#but if he really really really had to meet the parents i think they'd just straight up faint

[scoliosisgoblin]

doodles and some lore. I'm tired.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

LOL. In the Buffy tie-in book I read ("Unnatural Selection"), Buffy had to come up with the cover story that she and Angel were married and had two daughters: Ginger and Joy. And she came up with those names because ginger (the spice) was right in front of her, and the brand of the dishwasher she owned was "Joy"?

But an AU--or better yet, a continuation of this--where they have daughters and actually name them that. Pfft.

Also, interestingly enough, in these tie-in books, Buffy dreams of having kids with Angel quite a few times (like in moments where she gets to see her perfect life).

Not that that's what this was, but it's still definitely interesting.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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[moremaybank]

No but, being in a secret relationship with rafe and being a pouge🤭 BUT the other pouges suspect of you being with some one and they manage to get your phone and find ummm a video(hopefully yk what I mean)😺😝😋🤌 lol hope it’s okay if I request this

Also, Something about being in a secret relationship with this man really gets me going idk why😭💀

secret relationships with this man...think about all the unspeakable things we could do...(18+ themes)

The pogues have noticed that you've been cagey lately. You're always sneaking off to meet someone but you're never too keen on mentioning who that someone is. To say their suspicions were growing would be the understatement of the century.

They'd all tried their hand at investigating, but they can never get further than hearing that you're going to work, or that you have to help your parents with dinner, or whatever excuse you manage to muster up at the drop of a hat.

Until today, that is. This time, Kie had a plan.

"Hey, can I send myself the pictures we took today from your phone? I'm planning my post for Sarah's birthday," she asks, motioning over to the device in your hand.

Without suspecting anything, you nod and hand it over to her. "Knock yourself out. I gotta pee."

Kie watches as you scurry off to the bathroom, and once you're inside the chateau and out of earshot, she summons the group over hurriedly. "Okay, she's gone! Hurry!"

The group begins to scroll through your camera roll, but is severely disappointed when all they can find are pictures of you and them, the scenery of the island, food, and a whole bunch of miscellaneous screenshots.

But just as they think all hope is lost, they come across a video. The screen is almost pitch black, but they can make out two figures.

"Well, turn the volume up," Pope says. "If we can't see anything, maybe we'll be able to hear who's with her."

Kie does as he says, and the sounds of skin slapping fills their ears. "Oh— oh my god."

"Yeah? You like that, princess? You like filming while I fuck you?"

"Hold up," JJ says. "Is that—"

"Yes. Yes, I like it. Fuck, harder, Rafe!"

"Ew, ew! Turn it off!" Sarah exclaims. She's visibly disgusted and petrified all at the same time as her hands shake vigorously in the air.

"Shit, say my name again, baby. Love the way you scream for me."

"Rafe. 'M so close. Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Oh my god, ew! I said turn it off!" Sarah yells. Kie swipes out of the video, and the entire group is slack-jawed by the time you come back from the restroom. Your eyes find all of theirs, and your brows furrow with confusion.

"Woah, what's going on? Why does it feel like you're about to give me an intervention?"

"You're fucking Rafe?!"

concepts

[erwinsvow]

rafe meeting shy reader’s parents for the first time

im thinking of right after... ♡

truth be told, you had been really nervous about the whole thing. rafe was a great boyfriend to you, but sometimes a bit too blunt. you worried your parents might not like him as much as you do, that they might not be okay with your new relationship.

and though you now understood that there was no force in the world that could keep you away from him, you still wanted your parents to like him. which, of course, they did. he charmed them easily, bringing a bottle of their favorite red and flowers for your home. he struck up easy conversation with your dad about business and how lovely your house was with your mom.

all in all, perfect. while your parents loaded the dishwasher, you excused the two of you, insisting you needed to give rafe some of his stuff back from upstairs.

when you get him into your bedroom, you close the door, pushing him against it and leaning in for a hot kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down and against you, tongues wet against each other, with your biting down on his lip until he pulls away.

"hey, hey. easy. they're right down there."

"i don't care," you mumble, lovestruck. you pull him in again, mind going completely blank except for a want to keep rafe's lips on yours. he manhandles you a little, pushing away from the door to at least get further into your bedroom.

he only gets you pushed against another wall, legs wrapping themselves around rafe's waist automatically, pressing yourself against him in a way that has him concerned.

"woah, woah, hold on, kid. we're going back down for dessert, can't have it obvious-"

"who cares about dessert?" you protest, and you look up at him with your pretty eyes filled with lust, chest heaving in the pretty sundress he'd been admiring all night. you're flushed and warm, overcome with a wanting for rafe that needed to be satisfied now, though you're even a little confused yourself where it stemmed from.

"really? you wanna fuck with your parents downstairs?"

"is that so wrong? we do it at tannyhill.."

"no one's around at tannyhill. c'mon, calm down. i don't need them hatin' me already. they just started likin' me."

you sigh a breath of protest, shoulders falling, but you don't complain. you still stalk back up, close to your boyfriend, putting your hands on his shoulders, looking up with your swollen lips and fluttery eyes.

"i knew they'd like you. y'know, i like you too.. a lot."

"yeah, kid. i can tell."

"i jus' wanna show you how much i like you, s'all." your words are becoming a little slurred, eyes a little dazed, lips a little pouty. you lean up for another kiss, gentle this time, moaning into his mouth while your nails grip rafe's arm through his pressed button up.

"c'mon baby. you're gonna get me in trouble," rafe says when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. he can make out the sound of the faucet shutting, the fridge opening to retrieve the cake you'd made earlier.

"not if we're quick, right?" you rake your nails—freshly done today, pink and pretty just how he likes—against rafe's chest. "and i can be quiet... right?" you lean in again, pressing a hot kiss to rafe's jaw. "no one has to know-"

in hindsight, it was a mistake letting himself get swayed by you like this. he blamed your boldness this time, usually too shy to ask for what you want, just relying on rafe to give it to you. but he's still a man, one madly in love—at that—and he doesn't think he can resist you if he tries.

rafe ends up in a position he's not used to—lying on his back on your soft, sweet-smelling sheets, against a pillow and next to a stuffed teddy. you're on top, your dress hiked up and panties yanked to the side. the top is pushed down just enough to show him your tits, one of his ringed fingers teasing your nipple while the other guides your hips.

you're close already, he can tell, the way your entire body trembles, how you're biting your lip so hard it's about to bleed to keep yourself silent. besides for the sound of his skin slapping against yours and your whimpers, the room is silent. it's not gonna take much, but he decides to give it to you anyways.

his grip tightens, thrusting up and fucking into you hard, controlling the pace. your hands which had been lying flat on his chest to hold yourself up, were abandoned to cover your mouth instead, his eyes glued to where he was sliding inside of you.

"c'mon, kid. fuck. you wanted it, didn't ya? gotta be quick, then. shit." you clench around his dick, a strangled moan escaping your lips. he has half a mind to push your face into the mattress and fuck you from behind, but it's gonna have to wait.

you're getting close. he's getting close. another second of rafe fucking you like this, with you on top but still having no control, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars and have your eyes rolling back. you're so close you can taste it, gushing around his dick and knowing he's gonna fill you up with the way he goes faster, until you hear a knock on the door.

"honey? rafe? dessert's ready."

"god! m'coming!"

ten minutes later, you're eating chocolate cake with rafe's cum spilling out of you, probably dripping down your thigh and making a mess. his hair is a mess, your lips swollen. you catch his eye while he's shoving cake in his mouth and neither of you can hold back your laughter.

your parents haven't noticed anything yet, but you can't make eye contact with them for a week after.

but it was definitely worth it.

[the-ace-with-spades]

another headcanon of the day:

mav is the one who takes charge in their relationship, domestic life-wise, decision-making wise, etc.

and i don't mean big life-changing decisions (those are usually made together), I mean that mav leads their life as in: what they're doing that day or on their day off, what they're cooking, who they're meeting, what they're wearing, what chores they need doing, how their house looks, etc. This extends to some stuff that can be serious at times (and if they turn serious, they will have discussions about it together), like parenting bradley or career advancement/choices - ice also takes mav's lead.

there are three factors to this:

mav is an extrovert, ice is an introvert. if it was up to ice, they'd spent their whole life just the two of them, locked at their house with little to no outside contact (minus slider and the stray cats ice likes to feed - mav will argue slider is also a stray they occasionally feed because ice likes him...). and sometimes, mav likes that and thinks they need it (ice more often than him) but he also wants them to have some form of social life.

ice is in charge everywhere else. his whole work life is making decisions for others and calculating what's best and keeping discipline in place all around him. he honestly likes to be told what to do at home and have his brain just rest and switch off and know planning everything is taken care of by mav. to some extend, he also knows that if it was him making decisions and taking the lead, it'd also take so much more time because he'd overthink and overanalyze even the smallest things while mav just goes with his instinct/feels. and if he's really honest, mav is so much better at managing their domestic life than him (ice didn't have the best examples as a kid, lived with a lot of house help hired by his father managing everything, etc).

ice is smitten. everyone knows. their friends know (they ask mav if ice is free if they want to do something that involves ice or if they need ice for something - which slider finds fucking hilarious, but also not really surprised since he met shy little tommy in usna at the age of 18 and had once been his keeper). their coworkers know this (ice's secretary doesn't schedule his calendar without mav's input). the whole navy knows it (what wouldn't this man do to keep maverick in the air?).

and it's not like ice minds - if he minds something, he speaks up, okay, he's a grown ass man, he can tell his partner he doesn't like something. usually, even if mav asks him to make a decision on something, like what to make for dinner or which shade of curtains he likes more, ice will just say, 'doesn't matter, you pick,' because that's genuinely what he thinks.

