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beskarandblasters · 4 months

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Bluffing Season

Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Late October

Beep Beep Beep

Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida.

You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.

He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”

Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?

“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.

He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor.

Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him.

But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!

You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“Hey!”

Not again.

“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster.

“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon.

…Is he fucking for real?

You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit.

“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”

He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.

“I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.

The fucking nerve of that man.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door.

The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case.

“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”

“Sure! Which one would you like?”

“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”

“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”

You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious.

“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle.

“Black is fine.”

You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks.

You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?

You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out.

“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”

“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter.

The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan.

“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!”

She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you.

“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving.

Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst.

Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated.

…Or so you thought.

Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year.

You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally.

Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?

You know what, why not?

You respond with:

Oooh, what time and where?

You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You check your phone and Ally says;

7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there.

She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling.

You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?

Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…

You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face.

“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder.

Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”

Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys?

“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile.

“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair.

“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”

“Uh, she’s not coming.”

“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out.

“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy.

He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter.

“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.

“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”

He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife.

“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”

“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly.

You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.

“You want me to leave the fish?”

“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.

“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design.

“That better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”

“I get that-”

“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter.

“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start.

“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders.

You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.

“By all means,” Frankie says.

“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”

“Hard cider?”

“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator.

You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick?

You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly.

“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says.

“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced.

Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally.

“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember.

Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty.

“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him.

Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head.

“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?

You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets.

And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.

You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?

“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond.

Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?

But also… why not?

You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!”

You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost.

“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs.

Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”

The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”

You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?

“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny.

“Down the hall on your right,” he says.

You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings?

You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny.

You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.

“Happy birthday by the way,” you say.

He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?

You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics:

1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks.

2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up.

3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him.

4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole.

And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him.

Mid-December

Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time.

The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever.

From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all.

But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too.

Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving.

“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone.

“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone.

“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”

“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”

“Uhh-”

“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”

“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”

As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?

“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway…

“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Okay…”

“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”

“Spit it out.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”

Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

“But… why?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”

“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you just go home alone?”

“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s in it for me?” you sigh.

“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”

“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”

“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once.

“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself.

He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.

“Wait!”

He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.

“How long are we there?”

“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”

It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?

“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”

“Savannah, Georgia.”

Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”

“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon.

You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.

“What happened with your neighbor?”

“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”

“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frankie.”

“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”

Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”

“Alright. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?

It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you.

“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind.

It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.

You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”

“Okay…” you say awkwardly.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again.

“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”

You were dreading this conversation.

“Yeah…”

“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Think you can do that?”

“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”

“Right…”

You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go.

“I guess we have to get to know each other.”

“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”

“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”

“Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”

“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”

“I joined right after I got out of high school.”

“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”

“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”

“Gotcha. What do you do now?”

“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“Our friend passed.”

“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”

“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”

“I pretended I was sick.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t even know my full name.”

The cake that you made.

“Yeah…”

“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”

“About that.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where she got that cake from?”

“No.”

“She came to my store.”

“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”

“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”

“I know…” he sighs.

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”

“You did?”

“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle.

“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat.

“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask.

“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”

“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”

“That about sums me up I guess.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”

“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”

“And also not cutting your lawn.”

“Listen-”

“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease.

“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”

“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically.

“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”

“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”

He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet.

It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you.

You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”

“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn.

“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”

“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”

You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.

“I noticed,” you say coldly.

Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!

“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”

“You and your friends are just… loud.”

“Oh.”

“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”

“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him.

“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not.

“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”

“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”

“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases.

“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”

“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”

“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm.

“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”

“I think so, too.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead.

“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say.

“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot.

“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door.

“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side.

He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom.

“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods.

You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance.

You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up.

“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag.

You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got.

“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”

“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”

“I think I’m all set,” you nod.

You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.

“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag.

“Oh god, why?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”

“Okay.”

“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It just tracks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”

“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this.

“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”

“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”

“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”

You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to.

“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face.

“I think so?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”

“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”

“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”

“That sounds tough.”

“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.”

“I understand,” Frankie says softly.

“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”

“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”

“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”

“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug.

“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head.

“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”

“You know I like the hat, Ma.”

