know. He doesn’t expect me to be anything but what I am."

Belle reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "That sounds pretty good to me."

"It is," Emilie said, squeezing back. 

"And if he hurts you, I’m telling Max," Belle added. 

Emilie laughed — a real one, full and bright and fierce. "Please do."

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Lando Norris

Belle: Hi Lando Emilie told me you two had a date recently.

Lando: 😳 uh yeah we did

Lando: I swear I was a perfect gentleman. Please don't kill me.

Belle: I'm not going to kill you. I just wanted to say something.

Lando: okay (this feels scarier somehow)

Belle: Emilie is one of the kindest and strongest people I know. She’s had enough people treat her like she’s second choice, or temporary, or just an option. I won’t let anyone add to that.

Lando: I would NEVER I mean it I really like her

Belle: Good. Because if you hurt her — if you make her doubt even for a second that she’s loved— you’ll be answering to me.

Belle: And I may not shout. I may not make a scene. But I promise you — you will know exactly how thoroughly you've disappointed me.

Lando: understood

Belle: I believe in people getting second chances. But I also believe in protecting the people who matter. Emilie matters. So if you care about her — really care — don’t let her ever question that.

Belle: That's all. Thank you for listening.

Lando: yes ma'am I promise I really do like her. A lot.

Belle: Then show her. Every day.

Lando: I will.

Lando: Also I think you might be scarier than Max.

***

Max balanced the box of pastries in one hand and rang the doorbell with the other, Belle tucked close to his side.

From inside, he could already hear the low thud of feet — Luka, probably, trying to beat everyone else to the door. There was a scramble, a shout, and then Tom's voice, stern but fond, cutting through the noise: "Let her answer it properly, boys!"

Belle smiled up at Max, her hand slipping into his as the door finally swung open.

Victoria stood there, baby Hailey cradled against her chest in a wrap, her hair in a messy bun and an exhausted but beaming smile on her face.

"You’re late," Victoria teased, stepping aside to let them in. "I was starting to think you got lost."

"We had to detour for these," Max said, holding up the pastries.

Victoria snorted. "Bribery. Classic."

Inside, the house looked like chaos disguised as domestic bliss — toys strewn across the living room, Luka and Lio arguing good-naturedly over a pile of Lego, Tom trying (and failing) to get them to clean up before guests arrived.

"Uncle Max!" Luka cried, barreling into him.

Max huffed as the kid hit his side like a tiny missile but grinned and ruffled his hair. "Hey, champ."

Belle crouched to greet Lio properly, getting a shy grin in return before he wrapped himself around her leg like a barnacle.

Max’s heart twisted — the sight of Belle, already so natural, so gentle with the kids, even now. 

Victoria plopped down on the couch, motioning them over. "Come on. Come meet your niece properly."

Belle followed, a little hesitant, while Max dropped the pastries on the table and shrugged off his jacket. Sophie appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and greeting them both with kisses on the cheek.

"You're looking well," Sophie said kindly to Belle, squeezing her hand. "Keeping it all together, I see."

Belle just smiled — small, soft, almost bashful. Max knew the truth behind that smile. Knew how much it cost sometimes to keep it together.

Victoria grinned wickedly and, without warning, untied Hailey from the wrap and thrust her gently into Belle’s arms.

"Practice," she said, laughing when Belle let out a startled breath.

Belle blinked down at the tiny bundle, hands adjusting instinctively. Hailey made a soft cooing sound and settled immediately against her chest, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of Belle’s sweater.

Max sat down beside them, watching Belle like he was memorizing the moment.

It felt like the right time.

He slid his hand onto Belle’s knee, grounding her, smiling when she glanced at him — a question in her eyes.

He nodded, barely a tilt of his head.

Belle took a deep breath, looking down at Hailey, and then up at Victoria and Sophie.

"I guess we’ll need the practice," she said quietly.

Victoria paused mid-sip of her coffee. "What?"

Belle’s cheeks pinked. She shifted Hailey carefully into Max's arms, and Max cradled the tiny girl easily, used to the weight of something precious.

"We’re having a baby," Belle said, voice trembling but sure.

Silence.

Then Sophie gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Victoria’s coffee cup clattered against the table.

"No," Victoria breathed. "You’re serious?"

Max grinned, pride swelling in his chest. "Completely."

Victoria made a noise — somewhere between a squeal and a gasp — and surged to her feet too.

"Oh my God," Victoria said, practically vibrating. "Are you serious? You’re serious??"

Belle smiled — small but real — and Max thought he might physically explode from how proud he was of her.

"About three months," Belle said quietly.

Victoria burst into happy tears immediately. Tom wandered into the room just in time to see her practically tackle Belle in a careful, weepy hug.

“You sneaky little thing!” Victoria cried. “You didn’t say anything!”

Belle laughed, breathless and teary all at once, hugging her back.

Sophie was still standing frozen for a moment — and then she crossed the room in three strides and pressed her hands gently to Belle’s cheeks, her smile breaking wide and a little broken.

"I’m so happy for you," Sophie whispered, voice thick. “My sweet girl. You’re going to be such a good mom.”

Max swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as Belle leaned into it, tears slipping down her own cheeks.

Victoria clapped her hands once, bright and chaotic. "This is amazing!" she said. "Luka! Lio! You’re going to have a new baby cousin!"

Luka whooped and ran in circles around the couch. Lio just grinned shyly and latched back onto Belle’s leg.

***

The late afternoon light slanted warm through the apartment windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the golden air. Belle sat cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies — it nearly swallowed her whole — flipping idly through a book she hadn’t really been reading.

Max was stretched out beside her, long legs hanging off the edge, his hand absently tracing the seam of the couch between them. It was quiet in the way it only ever was with him — no pressure to fill the space, no need to perform. Just breathing, just being.

Belle felt him shift, roll onto his side to face her. She looked up from her book and smiled automatically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Max hesitated.

Then, in a voice so soft it made her chest ache, he said, "Can I...?"

His hand hovered mid-air between them, uncertain. And for a second Belle didn’t understand — until she realized his eyes weren’t on her face.

They were on her stomach.

Still flat. Still unchanged. But growing. Quietly, invisibly.

Their baby.

Belle’s breath caught in her throat.

She nodded, just once, not trusting herself to speak.

Max moved carefully, like she was made of something fragile. His palm settled, featherlight, against the soft curve of her belly — and he exhaled a shaky little laugh, pressing his forehead against her shoulder.

"You can’t feel anything yet," Belle whispered, smiling into his hair.

"I know," Max said, his voice low and reverent. "But you're there. Both of you."

Belle let the book slip from her hands and wrapped her arms around him instead, feeling the way he cradled her so instinctively — like she was precious. Like she was his whole world.

After a long moment, Max pulled back slightly, still resting his hand against her.

"It’ll take a while before you show, won’t it?" he asked, voice gentle, almost reverent.

She nodded, smiling wetly. "First pregnancies usually do. Maybe not until four or five months in."

Max made a soft, thoughtful noise, still tracing tiny circles with his thumbs. "Good," he said. "More time to enjoy it before everyone starts trying to figure it out."

Belle laughed shakily, threading her fingers into his hair. "They’ll have to get through you first."

The look in his eyes — tender, fierce, protective — made something tighten in Belle’s chest. A thought that had been lingering there for days, tugging quietly at the corners of her mind.

Max was leaving soon.

 Flying to Spain for the Grand Prix.

 Another weekend of cameras, flashing lights, noise — and pretending.

Pretending she didn’t exist.

 Pretending this didn’t exist.

Belle bit her lip, heart thudding a little too hard against her ribs.

It wasn’t just about the hiding anymore.

 It wasn’t about keeping things private for their own peace.

 It was about the quiet ache of being invisible. Of loving and being loved and still acting like she had to apologize for it.

She could handle being unknown to the world.

 But she didn’t want to be invisible to it — not when Max was the best, most real thing she had ever dared to hold.

"I don't want to hide anymore," she said suddenly, the words spilling out before fear could swallow them down.

Max blinked, startled, lifting his head properly to look at her — really look at her.

 Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You don’t have to," he said immediately.

 No hesitation.

 No question.

 Just simple, devastating certainty.

Belle’s heart twisted painfully at the way he said it — like there had never been another option in his mind. Like loving her in the open was as natural to him as breathing.

She smiled — a little shaky, but sure. Anchored by him. By them.

"We don’t have to announce everything," she said, voice low but steady. "Not the baby. Not yet."

Her hand slid down to cover his, where it still rested over the soft, flat plane of her stomach — a touch so gentle it made her ache.

"But... us," Belle said, eyes searching his. "Our marriage. You. Me. I’m tired of pretending you’re not my home."

Max’s entire face softened — the kind of rare, quiet smile he only ever gave her.

 Like something sacred.

 Like something permanent.

"Okay," he said simply, voice rough around the edges. "Okay. We'll tell them."

And just like that, Belle exhaled — slowly, shakily — a breath she'd been holding for too long.

Not because she didn’t trust Max. But because she was finally starting to trust herself.

To trust that loving someone openly didn’t make her a burden. That maybe — just maybe — she could take up space without needing permission.

Belle leaned forward and kissed him — slow and sure — and Max kissed her back like he was promising her something without words. Like he was stitching the vow right into her bones.

No more hiding. No more shrinking. No more apologizing for what they had built.

Just them. Together.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

Max: Hey. Are you free to come to the Spanish Grand Prix?

Jos: I can be. Why?

Max: Belle and I are going public. About the marriage.

Jos: ...Finally. About time.

Max: Yeah, well. We wanted it to be ours first, you know?

Jos: I get it. What do you need from me?

Max: Honestly? Run a little interference. The media’s going to lose their minds. And Charles… ...Charles might combust.

Jos: You mean Charles is going to make it worse by running around like a headless chicken.

Max: Basically.

Jos: I’ll handle it. I'll be there. I’ll keep the worst of it off Belle.

Max: Thanks, Papa.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: Heads up. Belle’s coming to the Spanish GP.

Lando: WAIT WHAT

Lando: LIKE ACTUALLY IN THE PADDOCK???

Max: Yes.

Lando: HOLY SHIT

Lando: MAX. MAX YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT ON ME LIKE THAT.

Max: What, did you think I was going to keep her hidden forever?

Lando: I mean YES???

Lando: BRO YOU GOT SECRET MARRIED AND YOU’RE JUST LIKE "oh btw here’s my wife" AT A WHOLE GRAND PRIX???

Max: Exactly. Soft launch. Race weekend edition.

Lando: THIS IS NOT A SOFT LAUNCH. THIS IS A NUCLEAR LAUNCH.

Max: You'll survive.

Lando: Will I?? Charles might physically explode on track. And the entire grid is going to lose their minds.

Max: Good. They deserve a little excitement.

Lando: I’m not emotionally prepared for this level of chaos.

Max: Too late. Prepare yourself.

Lando: I NEED A SUIT. AND ARMOR. AND POPCORN.

Max: Belle likes popcorn. Maybe bring some.

Lando: I'M TAKING THIS VERY SERIOUSLY, MAX.

Max: So am I. See you in Barcelona, mate.

Lando: I’m going to faint.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Lando: 🚨🚨🚨 EMERGENCY 🚨🚨🚨

Oscar: Oh no what now

George: You can't just start like that and expect me not to panic.

Daniel: I LIVE for this energy. Continue.

Lando: Belle is coming to the Spanish GP. IN THE PADDOCK. WITH MAX. OFFICIALLY.

Lewis: ...well. That’s one way to drop a bomb.

Carlos: Wait, WAIT. Publicly?

Lando: YES.

Oscar: oh my god.

Lance: Charles is gonna combust like an overheated engine.

Zhou: Charles is going to find out and collapse in parc fermé.

Fernando: I'd pay money to see it happen live.

Nico H: Is anyone placing bets on HOW he finds out?

George: He’s either going to see them together and short-circuit or he's going to hear the rumors swirling and spiral in slow motion.

Daniel: Imagine him walking into the paddock, seeing Max holding Belle’s hand, and just… Rage quitting life.

Sebastian: Peace and love, but Charles needs to sit down and shut up. 

Lando: I am 100% recording his reaction. I don’t even care anymore.

Oscar: Charles: "Hey Belle, why are you in the paddock??" Belle: "I'm with my husband." Charles: System error. Please reboot.

Lewis: Someone get medical personnel on standby.

Carlos: I'M STILL PROCESSING THIS He doesn’t even know Max married her yet. He still thinks Belle’s secret boyfriend is sugar daddy Fernando. 

Zhou: No but seriously. WHO is going to tell Charles??

Daniel: It’s going to hit him like a freight train of bad decisions.

Oscar: We need an over/under on how long he lasts before he confronts Max.

Lewis: Five minutes tops.

George: Two minutes if Belle is holding Max's hand.

Alex: Negative five seconds if they kiss.

Fernando: I want a front row seat. No regrets.

Carlos: I kinda hope Max punches him first if he says anything stupid.

Daniel: You say that like Max wouldn’t absolutely end him with one (1) look.

Lando: I’m bringing popcorn.

Oscar: I’m bringing a camera.

Zhou: I'm bringing bail money.

Lewis: And I’m bringing peace and emotional support. (And also a camera.)

Mark: This is going to be biblical.

Nico R: If Charles survives it without crying, it’ll be a miracle.

Daniel: Imagine forgetting your sister’s birthday, her horse, her marriage, and then getting bodied by reality in one weekend. Elite.

George: This is going to be the greatest off-track drama of the season.

Carlos: And we get to watch it unfold in 4K.

Sebastian: Prayers for Charles.He’s going to need them.

Oscar: Charles isn't surviving this.

George: Neither am I tbh.

Lando: see you all in Spain let the games BEGIN.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Guess what. 

Emilie: 👀 What??

Belle: I’m going to Spain with Max. To the Grand Prix. Officially.

Emilie: WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT LIKE… WALKING INTO THE PADDOCK AS MRS. VERSTAPPEN OFFICIALLY OFFICIALLY?? 😭

Belle: Yes. We’re not announcing the baby yet. Just… us. No more hiding. No more pretending.

Emilie: I’M SCREAMING internally because I’m in public and I don’t want to get arrested but STILL

Belle: 😂😂😂

Emilie: I am so proud of you, Belle. So, so proud. You’re going to walk in there and light the place up and Max is going to look at you like you hung the stars.

Belle: He already does. 🥹

Emilie: DID YOU WANT ME TO CRY AT THE GROCERY STORE?? BECAUSE MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Belle: 😂 Sorry not sorry. (Also… any outfit suggestions for my "Hey, I'm married to a World Champion" debut? 👀)

Emilie: DON’T MOVE. I’m pulling outfit options right now. We’re about to make Monaco’s most famous secret the event of the weekend.

Belle:  Thank you for always being in my corner. 🖤

Emilie: Always. Now let’s pick a dress that’s going to make half the paddock faint. 😘

***

The doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by the sound of keys jingling and a familiar voice calling, "Don't panic, it's just me — and I'm armed."

Belle laughed, rising from the couch just as Emilie shouldered her way into the apartment, arms overflowing with shopping bags. Designer logos peeked from between brown paper and bright ribboned handles. Emilie kicked the door shut with one foot and dropped the pile dramatically onto the coffee table with a satisfied huff.

"I come bearing offerings," she declared.

Belle raised an eyebrow. "You robbed an entire mall?"

"Selective raiding," Emilie said sweetly. "And it’s called urgent fashion triage, thank you very much."

Belle shook her head, grinning as she started rifling through the bags. Soft silks, crisp white linens, sunlit yellows and rich blues — it was like someone had bottled the Spanish sun and turned it into clothes.

"You didn’t have to," Belle said softly, touched despite herself.

"I wanted to," Emilie said, plopping down onto the couch and already pulling out outfit combinations. "You’re about to walk into your first race weekend publicly as Mrs. Verstappen. You deserve to look and feel like a goddess while doing it."

Belle smiled, the word Mrs. Verstappen settling warm and giddy under her skin.

"And," Emilie added slyly, "it’s not like I needed much of an excuse for retail therapy."

Belle nudged her playfully with her foot. "You could always come too, you know. To the race."

Emilie gave her a look.

"I’m serious," Belle said, teasing. "Spain. Sunshine. Chaos. You could watch Lando drive. In person. Maybe even cheer him on."