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[wolfiesmoon]

What a fate

Ran x good girl! reader

this is a part 2 to my fic "i can't sleep", dont worry i'm feeding ur families they will no longer starve. apparently people are really into ran considering how many notes that fic of mine got (and who can blame them honestly)

unrelated but i cant believe it took me this long to get into housewife radio by ghost i love the horror vibes because of course i do

You've had a turbulent few days recently. Ever since you agreed to do that stupid dare Ran hasn't left you alone.

He did promise to do so but you didn't think he was actually serious about "making you his". How could you let this happen?

Things turned out completely opposite to what you expected, though. Instead of dragging you to his gang meeting to beat the crap out of you, he's taking you there to threaten his lackeys that if they even so much as lay a finger on his girl (you), they'd feel hell on earth.

You suppose that it's nice that he wants to protect you but you feel extremely out of place and uncomfortable at a gang meeting of all places.

Your parents think you're studying at a library right now. Somehow, you feel like you're commiting a crime.

You also met his brother at that meeting.

It seems being a good-for-nothing delinquent runs in their family. You feel sorry for their parents. If they even have them.

"Wow, I would've never thought the nerd would be your type." Rindou teased Ran. Actually, maybe it was both of you he was teasing.

"She's the one that kissed me first." Ran smirked at you.

"You're the worst. Both of you." you furrowed your brows, not finding either of them amusing in the slightest.

"Your girlfriend hates you, man. Personally I would not put up with that." Rindou seemed disinterested, checking his nails as he said that.

"I am not his girlfriend, either!" you defended yourself but Ran just looked at you like he pitied you and Rindou looked like he didn't believe you.

"Right, okay, if you say so. You two have your lover's quarrel on your own. I'm going elsewhere." Rindou just casually left, leaving you all alone with Ran in an abandoned storage unit. Oh boy.

"Umm, I should get going- ack!" you felt your wrist getting grabbed, preventing you from leaving. There's your only exit up in smoke.

"Leaving so soon? But we haven't even had our fun yet." Ran smiled at you and you honestly felt scared at that moment. Oh no, you shouldn't have yelled back at him so daringly just now. Now he's going to beat the crap out of you and drop you off in front of your parents doorstep as a warning to never mess with his gang again.

He leaned in closer and you braced yourself for the pain, but instead of that you felt his lips on yours.

Kissing...?! Again?! Well, atleast it's better than a punch to the face... You can't believe it's come to a point where you're glad to get kissed by Ran.

But still, does he have to kiss you in the least romantic place possible? Even if you did have feelings for him you'd totally find this moment cringy.

"You suck at kissing." He comments heartily, pulling away.

"I'm not the one who kisses a new girl every day. Maybe I actually have some self-respect." You crossed your arms. He was your first kiss after all.

"Every night is an exaggeration. It's like, every week." You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, even if you saw his expression.

"Oh, wow. Glad to know that I'll get cheated on in about 3 days. Way to make your 'girlfriend' hate you less."

"I'll stop for you." He smiled.

"Uh huh, whatever." You rolled your eyes.

Though, his kisses are actually kind of making you.... No, no! Don't fall for that! You can't believe you almost admitted that you'd fall for him if he kissed you more.

.

"How's it going with your new boyfriend, girl?"

"God, do not call him that." You held your forehead in frustration.

"I think he's taken a liking to you." Your friend nudged you, pointing at Ran who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and smiling at you as he ate.

"Great." You said sarcastically, immediately looking away when your eyes met.

"See? It ended up well. Now you have a hot bad boy boyfriend." Your friend kinda wished she'd done it instead of daring you.

"Didn't I just... ugh! I don't think my parents would agree with you." You placed your forehead on the table, groaning. "You date him if you want a bad boy so bad. But I hate you for dragging me into this." Your voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah, we'll see. You'll be the happiest couple ever in like, two months."

You raised your head, looking back at Ran once again. You're in quite the pickle, aren't you? The next thing you know, you'll fall for Haitani Ran.

How scarily exciting.

.

"Hop on." Ran stopped on his bike in front of the library. How he knew you had a study session there today? Don't worry about the details.

Another motorcycle ride... You feel like you barely survived the last one.

"My parents expect me to be home in 10 minutes." You crossed your arms. You weren't lying, either.

"Who cares? Live a little." Ran rolled his eyes playfully. Clearly he isn't going to let you back down.

"I'll do it, but only if you keep it to ten minutes." He was right, backing down isn't your thing. You wonder how much resisting him you could get away with if you weren't special to him.

Special to him... huh.

"Killjoy." He insulted you lightly as you sat down in front of him. Again, neither of you are wearing a helmet. This is the last time you'll let it slide.

"I prefer to not get scolded endlessly." You held onto him tightly because you knew what was coming and didn't want to almost fall off the bike again. He felt proud when you held onto him like that.

Like you're finally his. To be honest, he didn't really care much for you until you kissed him out of nowhere like that. How bold of you, the top-of-the-class rule stickler. But he likes that. And that's why he decided to make you his.

Isn't the fact that he lets you ride on his motorcycle enough to see that?

You felt the wind blowing against your face as you set off. Now that you feel it again, it doesnt feel too bad. It's kind of nice, actually. And Ran is warm, too.

The scenery moves past the two of you and strangely, you feel really calm and at peace. It feels like your parents don't exist in this moment and that you can just... live, and feel the adrenaline of the high speed.

This is so scarily exciting.

"You look relaxed." He said, looking down at you.

"I am. And look at the road, will you?" You scolded him but your voice was still relaxed. You look up at him again.

He actually isn't that bad looking. You kind of understand why some girls would fall for him. You, on the other hand...

Are unfortunately befalling the same fate.

He didn't say anything but you had a feeling he knew you were staring.

"You look like you're in love."

"What?! How would you even know?!" You looked back at the road, hiding your face from him. You can't help but get defensive of such a thing.

God, you hate that he's right.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader

a;n i have been so excited to release this chapter. I really think you guys are gonna enjoy the next chapter of my Sunshine, i rote it when i was sad, so now you guys have to be sad too.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic ex-boyfriend, suggestive wording lol, anxiety, fighting

masterlist link / previous chapters

Word Count - 3950

Two weeks later

17:35pm

Jack had just returned home from his snowy mountain vacation with Y/N, feeling lighter than he had in years. As he walked through the front door, the familiar warmth of his family's home enveloped him. His mother, Ellen, came bustling in from the kitchen, a radiant smile on her face.

"Jackie, my darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "We've missed you so much. How was your trip?"

Jack chuckled, returning the embrace. "It was amazing, Mom. Y/N and I had such a wonderful time."

Ellen pulled back, her eyes shining. "Y/N, huh? Is she the special someone you've been telling us about?"

Jack felt a blush creep up his neck. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you and Dad about. Is he home?"

As if on cue, Jack's father, Jim, stepped into the entryway, a warm smile on his face. "There's my boy!" he said, clasping Jack's shoulder. "Welcome home. How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad," Jack replied, glancing between his parents. "Listen, I - I've been thinking a lot about the future, and about building a family of my own. Y/N and I, we're getting really close, and I think I'm ready to take that next step."

Ellen's face lit up, and she clasped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, Jackie, that's wonderful news! When do we get to meet this special young lady?"

Jim chuckled, draping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Slow down, El. Let the boy speak."

Jack smiled, appreciating his father's steady presence. "Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about. I was hoping you could come over for dinner sometime soon, so you can get to know Y/N better. I - I think I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend."

Ellen practically squealed with delight, pulling Jack into another hug. "Oh, my darling boy, I'm so happy for you! Of course, we'd love to meet her. And Jim and I have been hoping for grandchildren, you know." She shot a pointed look at Jack's younger brother, Luke, who had just entered the room.

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still figuring this whole 'settling down' thing out."

Jim chuckled, giving Luke a playful nudge. "You'll get there, son. But your brother here is taking the plunge. We're proud of you, Jack."

…

20:41pm

Later that night, after his family had finally left, Jack found himself staring at his phone for what felt like the fifth time that day. Still no reply from Y/N. He let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as he tossed the phone onto the dining table with a little more force than necessary.

What was he doing wrong? Jack wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint where things might have taken a turn. Their trip to the snowy mountains had been absolute bliss - they'd spent their days cuddled up by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and talking for hours about their hopes and dreams.

Y/N had seemed so happy, so at peace. He thought for sure that when he got home, he'd be ready to take that next big step and ask her to be his girlfriend.

But now, radio silence. Jack couldn't help the doubts that crept in. Had he come on too strong? Pushed her too hard to commit? His family's eagerness to meet Y/N suddenly felt like too much pressure. Jack grabbed his dinner plate and headed to the sink, scrubbing at the ceramic with more vigor than necessary.

No, he knew in his heart that he hadn't done anything wrong. Their relationship had blossomed so naturally, built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect.

He'd made it abundantly clear that he was pursuing her, that he wanted a future together. So what could possibly be the issue?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jack shuffled over to his bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. He stared down at his phone, willing Y/N's name to light up the screen.

Maybe she was just busy - caught up in her writing or dealing with some other personal matter. The rational part of his brain knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the anxious part kept whispering doubts.

Jack flopped back against the pillows, his mind drifting back to their trip. The way Y/N's eyes had sparkled in the soft firelight, the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked through the snow-covered woods. He'd felt so at peace, so certain that she was the one he wanted to build a life with.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Jack tried to push away the nagging fears. With any luck, he'd wake up to her reply in the morning, and they could figure out whatever was going on.

All he wanted was to have what his parents had - that deep, abiding love and the chance to create a family of his own. But for now, he'd have to wait and see what the future held. Holding onto that hope, Jack felt himself drifting off to sleep, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand.

…

3:34am

Y/N felt the tension coiling in her stomach as she faced off against Jason. The air in her small living room felt thick with his toxic energy, his condescending tone grating on her nerves.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I can be a good father," Jason pressed, his voice dripping with false sincerity as he took a predatory step closer. "Just give me one more chance - I'll prove it to you."