She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met.

“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands.

“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile.

“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house.

It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples.

“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her.

“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”

“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”

“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth.

“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”

“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet.

“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”

“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”

“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”

Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Tired?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”

“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says.

“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”

“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”

“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs.

“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs.

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie.

Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left.

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him.

“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost.

“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture.

“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment.

“Definitely my dad,” he says.

You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you yawn.

“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly.

“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh, right. Just making sure.”

He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other.

“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes.

“…I won’t while we’re home.”

“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes.

“Goodnight?” he says.

“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle.

…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?

“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be cold.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”

“No, do not do that.”

“Or there’s the other option.”

“Uh huh…”

“I could hold you.”

“…You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…Fine.”

You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass.

…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?

Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence.

Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?

Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side.

“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily.

“That was nice of her.”

“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”

“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge.

“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”

“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…

“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits.

“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”

“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off.

A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be.

“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”

“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza.

“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”

“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie.

“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says.

“I could tell,” you snicker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.

“What about you, dear?” his mom asks.

“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”

“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”

“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”

“Whatever,” Frankie sighs.

“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink.

You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid.

“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head.

“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare.

“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”

“No,” Frankie says quickly.

“Oh yes,” you laugh.

“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh.

Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.

“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs.

“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her.

“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says.

As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”

“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell.

“You want to shower?”

Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”

“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet.

“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet.

“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…

What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?

You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs.

A knock on the door brings you back to reality.

“Can I come in?” Frankie asks.

“Uhh-”

“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”

“I guess.”

He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself.

But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute?

You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…

That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable.

You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent.

The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy.

You roll over and ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”

“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”

“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”

“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”

“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”

He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.

You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove.

“Good morning you two,” she smiles.

“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”

“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”

“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”

“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you.

To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”

As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite.

“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter.

“Yeah?”

“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”

“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”

“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?”

“Nah.”

That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida.

Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around five or so.”

It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower.

“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind.

“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”

“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family.

Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara.

He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink.

“You look…”

“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide.

“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her.

“Francisco’s in the shower?”

“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table.

“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.

“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches.

“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says.

“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.

“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”

Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again.

“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags.

Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”

You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?

“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs.

“Hi.”

“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”

“I hope so,” you say.

You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly.

You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts.

He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!”

You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”

“She’s the oldest?”

He nods. It makes sense.

She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand.

“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases.

“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”

You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged.

Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name.

“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”

This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”

“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say.

But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations.

“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie.

“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”

“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”

Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive.

And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived.

Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.

You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course.

Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”

“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.

“Go ahead,” Rosa says.

“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”

Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”

The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect.

“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching.

“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair.

He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand.

“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”

The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two.

With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”

He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.

“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”

He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story.

“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”

“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.

“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”

“I get it,” you say softly.

“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”

He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity.

“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath.

You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty.

“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”

“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”

“Understandable.”

“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”

“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”

That actually gets him to laugh.

“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”

You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie.

“I know that was a lot…” he says.

“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him.

“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”

“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep.

You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful.

And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight…

Whatever, worry about that later.

“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”

“Already took care of it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?”

“Right,” you say, lying on your back.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” you respond.

“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”

You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase.

“What did I get her?”

“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it.

“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”

“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs.

You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree.

You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away.

“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was.

Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”

The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you.

Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table.

The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars.

Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.

“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

That earned him a smack on the arm.

Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.

“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk,” he says.

You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”

“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”

“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.

He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.

“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”

“Look at the back,” he says softly.

You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you.

He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”

“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.

And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night.

“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.

“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”

“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”

“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”

You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time.

Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more.

“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah, I-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”

“How long?”

“Soon after you moved in next door.”

“Really? I thought you hated me.”

“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.

“Even when you were with Heather?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”

“...Maybe,”

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.

“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.

“Yeah?”

“What about like… your mom?”

“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before.

He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already.

“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.

Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so.

Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you.

“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.

“Oh??”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”

“Uhh-”

“Your bathroom window faces mine.”

“...It does?”

“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”

“Oh yeah? And then what?”

He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”

Your whole body shudders.

“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.

“Are you begging, cariño?”