Emilie snorted, but the tips of her ears turned suspiciously pink. "I am not that far gone," she said primly.

"Uh-huh," Belle hummed, utterly unconvinced. “Didn’t you watch a whole Twitch stream last week just to watch someone play virtual golf?”

"Shut up!" Emilie insisted, tossing a silk scarf at her. "Besides, Lando has a job to do. And so do I — making sure you don’t accidentally show up to the paddock in, like, a ballgown."

Belle laughed, holding the scarf up against herself. "Don’t worry, I am not planning ont that."

They spent the next hour going through outfits — laughing, discarding things, planning. Belle felt lighter with every minute, like the fear and tension of the last few weeks were finally cracking open to make room for something else.

When Emilie made her try on a soft linen dress and spun her around to admire her in the mirror, Belle caught her own reflection — flushed cheeks, bright eyes, the smallest, secretive curve of a smile.

She almost didn’t recognize herself.

Almost.

But this version — the one standing taller, shining quietly, no longer shrinking — this was who Max loved.

This was who she was meant to be.

And she wasn’t going to hide anymore. ***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Heads up. I’m bringing Belle to Spain.

GP: Hold on. Like… bringing her bringing her? Publicly?

Max: Yeah. No more hiding.

GP: Max. Have you thought this through? The timing, the media, the team — And, oh, I don’t know, maybe CHARLES??

Max: He’s not a factor. Not after how he treated her.

GP: I get it. Believe me, I get it. But you realize this is going to set off a bomb, right?

Max: Maybe it should.

GP: Max—

Max: He didn’t just forget her birthday. He forgot her. For years. He doesn’t get to dictate when or how Belle gets to be seen.

GP: (three dots appearing) (long pause)

GP: Okay. If you’re sure, I’m with you.

Max: I’m sure. We’re done pretending she’s not my wife.

GP: Alright. Just warning you — Christian and Gemma are going to have a heart attack. I’ll bring popcorn.

Max: Bring tequila too. For Christian. He’s going to need it.

GP: Noted.

GP: And Max? Good for you. She deserves to be seen.

Max: She deserves everything.

***

Max sank into the chair across from Christian’s desk, casually tossing a Red Bull can from hand to hand like he had all the time in the world.

Christian Horner leaned back in his chair with a sigh that sounded both long-suffering and suspicious. Across the table, Gemma — Red Bull’s long-suffering PR manager — tapped her pen against her notepad nervously, already bracing herself for whatever Max was about to drop into their laps.

Next to her, GP looked disturbingly calm, which only made Christian more suspicious.

Max finally set the can down, grinning faintly.

"So," he said, with all the innocent charm of a man about to light a building on fire, "I’m bringing Belle to the Spanish Grand Prix."

Silence.

Christian blinked.

 Gemma stopped tapping her pen mid-air.

 GP just nodded slightly, like he'd known this was coming for weeks. (Because he had.)

Christian leaned forward slowly, hands folded neatly. "When you say ‘bring Belle’..."

Max shrugged, far too nonchalant. "I mean bring her. Publicly."

Christian stared at him for a beat. "As in... she's coming as your wife."

Max grinned wider. "Exactly."

Another heavy pause.

Gemma looked like she was calculating seventeen separate crisis plans in her head.

Christian opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"And," Christian said carefully, "does Charles know yet?"

Max leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed. "Nope."

Gemma made a small, audible squeak.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Max."

Max shrugged again, unbothered. "He had plenty of time."

"And he still doesn’t know?"

"Nope."

Christian exchanged a long look with GP, who simply lifted his coffee cup like you’re the one who wanted to manage Max, not me.

Gemma finally found her voice. "Are you planning to tell him before Belle walks into the paddock in Barcelona wearing a Red Bull pass and a ring?"

Max tilted his head, pretending to think about it. "I mean... should I?"

"YES," Christian and Gemma said at the same time.

GP just sipped his coffee and smiled.

"Max," Christian said slowly, like he was explaining something to a very excitable cat, "you realize this is going to break the internet."

Max grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Good."

"Belle is Charles Leclerc’s sister," Gemma stressed. "And you — you’re you."

"Which is why I married her," Max said simply, like it was obvious.

Christian scrubbed a hand over his face. "Do you have any idea the PR nightmare this could be?"

Max's grin widened. "Or," he said, "it could be great for the team. Verstappen and Leclerc bloodlines finally uniting. Think of the headlines."

Gemma looked like she was about to pass out.

Christian sat back, muttering something about needing a drink.

Max just leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, voice suddenly quieter but infinitely more serious.

"I’m not hiding her anymore," he said. "We agreed. She deserves better than that."

And despite everything — the chaos, the incoming storm — Christian found himself softening.

Because for all his recklessness, Max Verstappen had always been terrifyingly clear when it came to the people he loved.

"Alright," Christian sighed, raising his hands in surrender. "Bring your wife."

Max’s smile turned into something real, something proud.

"And Max?" Christian added as he stood.

Max glanced up.

"Maybe... maybe text Charles first."

Max smirked. "I’ll think about it."

GP, sipping his coffee: "He won't."

Gemma, resigned: "We’re going to need extra security, aren’t we?"

Christian: "And maybe a therapist on standby."

Max just whistled, hands tucked behind his head, already picturing Belle in his garage, wearing his team colors, no longer a secret.

Finally, finally, where she belonged.

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

Luke Crane: Alright, boys, ready to get smoked by Max again?

Chris Lulham: Speak for yourself. I’ve been training.

Gianni Vecchio: Training what, exactly? Snack-eating speed?

Max: (laughs quietly) Just try to keep up.

Luke: (mock serious) Max, now that you’re a married man, you should slow down for us mortals.

Chris: Yeah, about that— Max. Max. Are we ever gonna talk about that?

Gianni: Yeah, mate. "Oh, I’m married," casually dropped in the middle of a press conference like you were ordering lunch.

Chris: You just YOLO’d your marriage announcement. No names, no details, just vibes.

Max: (grinning) Was there supposed to be a PowerPoint?

Luke: YES.

Gianni: Honestly, yes. Slides. Charts. Maybe a dramatic reveal with smoke machines.

Chris: At least a "guess who?" game. We deserve that much.

Max: (smirking) You’ll meet her soon.

Gianni: (suspicious) When is "soon"? Before 2040?

Max: (grinning wider) Spain.

Chris: Spain what?

Max: I’m bringing her to the Spanish Grand Prix.

Chat: 

SHE’S COMING TO THE SPANISH GP

OMG THE MYSTERY WILL BE SOLVED

WE’LL FINALLY MEET MRS VERSTAPPEN

Chris: (wheezing) WAIT WHAT.

Gianni: You’re bringing your wife to a race weekend?

Max: (shrugs casually) Yeah. Thought it was time.

Luke: (mock offended) Wow. Betrayal. We get a cryptic marriage announcement and now a surprise reveal.

Gianni: No hints? No clues? No scavenger hunt?

Max: (laughing) Nope. You’ll see.

[Chaos continues with chaotic racing and Max being suspiciously smug.]

[About 45 minutes into the stream…] [Soft knock. Belle’s hand appears in frame — a mug of tea sliding onto Max’s desk.]

Gianni: (high alert) WAIT. WHO WAS THAT.

Luke: Was that THE WIFE???

Chris: ENHANCE. ENHANCE.  CLIP IT. CLIP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Max: (without missing a beat) Thanks, Schatje.

Chat: 

GUYS THAT WAS HER HAND I’M NOT OKAY

MAX SOFT LAUNCHING HIS WIFE VIA TEACUP DELIVERY I’M SCREAMING

"Thanks, Schatje" I’M SOBBINGGGG

HE SOUNDS SO IN LOVE WTF

She’s the real MVP bringing him tea mid-race 😭😭

Gianni: Max, you just BROKE the internet with a hand cameo.

Chris: Soft launch supremacy.

Luke: I need to know everything immediately.

Gianni: If Spain isn’t a full reveal, I’m rioting.

Max: (smirking into his mic) Be patient.

****

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1MemeHub:  MAX JUST SOFT LAUNCHED HIS WIFE WITH A TEACUP DELIVERY LIVE ON STREAM 😭😭😭 "Thanks, schatje." I'm NOT OKAY.

@/GridGossip:  Max: "You'll meet her soon." Also Max: casually introduces her hand and then acts like it’s a normal Tuesday. THE SPANISH GP IS ABOUT TO BE HISTORIC.

@/TifosiTears:  Not to be dramatic but if we don't get a full face reveal of Mrs. Verstappen at the Spanish GP I'm organizing a formal protest outside Red Bull HQ.

@/SoftLaunchDetective: The fact that he called her "Schatje" in front of thousands of people and didn’t blink??? That’s LOVE your honor. That’s SOULMATES.

@/F1WivesClub: Me: I don't care about the drivers' personal lives

Max Verstappen, midstream: "Thanks, schatje."

Also me: building a shrine to Mrs. Verstappen immediately

@/mysterymrsverstappen: Hello yes this account is now entirely dedicated to figuring out who Mrs. Verstappen is. Applications for sleuths open now.

↳ @/GridGossip:  Are we 100% sure it’s not Isabelle Leclerc?

***

The sun was already low by the time Belle found Max in the living room, stretched out on the couch with Jimmy curled on his chest and his phone in one hand. He looked up immediately when she approached, setting everything aside without hesitation.

She hesitated at the edge of the rug, twisting the hem of her sweater between her fingers.

Max sat up straighter, instantly alert. "Belle? What's wrong?"

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just—" She swallowed, breathing through it. "I was wondering if you could... if you would come somewhere with me tomorrow."

Max’s eyes softened. "Anywhere."

Belle smiled faintly but didn’t move closer yet. The words were heavier than she expected, even though she’d thought about them all day.

"It’s... the anniversary of my father’s death," she said quietly.

Max didn’t interrupt. Just waited, the way he always did when she needed time to find her words.

"I go every year," Belle continued. "I bring flowers. I sit with him for a while. Just… talk. Tell him what he’s missed." Her voice cracked, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "It’s silly, maybe. But I—I don’t know how not to go."

"It’s not silly," Max said immediately, voice low and certain. "Not even a little."

Belle blinked hard, willing the prickling in her eyes to settle.

"I usually go alone," she whispered. "I always have. But... I don’t want to go alone this year." She hesitated, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Will you come with me?"

Max caught her hands in his, steady and warm.

"Of course I’ll come," he said, like it wasn’t even a question. Like he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

Belle leaned into him, breathing him in — cedarwood, laundry detergent, and something that was just Max — and let herself be held.

"I want him to meet you," she murmured against his chest, voice small. "Even if it’s just... like this."

Max’s arms tightened around her.

"I’d be honored," he said simply.

Belle closed her eyes.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be quite so lonely after all.

***

The air was crisp and still when they arrived at the small cemetery just outside the city, the afternoon light casting long shadows between the rows of headstones.

Max kept close as Belle walked ahead of him, a simple bouquet of white roses, lavender, eucalyptus cradled in her hands. She moved with a kind of quiet certainty, like her body knew the way by heart even if her mind was somewhere else entirely.

They wove through the headstones until she stopped in front of one — clean, simple, with her father's name carved carefully into the stone.  A small lantern stood by the base, unlit but lovingly maintained, and Max could tell just by looking at it that Belle came here often. That she cared.

He stayed back a respectful step while Belle knelt, arranging the flowers neatly at the foot of the grave.

For a long moment, she just stayed there — head bowed, fingers brushing the stone as if in greeting.

Then, without looking back at Max, she started talking. Softly. Gently. Like she was sitting across from her father at the kitchen table, not kneeling at his grave.

"Hi, Papa," she said, her voice trembling just slightly. "It’s me."

Max felt something tighten in his chest — the rawness of her affection, her grief, her love — so undimmed by time.

"I’m sorry I haven’t been by as much lately," Belle continued. "It’s been a... complicated year."

She smiled, small and sad.

"You wouldn’t believe it," she said, voice light but strained. "Charles won Monaco. And nobody noticed it was my birthday."

Max saw her knuckles whiten slightly where they rested on her knee.

"Not even them," she whispered. "Not even Maman."

She brushed a hand quickly across her cheek, but kept her shoulders straight.

"I waved at Charles in the garage," Belle said. "I smiled. And he smiled back, and he didn’t even know."

Max stepped closer, crouching behind her without touching — just there. Just near enough that if she reached back, he’d be right there.

"I didn’t get angry," Belle said, voice softer now. "I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just... let them forget. And then I walked away."

Her hand touched the stone again, almost like she was offering her father a secret.

"And I’m not alone," she said, a thread of something stronger — pride, maybe — weaving through her voice. "I got married, Papa."

She glanced over her shoulder then, finding Max’s eyes. He smiled — slow, steady — and nodded once, like he was promising he was still right here.

"I married Max," Belle said, turning back to the grave. "You would’ve liked him. He’s... he’s good.  He’s steady in all the ways I needed and never thought I deserved."

Max swallowed thickly, feeling the burn at the back of his throat.

"And," Belle added, after a moment, her hand slipping instinctively to her stomach, "we’re having a baby."

The words hung there, delicate and astonishing.

Belle exhaled shakily.

"I wish you were here," she whispered. "I wish you could meet him. Or her. I don’t know yet."

Max stood, quiet but unmovable behind her, heart thundering with all the things he could feel but couldn't say.

Belle leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against the cool stone.

"I’m trying, Papa," she said, voice almost breaking. "I’m trying to build something better. A family where nobody feels invisible."

Max’s hands fisted at his sides — not in anger, but in fierce, helpless loyalty to her. He would help her build that. Whatever it took.

Belle stayed like that for another minute — breathing, grounded, tethered to something older and deeper than grief.

Then she sat back, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, and turned toward Max.

He crouched down fully this time, opening his arms without a word. She came into them instantly.

For a while, they just stayed like that, kneeling together in the cold grass — Belle tucked into Max’s chest, Max shielding her like he could somehow carry the weight she never should have borne alone.

He pressed a kiss into her hair.

"I’m proud of you," he murmured against her scalp. "He would be too."

Belle nodded against him, and Max felt the faintest smile against his hoodie.

And right there, in the middle of a cemetery, surrounded by stillness and memory, Max knew it more clearly than anything:

Whatever happened — whatever came next — Belle was never going to walk alone again.

Not as long as he was breathing.

***

Lorenzo sat at his kitchen counter, staring at his phone like it might suddenly produce the answers he didn’t have.

The photo was still open on the screen:

 Belle, in a field of soft gold light, her arm tucked gently around the neck of a stunning white mare.

 Fleur.

He knew that name because Belle had written it herself — answering a question of a random user. 

She looked happy.

Peaceful, even.

And God, didn’t that just twist the knife deeper.

Because they hadn't given her that peace.

 They hadn’t even noticed she was still missing it.

It wasn’t the horse that gutted him, not really.

 It was what the horse represented.

The life they’d taken from her when she was thirteen.

 The dreams she never said out loud again, because what was the point?

They sold Blanche.

 They let her sacrifice everything quietly so Charles could race — so

Arthur could race — and none of them had asked her what she wanted in return.

 They just… assumed she’d move on.

But Belle hadn’t moved on.

She’d waited.

She’d mourned.

 And when none of them circled back for her, she found her own way.

Without them.

Without him.

Across the room, his coffee sat untouched. Cold now. Like the pit sitting in his stomach.

Arthur was taking it badly.

 Charles even worse.

Charles had been chewed out by Emilie a few days earlier — that much Lorenzo knew. Charles had tried to brush it off when he called later, voice tight and wounded, but the shame clung to him like smoke. Emilie hadn’t been polite about it, either. She had torn into him, sharp and clear and deserved, and Charles hadn’t even fought back.

Arthur was spiraling in his own way.

 Blaming himself.

 Telling anyone who would listen that he should have noticed Belle wasn’t okay. That he should have seen the signs when she started pulling away. That it was his fault she felt so forgotten.

But it wasn’t Arthur’s fault.

Not entirely.

And it wasn’t Charles’ alone, either.

It was Lorenzo’s.

He was the eldest. The one who was supposed to look out for them all when their father died. The one who was supposed to notice when Isabelle stopped smiling at family dinners. When she started standing a little farther away from them at the tracks. When she stopped volunteering information about her life, one tiny piece at a time, until there was nothing left she offered freely.