Y/N held her ground, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand instinctively drifting to cover the gentle swell of her belly. Twenty-two weeks pregnant now, a secret she'd been guarding fiercely from the world, still terrified of the reactions she would inevitably face.

The thought of Jason worming his way back into her life, especially now, made her feel nauseous, her insides churning with dread.

"No, Jason. We're done," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tremble threatening to betray her resolve. "This is my life, my choice. I don't need you in it."

But Jason wasn't one to take rejection lightly. His eyes narrowed into slits, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "You think you can just shut me out, huh? You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl playing house."

Y/N's jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. "I'm not scared of you anymore, Jason. I won't let you manipulate me because you’re lonely."

Jason's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and harsh. “you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You'll come crawling back to me, begging for my forgiveness, just you wait."

He looked around the living room, his gaze settling on the photo of Y/N and Jack, taken during their blissful mountain getaway. Suddenly, realization dawned on his face.

"Who is that?" he demanded, jabbing a finger toward the image. "Who have you been seeing behind my back?"

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest as She stared at the photo, at the way Jack's arm was wrapped protectively around her, the adoration in his gaze, and now the image was tainted by the presence of Jason.

She could feel the familiar nausea bubbling up in her stomach, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her growing belly. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Jason, trying to maintain her composure.

"That's none of your business, Jason," she replied, hating how her voice wavered. "I don't owe you any explanations."

"The hell it's not my business!" Jason exploded, taking another step forward. "You're carrying my child, Y/N. I have a right to know what's going on in your life."

"This baby is not yours, Jason," she spat, the words dripping with venom. "I'm going to raise it on my own, without you."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. "Yeah, right. Like hell you are. I'm going to fight for my rights as the father, Y/N. You can't keep me from my own kid. Now I know you've been seeing someone else, Y/N, and I'm not going to just sit back and let you take my child away from me."

Y/N felt the walls closing in, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She needed to get Jason out of her home, to protect herself and her unborn child.

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, the stress and anxiety of the situation becoming too much to bear. "Jason, please, just go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deal with this right now. I need you to leave, and I need you to leave my baby alone."

Jason opened his mouth to argue further, but the sound of Y/N's phone ringing interrupted him. She glanced down at the screen, her heart leaping as she saw Jack's name. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call, hoping that his soothing presence would be enough to calm the storm that was raging within her.

…

Y/N felt a surge of relief wash over her as she heard Jack's voice on the other end of the line. "Jack, I-I'm so glad you called," she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

"Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay?" Jack's tone was laced with concern. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right, and I had to check in on you."

Y/N glanced back at Jason, who was pacing the living room, his face twisted in a scowl. "I...I'm not okay, Jack," she admitted, her heart sinking. "My ex-boyfriend, Jason, he's here and he's...he's being so awful."

Jack's response was immediate. "Do you need me to come over? I can be there in no time, just say the word."

Y/N's heart ached at the offer, but she knew she couldn't accept. Not with Jason here and her pregnancy still a secret. "No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "I just...I needed to hear your voice, that's all."

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost feel the concern radiating through the phone. "Y/N, sweetheart, what's going on?" Jack's voice was gentle, soothing. "Please, talk to me."

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It's...it's complicated, Jack. Jason...he's been drinking,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “He's been yelling, saying things I don't want to repeat." She paused, biting her lip as she glanced down at her growing belly. "There's something else, too, but I...I don't know how to tell you."

"Oh, Y/N..." Jack's voice was laced with sympathy. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, she felt a cold grip on her arm. She gasped, turning to see Jason standing in the hallway, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who the hell are you talking to? " Jason demanded, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. He glanced at the phone screen and saw Jack's name. "Jack? Who's Jack? You think you can just talk to your little boyfriend behind my back?"

Y/N's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as Jason's grip tightened painfully on her arm. Panic surged through her veins, mingling with a fierce anger. She quickly ended the call, her hands trembling slightly.

"Let go of me, Jason!" she hissed, struggling against his unyielding hold. Her muscles were taut, shoulders hunched defensively.

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits, his face mere inches from hers. His breathing had grown ragged, hot puffs of air hitting Y/N's cheek. "Not until you tell me who this Jack is," Jason hissed.

Y/N's nostrils flared as she glared back at him defiantly. "He's none of your business!" she spat, shoving him away with all her strength. Her chest heaved with each rapid breath. Jason stumbled back a step, but his expression only darkened further.

He stepped back towards her, looming over her petite frame. "You think you can just shut me out, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl."

Fury surged through Y/N, her fists clenching at her sides. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him, the fabric billowing through the air. "Get out! Get out of my life!" she screamed, her voice cracking with barely contained emotion.

Jason dodged the projectile, his eyes flashing with unbridled rage. "You think you can get rid of me that easily?" he growled, lunging towards her. Y/N quickly snatched up another pillow, clutching it defensively as her breaths came in ragged gasps.

In a sudden, calculated move, Jason pushed past Y/N and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Y/N stumbled back, heart racing, and immediately started pounding on the door, her fists thudding against the wood. "Open the door, Jason! You can't just barricade yourself in there!" she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

The sound of thunder reverberated through her apartment, mirroring the tumult within her own heart. Jason ignored her, the distinct click of a lock echoing from the other side. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about jack," he shouted back, voice muffled.

Tears of frustration and fear began to flow freely down Y/N's face as she continued her relentless assault on the door, her fists growing sore from the repeated impacts. "Jason! Open the door and leave! Please just leave," she croaked, the words catching in her throat.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Defeated, Y/N slumped to the floor, curling in on herself as the tears streamed down her face. She felt trapped, helpless, and utterly exhausted. Minutes ticked by like hours, the sound of the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her.

…

About ten minutes later, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, shattering the oppressive silence. Y/N jolted up from the floor, heart leaping with a glimmer of hope. She rushed to the door and flung it open.

There stood Jack, drenched from head to toe, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. His eyes were wide with worry as he took in the scene before him - Y/N's tear-stained face, the closed bedroom door.

Without a word, he stepped forward and gently gripped her arms, his gaze roving over her features with palpable concern. "Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, betraying the evident fear in his eyes.

Y/N could only nod mutely, her throat too tight to speak. As Jack's hands moved to tenderly examine her arms, checking for any signs of harm, she found herself at a loss for how to react.

This was the same Jack who had always been there for her, who had cared for her so deeply - and now here he was, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone but unflinching in his concern.

"I heard the yelling, and then you hung up so suddenly," Jack murmured, his gaze searching hers. "I was so worried, Y/N. Please, tell me what's going on. Who's Jason? Did he hurt you?" The questions tumbled out, laced with a palpable fear for her wellbeing.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "Jason, he..." She glanced back at the closed bedroom door, her eyes narrowing in determination. "He's in there.”

Jack's expression hardened, his grip on her arms tightening ever so slightly.

The air crackled with tension as the bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing a disheveled Jason. His gaze immediately landed on Jack, who had protectively placed himself in front of Y/N. For a moment, Jason simply stood there, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

The sound of the pounding rain outside filled the oppressive silence, a stark contrast to the volatile energy that radiated off the three of them. Slowly, Jason's expression morphed into one of pure, unbridled rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he stepped out of the bedroom, his gaze burning into Jack.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Jack didn't back down, squaring his shoulders as he glared back at Jason. "I'm the one who's going to make sure you leave Y/N alone," he growled, his grip tightening protectively around Y/N's arm as he moved to shield her completely.

Jason's eyes flashed dangerously, and he took a menacing step forward. "You think you can just waltz in here and play the hero?" he hissed. "This is between me and Y/N. Stay out of it."

Sensing the impending confrontation, Y/N tried to interject, her voice trembling. "Jason, please, just go. This doesn't have to-"

But Jason cut her off with a harsh laugh. "Shut up, Y/N. You think you can just replace me with this pathetic excuse for a man?" He turned his attention back to Jack, his lips curling into a sneer. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Jack's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might lunge at Jason. Instead, he stood his ground, his voice low and dangerous. "I know exactly what I'm up against. And I'm not going anywhere until you leave. This is your last warning."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, his posture challenging. "Or what? You think you can take me on?"

Jack didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground. "I don't want to fight you, Jason," he said, his voice low and measured.

Jason let out a harsh laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. "You really think you can protect her? I have every reason to be here.” He took another step closer, his movements predatory.

Without warning, Jason lunged forward, grabbing a vase from a nearby table and hurling it at Jack. Jack ducked just in time, the vase shattering against the wall behind him. Jack reacted quickly, ducking and countering with a well-placed jab to Jason's midsection. The force of the impact caused Jason to stumble back, momentarily winded.

Y/N watched in horror as the two men traded blows, their grunts and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the apartment. She wanted to intervene, to call for help, but her body was paralyzed with fear.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Jack planted his feet, bracing himself, and then surged upwards, slamming his shoulder into Jason's midsection. The momentum caught Jason off guard, and he was thrown backward, crashing into the nearby wall.

Jason recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with fury. He surged forward, tackling Jack to the ground and raining down punches. Seizing the opportunity, Jack lunged forward, grabbing Jason by the collar and slamming him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Jason's throat. "This ends now," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Jason's eyes were wild, his chest heaving. "We have a family Jack, we’re supposed to be together. She’s trapped me with for life whether she wants to accept that or not," he hissed, his hands clawing at Jack's arm. "Y/N is mine. She'll always be mine."

"Stop this!" Y/N cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Jack's grip tightened, his face mere inches from Jason's. "She's not yours, and she never will be again," he spat. "Y/N is stronger than you, and she deserves so much better."

Mustering what little strength he had left, Jason suddenly lashed out, his fist connecting with the side of Jack's head. The impact caused Jack to stumble back, momentarily dazed.

Seizing the opportunity, Jason surged forward, shoving past Jack and heading straight for the open front door as he adjusted his clothing.

…

4:27am

Jack winced as Y/N began carefully dabbing at the cut on his cheekbone, her touch feather-light. "I'm so sorry, Jack," she murmured, her eyes full of concern. "I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Jack reached up, his fingers gently brushing against her arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "I'm just glad you're safe." His gaze never left her face, captivated by the way the soft light played across her delicate features.

Y/N bit her lip, focusing intently on the task at hand. As she cleaned the wound, her fingers inadvertently traced the line of his jaw, marveling at the warmth of his skin. Jack's breath hitched at the intimate touch, and he found himself leaning ever so slightly into her hand.

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, a charged energy that seemed to hum in the small space. Y/N's heart raced, her eyes darting up to meet Jack's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Slowly, almost instinctively, Jack reached up and gently cupped Y/N's face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You don't have to apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm that seemed to steady her own. "Jack," she breathed, her eyes shining with a newfound vulnerability.

Cautiously, Jack leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. Their noses brushed, and Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them suspended in a private bubble of tenderness and unspoken affection.

Y/N's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she closed her eyes, savoring the intimacy of their embrace. She felt safe, cherished – a feeling she hadn't experienced in far too long. And as Jack's arms wrapped around her.

She nestled closer, her head coming to rest against his chest, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

Jack tightened his hold ever so slightly, his chin coming to rest atop her hair. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing from her body, the initial fear and panic giving way to a fragile vulnerability. Gently, he began to trace soothing circles on her back, his touch feather-light.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now, Y/N."

Slowly, she pulled back just enough to gaze up at him, her eyes shining with a tentative trust. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "For being here, for... for everything."

Jack's heart swelled at her words, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek. "Always, Y/N," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you."

Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and without thinking, she rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jack's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he was frozen, captivated by the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of the gesture. Then, almost instinctively, he cupped her face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.

Slowly, reverently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, unhurried kiss. It was a silent promise, a testament to the depth of his feelings - a promise to always be her anchor, her safe haven, in the storm.

When they finally parted, both were breathless.

"Come to bed with me Jack..."

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @skepvids, @urbanflorals, @hischierswhore, @literatureluster, @voidohanax, @ivy-34, @bunbunbl0gs, @snailss, @ru-kru, @shawnshoney

[tkwrites]

Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc

 gif by @thombordeleau 

Title: Elimination

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know. 

Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Word count: 4,200

Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!). 

As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore. 

If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing! 

Elimination 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was. 

In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to. 

When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot. 

“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.

She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.” 

Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”

Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.

Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t. 

The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation. 

“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.” 

“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles. 

“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her. 

So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see  how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well. 

When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh. 

The arena erupted into a wall of sound.

The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher. 

Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment. 

Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then. 

Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots. 

Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye. 

“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later. 

With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers. 

In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.

When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.

Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.  

Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period. 

Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.

She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you. 

He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view. 

Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Höglander, the pass was intercepted.

Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end. 

Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net. 

Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face. 

Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down. 

Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another. 

The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room. 

Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him. 

He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media. 

It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately. 

Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture, while Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss. 

When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.

To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her. 

Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.

Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.

She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic. 

Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back. 

 She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments. 

The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn. 

While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.

It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on. 

As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment. 

When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming. 

“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper. 

“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.

Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes. 

“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.

“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”

Now she understood where Sarah was going. 

“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.” 

His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same. 

“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”

He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon. 

Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along. 

Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother. 

She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee. 

Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while. 

The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.

“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.” 

Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”   

“I love you, too.” 

He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one. 

After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.” 

When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.

Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness. 

Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her. 

At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts. 

He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.

She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”

Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate. 

The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night. 

“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft. 

The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that. 

Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.

Head tipping back, Sarah panted.  

His other hand came up to guide her chin back down. 

The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.

She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her. 

It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove. 

“No,” she gasped  when he pulled away. “I was right there.”

He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin. 

The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her. 

She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered. 

Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her. 

Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center. 

It was his turn to give thanks.

She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more. 

“Quinn,” she whimpered.

He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him. 

Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress. 

She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth. 

“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.

“Higher.”

He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.  

“There, there,” she panted. 

Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.

“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch. 

They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.

As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.

Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before. 

Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction. 

The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.

Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent. 

The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.

When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out. 

It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been. 

Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish. 

“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her. 

He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”

The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers. 

She pulled back to look into his face. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he said. 

“You already did. Twice.”

“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.”

In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her again and he knew if he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary. 

He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled. 

One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side. 

He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together. 

She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him. 

“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet. 

His hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms. She moved to lace her fingers through his. 

When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms  

Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”

Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.” 

His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.

The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.” 

Feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride, he rested his forehead on her back.

Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin. 

They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.

Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace. 

Resting his head on her chest, he sighed. 

Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.

“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button. 

He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job. 

Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent. 

“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.

He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.” 

A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.” 

She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.

“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.

He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.

As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same. 

“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.” 

They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare. 

When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after three. 

After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest. 

If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[moonlightspencie]

Taking your Marauder Boyfriend (writer's choice) home to meet your muggle parents?

YAY. this is so cute (will be james because he was #1 on my poll teehee)

james potter x gn!reader

----------------

"So... am I not allowed to use magic at all?"

You quirked a brow, looking at your boyfriend. James tended to be a little dramatic, but asking this question for the hundredth time as you were on your parents' porch was a bit much.

"You can handle not whipping out your wand for two days," you replied.

He smirked. "Which one? Either way that might be hard for me."

"Ew! Shut up," you whispered loudly.

"What?" he laughed. "They can't hear me."

You groaned. "No wand, no sex, no... just be normal, babe. I am begging."

"Fine," he pouted, reaching for your hand. "They know you're magical, I don't see why I can't just⎼"

"It freaks them out, babe."

"That's silly."

"You're silly."

He smiled a little, dropping his head on top of yours. You shook your head a bit, then straightened up as your mom came to the door.

"Hi, honey!" she beamed, reaching for you.

You let her give you a tight hug, then stepped back and grabbed James's hand again.

"Mom... this is James," you smiled.

"Nice to meet you," he said to your mom, giving her a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you, too, dear. Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, taking a step back to let you in the house. "Dad and I have been so excited for you two to come home."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"Of course. You know how much we miss you when you're away."

"I know, mom. But I can't exactly do my whole magical thing when I'm here."

She shivers, her dramatics not far off from James's. If that behavior was any indicator, they'd get along just fine.

"Still freaky. I can't believe you can just... hm," she chuckles a little nervously. She was always a bit weird about magic. She glanced at James. "And you're able to do all of that too, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," James nodded quickly. "But fear not, I was already debriefed not to do any magic while we're here."

"Well, good. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, dear."

"It's okay," he smiled brightly, squeezing your hand lightly.

And all was going well, too, until your mom insisted on showing James their new home theater in your old bedroom. It wasn't terribly showy, but they had a huge television and some comfortable chairs. You hadn't taken into consideration, though, that James wasn't exactly attuned to muggle appliances and technology.

"Whoa," his eyes went wide as your father showed him around the room. "And you all think magic is strange?"

"Babe," you say with wide eyes.

Your dad laughs, patting your arm. "Its, okay, sweetheart. You... you really don't have television?"

You shake your head. "Not usually. I got us a small one for our apartment, but... nothing like this."

"Now this is magic," James mumbles as your mom starts queuing up the movie. He glances back at you. "You sure I can't do a little?"

"No, love..."

"Can you make popcorn with a wand?" your dad teases.

"Yeah," James answers honestly.

Your dad quirks a brow, speaking quietly. "As soon as mom isn't looking..."

James laughs happily, squeezing your hand tightly.

"Knew they'd love me," he mutters to you smugly, though not without humor.

"We've still got a whole weekend, babe," you remind him.

"It'll be a breeze. Who could resist my charm?" He winks.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Deck the Halls 🎻

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

A/N: This is the ultimate crossover, Bale!Bruce and Christmas, what more could you want??? I don't know quite how I feel about it mainly because I wrote most of it at 3 am lmao. Love-hate relationship, I guess. I hope you like it, anyway!

~Fi 🐝

Fi's Christmas Market ☃️

Warnings: implied angst?? Mention of his parents' death (very briefly), so much fluff omg, starring Alfred, Selina, and Lucius, Bruce is obsessed with you <3

Word count: 3.6k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"A Gingerbread house contest?"

Bruce gave you a skeptical look as you explained your idea for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. You were sitting at the meeting table in the office of Wayne Enterprises, brain storming ideas to make this years Gala a little more interesting. The events were always quite boring, the only thing keeping your spirits up was the bar most of the time.

You'd occasionally hang around on the side lines with Alfred, people-watching Gothams wealth. This year had to be different. You were sick and tired of the fad and dragging evenings.

This was the Yule Ball, after all. The Manor would be decked in lights and ornaments, the lovely tunes of Christmas would echo through the halls and you'd actually have some fun for once.

Bruce would try to make them more bearable for you, inviting you to dance as much as he could, even if it earned him detesting looks. He wasn't a huge fan either, but it was his duty. He'd rather be curled up with you, feeling your warmth against his skin while doing your favorite festive activities.

Selina was seated next to you, twirling a pen between her fingers, looking like she was about to collapse from boredom. Alfred sat next to Bruce with a notepad, writing down any ideas that had come forth. Lucius was there too, of course, hoping to aid in any technical things.

"Yeah, why not? We need to do something interesting this year, and a making Gingerbread houses is a pretty classic activity, no?" You responded, shrugging slightly.

"I'll definitely come to the Ball if you pull through with that." Selina smirked. Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey? I mean, most of the people that attend aren't really ones to get their hands dirty."

"If I may, Master Bruce, I think it's a great idea." Alfred interrupted politely, making you smile. "I think it's important for the rich of Gotham to not lose touch with the average life. And, it'd be quite sweet, wouldn't it?"