He had failed her. Worse than any of them.

Because he should have known. He should have seen her.

He should have protected her — from the weight of being overlooked, from the steady erosion of love measured only in podiums and points and wins.

And he hadn't.

He was ashamed.

Because he should have seen it coming.

 He was the eldest.

He was supposed to watch over them all.

And instead, he had let Belle fade out of their lives like smoke slipping through a crack in the window.

Maman wasn’t handling it well either.

Their mother’s texts to Belle had gone unanswered for days. Her voice on the phone trembled more now, and she had started reaching for familiar things — old traditions, old recipes — like baking a lemon tart would somehow undo the years of not seeing her only daughter clearly.

But no amount of lemon tarts couldn't fix this.

Nothing could fix the years they spent forgetting.

And now?

 Now Belle had a horse again — something he knew, deep down, she had dreamed about every day since the first had been taken from her.

But she hadn’t shared it with them.

She hadn’t shared any of it.

Because they hadn't earned it.

Lorenzo closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the counter.

How had they been so blind?

How had they let it get this bad?

He didn’t know where Belle lived now. He didn’t know who had given her that horse. He didn’t even know if she would ever want to come home again.

But he knew this: She had found happiness without them. And maybe — maybe — she was finally living the life they never thought to fight for on her behalf.

He just didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to tell her he was sorry.

And worse— He wasn’t sure he deserved it.

***

The private jet hummed quietly beneath them, the kind of low, steady sound that usually lulled Belle into a light doze. But not today.

Today, her nerves were a live wire.

She sat curled against Max’s side, his hand resting warm and steady on her thigh, their fingers loosely tangled together. Across from them, Jos Verstappen flipped idly through a magazine, a half-finished cup of coffee forgotten on the table beside him.

It wasn’t that Belle was afraid of Jos.

 He’d been nothing but kind to her — gruff sometimes, but protective in a way that made her feel safe, not small.

Still.

 Telling your father-in-law that you were pregnant — especially when your marriage was still a secret to most of the world — felt a litle daunting.

Max must have felt her tension, because he squeezed her hand, grounding her.

“You ready?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Belle nodded — small but firm.

Max leaned forward slightly, clearing his throat. “Dad?”

Jos looked up, eyebrows raised, expectant.

“There’s something we wanted to tell you,” Max said.

Jos set the magazine down slowly. His expression was unreadable — patient, but sharp-eyed in that way that always made Belle feel like he saw more than he said.

Max’s thumb brushed soothing circles against the back of her hand.

Belle took a breath. "I’m pregnant," she said, voice soft but steady.

The words seemed to hang in the air for a second, floating between them, too big and too small all at once.

Jos blinked.

 Once.

 Twice.

Then he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms slowly — and Belle couldn’t tell if he was about to yell, laugh, or both.

"You’re serious?" he said gruffly, but there was no bite to it — just something thick in his voice, something a little stunned.

Max smiled — that rare, raw smile that he reserved for the few people he trusted most.

 "We just found out a few weeks ago."

Belle tightened her fingers around Max’s.

Jos stared at them for a long moment — at their clasped hands, at Belle’s steady eyes, at Max’s quiet pride.

And then — to Belle’s utter shock — Jos smiled.  A real, honest smile, tugging awkwardly at the corners of his mouth like he wasn’t used to the feeling.

"Good," Jos said roughly. "You’ll be a great mother," he added, looking at Belle — and then, after a beat, to Max, "And you’ll be a better father than I ever was."

Belle’s throat tightened painfully.

Max squeezed her hand again, and she felt the slight tremor in it — the way those words hit him deep, carving something open and healing at the same time.

"Thanks, Pa," Max said quietly.

Jos nodded once, gruffly — like he couldn’t say more even if he wanted to — then grunted, reaching for his coffee.

"Hope you’re ready for no sleep and a lot of diaper changes," he muttered, like the most Jos blessing imaginable. "You’ll need all the patience you can get. Verstappen babies aren’t exactly easy."  A faint grin cracked across his face. "Take it from experience."

Max groaned dramatically. "Don’t scare her."

Belle laughed, watery and surprised — the nerves in her chest unraveling into something lighter. Something real.

Outside the plane windows, the sky stretched out wide and endless and new.

And for the first time in weeks, Belle let herself feel it too — The future.

 Opening up, bright and brave, and theirs.

***

Text Messages: Christian Horner & Fred Vasseur

Christian: Fred. Just a heads-up.

Fred: What now.

Christian: Belle will be in the paddock tomorrow. With Max.

Fred: What do you mean, with Max?

Christian: Exactly what it sounds like. Publicly. No more hiding.

Fred: Merde. Does Charles know??

Christian: Not as far as I’m aware.

Fred: You’re telling me Max Verstappen is about to make his marriage to Charles Leclerc’s sister public during a race weekend.

Christian: You might want to prepare your garage for a Leclerc meltdown.

Fred: I’m not paid enough for this.

Christian: Neither am I. (But at least it’s not my golden boy spiraling in public this time.)

Fred: I need a drink. And possibly a tranquilizer dart. For Charles.

Christian: Good luck. You’ll need it.

***

The hotel room was quiet, except for the muted hum of traffic outside and the low flicker of a Formula 2 race replay on the television. Max was already half-asleep, sprawled across the bed with one arm thrown lazily over the pillow where Belle had been sitting moments ago.

Belle sat cross-legged on the small lounge chair by the window, her phone in her lap, scrolling aimlessly — or, at least, pretending to. Her heart wasn’t in it. It hadn’t been all evening.

Her thumb hovered over the Instagram app again.

Tomorrow was going to change everything.

Tomorrow, she would walk into the paddock — into his world — not hidden behind whispered conversations or secret glances. She would walk in as his wife. Openly. Proudly.

For the first time, there would be no pretending.

And it felt… terrifying.

But also good. Right.

A smile tugged at her lips as she glanced back at Max, who mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and shifted closer to her empty side of the bed. Her heart clenched in that stupid, overwhelming way it always did around him.

She tapped into Instagram and stared at her profile.

@isabelleleclerc

It looked strange now. Wrong. Like a version of herself she was finally ready to grow beyond.

Belle took a slow breath and, with deliberate fingers, typed.

@belleverstappen

She paused for a heartbeat — not out of fear, but out of reverence. Out of the gravity of it.

This wasn’t just about a name. It was about a life she chose. A future she was building, one steady, stubborn step at a time.

She hit save before she could second-guess herself.

The screen flickered for a moment. Then it was done.

Belle Verstappen.

She set the phone down and padded quietly across the room, slipping into bed beside Max. His arm immediately found her, pulling her close in his sleep, like it was instinct.

She tucked her head against his shoulder, her hand resting lightly over the secret they still carried between them — small, invisible, but growing stronger every day.

No more hiding. No more shrinking.

Tomorrow, the world would know.

And for the first time in her life, Belle wasn’t afraid of being seen.

She was ready to be claimed — not by the spotlight, but by the people who mattered.

By the man beside her.

By herself.

***

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff! post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x implied fem!reader. 500+ words. since you guys liked the last one, here's more iwaizumi :) he's so <3

Iwaizumi is a gentleman. It's made immensely clear even before you started dating him, that chivalry isn't dead as long as he is living and breathing.

You never have to touch a doorknob when you're walking by his side, because by the time you reach out, he's already turning the handle. It's instinct by now; he could be midway through a monologue about the clients at his job, or the mediocre weather they've been having, or any other topic, and he'd still never forget to hold the door open for you to pass through first.

It's a wonder how you didn't notice sooner, with how frequently it happens, but it's not the only thing. It can be subtle at times, so much that you barely notice when he guides you to the street side of the footpath, leaving himself closest to the road, or when he lends you his umbrella, even if he has a longer walk home.

The habits are charming, but no moment shows his ways better he asks you out. A bunch of neatly clipped roses in hand, in his nicest shirt and pants, he arrives with a whole speech ready to confess his feelings. For once, he even looks nervous, almost stumbling over his words. But all of that is gone as soon as you smile at him, accepting his invitation with a breathless laugh.

Suddenly, with the walls of friendship knocked down, and faced with the chance for more, it only amplifies. Now, he gets to hold your hand, and drape his jacket over your shoulders, and slide his arm around your waist to draw you closer. Whenever you go out together, he's always either at your side or close by, holding your drink when you duck into the bathroom, and glaring at anyone who dares to make you feel uncomfortable.

And it's not just you who sees it, it's everyone else too.

On his birthday, a few of his closest friends gathered for drinks together, celebrating the occasion together. You were enjoying yourself for a while, but the gathering was starting to drain you. It was loud, and it was cold, and Iwaizumi noticed. He always did.

“You good?” He asked lowly. “We can leave early if you want.”

“I'm fine,” You said, stifling a shiver. The movement wasn't lost on Iwaizumi, and his brows furrowed minutely. He shrugged off his own jacket—the nice, comfortable black one you bought for him as a gift—and gently laid it over you. The weight of it settling across your shoulders was comforting, and you smiled in gratitude.

“Can't believe this favouritism,” Mattsun, sitting a barstool over, rolled his eyes, light-heartedly slapping Iwaizumi on the back. “He never treats us like that, you know. What if I was cold, huh?”

It was true, you realize slowly. You've never seen him interact with anyone else quite in the same way as how he interacts with you. Perhaps that's to be expected, with you being his partner, but it was obvious even before. Even with all his rough edges, every part of him was softened especially for you.

You smiled at Iwaizumi, with nothing but love. “Oh, that's just the way he is.”

A gentleman, through and through.

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[beloveds-embrace]

(more of poly 141 x roommate reader bc i got enabled: surprising them when they return home)

The aroma of roasted garlic and thyme filled the apartment, and along with it your voice as you fluttered about the kitchen while music played from your phone. You placed plates of perfectly golden roast chicken, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables on the dining table beside bowls of creamy mushroom soup and a fresh salad and freshly baked bread.

You would never regret that cooking course you picked up. Everything just looked so… perfect. And that was without mentioning the apple pie and chocolate cake you’d also made, set aside on cute little cake pedestals you’d recently bought.

You smoothed the fabric of your skirt, picking up your phone to check on the time; they’d arrive home any moment now and you couldn’t wait to see their reactions. You’d been planning this dinner since yesterday, when Kate Laswell had called to let you know your roommates would be home today after months of being away on a mission so you could prepare this surprise for them.

You’d promised to send her and her lovely wife a big, big portion just for helping you like that. You always get worried when they take this long, but Kate tried her best to keep you up to date about them whenever they had to be no-contact with you.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your pulse quicken, and you hurried to the entryway, a bright smile on your face. You’d made sure even the candles you and Gaz like to collect were lit up, bathing the apartment in a soft golden light.

“Surprise!” you called, spreading your arms as they stepped inside, grin wide and proud.

For a moment, they stood frozen, tired eyes sweeping over the sight of you and the glowing apartment and the lovely smell of a big, warm dinner. Price was the first to move, dropping his bag and crossing the room in several long strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm embrace, and you melted against him right away, breathing in the familiar scent of him- smoke, leather, and something uniquely John.

“Hi!” You chirped again, patting his back.

“You’ve outdone yourself, love.” he murmured instead of a proper greeting, voice thick with gratitude.

Soap was next, scooping you into a hug so enthusiastic it lifted you off your feet right after John let you go. “Missed ya, lass,” he said, his grin bright despite the weariness in his eyes. “Look at ya, a sight fo’ sore eyes!”

“Put me down, MacTavish!”

Gaz kissed your cheek the second Johnny obeyed, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all this, darling.” he said softly, though the way he looked at you made it clear he appreciated every bit of it.

Ghost, towering behind them, stood silently for a moment. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the nervous smile tugging at your lips. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into his chest, one large hand cradling the back of your head.

“Perfect girl, thank you.” he muttered, so low you barely heard it. But you did feel it rumble through his body.

You laughed, stepping back and gesturing toward the table. You had to know what they thought of it. “Go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”.

Johnny piled his plate high, moaning exaggeratedly at every bite and making you laugh until your sides hurt. Gaz teased him about his lack of table manners while sneaking extra bread rolls for himself. Price, ever the gentleman, made sure your plate was full before his own, and Simon quietly made his way through two full helpings even, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile when you nudged him to try the mushroom sauce.

Oh yes, you cooked. In more ways than one. You were so very proud of yourself, felt like you’d blow up like a balloon if they complimented you any more.

“This is the best meal I’ve had in months,” Johnny declared at last, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach. He turned to you, gently caressing his knuckles across your full cheeks. “Thank ya, lass. Truly an angel.”

“You’ve ruined me for army food forever,” Kyle added, humming as he bit into another spoonful, smiling at your giggles. “Whatever next mission we’ll have is so going to suck, by the way. I mean it.”

Price reached over, covering your hand with his. “You didn’t have to do all this, love, but I’m damn glad you did,” he said, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. His mustache twitched, and he smiled at you. “Kyle’s right, though.”

Simon didn’t speak much, but the way his gaze lingered on you, warm and heavy, spoke volumes. You’d already learned how to decipher his little looks, anyways.

As the evening wound down and they cleaned the kicthen, then went to rest in the living room, you brought out the second surprises: the chocolate cake and apple pie, earning a round of groans and cheers. They insisted on helping with the second round of dishes, but you waved them off, laughing.

“Go relax,” you said, shooing them toward the living room. “This is my treat for you. You were supposed to be relaxing today!”

Though you didn’t notice the way they watched you as you moved about the kitchen.

When you finally joined them, changing into something more comfortable, you curl up on the couch tucked against Simon’s warm side and his arm drape around your shoulders almost instinctively. Soap stretched out across the floor, his head resting on a pillow near your feet, while Kyle sat on the other side of you, casually brushing his hand against yours.

It didn’t take much before you were dozing off, their quiet congestion washing over you as a soothing ambiance. You relaxed even further when you were shifted to lay fully against Simon while Kyle put your feet on his lap and began massaging your calves.

John stood by the balcony, his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked at you, surrounded by them, and something in his chest loosened.

You were too good for them, truly. Such a lovely, perfect sweetheart. But he also just- couldn’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else. Never.

So he wouldn’t entertain that thought. You were perfect as you were now; just a bit more time, and they’d tell you right out how much they want you in every possible way.

Though he didn’t imagine it’d be that hard, anyways. You already acted like their perfect little wife.