Alfred grinned, proud of the pun he just made. You let put a small giggle while Selina and Lucius were smiling slightly. Bruce, on the other hand, sighed as his brows pulled together.

"Alright, so if we do this, who's going to be the judge?" He asked, finally caving in to your request.

"I knew you'd come around," you smiled, watching as a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, "I think it's pretty obvious. Alfred should judge the houses."

"Me? Miss, I'm flattered but I don't think I have the expertise to-"

"Nonesense, Alfie," Selina cut him off, "We've all seen what you can do in the kitchen. If anyone's going to judge anything, it should be you."

"I agree. He does make a mean Victoria Sponge." Luscius agreed, his reasoning strong enough to make Alfred ponder for a moment.

"It doesn't just have to be houses. We can just give them creative freedom, let them go at it." You suggested, earning nods of approval.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," Selina mumbled, inhaling a sharp breath,"What if we make it a family event? Let them bring their kids. They'd probably be more open to the whole idea that way."

"Good thinking, Miss Kyle."

Bruce chewed on his lips as he thought. This would be very different than most years. His parents had started the tradition of a yearly Yule Ball, and he was afraid to make changes. But then he thought back to how his parents always tried to keep a somewhat humble life to be able to help the people in need more efficiently. Also, he could never say no to you.

"Okay. Why not. Even if they don't enjoy it, at least we'll have a good time." He smiled softly, looking at you. You almost beamed with excitment.

"We need a price too, right? What's the point of a contest without a price." Selina intervened. A silence fell over the room as everyone was thinking of what the price coule be.

"I say we give the winner an hour with Bruce's credit card and see how much damage they can do." You snorted, meaning it as a joke but when you weren't met with disagreement a surpirsed expression took over your face.

"Fine by me." Bruce shrugged. You forgot that he was a billionaire sometimes.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that but that just upped my determination by 100%." Selina grinned, making Bruce roll his eyes.

Bruce started talking to Lucius about the organizational aspects while you discreetly high fived Selina under the table. You'd talked about this idea before, your friend mostly finding it funny that the most esteemed people of Gotham would have to struggle with sprinkles and sticky icing.

She was quite impressed you pulled through, although that Bruce agreed wasn't a surprise to her. He'd do about anything you asked, which she sometimes used to her advantage.

"You truly have him wrapped around your finger, huh?" Selina mused, sending a sly smirk your way. You leaned back in your chair, inspecting the shimmering wedding band on your hand.

"Well, he wouldn't have put a ring on it if I hadn't." You grinned, making Selina shake her head with a chuckle.

"When do I need to be there to see Gotham get down and dirty?"

"December 25th, 8:00 pm, Wayne Manor."

"See ya then." The brunette gave you one last grin before taking her leave, claiming she had some 'business' to attend to. The so called 'business' would surely end up on the front page of the Gotham Gazette tomorrow morning. She was a great friend despite her passion for her illegal hobby. You couldn't really blame her, though. She'd grown up with nothing, and had to fight to survive.

You were the last one to complain if one of Gothams renowned business men mysteriously lost a couple of million dollars, which then appeared donated to a charity the next day. She'd never steal from you, or Bruce.

That's not to say she hadn't tried, but Selina did find that Martha's necklace suited you just a tad better than her. She had quite the soft spot for you, you weren't like the rest of the wealthy people she knew. You were honest, understanding and kind. Selina put a great amount of trust in you and she knew you'd never break it. If that meant having to put up with Bruce once in a while, so be it.

Alfred slipped into the seat next to you, Bruce and Luscius still discussing the guest list, when to send the invites, and to order all the necessary things for the contest.

"Truly a marvelous idea, Mrs. Wayne. He never dared to make any changes before you came along, you know?"

You turned you head towards him, a slight blush on your cheeks. Did you really have that much of an impact on him? To think that you were the one that made the Bruce Wayne soften and be more open to change made your heart swell with pride.

"Really? I thought he just never cared that much. For the Ball, I mean." You said, intrigued of what you were about to learn from Alfred about your beloved Husband.

"No, no, not at all. It was his favorite thing as a boy. What I'd do to see him happy like that again." The older man sighed, a melancholic tint in his eyes.

You smiled at the thought of Bruce being excited for Christmas. Just being a boy. You reckoned all of that changed after his parents' death. The warm and loving holiday was now left in gray dullness and the emptiness that he felt in his heart when he'd sit under the tree, all alone, yearning for a hug from his father and the gentle touch of his mothers lips on his cheek.

You were determined to fill that void, shower him in all your love until the gaping hole in his chest was fixed. Who knew if it was possible, but you were willing to give it your all.

"You will, I promise." You replied softly, gently placing your hand on his arm. Alfred gave you an appreciative smile, the sadness in his eyes wavering slightly. He softly padded your hand, resting it on it for a moment.

"You make him so happy already, though. I suppose I can't complain too much, can I?" He joked, making you laugh softly.

"I'm just loving him, that's all."

"That's all he needed." Alfred smiled softly.

Bruce glanced over to you, his heart pouding with pure love as he saw you laughing with Alfred. His two favorite people were getting along so well, it made unbridled joy bloom in his chest. You had changed his life, only for the better, you made him feel like a person again.

For years he'd been aimlessly wandering, hoping to find himself. He was lost in the dark, going through life pretending to be someone he wasn't. Or was he? He didn't know. But you were his guiding light, your gentle flicker lighting up his path. Your soft warmth getting him through many a cold night when the thoughts of self doubt and fear were gnawing at him.

All he needed was you pressed against his chest, your soft breathing like a sweet lullaby to him as you slept peacefully in his arms.

"Mister Wayne? Mister Wayne-" Lucius voice broke him out of his daydream, his back straightend and he cleared his throat, hoping no one caught him. You were still chatting on with Alfred, so you hadn't noticed, good. But when he looked over to Lucius, there was a knowing smirk on the man's face.

"Yes, Mr. Fox? Do you have the guest list ready?" Bruce questioned, fiddling with his fingers. He looked at Lucius expectantly, trying to hide his slight embarrassment.

"I don't blame you for staring. She fills the role of Mrs. Wayne perfectly." He answered, a gentle smile on his face. Bruce's shoulders immediately dropped, the tension fading away. He let out a small huff through his nose with a tight lipped smile.

"She does, doesn't she? It's like she was made for this. Made for me." He said quietly, the adoring look in his eyes as he admired you not being missed by the Inventor. Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Why don't you spend the day together? I'll take care of everything." He said reassuringly.

Bruce's eyes widened slightly and he turned to face Lucius.

"Lucius-"

"No, I won't hear it. Go on, spend the day with her." He gave him chuckle before patting his back and gathering his things.

"We're done here, Mrs. Wayne. You can have your husband back." Lucius laughed, packing up the last of his documents. You giggled, which immediately set Bruce's heart aflame.

"How gracious of you, Mr. Fox." You teased, getting out of your chair, Alfred by your side.

"Let's go, my love. We have Christmas movies to watch and a dog to cuddle." You chirped, dragging him out of his chair.

All he could do was smile as he let himself be taken by you and wonder how he got this damn lucky.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were now curled up on the couch, Bruce by your side, his arm draped around you. Your dog, Rudy, was snoozing on your lap as you scratched his head. The extra weight and warmth of your pup made it hard to keep your eyes open.

You were resting comfortably against Bruce, who traced gentle patterns on your arm as he was tentatively watching the TV. A smile tugged at your lips at Bruce's soft breaths, his strong chest falling and rising, lulling you to sleep. Your smile was cut off by a yawn. You lifted your hand from Rudy's head to cover your mouth, but he let out a whine, immediately nudging at your hand.

You chuckled groggily, trying to keep the sleep at bay so you could enjoy your moment with Bruce.

"'M sorry, buddy." You cooed, going back to petting your fur baby.

"You're tired, honey, I'll take over. Go to sleep." Bruce said softly in your ear, gently moving your hand and replacing it with his, making Rudy's tail wag slightly.

"S'your fault for being so warm and comfy and- you." You mumbled, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"I mean, I can stop." He teased, taking his arm away from around you. You caught his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip.

"Do it and see what happens." You slurred, eyes still closed. Even in your sleepy state, you were still your feisty little self.

"Alright, I'd like to keep my arm, please." He laughed, wrapping his arm around you again, just a little tighter this time. You nuzzled closer to his side, making Rudy begrudgingly adjust his position as well.

"Are you excited for the Yule Ball?" You asked quietly, looking up at your husband as best as you could with sleep tugging at your limbs.

"I am. For the first time in a while, actually. Thanks to you." He replied with a soft smile, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose. A lopsided smile crept onto your face, and you stretched your neck a bit to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"I love you." You mumbled before finally dozing off with a smile on your face.

"I love you too, honey." Bruce whispered gently, his lips pressed to the top of your head as he sunk into the couch.

He couldn't wait for the Ball. Something he loved so dearly that was tainted for him for many years was now coming back to him brighter than ever. All thanks to you, the lovely woman he chose to marry.

He'd marry you anew every single day if he could.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The day had finally come, and you were a nervous wreck. You really didn't want to mess this up. You had big shoes to fill; Martha Wayne was loved by Gotham, and now that you held the title of Mrs. Wayne, you didn't want to disappoint anyone.

Not the people of Gotham, not Martha, but most importantly, not him. You'd been running around like a headless chicken the entire day, double checking everything so nothing could go wrong.

The decorations were being set up, and you might've snapped at a poor worker for hanging one of the garlands a little too much to the right. You were stressed out of your mind, regretting ever suggesting this. Right now, you were checking if all the sheets of Gingerbread had arrived and if all the decorations were set up.

The gentle touch of Bruce's hand on your shoulder snapped you out of the frenzy in your head. He guided you to a quiet corner with a hand on the small of your back.

"Bruce, I have to get back to-"

He interrupted you with a firm kiss, cupping your cheeks.

"No. You're completely stressing yourself out, and we can't have that. I'll take care of everything. And now you need to take care of yourself. Take a bath, get ready, do whatever you need to do. Please, calm down. Everything will be perfect, I promise." He said it so softly you could feel all the anxiety and stress fall away.

You let out a deep breath as you leaned into his touch.

"Okay. Thank you." You sighed with a small smile.

"Good. You know very well that tiring you out is my job." He said lowly with a glint in his eyes. You huffed and playfully hit his arm.

"Go check on the sprinkles."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You did as he said, you took a bath to ease the tension in your muscles that had been building up throughout the day.

Now, you were sitting at your vanity, adding some final touches to your make-up. The guest would arrive soon, and you were glad the excitement took over the anxiety.

Bruce walked into your shared bedroom, fixing his cuffs.

"Are you almost ready?" He asked, not looking at you, still fiddling with his suit. You responded with a small 'Mhm!' and walked over to him, brushing some wrinkles out of your gown. When he did look at you, he visibly stopped in his tracks.

You were wearing a green velvet gown with lace accents, and he was completely enarmoured. When his gaze trailed upwards, he caught sight of his mothers necklace sitting around your neck. If you weren't already married, he'd would've proposed right now.

"You look stunning." He breathed out, hie pupils dilated. You chuckled softly, brushing your hand over the lapel of his jacket.

"Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself." You teased, earning a small smirk from him. His hands settled in your waist. Bruce hastily pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

The air was knocked from your lungs as his lips moved so perfectly against yours. You melted into his touch but caught yourself before you'd do something that'd make you two very late.

"Alright," you breathed heavily, steadying your hands on his chest, "that's enough, Lover boy. We have a Ball to host."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

All the guests had arrived and Bruce stepped into the center of the room, beginning his welcoming speech.

"Welcome, Everyone, I'm very glad you could join us here today for the annual Wayne Yule Ball. This is a tradition that my parents started that I wish to keep on as long as I can."

"This year will be a little different. Courtesy of my lovely wife, Mrs. Wayne," he looked in your direction and reached out his hand for you to take with a gentle smile, which you did without hesitation,"there will be a gingerbread house contest. I see you've brought your little ones and I hope that this will be a pleasant and memorable evening for us all." He ended his speech with a soft smile.

"Feel free to take as much times as you desire. Everything you need is provided, so all you need now is your imagination and creativity." You spoke up.

"Your delicious creations will be judged and the winner gets a nice reward. I hope you have a lovely time and a Merry Christmas!"

There was a small round of applause before old and young scrambled towards the tables decked with gingerbread, sprinkles and icing, to begin their gingerbread builds. You participated too, you'd teamed up with Selina, who had been nursing a flute of champagne until now.

Bruce and Lucius decided to indulge as well, already planning out their engineered masterpiece.

"Let's show 'em our claws." Selina smiled slyly. The lights made her dark blue dress embroidered with sparkling stars stand out. She looked very good this evening.

And Bruce might've paid for that dress... unknowingly.

"You got it, kitty." You replied with a smirk.

You were going the classic route. It would be a house, but more of a whimsical cottage type. Vines if icing were woven around the gingerbread walls, blooming into blankets of Ivy. The roof would be decked in sweet snow and delicate sugar flowers.

Selina couldn't help but add a tiny cat hidden at the back of the house. The atmosphere was delightful, laughter and chatter whisked through the room accompanied by the tunes of Christmas songs.

The decorations that adorned the walls and ceilings of the Manor dipped the room in a warm glow. You decided to glance over at Bruce and Lucius, to see what they'd come up with. When your gaze met their creation the piping bag of icing slipped from your hands and your jaw slacked.

"They built the goddamn batmobile." You said in disbelief, making your partner perk up.

She scoffed and went back to, now aggressively, pushing small sugar decorations into the icing.

"Show offs." Selina grumbled.

Bruce noticed your staring and shot you a toothy grin.

"A sweet ride, don't you think?"

You groaned at his terrible joke and shook your head.

"Unbelievable." You muttered, going back to perfecting your little house.

The chattered had died down as the judging began. Everyone watched in anticipation as Alfred made his way through room, inspecting each Gingerbread sculpture carefully. He made some small comments here and there, mainly on the ones the children had made.

In the end, a little girl and her sister won- they'd built, or at least tried to, a castle. Alfred thought it was very charming, and it reminded him of home, so naturally, he picked them as winners. They were overjoyed, jumping around excitedly, gushing it about it to their parents.

The girls earned a round of applause, and an arm slipped around your waist.

"A shame we didn't win." Bruce sighed playfully.

"I can't believe you built the batmobile. I expected a lot, but not that." You laughed, the lights reflecting off of you perfectly. Or at least that's what Bruce thought.

"But it was fun, don't you think? Thank you, again, for agreeing." You said softly. Bruce smiled at you, and gentle squeezed at your side.

"Anything for you. I can't wait to see what you come up with next year." He kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as you watched the joy and holiday cheer fill the room.

He truly couldn't wait for next year, to deck the halls with you by his side.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

It didn't turn out as Christmas-y as I wanted it to, but I hope you enjoyed reading it nonetheless! <3

[vampiric-tempt]

I NEED to know HCs on introducing them to your family for the holidays

Bring the drama.

*insert gif of that guy in The Office staring through the blinds, staring mincingly.*

↳˳❝ bringing the mk1 cast to meet the family₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

headcanons w/ liu kang, kung lao, raiden, johnny cage, kenshi, tomas vrbada, bi-han, kuai liang, reiko, & shang tsung

a/n: not even going to lie, this was very difficult for me to do for some reason. Maybe it's because of my writer's block, but I tried lovely anon, I hope you like it 🥺🫶🏼

Liu Kang ➤ He's not worried at all. He's really composed and knows exactly what to say and do to make sure he makes a great first impression. When you introduced Liu to your parents, they were stunned by how well-mannered he was especially with the tattoos that covered his arms. He gave them compliments, buttering them up and winning them over easily.

"My, he is so lovely! When will we being getting grandkids?" Your mother asked.

You awkwardly laughed hissing at her to be quiet and Liu Kang smiled lovingly as he watched you and your family bicker. He was definitely given the nod of approval from your father.

Kung Lao ➤ Kung Lao was very prideful and boasted about how much he would cherish and love you. To say your parents were a bit skeptical at first, overtime they realized how much you brightened up whenever Kung Lao would talk to you. He was also very respectful to your parents, treating them as if he would any elder, just like Madam Bo. However, I feel as if Kung Lao would have beef with y/n's brother if they have one.

"You're my sibling's boyfriend? I thought you'd be better?" Your brother would tease with a shit-eating grin.

And thus, the rivalry between your lover and brother began. Of course it wasn't too serious, they'd often challenge each other in a lot of things and Kung Lao rather liked the competition.

Raiden ➤ He definitely bought flowers and chocolates for them. His hand squeezing yours as you two arrived at the house. Raiden was definitely nervous, but he tried his best to ensure his first impression went well. Your mother thought he was the sweetest man ever as he helped you and your mother cook for dinner, but your father on the other hand was not impressed. He believed Raiden was too kind and wasn't enough to be beside a person like you. Although, it did not affect Raiden at all, he was determined to prove himself to your father that he was capable of protecting you. Eventually your father realized he could protect you (knowing he could fight), but he was baffled by how innocent Raiden looked.

Bi-Han ➤ Your parents were beyond stunned by how TOO well-mannered the man was. Bi-Han is very independent and proved that he could handle himself, but with his professionalism and blunt emotions, your parents came to worry that he lacked a bit of personality and even questioned how you managed to get someone so strict in nature. However, Bi-Han, deep down inside, did worry about his impression on your parents. They were YOUR parents after all. His lover's, his life. Even so, it would take time for your parents and Bi-Han to warm up to each other, both ends trying just for your sake.

Kuai Liang ➤ Um excuse me. They want grandkids already. He was a perfect spitting image of a great husband. Your mother and father were so pleased with his looks, personality, and ideologies. Your father was so proud. Both Kuai and your father giving each other a firm handshake of approval and admiration. Kuai Liang had no issues with your family at all, it was as if he was already a part of it and he never felt more happier.

When you two finally had some time alone, he hugged you from behind, kissing the nape of your neck. "They're lovely, your family." He says.

You lean back into him with a satisfied smile. "I know. . .they think you are too, my love."

Tomas Vrbada ➤ Tomas felt uneasy about the whole thing. He was nervous, especially due to his past and the vast difference of his childhood compared to yours. Your parents, however, were in awe by how pretty he was, his grey hair and pearlescent eyes were just unique to them. They even thought he was very sweet. Tomas did his very best to gain your parents approval and luckily, they thought he was good for you.

Tomas couldn't help, but smile, his arm pulling you into his side. "This is a lot different from what I expected." He'd say, kissing the top of your head. "But I'm glad to have finally met them."

Johnny Cage ➤ Firstly, there really was no need for an introduction. After all he was THE Johnny Cage. They were glad that you would be taken care of financially, however, there was skepticism when it came to his flamboyant and cocky attitude. They feared Johnny would break you heart and cheat on you like many terrible celebrities'.

But what you didn't expect was Johnny to become serious during dinner, raising his glass for a toast. "Mr and Mrs (L/n), trust me when I say I will love them and cherish them with everything I have. . .and every step of the way." Johnny told them with full sincerity. He then looked to you with a gaze filled with nothing but love

It was a bit shocking for you, seeing Johnny be serious for once. He just vowed he'd be there for you every step of the way and that made your parents feel better about him, small smiles reaching their features. As for you, you became even more enamored with the man.