[sh1-n0bu]

imagine dating an older man this, imagine dating an older woman that COWARDS🗣️ imagine being an older woman and having a younger guy astronomically DOWN BAD (for all intents and purposes, this is a joke. i am not an older woman, nor am i shitting on ppl who love aforementioned relationship dynamics, this is just a horndogged thought)

imagine being an older woman, who never really saw the appeal in romantic or sexual relationships, only focusing on what was ahead of you. the job, adventures of life, education, academic achievements and your own personal hobbies, pastime enjoyments and relationships other than the romantic or sexual ones. there was more to world and life than just that after all, even though your friends’ nagging of when you will reveal the secret guy, or when you will find someone to settle down etc rang out during nearly every night outs, surely giving you a grey strand or few. really, you just… weren’t interested at all. there were rarely anyone who caught your attention and those who did were only appealing to the eyes rather than the heart

sure, there were some boys who would saunter up to you at the bar or cafe with their smug little faces and annoying attitudes, talking some shit about how they like their women like a silver fox, talking about how you were a beekeeping age, or even the stupid ‘i like my woman who are as old as my momma’. useless little things being said as a means to get a single night stand. you’d always tell them off with some backhanded insult, sharp words or how this wasn’t the predator franchise

one thing led to another and one of your closest and longest lasting friend had downloaded a dating app on your phone for you. something something about how you were in the perfect age to settle down now and if not, at least go out on a romantic date for once rather than taking yourself out on dates or with the ladies. you decided to humor them, keeping the app and adding very minimum information about yourself, work, hobbies and what not before kicking the acknowledgement of the app’s existence into the back of your mind

many DMs and snaps were sent to you of course, the usual beekeeping age bullshit. the rare few men who would be around your age range would end up being married, had a fiancée or in an odd form of relationship. you made sure to get their partners’ phone number and name before blocking them, calling them or texting them to notify them that their partner was a cheating bastard and had a dating app. “it’s their relationship, not yours!” most would say, but ladies gotta look out for one another in your opinion. made a pretty few sweet friends that way too

it was one of your slow and peaceful weekends when your phone dinged, another DM text in that accursed dating app. though instead of the usual annoying half-assed flirts or dick pics, it was a simple compliment. ‘good eve, ma’am. i just wanted to say that you look breathtaking. have a nice night, ma’am’ was all it said, a reply to one of the pictures you had added to the app for the introduction part. surprisingly straight to the point and respectful, so with a shrug and a ‘might as well give it a shot’ thought, you messaged back with some words of gratitude. something that quickly derailed into a nice normal conversation and getting to know each other texts. checking his profile, you found out that he was basically in the same position as you. forced by some of his friends to grow outside his shell, few pictures and simple descriptions, just a few years younger. safe to say, he was your first match in that damn app

life continued on, weekdays and weekends switching in their endless circle and you and your dating app friend had gotten close. it truly did felt like he was a nice mannered young man and when he asked if you would be willing to go out on a date, you agreed. nothing wrong with putting the dating app to its original intents and purposes. he was sweet, planned nearly everything with your added thoughts and preferences and had let you enjoy a nice dinner date, all freshened up and smelling of a sweet cologne with a decent suit. perhaps this whole dating app thing was a good idea after all, even as he stuttered sometimes and tripped over his words upon seeing how gorgeous you were, you thought of him as oddly cute

one dinner date turned into a few dates, then park, movie and hobby dates and before you two had known it, the whole thing had shifted smoothly into a relationship. things taken slowly at your own preferred pace, no use of rushing or getting down and dirty. it was a good relationship and possibly the best one you had so far, you'd wager. even your sweet boyfriend - as much as you both occasionally laugh and joke how it was unfitting and even a little bit young and childish for your age - had gotten used to this shift in life, comfortable with making you breakfast in bed on the days you have a work off or just sleeping in, making your coffee just the way you like, eggs cooked to fit your needs on a crispy toast, a pancake, with an adorably whipped cream drawn smiley face. it was just perfect

but of course, there were the occasional moments when your boyfriend nearly destroyed these perfect moments — at least, in his opinion. waking up in the morning before you, and seeing your sleeping face, all peaceful and calm with the grey streaks in your hair and the laugh lines on your face did things to him. you just looked so ethereal, basking in the glow of the morning sunlight, like the reincarnation of aphrodite. and before he knew it, he had a morning wood, quickly scuffling out of bed and towards to bathroom to take care of his problem before you woke up

or when you’re showing him the latest dress you bought, or any clothes really, just peacefully showing him what it looked like on you as you twirled in front of him and gods, you were so breathtaking. all he could do was just nod dumbly like the lovesick puppy he was as a weak ‘uh-huh’ escaped his lips. oh, the little pooch of your tummy, the rolls on your sides, the love handle, the hipdip — whatever these things were called, good god, he wanted nothing more than to just slink down from the couch onto his knees and politely ask to bury his face into them. let him touch them, the little fats on your body, the rolls, the pooch. he’ll lovingly caress them and your stretch marks and everything with reverence

or when you’re testing your new lipsticks on his face, applying the newly bought make up on your gorgeous, kissable lips before smooching him on the face, turning him more and more into a painting of your doing while he drunkenly sits there on the couch with a stupid fucking smile. oh no, this one wasn’t kiss proof either, better try all of them and see if they’re kiss proof too. oh he was covered in lipstick? don’t worry, nothing big. he’s just too busy admiring you and occasionally wondering how the color would look in its perfect kiss shape on his leaking dick while you mocked him for being a horny dog

maybe he slipped up one day, instead of thanking you usually with the sweet nickname after you had done fixing his tie for him, just idiotically smiling at you as a “thank you, mistress” dropped from his lips. an immediate freeze and after a moment, his face was turning red with an embarrassed apology after apology while he hid his face into the crook of your neck. not like you minded too much, just laughing and patting him on the back, reassuring him that it was fine, mistakes happened. though, you won’t lie, it was adorable in the sexy way on how he just let that slip out

ever since that little incident, your sweet boyfriend’s longing grew worse and worse. their hands started to wander more, squeezing, pinching and pawing hopelessly against the fat rolls of your tummy or gripping at your love handles with an eagerness of a puppy whenever they came to stand behind you while you made dinner. damn near sliding towards you on their knees to help you put on your shoes before you leave the house for work and have mercy on him if you choose to wear high heels that day, placing your heel between his thighs while his other hand gently guided your leg by the ankle to slip into the heel. he thought he was being slick but no, you caught it all. of course you would, he was damn near whimpering nowadays every time you come home all exhausted and collapse onto the couch, scrambling over and getting on his knees to massage your tired feet while his adam’s apple bobs while staring at your meaty thighs, mindlessly nodding and going “uh-huh” while you ramble about your day while your pretty boyfriend just wishes he was that goddamn stockings, snug around your legs

it was during one of these days that you decided to take pity on him — how could you not? his pathetic puppy eyes had you wrapped around his fingers — moving your leg out of his hands and instead hooking it over his shoulder. pulling him closer by your leg towards your thighs while you shift down more to place yourself closer to the edge of the couch. pretty eyes blinked up at you with a stuttered, “h-honey…?”, hands placed on his knees like the good boy he is while a pretty pink color bloomed on his cheeks. you just gave a roll of your hips on the couch, a sweet smile and a “my thighs feel exhausted too. help me out?” and he was immediately nodding his head vigorously, shaky hands grabbing and gently squeezing the fat while his breath grew shaky. god, he could see the lace edges of the stockings under your skirt now! and even more, he could see your panties. god help him, he was growing hard in his boxers like some stupid teenager seeing a woman’s boobs all over again

“a little bit up” you called out, watching his reactions with the same smile, lipstick covered lips spread wide on your face. your boyfriend whined instead of following through with your words, peering up at you through his pretty lashes. his hands pushed your skirt up, enough to take in your panties and stockings in full view as he gulped down his saliva, muttering out a weak “m-may i taste you, ma’am?”. the honorific instead of your name or the usual patnames just seem to fall from his lips so easily now, eyes constantly switching from your pretty face and colored lips and to your underwear and the fat of your thighs covered by the heavenly nylon

“you wanna taste me, pup?” you hum out, voice like a sweet honey or the finest red wine and have mercy on him, the idiot merely lost it right then and there, ready to lose any sense of dignity as he nods his head with an obedient “yes ma’am, i would like to taste you ma’am”. you simply cooed at his eager words, the leg thrown over his shoulder pulling him closer to the couch, closer to the heaven between your thighs as you balance your feet on his shoulder. he whined again at how you were teasing him, refusing to give him a solid answer and just toying with him like he was a canary trapped in the fangs of a cat. but he might as well be a willing canary that flew into the jaws of the feline with the way he cutely adds a final, “please allow me, ma’am…?” and damn near cheers a loud excited whoop when you nod at him, giving him the green lights

your boyfriend lets out a stuttered breath through his lips when he pulls down your panties, even folding them sweetly and placing them beside your legs on the couch like the sweet boy he is, when he sees your pussy, covered in the same color of bush as your hair. gulping again, he trails gentle kisses up your legs, from the lace ends of your stockings and up the bare skin of your legs, making sure to kiss the stretch marks he comes across before he finally nuzzles his face into your bushy mound. weakly, he licks at your folds, as if this was his first time eating out a woman and occasionally suckling at your clit. he was just so adorable with how he tenderly kisses and suckles and licks at you, like he had never felt the touch of a woman. so when your hands grasps at his hair, scratching at his scalp once before pulling him flush against your pussy, he downright moans against you before diving in like it was his final food. slurping at your wetness and eating you out like you were his last meal while his two fingers pushed your labia open, whimpering out words of “t-thank you, ma’am, thank yo-you for letting me touch you” and “you taste mmgh so sweet, ma’am.. i aamgh l-love your pussy juice s’much”

when you do cum into his mouth after his excited tongue and finger fucking you open, he opens his mouth eagerly to taste every single drop of your sweet pussy juice, already addicted to the taste and scent of it from just a single taste. his fingers continue to massage your soft walls, thumb swirling over your clit in gentle motions while his free hand pushed down on your lower tummy, pleading you to cum again and to get his face wet with your slick like he was some pathetic toy for you. only when you patted his head at last with a “good job, pretty boy” did he pull his fingers away — albeit with heavy disappointment — as he drawled out “th-thank you, missus. i’m glad to be-be of use to my missus” with his lips and jaws dripping with some of your cum. you laughed at seeing that look on his face, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed and his hair a mess with your slick all over his jaw. seems like your pretty boy was a messy eater

first time writing smut for my female readers, this was truly a shift in my writing ngl. as you can tell from the smuts on my blog, im more comfortable writing for a gender neutral reader, top reader and im sure most — or at least half — of my readers feel comfortable with that norm as well. but lately cough cough a bit of rp on c.ai with cod character bots with my older oc cough cough ive gotten addicted to the thought of being an older woman and having a younger man just whipped for you and decided to challenge myself with writing for a femdom reader. and by younger, i mean within a decade of years age gap, preferably within 5 years even. nothing too serious. hope you all liked this small brainrot and the dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[becomingthatgirl111]

How to Be That Girl This Summer – Without Burning Out

You’ve probably seen the “That Girl” aesthetic all over your feed—green smoothies, 6 AM workouts, matching sets, and perfectly curated routines. But let’s be real: being That Girl isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about creating a lifestyle that actually makes you feel good—from the inside out.

So this summer, let’s redefine what it means to be That Girl. Here’s your realistic, soul-nourishing guide to becoming your best self this season.

1. Wake Up With Intention, Not Perfection

Forget the 5 AM alarm if it doesn’t serve you. That Girl energy means waking up when it works for you, and using the first 10–20 minutes to set the tone:

• No scrolling.

• Open the windows.

• Stretch, hydrate, and journal a thought or intention for the day.

It’s not about being “productive”—it’s about being present.

2. Eat Like You Love Yourself

Summer is a beautiful time to nourish your body with colorful, whole foods that support your energy and mood. Instead of strict diets or “cleanses,” focus on adding:

• Hydrating fruits like watermelon, cucumber, and berries.

• Mood-boosting fats like avocado, nuts, and olive oil.

• Energizing carbs like quinoa, oats, and sweet potatoes.

And yes—you can absolutely enjoy ice cream or a cold drink on a terrace. Balance is key. That’s what makes it sustainable.

3. Move Every Day (But Listen to Your Body)

You don’t need to do hardcore workouts every day. This summer, try:

• A quick full-body circuit at home or the gym (20–30 mins).

• Morning Pilates or yoga in the park.

• Evening walks with a podcast or barefoot beach walks.

Try this idea: Pick a movement mood for each day of the week—“Stretchy Sunday”, “That Girl Friday”, “Walk & Podcast Thursday”. Make it fun and intuitive.

4. Romanticize the Little Things

Here’s a habit not every creator tells you: turn the ordinary into something beautiful.

• Use the nice glass for your iced coffee.

• Read in the sun with your favorite playlist in the background.

• Plan a “solo date” to a bookstore, museum, or your local café.

• Keep a summer joy list and try to check off one small joy per day.

5. Protect Your Energy Online & Offline

Being That Girl means being conscious of what you consume—not just food, but content, conversations, and environments.

• Unfollow accounts that drain or pressure you.

• Say no to plans that don’t align with your peace.

• Curate a digital space that inspires growth, not comparison.

Your mental wellness is sacred. Protect it like your favorite lip balm in the heat. 😌

6. Summer Self-Care Rituals You’ll Actually Stick To

Create your own seasonal self-care menu. Here are ideas:

• Aloe vera face masks after a sunny day

• Journaling with iced tea on your balcony

• A 5-minute gratitude list at sunset

• Weekly “check-in” walks without your phone

The goal? Make it easy, soft, and realistic. Let summer be a time of reset, not pressure.

Let’s Make This That Girl Summer the Healthiest One Yet

You don’t need to do what everyone else is doing. You just need to find what feels good, true, and energizing for you. Build small habits you actually enjoy. Choose joy. Hydrate. Move. Laugh. Let this summer be soft, slow, strong, and full of soul.

Would you follow a page where I post all my wellness guides, routines, and exclusive content off social media? I’ve been thinking about building a full platform just for us—with organized tips, printables, and even challenges. Let me know in the comments or send me a message if that’s something you’d love to see!

Let me know in the comments:

✨What’s one habit you’re focusing on this summer?

Or…

🍓Would you like a printable That Girl Summer Checklist?

[daydreamer131313]

James Potter’s love language would never be words of affirmation.

This is solely due to to how he always steps up to help others and they always repay him with words of gratitude.

“Thanks, Potter. Don’t know what I’d do without you,”

“You’re one of a kind prongs,”

“Such lovely boy you are James,”

after a time he finds them repetitive and bland.

So when he starts dating Regulus he is totally enthralled by the small acts of services Regulus performs.

Bad match

A long hug.

Drink too much one nights

A glass of water already set on his bedside table.

Regulus is the first person (after his mother ofc) who ever memorised how he likes his tea.

first person who understood James’s expressions (even though he always had a smile on).

A lot of people had told James they loved him

Regulus was the only one showed James he loved him.

[pookiesylus]

First Kiss with Sylus

(Sylus x Fem Reader)

————————————————————————

At this point in your relationship with Sylus, Luke and Kieran could swear that the both of you are dating, but every time they bring it up, you deny it since it hasn’t been made official yet. You waited for Sylus, but in a way Sylus waited for you, not wanting to rush anything, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. The flirting and bickering was fun, but you were starting to wonder when this was going to be official.

You were having a pretty busy week, and finally made it to your apartment after a long day only to realize that you left your key inside and locked yourself out. You called the first person that came to mind.

Ring…Ring…

“Please pick up.”

“Need something, Kitten?”

“Sylus!” Thank goodness. “I’m locked out of my apartment. I don’t know if you’re busy, but it would be really great if you could help me out right now.”

He could sense the desperation in your voice. “Relax sweetie, I’ll be there.” You finally exhale the breath you unconsciously held in.

“Wait for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

You sat next to the door, and made yourself comfortable. Sylus soon arrived, taking his motorcycle helmet off as he approached your place.

“You look like a stray kitten right now,” he laughs.

You make a slight pout.

“I’m kidding,” he chuckles. “Next time you get locked out, just come to my place.” He says in a joking manner, but you could tell he was absolutely serious.

He kneels down and gets straight to work, pulling out various tools to loosen the lock. A few minutes in, you notice a bead of sweat form on his forehead. You wipe it away for him. He looks up at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“There. This should work,” he says as he swiftly gets up.

He turns the knob, and the door opens smoothly, almost like it’s inviting him in.

“Thank you, Sylus! You’re a lifesaver.”

He softly smiles, watching as your eyes light up. “I don’t know about a lifesaver,” he jokes again. “But, you’re welcome.”

“Sylus, please come in. Let me make you tea or something.” You subconsciously grab his hand and guide him in. He allows you to move him. You leave him at your couch, and scurry away to make tea.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate it.” You say placing the tea on the coffee table.

“Don’t sweat it, Kitten.” Sylus wasn’t used to you expressing this much gratitude.

You look up to find his eyes glued to you. Taken aback from his gaze, you accidentally trip over his foot, and land in his lap. You both freeze for a moment, taking each other in.

For some reason, you felt the need to “thank” him again, to show him how much you care, show him how much he means to you. But you soon realized, it was more than just the door getting fixed. You wanted to show how much you loved him.

Before you could second guess yourself and before Sylus could react, you cupped his face, moved in quickly, and softly pecked his surprisingly soft and tender lips. You slowly backed away to see his response.

He froze. Eyes slightly widened. You sometimes would catch the leader of Onychinus off guard, but never like this.

He was in awe.

But it wasn’t long before hungry grew in his eyes.

He grabbed your waist, and flipped you over, placing your back on the couch. He caged his hands around you, towering over you momentarily before crashing his lips onto yours.

His lips danced with an intense desire, but stayed sweet and gentle. He was passionate, but kissed slow and deep. To you, it felt like he had been waiting centuries for this moment. Like he had been needing you for centuries, craving you for centuries.