Kenshi Takahashi ➤ Of course, they were happy to see how well-mannered Kenshi was. He demonstrated a great attitude, but when they found out about his yakuza past, their trust drastically dropped. They worried you'd get caught up in things that could potentially lead to your death. But after awhile, when Kenshi became an FBI agent, they were grateful for the change. Unfortunately, your parents still held concerns.

"Your lover having a job like that, how will he be around to take care of you?"

Kenshi was saddened upon hearing this but it did not stop him from loving you. He promised he would not abandon you, his arms wrapped tightly around you the night you told him.

Shang Tsung ➤ Shang was surprisingly very respectful and gained your parents trust fast. He would charm them over easily with his cunning use of words as he drank wine with your parents at the table. It was a wonderful night of just talking about each other's interests and goals, Shang obviously hiding his true words with fake but impressive cover-ups. And if y/n has little siblings, Shang would mess with them, pranking them randomly on purpose just for shits and giggles.

In the end your mother went to you, her hands grabbing yours. "He is a lovely man, I think he looks a bit fruity. But whatever makes you happy my sweet child."

"Mother?!"

Reiko ➤ An immediate dislike for them. Your mother was beyond worried, perceiving him as dangerous and thinking he'd be the type to harm you. But you had reassured her that he was nothing from the sort and was rather really passionate about his love for you. But Reiko and your father developed a pissing contest on who could provide more protection over you. And your father does not like Reiko's disregard of seniority as he only held loyalty to General Shao. However, in Reiko's point of view, he believed he was demonstrating strength by challenging your father. Additionally, Reiko would boast about how perfect you are for him and accidentally making it come off as if your were his trophy spouse, making your father and mother dislike him even more. Your father ESPECIALLY.

" I think that went well!" Reiko says with a proud grin.

You pat the side of his arm awkwardly. "Reiko, babe. . .let's talk."

╰┈➤ masterlist

[ikarakie]

what if they won? what if steve was trying to get the injured eddie out of the upside down as the gates were sewing themselves back up again? what if he knew that not everyone could get out safely, so he sends robin and nancy through. then he sends them eddie and hoists dustin after him and by the time everyone else is through, he knows there's no time.

dustin screams. he curses him out and sobs as the gate closes between them. steve promises it'll be fine, just take care of eddie, he'll be fine, but they both know he can't know that. robin looks so betrayed, so heartbroken, he can't bear to meet her eyes. just looks to the floor and tries to tune out their pleads until the gate's shut for good and he's all alone.

maybe he hadn't really thought it through. just figured his chances were better on this side than trying to squeeze through an actively closing gate and possibly being torn in half between worlds. decided that, out of all of them, he was the one who deserved to go back the least. they all had families that actually cared, that were waiting for them. they had each other, and soon enough they'd forget about him. it was all for the best.

but it still hurt. he still sat in the upside down version of eddie's trailer and wept. wished to tell dustin he loved him like a little brother, wished to kiss robin on her head one more time, wished to know if max was okay, wished that he and eddie could've become real, proper friends.

wished to know if there was something else eddie had wanted to tell him before they split off. if he'd misread things, especially after he'd pushed so hard for him and nancy to get back together. but none of that mattered anymore, because he was stuck here now.

after a few hours of crying and wallowing he gets his ass up and decides he's gonna at least try to survive for a while. he decides to stay in eddie's trailer. doesn't feel like he could make it to his own house, and doesn't even think he wants to. though he does trek to the nearest convenience store (and cries there, too, because he remembers bringing max and the kids here for snacks so many times). picks up whatever non-perishable food he can carry and then holes up.

he thinks of little will byers. cries some more, for him. so small, all alone in this place. how strong he was, how he was braver than steve ever would be, even at his young age. thinks he'd like to tell him that, if he ever could.

he's not sure how long passes. maybe days, maybe weeks. not like it's easy to tell how time goes down here. he would say he lost hope, but he never really had any hope to lose. he never intended for anyone to come and get him, made his peace with the fact he'd die here when he watched the ceiling gate close back up again. it's pathetic, how he mopes around and sits in a single spot for days on end. staring at the walls, not moving a muscle.

that's how she finds him. when he hears the door to the trailer jiggle, he just sort of thinks: ah, this is it. something's come for me. wonders if his parents will come to his funeral, if he even gets one.

it slams open. he doesn't even turn his head, doesn't want to know what it is that'll have him. just closes his eyes and waits, listens as it quietly comes towards him. crouches between his legs and- and takes his hands- what-

"steve." he opens his eyes and the floodgates start up again because it's el. her hair's buzzed again, which breaks his heart because he'd been the one to show her how to take care of it when she was growing it out. knew how proud she was of how long it'd gotten. but she's smiling so brightly, like she's won the lottery.

"el?" he asks, and he's shocked at how broken he sounds. "why are you here?"

"i have come to take you home." she says, rather matter of factly, leaving exactly zero room for argument. there's a fierce determination in her eyes, and she squeezes both of his hands.

but it's so dangerous here, he wants to say, you could've gotten hurt. why go through all of that for me?

and maybe she's been hiding mind reading powers from them, because she adds, "everyone misses you. i would have come sooner, but it took a while to get back to hawkins." then, she smiles. "i think they would have found a way even if i didn't, though."

it's like it all hits him at once. they've missed him. they've all been... looking for ways to come get him, this whole time. however long it's been. they didn't just forget about him like he wanted expected. the very idea suddenly seems so silly.

he takes a shaky breath. "well, in that case, let's not keep them waiting, yeah?" she smiles, big and happy, and nods.

part 2

[firewasabeast]

The Clarity

The final part of my Meeting the Parents series! You can start from the beginning here, and read the final part below or on ao3. Each part can be read separately, but it makes more sense if you read them all.

They had just made it out of The Gables and onto paved road when Buck couldn't stay silent any longer. He had been staring down at the photo album, listening to Tommy sniff and suck in breaths every now and then. And judging by the fact he was occasionally swerving slightly off the road, it was easy to assume his eyes were blurred with tears.

“Tommy,” he started, his voice soft yet assertive, “you need to pull over.”

Tommy sniffed again. His grip on the wheel tightened. “No, I'm okay.”

There was no way he could drive all the way home like this, and no way that Buck was going to let him. “Tommy,” he repeated. He looked over at him, noted the red-rimmed eyes and his trembling lip. Buck reached out and touched his shoulder, stroking his thumb back and forth over the muscle. “Babe, pull over.”

Buck wasn't sure if it was the touch, or the pet name, but the dam Tommy had been building up burst. He pulled over to the side of the road just as the tears started to fall.

He leaned forward, shoulders shaking. He rested his hands and head against the steering wheel.

The photo album was quickly dropped to the floorboard. Buck unbuckled and raised the center console so he could scoot into the middle seat and wrap himself around Tommy. It was an awkward angle, but one arm wrapped around his waist, while the other rubbed up and down his back. He laid his head against Tommy's shoulder and held him.

They were like that for awhile. Silent except for the occasional gasp of breath from Tommy. Buck didn't try to stop him, didn't try to silence his cries. He just maintained his hold, and wished more than anything he could go back to the Kinard's place and knock Frank out.

It took a few minutes for Tommy's breathing to return to normal. Buck moved away just enough for him to sit up, but kept a hand on his back.

“I don't know why I'm crying,” Tommy admitted, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I'm not even sad, I'm angry.”

“That's understandable. He- He's an easy man to get angry at.”

“I don't even think it's him I'm angry at. It's me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “You? Why would you be mad at yourself?”

Another wipe of the eyes and Tommy turned to Buck, who looked all kinds of concerned. “I should have known better, Evan,” he said. “I led you in there blind, and I... I should have known better.”

“You told me they were unpredictable.” Buck shrugged. “You weren't wrong.”

“The last few times I've gone, Dad's been mostly silent. Even when mom threw that frying pan at his head, it wasn't because of anything he said, it was because he kept trying to stumble toward her and tickle her. I thought,” he let out a humorless laugh, “I thought if I brought you with me, showed them how good we are together, they'd be happy for me. For us.”

There were so many things Buck wanted to say, but none of them sounded right. None of them would fix anything.

Instead of I'm sorry or you know I love you, right the thing that came out of Buck's mouth was, “Let's get a motel.”

Tommy blinked once, twice, three times at him. “What?”

“Let's get a motel,” he repeated. “We don't have work tomorrow. Let's be spontaneous, drive to the nearest motel, do some sightseeing in the morning.”

“There's not really much to see here.”

“Oh, I'm sure there is. All the crappy motels have those stands with the brochures. We'll close our eyes and pick something.” Buck leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of Tommy's mouth before moving back to his seat. “You want me to drive?”

Tommy, still trying to figure out what was happening, stared out the windshield at the vast amount of nothingness around them. “We don't have any stuff.”

“Please, we have emergency bags in both cars. Clothes, toiletries, first aid kits, whatever we need is back there.”

That was true. Seeing as they were both a bit disaster prone, they had started leaving a duffel for each of them in both vehicles. Whether it was a natural disaster, or manmade, they'd be prepared.

Still, Tommy had questions. “Why are we doing this?”

Buck reached out, wrapped his hand around Tommy's wrist, giving him a pleading look. “Does sitting at home for the rest of the afternoon sound intriguing to you? It'll be fun, Tommy. We'll be like cowboys on the run.”

*****

Cowboys on the run turned into a thirty minute drive toward an overpriced stay at a lackluster motel just off the highway named Frederico's Sleep n' More. “I don't even wanna know what the more stands for,” Tommy mumbled when they walked into the room.

Evan had intended to use the restroom and return to Tommy all perky and ready for whatever adventure awaited them in whatever town they were in now. But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom he was met with Tommy lying on top of the bed, feet dangling off the edge, not asleep but eyes closed. He looked relaxed, which was a relief, but Buck couldn't help the sadness that overcame him at the sight. This man who drove three hours just to help his parents out for the day being treated like garbage. Almost worse actually, because garbage once served a purpose, and it seemed to them that Tommy never did.

Buck walked to the bed, toeing off his shoes before gently letting his body dip beside Tommy.

Tommy, eyes still closed, laid out his arm. A silent ask for Buck to curl up beside him.

He never had to be asked twice.

Once Buck was tucked into Tommy's side, head resting on his chest, Tommy folded his arm over him. The soft scratches up and down his back had Buck closing his own eyes, humming out a sigh of contentment.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Buck asked. He rested a hand over Tommy's pec, and Tommy brought his free one up to wrap around it.

“Always.”

“Did- When you got hurt, did your mom or dad ever get you things? Like, to try and make you feel better?”

Tommy didn't even have to think about it. “No. My mom would get me a couple things for my birthday and Christmas, usually clothes. And the only thing I remember my dad ever buying me was a football when I was like ten, I think. He got pissed when I accidentally broke our window on a throw, so I didn't mess with it much after that. I did have to do a lot of odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn money for the new window though.”

“Did he...” Buck hesitated, and Tommy squeezed his hand.

“You can ask anything,” Tommy assured him.

“Your mom said he'd hit you sometimes, like when you'd get into trouble. Did he then?”

Tommy stiffened for a moment, and Buck almost regretted asking. “Yeah, he did. The belt was his favorite form of discipline.”

Buck sat up on his elbow so he could look at Tommy. “Even though it was an accident?” He couldn't imagine getting hit as a child, or hitting a child, regardless of whether the act was intentional or incidental.

Tommy squinted his eyes open just enough to see Evan. “Dad always said the best way to never make the same mistake twice was to remember the pain from the first time.”

Buck didn't even know what to say. No matter how distant and neglectful his parents might have been, he was never afraid of them. Never had to worry about being hit. He laid back on the bed, tugging Tommy over to him. They settled into their new positions, Buck with his arms wrapped around Tommy, Tommy with his head on Buck's chest and an arm draped over his waist.

“Do you remember that double wide across the street?” Tommy asked.

“Mhm.”

“Mrs. Thompson lived there when I was growing up. She had three kids, all girls and they were a few years older than me, but she liked me. She'd let me come over and do my homework at her dining room table. Her yard had grass and she'd let me play out back whenever I wanted. And when my dad would get really pissed at me, she'd let me hide out at her place until I saw the light turn off in my parents bedroom. That's how I'd know they were asleep, and I'd sneak back in my own bedroom window.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“No. I'm sure they knew, but they never bothered to act like they cared. My dad did come to Mrs. Thompson's house a couple times looking for me, but she'd always say she hadn't seen me. She'd also tell him to get off her property because his breath was gonna stink up her whole house." Tommy snorted at the memory.

“She sounds like a good woman.”

“Mhm,” Tommy hummed, “she was. I used to pretend I was her kid. I'd say my name was Tommy Thompson. Thought it sounded better than Kinard. I swore that one day I'd grow up and have a home just like hers. Her girls were always happy, they all laughed together. Her husband worked a lot, but he was nice too. He played guitar and he'd let me sit with his girls and listen while Mrs. Thompson cooked dinner. Their house always smelled so good and clean. I- I wanted that so bad.”

“What happened to them?”

“Mr. Thompson died from a heart attack when I was about thirteen. That was rough, but Mrs. Thompson was so strong through all of it. She died while I was in Iraq; I didn't find out until after I got home. I was devastated. I'm not sure about their daughters.”

“They sounded like wonderful people,” Buck said. “I would have loved to meet them.”

“They would have loved you,” Tommy replied. He was sure of it too. “Anyone with half a brain would love you.”

Buck laughed at that, beginning to run his fingers through Tommy's hair.

The conversation died down there. Tommy never stayed awake very long when his head was getting rubbed. A couple of minutes and he was out like a light.

Buck couldn't sleep though. His heart still ached for Tommy, both present and past.

He was once a boy in desperate need of love. A mom to hug him, a dad to teach him. He didn't get either of those things.

He was a burden. That's all. A burden that neither parent ever really wanted in the first place. A mouth they had to feed, a body they had to clothe, a soul they had to provide for.

He was once a teenager, quiet and reserved. Too smart for his own good. Never congratulated for his accomplishments, never told he'd done a good job. Never guided down a path, but forced in one direction when he didn't make the right choices at seventeen years old.

He was once man who had resigned himself to never having love. Cut himself off to happiness and let anger and hatred bubble up inside of him. Pushed people away because the people he always cared about either didn't care about him or they left him somehow, even if they didn't mean to.

And now he was a man that, despite all of that, held endless love in his own heart. Who Jee called the “best hug giver”, much to Buck's dismay. Who would do anything for his friends, risking his own life without a second thought. Who calmed children at the scene of a four alarm fire when they didn't know if their mom had made it, and stayed with them until they'd all been reunited. Who stayed up all night when Buck was sick with the flu because the only thing that helped his nausea was for his back to be rubbed.

And everything started to make sense. It was clear why Tommy clung to the Buckley's the way he did. Why he was always ready and willing to hop on a helicopter to take Phillip to a game, or make sure Margaret was in town on one specific weekend to go to Carrizo Plain and look at the wildflowers. It made sense that he happily and quickly accepted that the Buckley's were trying, were actually making an effort to be there for their children now, even if was a bit late.

Late was better than never, and Buck had a feeling Tommy's own parents would never be making the effort that his own were.

It didn't make Buck magically forget his own turbulent past with his mom and dad. He'd still feel that twinge of jealousy when they'd laugh a little harder at Tommy's jokes, or listen to his stories a bit more intently. He'd still get a little annoyed at Tommy when he didn't notice.

But he did understand it now, which had been half the battle to begin with.

Carefully, as not to wake Tommy, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to do some research.

*****

Nearly two hours passed before Tommy started to stir. He lifted his head, glaring around the room in confusion until he remembered where he was at. He shifted so he could look at Buck, who was smiling at him softly. Buck loved how Tommy looked when he first woke up. His hair a curly mess, a little drool on his lips, eyelashes fluttering with every blink. And that rough voice when he'd first speak.

“Hi.”

Yeah. Just like that.

“Hi yourself. Get some good rest?”

Tommy nodded, pushing himself off of Buck but remaining by his side. “Mhm.” He rubbed his eyes, and did a little yawn as he stretched. “D'you sleep?”

“No. Had too much fun watching you.”

Buck was pleased by the smile that washed over Tommy's face. “M'hungry,” he said, rubbing a hand over his stomach.

Buck laughed. “Go freshen up and we'll find someplace for dinner.”

Tommy leaned over, a bringing his fingers just under Buck's chin, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned cheerfully as they parted. “What was that for?”

“Just love you.”

“I love you too.”

With one final kiss, Tommy got up and headed for the bathroom.

Buck took a screenshot of the website he had up on his phone. A reminder for himself to talk to Tommy about it during dinner. During his research, he'd found they were having a tulip festival outside of Los Angeles in a few weeks, and Buck was sure his mom would like to go.

[gemini-sensei]

Poly!Daniel and Amanda LaRusso>>>>>EVERYTHING ELSE!

I beg and plead for them to have a pretty pink bimbo sugar baby who's a little older than Sam (legal age ofc). Like, they treat her so well and would drop everything for her (after their kids yk?). Anyway, maybe just like reader bonding with the kids or helps Sam/Anthony wit love problems and it's like super fluffy? ILYYYYYY💋

Omg I've missed writing poly Daniel and Amanda but I haven't had any ideas for them 😭😭😭 and I LOVE this 💗

When Sam meets Reader for the first time, she's a little iffy about her. If she's 16, Reader is 22-23. She's asking herself how her parents could have a girlfriend just a few years older than herself. However, when she sits with Teader and Anthony, just hanging out at home, she warms up to her because she's bubbly and sweet. She might have been worried about whether or not she was just with her parents for money until she sees her dad walk in and give Reader a credit card to go spend some time at the mall with Sam, telling them that they can get whatever they want.

Sam loves shopping with Reader because she lets her buys a few things her parents wouldn't let her get otherwise. Nothing too scandalous or anything like that, but maybe a blouse with an open back or some underwear that makes her feel nice just for herself. Reader picks out cute outfits for her that she thinks Sam will look amazing in. And then when Sam is in the fitting room, Reader is picking out lingere.. she's a bimbo but she won't pick out those sorts of things in front of Sam knowing damn well she's gonna wear it tonight with Danny and Mandy.

When Reader and Sam are driving down the road and get a flat tire, she calls Daniel because neither of them know how to change it. They're both princesses who haven't had to do much for themselves, especially changing a flat tire on the side of the road. Daniel leaves work to go change the tire himself. It would be easy for him to get one of his auto guys out there, but no no no not when it comes to Reader and Sam. Now way.

When Anthony has a little crush, Reader knows. She sits with him and brings it up almost immediately, making him flustered. He tries to avoid the conversation by changing the subject but Reader doesn't let him. She gives him tips and advice on how to ask out his crush. He sits quietly trying to a t like he doesn't need this information when really he's all ears. It's really sweet.

However, Sam and Anthony - mostly Anthony- are the kind of kids that don't wanna see their parents kiss or love on their young gf/sugar baby lol. Anthony obviously gags with disgust and tells them to at least wait until he and Sam left for school.

(I've only seen clips of Ginny and Georgia on tiktok so don't ask me about it) But you know that scene in G&G where Ginny's friends see Georgia from afar and think she's hot? That happens to Sam when Reader comes to pick her up from school for a girls' day. Sam is a little embarrassed when she hears her friends say something about how hot her parents' pink-clad girlfriend is as she's waving at them. Hawk and Moon are probably the friends making comments about Reader tbh. Sam rolls her eyes and tells them they'd only have a chance if they were 20 years older before walking over to Reader to go shopping for shoes.