After a while, you slowly depart from each other’s lips, only inches apart, a small pant from both of you.

“Y/N,” His hand still caressing the back of your neck.

“Hm?” You say, still shaken from what just happened.

“Be my girlfriend.” It was a demand and a question. “Please.” You catch a rare spark of desperation in his eyes.

You cup his now warm, slightly-blushed face. “Of course,” You kiss his nose, giving him a soft, reassuring smile.

He lets out a sigh of relief, but quickly recenters himself.

“Now…” he brings you back into his lap, your arms draped around his neck.

“May I kiss my girlfriend again?” he says with his newfound pride of you being his girlfriend and of him being your boyfriend.

“You may.”

[romanofftherealest]

Gratitude

Summary: You have a very special way of showing your gratitude.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x MILF Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Tags | Warnings: +18 AMAB!Natasha, MILF!reader, blowjob (N receiving), dating app, Natasha calls r mama, r has a son, implied cheating & physical abuse (from past rs)

Author's Note: Scheduled repost

⧗

You had always envisioned yourself pursuing law school after graduation, but life had other plans. You unexpectedly became pregnant right after graduating, when you told your boyfriend of three years that you were pregnant, he was ecstatic to become a father. However, once your son was born, his true colors showed—he began to lash out at both you and your son and it became a living hell for you.

He was the main provider when you were pregnant and for the first couple of years after your son's birth, he continued to support you. However, when your son turned two, he provided less and less for you and your son, and that's when you started looking for a job again.

You quickly pivoted to finding a job that would allow you to support yourself and your son. Luckily, you found a job as an advertising specialist, which provided you with a stable income that was enough to meet your needs and even help contribute to the household. When you had to work long hours, you would leave your son with your lovely neighbor, who was a grandmother and loved taking care of him like her own grandchild. She would always try to talk to you about leaving your boyfriend every chance she gets, she even tried to set you up with her amiga's son. Of course you knew she meant well, but you would just offer a forced smile and a coffee she told you was her favorite to try and change the subject everytime she talks to you about it.

Over time, your relationship with your boyfriend continued to deteriorate. He stopped helping you around the house and you would come home to find dirty dishes piling up in the sink and no food in the fridge. If there was food, it seemed like he only prepared it for himself. It felt like he was becoming more and more selfish and unthoughtful, leaving you to take care of everything on your own while he prioritized his own needs.

Still, he hasn't asked your hand for marriage.

He showed little to no interest in caring for your son too, often expecting you to handle all the parenting, household…everything! If your son cried, he wouldn't bother trying to comfort him and would just give him his phone while he watches TV. You didn't even know if he listened to you when you tried to talk to him about keeping your son away from gadgets.

If there was a mess to clean up, he always expected you to take care of it. He even went as far as shouting at you like a maid to do everything, showing a complete lack of empathy or willingness to share the responsibilities of raising your son.

As if it was only you who made your son? He literally put him inside you?

The breaking point in your relationship came when your boyfriend laid a hand on you. He was drunk when he got home, you asked him where he'd been and he told you, he went into a bar, out with friends—after that he told you not to ask any further questions. But the sickening perfume clinging on his shirt didn't stop you from asking if he was cheating on you and out of nowhere he came up to you and slapped you across the face. You knew at that moment that you had to leave him to protect your child from further harm. Yes, it was you who got hurt by him and if he could do it to you, he would do the same to your son. So you gathered your things and left that very night, never looking back. You also decided to leave the job you were working at, wanting to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Surprisingly, your ex-boyfriend never made any attempt to contact you or even ask about your son, as if he was relieved to be rid of you both.

Now, meeting Natasha felt like a breath of fresh air after the toxic relationships you had experienced. She is kind, empathetic, and genuinely interested in your well-being. Not to mention that she ia almost a decade younger than you and is a beefy woman that has godly arms that made you literally swipe right on sight. And behind that godly body she has a geeky side—she wore glasses, framing her intelligent green orbs, sparkling as she literally rambled about Greek mythology during your first date.

You were having a great time with her and you think you both clicked and you know that eventually that night during your date you have to tell her about your son which you were hesitant about, fearing judgement or rejection.

What if after you told her she will excuse herself to the bathroom and never come back and leave you with the bills? Or what if she will suddenly tell you that her dog is sick even though she doesn't even have a dog? Well, you don't want to assume already but these are the things you had experienced in the past when you started dating again—a lot of stupid excuses that led you to expect rejection or disappointment when you mentioned you had a son.

However, as you gathered the courage to reveal this information, Natasha's reaction took you by surprise.

"You have a son? That's wonderful. I hope to meet him soon."

And you knew from there that you would let her take you to bed…not just to sleep though.

And speaking of bed you are now stretching yourself around your own bed, the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You could still feel her lips on yours, her hands skimming over your body, her inside you. But then, the sheets where she had been laying are now cold, she is no longer beside you. You tried to look around your room but she's nowhere to be found.

You immediately get dressed, your mind shifting to a familiar routine—cleaning the house. Having come from an abusive relationship, you have become accustomed to cleaning as your ex-boyfriend had placed the burden of household chores on you, demanding that you clean the house, iron his clothes, and prepare his breakfast before he left for work and it has been an ingrained habit on you.

Though you were saddened by the thought of Natasha actually leaving, your instinct to still do the things you usually do every morning is a priority, and after that, you are planning to call Darcy to pick your son up and cry to her that you feared yet another date failed.

Maybe she was just embarrassed to say it in front of your face, that she's not into single mothers and she was just being kind and she thought that you seemed like you haven't been laid for like what? Two years now? So she just slept with you and immediately flew off afterwards. Maybe you have to start putting a single mother warning on the dating app you have been using or maybe stop using it at all.

As you descended the staircase, a tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, causing your stomach to rumble. You strained your nose, trying to identify the source of the mouthwatering scent. Was it a rich pasta sauce or perhaps a delectable baked mac and cheese that was cooking in the kitchen? The mystery deepened your hunger, making your stomach growl even more insistently.

Wait, who was cooking in your sacred kitchen?!

Entering the kitchen, your gaze fell upon a delicious delightful sight —Natasha, clad in your strawberry-patterned apron, her beefy arms flexed as she skillfully stirred a pot on the stove, her strength and cuteness on full display. Sensing your presence, Natasha turned around, her smile widening as she laid eyes on you.

"Good morning." Natasha greeted you with her deep and velvety voice.

"H-hi…"

"I hope you don't mind me being here in your kitchen."

Well, you literally let this woman take you in your own bed and be inside you the very same night you met…where else couldn't she be in?

You looked around, taking in the immaculate state of your house. It was as if a cleaning fairy had come in the night and transformed the place. The floors were spotless, dishes were washed and put away, the couch cushions were fluffed and there were beautiful freshly cut roses arranged in a vase on the countertop. Your gaze fixed on the vibrant petals as you admired its simple beauty.

Natasha, noticing your gaze, commented shyly, "I brought some...for you, a while ago. I'm sorry for getting out of bed, I wanna prepare something for you before you wake up." She smiled sheepishly, her fingers playing with the straps of the apron as she removed it out of her godly body.

Your eyes now darted to the vacuum, neatly tucked away in its usual spot and a frown creased your forehead. "D-Did you vacuum?" Natasha with her glasses slightly fogged up, nodded affirmatively, her hands busily wiping away the condensation.

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

"Yeah but I want to."

"I'm sorry if my house is really that messy that you have to clean it yourself."

"That's not what it is, mama."

You bit your lip trying not to moan right then and there with the nickname she gave you as you slowly walked up to her, thinking of some ways on how to thank her.

It's not just the nickname but what she did in your house heightened your arousal.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached out and cupped her cheek to get all her attention. You gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers brushing against her cheek.

"Baby…it's nothing, alright?" she giggled.

"Let me thank you for doing all this."

"Well, you're welcome." She kissed your forehead but when she was about to turn and go back to plate the pasta your hands gripped her tighter and you pushed her gently against the kitchen counter, pinning her in place.

"I thought you would let me thank you for doing all this for me?" you frowned, looking at her with the best puppy eyes you could give.

"Y-yeah…and I said you're welcome didn't I?" Natasha's cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, her breath hitching in her throat unaware of what you've been meaning to say or do.

Her eyes widened in shock as she watched you slowly kneel down in front of her, your hands reaching for the waistband of her joggers, not even wearing boxers. She didn't fight, her body seemingly frozen in place as you pulled them down, revealing her erect cock springing free.

You smiled up at her, your gaze fixed on her cock and she felt a heat spread across her cheeks. You wrapped your hand around the base of her shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for doing all this, baby," you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of her cock.

"Thank you for tidying up the house."

Another kiss.

"Thank you for cooking for me."

Another kiss.

"Thank you for accepting me."

Another kiss.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Another kiss.

"Now, let me show you how grateful I really am."

Without a second, you wrapped your lips around her thickness, taking her into your warm, wet mouth. Natasha's head fell back against the cabinets, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head.

You continued to suck on her cock with fervor, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. Natasha's hips bucked slightly, pushing her dick deeper into your throat. You gagged softly, but didn't pull back, determined to show her just how grateful you were.

You looked up at her, your eyes meeting hers as you continued to suck on her hard length. Her glasses were fogged up, her eyes hidden behind the blurred lenses. But you could feel her gaze, intense and unblinking, as she watched you pleasure her.

"Fuckfuckfuck baby, sh—shit!"

As you continued to suck on her dick, saliva dripped from the side of your mouth, a small smile attempting to form on your lips despite the awkward position. You tried to grin up at her, hoping to catch her eye again through the fogged lenses.

Natasha's breathing grew ragged, "B-baby I-I fu—!" she panted, trying to pull you off. But you tighten your grip on her thighs, keeping her in place as you continue to bob your head. "Babybabybaby I'm going to…" she warned, her voice strained.

You hummed in response, the vibration pushing her over the edge. She came with a low moan, her hips bucking forward as she spilled into your mouth. You swallowed every last drop, your eyes watering slightly from the intense sensation. You slowly pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Natasha sagged against the cabinets, her legs shaking as she tried to catch her breath. You slowly stood and she sighed, leaning against you for support, trying to steady her nerves.

"If there should be someone who needs to be thankful, that's me," she buried her face in your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. "Fuck, is-is there something I could still do around the house?" her voice coming out a little bit raspier and low.

You took a hold of her face and giggled, "Someone wants to be rewarded huh?"

"Mhm," she nodded with puppy dog eyes, her lips pouting at you.

You bit your lips at her being so cute and placed a kiss on her plump lips, "You have to stop before I let you fuck me to every corner you've cleaned around here."

The red head then blush at your blunt words, "That's what I want," she whined as she put her face back at your shoulder, embarrassingly admitting the reason why she wanted to help you around the house. And you just can't help but giggle and place comforting kisses on the side of her face.

"Pasta's getting cold, let's eat?" She offered weakly as she pulled back after clinging from you for support after the lingering aftershocks of the orgasm you gave her.

"I don't think I'm hungry for food anymore, I just had my breakfast," you said with a smirk written on your face. You wiped the remaining evidence of her from the side of your mouth, sucking your thumb clean with a satisfied expression.

Natasha's gaze intensified, her eyes locked onto yours, in a swift second you yelped as she effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

"Well, I haven't had mine, mama."

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Seven

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Eight

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A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish. 

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day. 

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner. 

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.) 

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week. 

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home. 

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library. 

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this. 

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs. 

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick. 

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee.. 

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something. 

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions. 

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case. 

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check. 

That’s when things spiral. 

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

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You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

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Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

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"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can hear everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" Damian spoke. He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

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That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

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@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx

[heartyluv]

Note: I had received two asks that were pretty similar, so I figured merging them together was the best way to go! Also, I just wanted to say how much I really dislike the misconception that losing your virginity is something that is supposed to hurt. It’s absolutely not true…Is it a possibility? Sure. But with the right preparation, care, and patience from the one who is going to be penetrating you (if that is the route of intercourse you choose to take), depending on the person, the most you may feel is slight discomfort from experiencing something you never have before. We have to stop making pain an expectation for individuals with vaginas irl and in the things we consume!!! Anyways, I hope you luvlys enjoy! 😚

Click to read ➜ Ask #1 • Ask #2

Warning: Smut, you and Zayne lose your virginity to each other, kinda slow (Zayne is undoubtedly a man who takes his time, so I hope it taking a little bit to get down to the do is okay), mentions of you having a brother with a heart condition

Rating: Explicit - !!MDNI!!

Word Count: 3.6K (literally didn’t expect this at all)

Summary: You invited your boyfriend over for dinner and as the night progresses, a simple date turns into you two learning and exploring one another in ways you never have before.

Virgin!Zayne/Virgin!Reader

You were trying to keep yourself calm as you began to baste the nearly ready ribeye steak after reading Zayne’s text message.

I’ll be there in five minutes.

You were incredibly nervous, wanting to make sure that you prepared the best meal possible for the man you intended to show your gratitude to. When you met Zayne, it was almost two years ago. He was the saving grace you’d been hoping for, becoming the doctor taking care of your little brother Andrew who has been suffering from a heart condition. It was only getting worse as other treatments and surgeries offered no positive results, so putting all your faith in Zayne required you to surrender your last bit of hope.

You fell in love with Dr. Li the moment your eyes landed on him and even more so when you saw the way he treated your brother. He was so gentle and attentive with him in ways you’ve never seen offered by any of the other medical professionals your family tried to turn to for help.

He had specifically made sure to make time for your family when he had gotten ahold of the paperwork because Zayne has always had a soft spot for helping children in need. It was with zero hesitation on his part that he contacted your parents directly and had them bring in the ten year old little boy who wouldn’t let his condition break him no matter how hard it’s tried.

You knew Zayne was a stupendous doctor, but the rate in which your brother began to improve always brought you to tears no matter how many times you thought about it. Everything he did and continues to do is the reason why you could actually stop worrying as much as you have been and why your family could finally take a breather for the first time since Andrew was born.

Your daily visits to the hospital and conversations led to you and Zayne becoming friends—very much to his surprise—and while you may have been the one to fall first, Zayne fell infinitely harder over time at a pace that was foreign for a man like him. The day he asked you out for what he called a “friendly lunch”, quickly turned into a month and a half of dating before he asked you to be his girlfriend. Obviously you were bouncing off the walls with joy when you told him yes over and over again until your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

And now, even if you’ve only been official for a short amount of time, you wanted to cater to the man you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with as a way of saying thank you despite having had said it so many times already.

At the same time that you cut the stove off, three soft knocks rapt against the front door of your apartment. You quickly washed and dried your hands, running barefoot to answer it, but not before you got a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror beside the entrance. You’re proud of yourself for not getting your cherry red dress dirty, smoothing it out with a small huff.

No matter how long you’ve known Zayne, seeing him always feels like the first time with the way your insides flutter with rampant emotions.

Finally pulling the door open, you smile at your boyfriend who has a bouquet of red peonies in his hand. His eyes soften when they land on you and you’ve always found it so cute when he uses his knuckle to push his glasses up like he does now.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly. You silently fawn over his simple attire of a black dress shirt and slacks that he makes look sexier than what it should be.

Before you speak, you wrap your arms around his neck for a tight hug, to which he gladly reciprocates by encircling one of his own around your waist. You pulled back to press a quick kiss to his slender nose.

“Thank you, babe...These for me?” Your eyebrow raises playfully as he steps inside.

“Of course.” He faces you once you’ve locked the door to look you over again. “What kind of guest would I be to come empty handed?”

“You’re more than just a guest, Zayne.”

“It still applies, nonetheless. Two things can be true.”

You take the bouquet, making a note in your mind to have him trim the stems with you tonight before putting them in one of the vases he’s bought before. He watches with adoration at how you inhale their sweet scent, humming at the calming aroma.

“They’re perfect,” you exclaim, letting your fingers trace the soft petals before putting your attention back on him. “Ready to eat?”

“I am. I must say that whatever you’ve prepared smells quite good. As I assume the taste to be just as impressive, I’ll have a lot more eating to get around to, won’t I?”

You grin as you take his hand, guiding him to your small dining table. “Let’s find out.”

Not only was dinner a success, but the entirety of the night so far has had you on cloud nine. You and Zayne talked about any and everything as he praised you and your cooking. This was the first time you’ve ever prepared a meal for him and with the way he devoured it, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You’ve never been a woman to seek validation but when it came to him, every opinion he had was important because of how much you valued and respected him.

To see how much he enjoyed the steak, crispy potatoes, and broccolini, made you feel a sense of pride because this beautiful man was yours to feed forever—if you were granted such a gift.

He and you slow danced to a classical song you showed him since you knew music like that always calmed him during times where work got a little stressful and his mind needed something to mellow it all out. It was a scene straight out of cheesy romance flick but instead of being the watcher, wishing it was you who got to experience that corniness, you were actually living it and it couldn’t be more surreal.

One song had turned into four, and you can’t stop giggling the whole time as he holds your hand and sways your bodies to the gentle instruments working together to create a lovely symphony.

And to your liking—admittedly with a little bit of hesitation in your gut—Zayne began to get more handsy.

“This night is supposed to be about you,” you whisper as his hand presses you closer to him by your lower back.

“Anywhere you are is all there is to me.”

“Hm…Aren’t you quite the poet?”

He chuckles at that. “You see my truth as poetry?”

“Everything you do is poetic to me,” you shrug. “You’re so effortlessly intense in your emotions, but it’s not in a way that overwhelms. It…surrounds you instead. Protects you.”

“You haven’t had all of me just yet to know how much my intensity can burn.”

That sends shivers down your spine because you know exactly what he means. You can feel how your heartbeat increases.

“Really? And if I wanted to see?”

“You would be the first to and I’d be more than willing to show you.” The way his tone lowers and the suggestiveness of his statement makes every single goosebump possible dot along your skin.

Your eyes slightly widen, too. There’s no way. A man like him? You stop your movement, forcing him to do the same.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What exactly do you assume I’m saying?”

“Zayne!” you say in playful disbelief at how he seems to joke about some crucial information he’s never shared. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” He smiles with mischief, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No matter how well I can read the expressions on your face, I unfortunately can never read your mind.”

“You’re so…” you groan. “You’re telling me the youngest, most handsome and talented cardiac surgeon in the country, has never had sex with anyone?”

“Never,” he says plainly.

“Why have you never said anything? You seem like someone to share a fact like that pretty early on.”

“While conversations pertaining to intimacy is inevitable in romantic relationships, because I did not want to intimidate you—and simply because it never became a topic of discussion—I never felt it was necessary to mention.” He gazes into your eyes. “Until now.”

“What’s different?”

“Well, it’s become a reality that I wouldn’t mind changing. If you were to give me the permission to do so, of course.” His hand cups your face and his thumb caresses your cheek. “I’ve dated before and I’ve had moments where the opportunity would arise, but sex has never been a casual exchange in my eyes. There’s nothing casual about us though, is there?”

You’re dumbfounded and more than willing to, but there’s just one thing. You briefly respond to his question with a shake of your head first before announcing your admission.

“I’ve never done this before either,” you breathe out, feeling immense relief about revealing something you shouldn’t have been embarrassed to say, but you knew it was the expectations of society that made you feel that way. But now, learning that Zayne is exactly the same brings you so much comfort, even if your reasonings for why may be different.

You’ve only been dating a little over two months and miraculously, sex has never happened nor has it been talked about. Similarly to him, you didn’t want to rush it or to make him feel obligated about something you weren’t sure he was ready for. Despite how much you wanted to jump his bones on all your dates and times together, you spent more of it appreciating and learning the complex man that is him.

But all that complexity is dropped as you can clearly see the lust that clouds his beautiful eyes and the need that continues to grow in the way he touches you.

“Maybe we were always meant to be the ones to find and teach each other. Would you like to test that theory?”

It’s like your body gravitates towards him and becomes incapable of forming a sentence to answer, so it takes the next best route and uses itself to respond for you. Your lips make contact with his soft ones, tasting him like you’ve done before, but there’s a different air to this kiss.

Your body presses into his as he keeps you in place by the back of your neck, the brief chill of his silver watch cooling the fervent heat burning along your skin. His tongue slips inside your mouth—not taking control—but working with yours in tandem to show you how mutual the craving for one another is.

The way he takes only a millisecond to separate from you to remove his glasses makes your pussy clench as he discards them on your kitchen counter. He returns to you immediately, holding your face in his hands this time while yours work frantically to unbutton the shirt that’s keeping you from seeing him.

You moan when he kisses down the side of your neck, your breath unable to stabilize because of how hot he’s gotten you.

“Your room,” he mumbles into you. “Let me do this right.”

You nod, but Zayne has you in his arms effortlessly like you’re made of paper before you can try and take him there. The dishes you haven’t washed become a problem for another time when you feel his bulge press against your hungry pussy through your panties on his trek.

He turns your light on so that he can see you clearly, his disheveled look making you think every filthy thought possible. It’s a sight to see compared to his usual put-together image.

“Even if this is new for us both,” he approaches you again, looking into your eyes for permission before he begins to slide the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders after you grant it. “You’re in control. You tell me what will and won’t happen and that is what it will be.”

Left in your bra and panties, you feel so grateful to have a man like him being the one to walk into this world pleasure with. But despite how comfortable you are with him, you’re still nervous. It’s with slightly shaky hands that you continue to undo the rest of his buttons, feeling his eyes on you as his hard body is revealed.

You can’t stop from how you clench over and over around nothing, knowing that you need him to fill that emptiness inside you so desperately that it’s becoming uncomfortable. The clink of his belt makes your nipples tighten and you watch how the veins disappear into his pants like they’re a pathway to where you need to be.

He lets the silence rest, allowing for you to move at your own pace. For that, you’re incredibly thankful because you know that by the way his abs flex every time you graze his skin, the desire to be all over you is strong.

You gulp as you get the pants completely undone, looking up at him. He doesn’t waste a moment nodding for you to keep going, the need to be released from his confines becoming overwhelming. He strains so deliciously in his black boxers that cling to his thighs and it shouldn’t be such an erotic image, but it is.

“Fuck, Zayne…” you exhale when his erect cock springs out and briefly smacks against his toned stomach. Like the rest of him, it’s absolutely perfect. Long but not too long, thick but not too much girth that it makes you wince at the mere thought of it inside of you, and curved ever so slightly that if you weren’t taking the time to admire it, you wouldn’t notice.

There’s a tingle that you can no longer ignore, forcing you to press your thighs together. You’re so wet that you can feel your pussy lips slide against each other every time you shift your hips to suppress the ache.

You grasp him in your hand and the way he borderline falls apart has you gushing. His mouth is slightly parted and his face flushed as you stroke him enough to give his cock some relief.

“Does that feel good?” You swipe your thumb over the tip like you’ve see so many times in videos before and the reaction he has is breathtaking. He nods frantically, his heartbeat pulsing rapidly in his strong neck.

“Please let me touch you,” he begs. “You’re supposed to be feeling good, too.”

“I already do.” You start to jerk him off, feeling the weight of his dick in your hand as you use his precum to get him wet. “I’m yours, Zayne. Touch me as much as you want.”

What kind of man would he be to not listen to his woman?

He quickly makes work of your tedious bra, getting it off of you and immediately sucking on your tits like it’s all that was on his mind during your teasing. You cry out when he gently bites your sensitive nub before switching over to the other to give it some attention. At the same time, he snakes his hand into your panties.

You instinctively raise your leg to give him room as he works your clit, your hips bucking against him while he circles you beneath his fingertip. Together, you use your hands to stoke each other’s raging fire.

“Baby, that feels so good,” you whine when his hot tongue lays flat against your peak before licking around it like it’s a skill he’s had all along. His fingers keep their steady pace as you continue to drench them in your pleasure. Then he slides one finger inside, the feeling of him infinitely better than when you do it to yourself.

“Lay down,” he mumbles, getting one more quick suck before you pull back to get into your bed. You watch him pull his clothes off all the way, your legs spread as your panties dig in between the plush lips of your cunt.

Zayne picks up his pants briefly to dig into his pocket and when he pulls out a condom, you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never carried one before until I met you,” he admits, tossing it on your end table for easy access when it’s time. “I always knew it would be you and humans are spontaneous creatures—as we’re proving.”

He climbs into the bed, getting in between your legs and caressing the outside of your thighs as he admires the dampened fabric of where your juices have soaked your underwear. “I just wanted to be prepared for when it happened.”

Irresponsibly enough, you were ready to fuck him raw, but you won’t admit that out loud.

“I’m ready for you, Zayne,” you rest your hand on his jaw, running your finger across his lips like he always does to yours. He shudders at your touch. “But if I said that I wanted to be on top, would you let me?”

“You don’t need my permission. I already told you,” he leans down to kiss you. “You’re in control.

You get up and he doesn’t need you to tell him to sit so that you can get ready to climb in his lap. While you work your panties down your legs, he rips the packaging of the condom with his teeth and you nearly drool as you watch him work the rubber down his hard cock.

Riding Zayne has been a fantasy you’ve had for far too long. You’re more than confident that you can take him like this—it’s like your body is screaming at you to not let the opportunity pass when it’s right there for you to take.

“Look at me,” he commands you gently as your knees rest on either side of him. “Don’t hesitate to stop or tell me to if it gets too much. Your safety and comfort comes first.”

“Okay,” you breathe. With one more look into your eyes, he guides his dick to your quivering hole and the pleasure is instantaneous.

The moment the crown of his cock pushes inside you and you begin to sink your hips down, you and him are moaning like you’ve never felt anything so perfect and if you were to ask each other, your answer would be the same—you haven’t.

There’s no pain, no resistance—nothing that makes you want to stop when he starts to become familiar with the way you feel on the inside.

If he feels this good with a condom on, you’re convinced that the day you have him without one will be the day you conceive your first child.

“Zayne..” you pant, looking down to watch how he disappears completely into your heat. The first time you grind your hips and your clit gets that spark of friction, you have to pause before you lost yourself completely.

Below you, your boyfriend is unable to think straight and for the first time in your life, you’re witnessing your man have no semblance of control. When your tight walls sucked him inside, he was so sure that he was close to coming, but he refused to end something so good, so soon.

With his hands on your hips, he holds you firmly while you start to find your comfort zone, your movement becoming consistent as you work towards giving him and you the satisfaction you’re looking for.

You never expected Zayne to be so vocal and it encourages you more than it shocks you. With hooded eyes, he whimpers without a care in the world the more he pulses inside of you, his grip shifting in strength as he tries his hardest to make sure you get there first. You press yourself closer to him, letting the squelching sounds of your pussy suffocating him be all the reassurance you need that you’re doing it right.

“I’m close, love,” he warns you, sweat beading at his hairline the faster you go. Your thighs burn, but it only adds to the bliss.

You’re right there too, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach that’s grown tenfold when you share this kind of moment with the man you love. You rock yourself faster as his strong arms hold you tight, giving his cock no room to breathe the closer your orgasm approaches.

“You’re….oh fuck, ‘s so good,” you cry. “I’m gonna…Zayne, ‘m coming—” You bury your face in his neck when you start creaming around his length, your hips slowing but still going as you feel the condom swell inside of you when he spills his load into it. Briefly, you wished you could’ve felt it leak out of you instead.

You feel how his chest rises when yours falls as you kiss down his shoulder after you take the time to settle and relish in the feeling you can’t quite name, but you want to have it all the time.

“That was nice,” you hum. “Really nice.”

“It was.” His hands smooth down your back tenderly. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Good. On that we can agree.”

You sit back to look at him, biting your lip with a grin. “You…have another condom?”

“No, unfortunately.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “But I can make a trip to the store for a box.”

“Are we being greedy?”

“Greed implies that we’ve selfishly overindulged ourselves. That was our first time, love.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “We are far from being finished.”

You repeat his words, knowing that he’s absolutely right.

“On that, we can agree.”

A/N: I wanted to ask you guys: Do you like when I give you a whole bunch of plot/backstory before I start jumping into smut or do you just want smut? I think it’s the book writer in me that’s always trying to give something before I dive into the sex LOLLL!! Also, let me know what you think about this one (if you’re comfortable). I’m sure you noticed there wasn’t as much dialogue because as two inexperienced people having sex for the first time, I’m sure dirty talking/actions wouldn’t really be happening, so this fic is really vanilla & mainly based on visualizing. I hope I wrote it vividly enough. I talked a lot on this post, didn’t I? LOLLL OKAY, I LUV YOU! BYE!

[svetamillss]

Random headcanons in your relationship with them✨

Featuring: Yeon Si Eun x Reader(f), Ahn Su Ho x Reader(f), Oh Beom Seok x Reader(f), Seo Jun Tae x Reader(f), Park Hu Min (Baku) x Reader(f), Go Hyeon Tak x Reader(f)

A/N: English is not my native language! Sorry for the mistakes! I was also asked to write with these boys.

Yeon Si Eun

The guy likes to help you with your homework. Despite the fact that he doesn't like to be distracted while studying, he has a completely different attitude towards you. He is ready to explain the same thing to you until you understand the material. In secret, he is amused by the fact that you are embarrassed by such attention on his part to your grades. It's just that he really wants you to have a good future and is ready to do anything for this.

- Damn, I don't understand this math at all. - you sigh nervously, sitting on his bed, he just looks at you carefully, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly, saying that he is smiling.

- I'll explain everything to you now.

- But you've already done it..

- I'll explain again until you understand. - You don't understand how you deserved love from such a secretive and quiet person like him.

Ahn Su Ho

The guy loves your food madly, he is ready to give up any other, just to eat only yours. Knowing his love, you cook for him all the time. And bring lunch and dinner to him at work, to a restaurant or before he goes to deliver orders. It is important for you to know that your boyfriend is full of energy and not starving, and he has a very good appetite. He will say a million compliments to you, your talent and your food.

- Oh my God, my princess came to save me from hunger. - he says, when you enter the restaurant, Si Eun looks at him strangely.

- You're in a restaurant, you could have eaten here.

- Dude, you won't understand. - he waves it off with a smile, running up to you and hugging you tightly.

Oh Beom Seok

You know his relationship with his father, so you are always ready to help and support him in difficult moments. He often runs away from home after quarrels, he comes to you. Yes, he is ashamed, he is shy, because he has to protect you, not you, but you don't mind at all and are happy to take him in. Your parents don't mind either, because they know his situation, but they don't question him. At home, you will feed him, let him take a shower, and put him on your bed, next to you, so that he feels safe. And he is really grateful to you, and in his heart he believes that he did not deserve you.

- Thank you. - he says quietly, before you both plunge into the kingdom of Morpheus, he will also lightly kiss you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude and love.

Seo Jun Tae

Despite the fact that the guy is a high school graduate, he loves to watch cartoons, but no one knows about it, not even his friends. But you are an exception. When you learned about his passion for cartoons, you gladly accepted his passion and began to arrange home dates with him, where ate sweets and watched various cartoons.

- What cartoon are we going to watch today? - he asked when he brought chips, marmalade and soda to the room, you answered without thinking twice.

- Let's watch "Sponge Bob: Square Pants".

- Great idea. - he replied with a shy smile.

Park Hu Min (Baku)

Your boyfriend was a knight to you, and you were his princess. That's why he constantly met you from school or extra classes, no matter where and what time they are, he will still come. Baku will follow you to your favorite places, whether it's various fashion stores or something like that. At first you wondered why he protected you so much, but when he told more about himself, everything fell into place. He is very afraid to lose you, so he will watch over you as the most important treasure in the world.

- What time do you finish today? - he asks when he brought you to school.

- I'll finish at five.

- Okay, honey, I'll come exactly at this time. - he said, kissing you on the lips.

Go Hyeon Tak

He had two passions. It's you and basketball. So you weren't surprised when he chose a basketball court as a place for dates. He really wanted to teach you how to play so that you could play basketball together later. You didn't burn much with desire, but you agreed for him, because you knew that your boyfriend wanted you to have common interests with him.

- Well, are you ready to fight me today? - he said cheerfully, taking the ball in his hands.

- But I didn't really learn!

- No need to say that, you already know how to do a lot, so at the same time let's see how you learned my lessons.

✨✨✨

[poguehearted77]

Oh, Baby!

Summary-> Today is Rafe's birthday and you're determined to throw him the best surprise party before the baby comes in a few days.

☆Some more content from the baby steps couple☆

It was a warm summer night, the kind where the air hummed softly with the songs of crickets and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. The streets were quiet as you and Rafe drove home, the headlights illuminating the road ahead. The stars sparkled in the clear sky above, but they paled in comparison to the anticipation bubbling in your chest.

“I just wish you’d checked to see that the restaurant had space before we came all the way here,” Rafe sighed, his grip firm on the wheel. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly.

You bit your lip, hiding a smile. You’d already called the restaurant weeks ago and knew they were fully booked. That was the whole point. You needed an excuse to get Rafe dressed up in the nicest clothes the two of you could find without him getting suspicious. It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted tonight to be perfect.

"It was supposed to be one of our final nights together with just the two of us," you murmured, playing your part with feigned disappointment. Your hand rested on the swell of your nine-months-pregnant belly.

The truth was, you’d been planning this for the past month—tirelessly working around Rafe’s attentive nature to keep it a secret. He knew you too well, always noticing the slightest change in your demeanour, and you had to put on the performance of your life.

If he’d caught wind of what you were up to, he’d have put a stop to it immediately. Rafe would’ve thrown a fit if he knew you were doing all this while so close to your due date.

When the two of you finally pulled into the driveway of your generously sized home, Rafe parked the car and came around to your side to help you out, as always. He offered his hand, his protectiveness shining through, and you accepted with a grateful smile.

He makes a teasing remark about your slight waddle, "She's comin' any day now isn't she?" You sigh, "I hope so, but she seems to be getting comfortable." Your eyes glimmer as you watch Rafe unlock the front door. But as soon as the door opened, the quiet night erupted into shouts of “Surprise!”

Rafe’s jaw dropped slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you saw genuine shock in his eyes. The foyer was filled with friends and family, grinning and clapping, balloons crowding the ceiling.

Rafe blinked, then broke into a wide grin, pointing at you. “I knew you were up to something,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, his other hand gently resting over your baby bump. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, feeling his lips press to your temple in gratitude.

You led everyone through the house to the backyard, and that’s when the real surprise hit. The backyard was transformed into a magical wonderland of twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, long tables set with glowing candles, and cozy seating arranged perfectly under the night sky. It was breathtaking.

Rafe took a slow step forward, his gaze sweeping across the setup, a mix of awe and emotion crossing his face. “Wow,” he said softly, looking down at you before his expression morphed into one of concern. “Please tell me you didn't set this up, Y/n.”

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Calm down, I made John B and Topper do it,” you admitted with a cheeky grin. Rafe let out a short laugh, his brows raising. “John B and Topper? Together? Without killing each other?”

“Barely,” you teased. “I supervised, don’t worry.”

He was about to respond when a small voice broke through the chatter. “Happy birthday, Uncle Rafe!”

A little whirlwind of blonde curls and bright eyes ran toward him—it was three-year-old JJ in a white frilly dress. Rafe crouched down and scooped her up with ease, laughing as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he said, tossing her gently in the air.

As you watched him, surrounded by loved ones, holding little JJ close, and smiling brighter than you’d seen in a while, you felt the weight of your efforts melt away. It was all worth it. This was a night you’d both remember forever.

Maybe you'd be lucky to erase the forming memory of the radiating pain that coursed through your abdomen. You found yourself fisting the hand towels in the guest bathroom after your bladder incontinence had caught up to you during the middle of Rafe's speech.

God, what did you eat today? Your stomach had been hurting ever since you came back from the restaurant even though you never ate there. Sometimes you get a break, other times there's a sharp reminder shooting through you. Of course, you considered the possibility of contractions but you denied it.

There was no way in hell you were letting this baby come out on Rafe's birthday.

There's a knock on the door. "Just a second--!" Your voice is hoarse, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Y/n? It's Sarah." With a deep breath, you reach for the door, revealing the pleasant face of your sister-in-law.

"Is everything okay? Rafe is looking for you." You nod, "Yep, everything's--" Another one. Your jaw clenches and your eyes close, doing your best to focus on the conversation at hand. By the time your eyes opened, Sarah was sliding past you into the bathroom.

"Why's the floor all wet.." Her eyes slowly trail from the wet tiles back up to you where you were still gripping the towel in your right palm. Oblivious to the gears grinding in her mind. "Oh shit." You shake your head over and over, immediately shutting the door on you both.

"Sarah, No. No! You can't tell anyone. It's Rafe's birthday." She couldn't believe what she was hearing, her brows furrowed, "Are you joking? You're in labour! You have to tell him and you have to get to the hospital like now."

"No, Please! Just give me 20 minutes, then I'll go." She couldn't believe she was actually considering it but the sheer look of desperation in your eyes convinced her.

"Fine, and not one second more or I'll deliver your baby myself." She threatens with a smile but she's a Cameron, she means every word. "I love you!" You whistle as you head upstairs to change into a different dress and meet everyone back outside.

"Baby, where did you go for so long? What's with the outfit change?" Your eyes are briefly distracted by the servers gracefully floating around the yard with the requested entrées. "O-oh, I started to feel a little hot in the other one--so," There's a contraction, not as bad as some of the others but you're able to suppress it and blame it on thirst.

"Here," He gets you a glass of water and helps you into your chair on the side of his at the head of the table. As if you'd forgotten the itinerary of the party you planned yourself, you're almost startled when the slide show of nearly all the images you could find of Rafe throughout the years is displayed on the projector.

He turns in his seat to glance at you, "You did not," It was all too much for him. You're the woman of his dreams, going above and beyond to show him how much he means to you and this was just a small example of proof.

The slideshow is touching, cute, and funny when the images of baby Rafe covered in pasta pop up. Once it's over John B suggests you say a few words. Kelce and his childish antics start a chant "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Your eyes roll, and with a minor struggle, you rise to your feet, Rafe standing beside you.

"Thank you all for coming, and helping me celebrate Rafe's 25th--" Oh boy, this was a big one, your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your right hand claws into the meat of Rafe's upper arm, it's so tight that he leans into it and his face contorts with discomfort and worry.

The electronic music is still playing softly in the background as all eyes are on you. "Y/n, Y/n, Are you--" Your lip is caught between your teeth bearing down with the pain, nodding aggressively. "We're having the baby!?" He panics but a huge smile is etched onto his features. "We're having the baby." You confirm and he hugs you.

The table is filled with cheers and glasses clinking together. "Go! Go!" Sarah shouts, and you both spring into action. At least Rafe does, he nearly leaves you behind with all the nerves running through his system.

Helping you back inside the house before he runs up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time, quickly coming down with the baby bag you'd both prepared weeks ago.

The next hour is a blur, one second you're standing in your living room waiting for Rafe to bring down your things, and suddenly you're in a backless hospital gown being strapped into the hospital bed, hooked up like a computer.

There are IVs, heart monitors, and everything else you could identify from your binge sessions of Grey's Anatomy.

“Mrs. Cameron?” A voice cut through the haze as the door opened. The doctor entered, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. Her calm expression faltered as she scanned the notes. “Oh, wow,” she muttered under her breath before looking up at you.

“Is... is everything okay?” you asked nervously, gripping the bed’s railing as you shot a glance at Rafe, who was perched anxiously at your bedside.

“Everything’s fine,” the doctor assured you quickly, though her tone carried a note of disbelief. “But I have to say—I’m a little shocked at how far along you are.”

Your stomach dropped. “Far along? What do you mean?”

“You’re already at nine centimetres,” the doctor explained, flipping another page on her clipboard. “You’re practically ready to push.” That is not what you wanted to hear.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—nine? That fast? But I barely knew I was in labour until a few hours ago!” Rafe glances at you in agreement before doing a double take. "A few hours? I thought you just found out at dinner?"

"I knew since we left the restaurant." You coyly admit, and his eyes practically bulge from their sockets. "That was hours ago! Why didn't you tell me?" He seemed almost hurt but his concern overtook it.

"Because it's your birthday, I didn't want the baby to steal your day." He leans up, his gaze softening at your words. "Oh baby, I'd be so lucky to share my birthday with her." His words fall on deaf ears and you pout, eyes glancing at the clock.

10:47

"Well, Mrs. Cameron. It's almost time to start pushing, we're going to transfer you to the delivery room." Everything happened so quickly. Your gaze can hardly focus on anything in the halls as you are pushed past them.

There's one familiar sensation that remained an unchanged variable throughout the whole process. The reassuring hold of Rafe's hand with yours. No matter what, he held on.

When you squeezed his hand so tight with every laborious push. "You're doing good, just a few more pushes and she'll be crowning." Your body throws itself back, defeated. Eyes heavy and your hair sticking to your forehead as you wept.

"I can't, I can't do it. I'm sorry." Rafe's eyes turn mournful, wishing he could take on this pain for you. "Hey, hey. None of that. You're a Cameron now. We get shit done, and you're doing it. You're doing so well, baby. Just keep going, and I'll be right here with you, okay? I love you." He gently moves the hairs sticking to your forehead, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His words give you the strength to keep going.

"Give us another big push in three, two, one-" Your throat is ripped raw from the pained shouts, but it was so worth it. It’s not long before you finally welcomed your baby girl into the world, at 12:01am.

"She's perfect," Rafe says, in awe of his newborn daughter who's delicately swaddled in those hospital blankets at peace in your hold. She looked up at you with her glassy eyes, lips moving in ways that Rafe could swear were a tribute to you.

"I can't believe she came out of me," It's an untraditional thing for one to say after giving birth but it's how you felt. You were still in disbelief at the whole process. From the day you looked at those two lines on that pregnancy test in St. Tropaz, to the gender reveal on the beach all the way to this very moment.

"You did amazing," Rafe reassures you and only a few moments pass where you enjoy the peace of the new reality of your tiny family. There's a soft knock on the door, and Sarah's head pops in awaiting clearance to be let in.

"Come in," You giggle, so excited to introduce her to her aunt, uncle and cousin. John B's face is overcome with shock and Sarah's with glee while JJ focuses on what she wants.

"Oh my god, she's so precious." Sarah beams as she peers over to get a closer look, and you offer her up into her aunt's hold. "What's her name?" John B is the first to ask, and Rafe grins down at you. "Say hello to, Melody Ava Cameron."

Sarah's eyes immediately misted over, she'd been told about the pleasant encounter you both had at the beach with a very lively toddler, but you knew that wasn't the name that touched her the most. "Melody? You named her after mom?" Rafe nods, a tear slipping from his eye as well.

You knew how much she meant to both of them before she passed, you couldn't think of a better name. Rafe places an arm around his sister as they both admire the baby.

"It's a perfect name, I love it. Congratulations."

[knightyoomyoui]

Perfect Night [+18]

ft. LE SSERAFIM's Yunjin (x M Reader)

NOTE: First fic of my 2025 comeback and marks as a beginning of my new masterlist! SUMMARY: YN and Yunjin both won an award in a Korean music award show. Coincidentally, it happens in the same day as their anniversary. They went home for an indoor date as a celebration. After the date, Yunjin doesn’t want it to be over yet so she requested one last thing for them to have fun and make their night even more perfect. REQUESTED BY: @dav1233555

WORD COUNT: 3100+ (told yall the 2k max for normal request plan still depends lol) DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

The artists and their respective fans that filled up the Mizuzo Paypay Dome in Fukuoka, Japan has their ears and eyes all glued to the presenters of the awards for tonight’s 39th Golden Disc award show.

The two presenters were standing in the middle of the stage, the trophy in their hand, as well as their microphone to announce the winner of the category set to be awarded next to that deserving artist.

All of the nominees were shown in the screen, each earning different levels of cheers from their fans who made it in the attendance. After the familiar faces made an appearance, the presenters have been given a cue now to speak. “And now, the 39th Golden Disc Awards for the Best Group goes to…” the host flips the cover of the card to view the name. He pursed his head forward onto the mic and revealed: “LE SSERAFIM!” The blended sound of cheers and applause echoed around the dome. The camera then pans to the five members of the group that was mentioned all have the glee in faces hearing the name they represent called out for an overwhelming reward to their hardwork. They all rise up to their seats, lined up as they walk through the stage while being guided by the staffs of the show. As they made it, the hosts greeted and congratulated them for an another accomplishment in their career. Amongst the crowd watching, there’s you at one of the VIP tables along with other fellow artists eyeing with sincere support and happiness for that group, especially to that one particular woman who did the honor of receiving the award and came up to the front to begin the acceptance speech. Hearing your girlfriend, Huh Yunjin’s voice blasting through the speakers as she stated out her utmost gratitude for everyone who made it possible for them to bag an award tonight was music to your ears. There’s nothing more you can’t be easily get tired of listening than Yunjin in a bright mood when you know she can easily make your day as well. “Thank you so much to our FEARNOTS who voted for us and never stopped being on our side, appreciating our music everytime we do one. We will also continue to do our best on entertaining you guys, We love you!” Yunjin waves the trophy in the air as she was joined by her other co-members on shouting the last line. Before they leave the stage, Yunjin saw you clapping your hands and gave you a wink. You grinned wider and mouthed “I love you too” on her in response to what she said. It earned a blush from her when she understood it.

Another minutes of a performance from other artists have passed and now it was time for another announcement of winner in a category. This time, it was for the Most Popular Male Artist. It warms your heart hearing their cheers from some of your fans after seeing your face being one of the nominees. Whether you win an award or not, it didn’t matter for you anyway, as having a fanbase of your own already meant that you have become successful in your music career.

“For the 39th Golden Disc Awards’ Most Popular Male Artist, please come up to the stage:” “Yeah there’s no way I would be-”

“Song Y/N!” “Oh, wait what?”The spotlights, cameras, and people’s attention were all directed in a snap at your spot, looking confused and astounded. You weren’t expecting that this night wouldn’t be just a normal music show event you’ll be attending again, but there was something more for you to experience. You stood up and went to the stage. The emcees Cha Eunwoo and Moon Gayoung approached and shook hands with you before they handed you the award. As you stood on the platform, you took a deep breathe as you prepare your speech for the night. As you were there pouring out words that came straight from your heart, you were staring at Yunjin who is looking at you proudly. Her dazzling eyes and soft smile at you keeping you composed and more confident that you truly did deserve this award just as much as hers. “To my fans who keeps on reminding me that all my efforts I’ve been giving to my songs were always worth it, this one for each and every single one of you. We did it guys, thank you so much!” You bowed and waved to the public before you made your exit with joy.

After the show ended, both you and Yunjin excused yourselves to your managers and to her co-members that they’ll be meeting each other for tonight. They accepted since they are already the reason why. The reason that is related to your current private relationship with Yunjin. As Yunjin sneaks through the backstage with the help of her manager and some bodyguards, she then met you waiting at the parking lot. She dashes through you and you accepted her hug with open arms. “I’ll take it from here, thanks noona.” “Yeah enjoy your night, you two.” She greeted and waved away. As the manager brought the bodyguards along, Yunjin separated from you and glances straight through your eyes. “Look at you hotshot, winning an award as well huh.” she teased, patting you in the chest. “Yeah I didn’t see that coming. Thought its SEVENTEEN or others as well since they’ve been kinda trending all over social media too.” you responded humbly. “Probably you got back against them through streams and other criterias that lacked, I guess.” Yunjin shrugged. “But hey, there’s no doubt that whether you won or not, being considered for that award is already a big deal.”

Yunjin takes out her own trophy and clangs it at yours. “It’s just so happens that you were the lucky one to be chosen. Or should I say, WE?” “Congrats to us, love.” you kissed her on the lips. “There you go, savor the feeling of victory.” Yunjin said amusedly. “Let’s go home now. I want to get out of here, please.”

“Excited are we?” “More than you think. Well can you blame me? We’re about to turn our date into a double celebration.” She opened the door of your car and hopped in. “Damn right it is.” Both of you buckled up your seatbelts and you drove yourselves all the way to your apartment in Seoul. Reaching your room, you and Yunjin took off your shoes and placed your other belongings on the couch. “How about you go cook our dinner and I go prep up the table for us?” You originally planned to do all of this on your own and have her take a breather for a while as she rests because you don’t want to tire her more, but then again it made sense since this day is actually for the both of you and after you heard her enthusiasm earlier, you just allowed her initiation to join you on making this night special.  “That’s sounds good, let’s do it.”

You quickly went to the kitchen, prepare all the ingredients and cook the chosen food you wanted for the both of you that fits tonight’s occasion. Yunjin on the other hand was busy covering the tables with new cloth, arrange the plates and utensils, and and some bit of romantic element around the dining place.

Yunjin can’t help but to be shook and amazed that you were literally taking this seriously with the candles and rose petals you told to her to design with. Right when she created a lovely ambience, you have now served all the foods on the table.

Removing your apron and straightening the crumpled surfaces across her dress, both of you faced each other and looked at the satisfying result of your combined efforts to make your indoor date successful.

“Oh, be right back for a sec, I’ll just gonna grab something.” 

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

Yunjin watched you head through your bedroom. Her eyes widened when she heard the door open wide again and unveiled your standing figure holding a bouquet full of her favorite flowers in your arms.

“Oh my… YN, they look so pretty!  And these are- wow, did you seriously went with an effort of buying this for me?” she asked, with her hands on her agaped mouth.You responded with a chuckle before flashing a boastful smile.

“How could I forget? Happy 2nd anniversary to us.” Yunjin smiled. 

“Shall we begin our celebration with a toast?” She chuckled before nodding her head. Yunjin then dropped the flowers on the couch and gratefully accepted you gentlemen act of offering the seat to her.

As you sat, you reached for the wineglass, opened the bottle and poured each pair before raising it together with her.

“To our love and success.”

“And for many to come and last longer.”

“Cheers?”

You collided your glass gently on Yunjin’s before drinking the alcohol.

An hour has passed filled with your exchange of stories, laughters, and clanging sounds from your plates. You were already full and Yunjin was just emptying the bottle of wine.

“I think we had it all for today, huh.” You said. “Yeah, having an indoor date for the first wasn’t so bad after all then.” Yunjin shared her pleased reception for your decision. “Told you I can make everything wonderful just for my girl.” You squished her blushing cheeks. I’ll go to change now, babe. I want to sleep-”

“Already?” She interrupted you, snapping her head to your direction.

“Why? You haven’t had enough.”

“Nooo, I’m not through yet.” Yunjin pouted. “I still want to do one more thing.”

“Seems like you’re drunk now, babe. You really having fun, aren’t you?”

“Why, don’t you feel the same?” She playfully sulked. You walked beside her and pushed her head against your midsection, combing her hair.

“Stupid, ofcourse I’m not. I can’t get enough of you anytime.”

“You sure about that?”

“Mmmhhmm. What, do you want me to prove it to you or something?”

“What if I am?” She looked up at you. You saw the aura in her face changed into something seducive. Her hand began to rub through your shirt before her fingertips bump at your lowest button. “And I want you to show me in this way.”

“Would you do it with me? To make this night perfect?” She asked you breathily as she starts unbuttoning your buttons. With just a huff and a nod, Yunjin hastily then moved her hands toward your belt.

She unfastened it and opened your pants before she pulled it down. The outline of your hardened shaft laying diagonally against your left thigh made her bite her lower lips.

“That’s why you suck at lying sometimes, babe. Your words ain’t as honest as your body when you’re close to me.”

Yunjin slightly pushed you away for her to have some space as she knelt down before you. Cupping the bulge that charms her intoxicated self, she playfully squeezed it through the prison fabric before hooking her fingers at the waistband. “Mhm I love how huge and stiff it gets because it’s mine~”

That one swift move of Yunjin made you bare naked from below, especially your cock springing out from its confinement, pointing at her in which she giggled at how cute it reacts because of her despite of its dominating size.

Yunjin took ahold of your hardened shaft from the base and rained your entire length with kisses and licks up through the head. She finds your skin following her grasp as she strokes you up and down, edging you for a minute by releasing it and watching it twitch for her.

“Fuck, Yunjin. J-just get through it, please.”

Yunjin smirked, feeling an inch of pity for you. She fortunately followed, lifting your cock and sniffing its musky scent before directing it to her mouth and began sucking you. 

You released a huge sigh and placed your hand to her skull, petting and guiding her through your cock as she slurps your appendage inside her warm mouth. Her puckered lips crossing through the foreskin gets you gritting your teeth in sensation..

Based from your relaxed expression, your heaving breaths and trembling hands in her head, Yunjin can tell that she’s doing well with her oral performance, so she proceeded on coating your cock with her saliva, gliding her tongue through every inch.

You looked down and shivered, matching Yunjin’s stare at you while she gives you an amazing blowjob. She’s now sucking the half of your shaft with her fist pumping on the other. She released with a popping sound and sighed, gulping while she continues on jacking you off.

“Shit, Yunjin I’m about to-”

“You’re close?” Yunjin got alerted. “Give it all. In my mouth.”

You nodded. Yunjin returns your slimy cock on her mouth and did a series of deepthroats at you this time as you help her by pushing your hips. Each attempts awakens your senses more with the choruses of her gag reflex absence.

“Fuck… fuck, Yunjin I’m cumming.” You said. Both of your hands are now gripping on Yunjin’s hair. Few more pushes through her face, you felt a streak of hot spunk emerge from your tip straight onto her throat.

You kept her gaped mouth around the thickness of your meat for a second before slowly sliding her off and giving her a chance to breathe heavily. She then swallowed your load and licked some of your pre-cum in her fingers as well as some drops in your tip by tapping it onto her tongue.

“So yummy. That was a lot of a dessert.” Yunjin was impressed. “But I’m sure you still got more left in here, don’t you?” She cupped your balls and massaged it.

“Oh yes I am… and you can have it as much as you want, babe.” Confirming that you’re liking where is this going, you helped her to stand up and pulled her through your bedroom. You finally take off your coat and polo as Yunjin goes to pounce at your neck, giving you some hickeys to remember your heated session for tonight’s date once you woke up tomorrow.

You went through her thighs up to her ass, feeling the panties covering its smooth skin. She yelped at your touch before you stole a kiss again on her lips. Your hands went to the front to get a brush on her soaked slit.

Yunjin whimpered to your mouth. In return, she grabs your semi-erect cock and pumps it back to life. You lift off the hem of her dress and throw it aside, the red laced bra shielding her small mounds became evident at you.

Pushing your idol girlfriend to the bed, you bundled her skirt around her waist and tugged her panties down. Witnessing her dripping cunt, you didn’t want to waste the syrupy liquid so you went with a long slurp of her pussy three times until the juices partly stop.

Yunjin mewled at the feeling of your face against her ass and your talented mouth on the sacred cavern where it rightfully belongs. You kissed each of her asscheeks before slapping them in preparation for what you’re about to do after.

Pushing your now awakened cock again, this time to her tight inviting asshole. It slowly accepted your length, Yunjin shuddered at your cock invading her insides slowly but dangerously. She gripped on to the bedsheets as she noticed her body now rocking with yours as you hump onto her ass, skin to skip slapping playing across the room.

“Fuck, go harder! Shit, oh god how I’ve missed this so much!” Yunjin shouted, acknowledging the longing memory of the last time you and her did this before the long scheduling conflicts affected both of your sexual life.

You used the bundled skirt and her waist as a handle as you continously ravage her plump ass. 

“You’re so fucking tight, babe. I might not hold on any longer!” 

“And you’re too big! Fffuck I’m going first!” Yunjin elicited one last loud “ugh!” before you felt your thighs being showered with her squirt as you still played with her clit for stimulation.

You pulled Yunjin’s upper body, unwrap her bra which you threw aside like nothing, and grope her bare tits from behind. She kissed you to the side while she rubs her rear into your cock.

You decided to switch positions, with you now laying on the bed and Yunjin still buried within your dick, her sexy toned back faced towards you. She ain’t no dumb to miss the point of where it’s about to go, she then began to bounce slowly at your lap as you watched her fulfill her desire.

“Shit, that’s fucking hot, babe. Goddamn.” You sweared watching your baddie girlfriend twerk her voluptous ass against your crotch. Meanwhile, Yunjin is now eyes shut with horny evidence within her face doing what she loves.

A couple of adjustments of her thighs caged around yours as she rides you, she tries to stir your cock around her ass in different angles as possible while bouncing harshly before you decided to take the show to its end as you now about to reach your peak.

You catched Yunjin’s arm and spun her around to join you on the bed.She went close, you cuddled her and roughly pounded her from behind as you spent the last stamina you have in store to make this stunning woman of yours filled to the brim.

She goes along with your mouth, while you grope her breasts and fingered her fast to boost her stimulation. Yunjin moaned loudly at the pleasant effect of your manhood and digits taking control of stretching her innards.

“Oh god don’t stop, don’t stop! Fuckkk mmhmmm yes yes yes ahhh YN I’m cumming!”

Bump after bump after bump relentlessly to her abused ass, you grunted as you released another large load deep inside of her while she squirted another into your hands, staining the bed.

You helped her ride out her orgasm as you slowly withdrew your active fingers through her pussy along with few more curves. Slicked with her love juices, you slurped and gave Yunjin a taste of her own resolution also.

Slipping your limp cock into her ass, Yunjin holds your arm cuddling around her exhausted body as both of you rest from your activity. She gritted in satisfaction as she felt some of your cum escaping through her used hole, making a trail through her cheek down to the sheets.

“What a perfect night we have.” Yunjin said with a smile of satisfaction. She may have not looked at you, but the firm squeeze she did within your grasp made you feel its sincerity more. “I love you so much,YN.”

“I love you as well, Yunjin. More than you know.” You swept off some sweat and loose strands of her hair away from her beautiful face then smooched her on the crown before falling asleep together with her by your side.

[reilemon]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, “Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.”

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks.  And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm!  you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.  

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half.  You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front. 

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

[xiaowhore]

intoxicating.

premise. your boyfriend dumps you and says he doesn't love you anymore. of course, being the petty bitch that you are, you have to prove that you don't need him in your life either. and of course, intense emotions often lead to rash decisions, so you go to a bar in hopes of finding a new man.

somehow, even when all you've managed to do is scowl at anyone who approaches you and mope at the bar counter, you still manage to get one.

Wriothesley has dealt with his fair share of unruly drunks before, but they were something more along the lines of aggressive and sloppy, not depressed and sappy.

He finds that he'd rather manhandle angry alcoholics than a person who makes a slobbering mess all over his shirt, clinging to his arm and sobbing to his sleeve. Your body starts to sway even when he supports your weight, your footsteps unstable as your attempt to walk in a straight line fails entirely.

Okay, so maybe you are sloppy after all.

Wriothesley sighs and tightens his grip on your shoulders. There's no point in losing his patience with a drunk person. He didn't even mean to pick you up, it's just that as a police officer, his sense of responsibility makes him want to fix a troublesome situation whenever he sees one. Even when he isn't on duty, he often leads disruptive drunks out of bars and restaurants, forces them out when he has to, and is always on the receiving end of owners' gratitude.

However, he has no experience dealing with drunks that just got dumped by their boyfriend and chugged away the sorrow with alcohol. You know, like the one dragging their feet as he drags their inebriated body away.

At first, he thought you were hitting on him when he felt your head lean on his shoulder in the bar. It's a common strategy, one that he's dealt with enough times to know when someone is just pretending to be drunk and trying to get his attention. He was still thinking of what to say when tears actually rolled down your cheeks and you started retelling your life story that he never asked to hear about.

Wriothesley isn't actually trying to listen, but he still gets the gist of it. It would be hard not to when you're still prattling on about it beside his ear as we speak.

“He said...” You hiccup, warm liquid seeping into his shirt as you sob into his arm. He hopes that's from your tears and not your snot. “He said he doesn't feel anything for me anymore...”

So you glammed up for tonight and tried to have fun at a bar so you could prove to yourself you didn't need him in the same way he didn't need you. He can already recite the story perfectly from the amount of times you told him. Your plan is irrational at best, and he doesn't see himself doing the same if he were ever to be in the same situation, but he can't berate you for it. Not when you looked so miserable and hopeless to the extent he didn't think it would be safe to leave you alone back at the bar.

“You can't force yourself to be happy,” Wriothesley grumbles, finally giving up on carrying you by the shoulder and instead hoists you up on his back to give you a piggyback ride. Your shoes slip off your feet, so he sighs as he crouches down to pick them up. “At times like this, you should find other ways to feel better.”

Your body jolts against him as you hiccup once again. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he can feel you gradually getting used to being carried. It takes only a bit more for you to melt against his body, your chin snugly tucked in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Watch movies at home in your pajamas, I guess. Treat yourself to good food. Go on a trip. You look like the type to enjoy that. Much safer than getting involved with guys when you're still emotionally unavailable.”

You sniffle. “Romance movies only remind me of him. Eating at restaurants will make me remember the dates we've gone to. And going on trips will make me wish he's there with me.”

Why do they have an argument for each point I make? And I never said anything about the movie having to be romance. “Well, you still have to go through that,” he gives up on making you think otherwise. “But one day, you'll feel a little better about it. Maybe you'll want to start dating again when you watch that romance movie, or you'll want someone else to eat with on that restaurant you once went to. And when you're on a trip, maybe you'll even think you want somebody special to go with you.”

You go quiet. For a moment, he thinks you've fallen asleep. But then your head slowly rises from his shoulder, dazed eyes peeking at him unsurely. “You really think so?”

“It won't be easy,” Wriothesley says, because nothing ever is. “But you want to say you don't love him anymore, right?” He glances at you, at the dry tear streaks on your cheeks, at what glitter remains around your eyes from all the times you've rubbed away your tears.

For the first time that night, he sees you smile. “Yeah... I want to say it without feeling hurt anymore.”

He turns away, and he feels himself smiling without meaning to. “That's good.”

“...So do you like watching romance movies? Or eating [hometown] cuisine?”

“...No?”

“Then I'll settle for a movie you like. And I can make good food from anywhere.”

“...Are you hitting on me? Using my advice?”

“Is it working?”

Wriothesley laughs, looking at the person he's carrying on his back, who he is escorting to his apartment because you lost your keys and your roommate won't be back until tomorrow, whom he wrapped his leather jacket around because he felt you shivering against him, and who caught his eye the very moment he entered the bar.

“That's not a no.” He knows you're pouting even when he isn't looking anymore.

“Yeah,” he agrees with you, almost indulgently. “It isn't.”

When you wake up in an unfamiliar bedroom, dressed down to your undergarments and a t-shirt you definitely do not own, and with hardly any recollection of events from the past night, you think you've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But then you spot the hangover medicine on the bedside table, your alcohol-spilled clothes drying in the laundry room, and possibly the most gorgeous man you've ever seen cooking breakfast in the kitchen, so whatever you did last night couldn't really be that bad.

“Oh, you're awake,” he says once he notices you standing in the middle of the room, completely awestruck. You don't even know what you should be staring at; his chiseled face, his strong arms, his tight tank top that faintly traces his muscled torso, the gray sweatpants that-

Okay. You are not going to look anywhere below his waist.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, simply glad you didn't fuck up that one syllable. You feel like you're on the verge of either saying something really stupid or making really weird strangled noises. You prefer the former, if you can help it.

“Sit.” He pulls one chair from the dining table, gesturing for you to take it. You meekly take your seat, eyes shifting everywhere but his face. “You're rather quiet today,” he muses, taking one glance at your reddening face as he fixes the plates of pancakes in front and across you.

“...How was I yesterday, then?” You ask, though you don't actually want to hear the answer.

The man hums in thought, taking his sweet time while pouring coffee over two mugs. “Troublesome,” he decides to say. “You nearly puked over my rug, after all.”

You sputter, making all kinds of apologies and promises of compensation when all of a sudden, he laughs. “Nah, I'm kidding. But this means you don't remember anything at all, right?” He sits across from you, sliding the mug to your hand.

“No...” You take a sip, but you barely register how it tastes. “I remember ordering a lot of drinks, but that's pretty much it.”

“That's a shame.” He sighs, leaning back on his chair as he sips coffee. “I suppose that means our dinner plans are void, then.”

“Absolutely not!” The words come out of your lips before your brain-to-mouth filter processes it fully, your hand slamming down the mug on the table in protest. “Uh... that is... if you're available whenever...” You get a hold of yourself and feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He doesn't try to hide the amused smirk on his face. “Sure. I'll be looking forward to your hometown cooking, then.”

Just what on earth did you do last night...?

???