“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.

“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.

“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”

It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.

“Y-yes…” you confess.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips.

“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.

“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”

“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.

You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.

“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.

“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.

You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.

New Year’s Eve

You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.

You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.

“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back.

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction

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mother-above · 2 months

Text

I'm Not The One For You

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been stressed at work and decided to hit the bars with his brothers. He gets so drunk that he may have forgotten what his love looks like

Warnings: fluffy with some spicy implications

WC: 1.1k

*masterlist*

a/n: I've been writing some heavy things and needed a break. I hope yall enjoy this short fluffy piece! xx

The sound of heels clicking on cobblestone joined the myriad of sounds along the Sidra. The city was lively, and all types of music and chatter filled the crisp air in Velaris. As you got closer, the bass at Rita's was getting louder. You, Morrigan, Amren, and the Archeron sisters were glowing from the spa's lavender-scented oil and dressed to the nines. After an afternoon of well-deserved pampering and last-minute shopping, it was time to meet with the boys.

You were wearing a dark blue mini dress, the material sparkled and reflected light with every movement of your body. The black strappy heels matched with your manicure and pedicure.

You were vibrant and ready for the night out with your mate and friends. Work had been tiring, especially when it was your job to organize military exercises with other Courts armies.

Excited to step into the bar, you grinned as the music vibrated all around you. Scanning the dance floor, your grin spreads when you see your blue-siphoned mate absolutely smashed and tearing it up on the dance floor with his brothers and other partygoers. Happy to see him relaxed, you go over to the bar to order yourself a drink before joining Azriel.

Despite being known as the “quiet one,” Azriel loved to dance and party occasionally. Work had been stressful lately, so he let loose and drank to his heart's content. Females and males were coming up to him all night asking to dance with him, but he refused, and if they got insistent, he’d give them the “sorry, you’re lovely but I’m married” speech. Everyone was always respectful and backed away, after all, he was the Shadowsinger.

It wasn’t even late but admittedly, Azriel drank too much, and his wild erratic dancing proved the point. His brothers and family teased him from afar, even Elain was poking fun at the drunken shadowsinger. In the corner of his eye, a female in a short blue sparkly dress approached him. Smelling like lavender, the female slid an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his.

You were about to bop to the beat of the music when Azriel stopped dancing and ripped himself away from you. The movement was so sudden, that the cocktail in your hand splashed droplets on the floor.

“Az? What’s wrong?” you asked wide-eyed.

“S-sorry, I’m taken. I’m just waiting for my wife,” he slurred as he deliberately turned away from you and started dancing again.

Startled, you looked at Cas, Rhys, and the girls and you burst out laughing. You pointed an accusatory finger toward the Illyrians.

“He doesn’t even recognize me! I can’t believe he’s shit-faced this early!” you weren’t mad at the boys, just highly amused.

Tapping Azriel on the shoulder, he turned, and you gave him your most dazzling smile. “I haven’t seen you all day and this is how you greet me? I’ve been wanting to dance with you, love.”

His eyes run down your body appreciatively, his gaze slowing around your thighs, he’s always loved your thighs. You gave him an encouraging nod, but he was still clueless.

Bringing up his left hand, he shows you the golden band around his ring finger. “I told you I’m married, see? She also happens to be my mate.”

You stifled a giggle and stepped closer to him. Surely, he would recognize your scent, right? You grabbed his hand and let your fingers trace the scars, he loved it when you did that.

In complete shock, he snatched his hand away after a few seconds.

“Look, you’re beautiful but I’m not the one for you. I would walk away before my mate gets here. She’s Night Court’s best warrior and I’m afraid she won’t let you get away with you bothering me so much,” said Azriel, his lips pressed into a line.

You started laughing, your handsome mate was so loyal. You can’t believe he would have sic’d you to flirty females. His family, who were listening to the whole thing, was snickering as well. Rhysand pinched his nose highly regretting pre-gaming at the townhouse, at the time it was a great idea.

Azriel squinted at his family when he realized they were laughing at him. “What?!”

Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Brother, you’re so drunk that you don’t even recognize your own mate!”

Azriel’s eyes furrowed as he looked at your beautiful twinkling face, your lips forming into a smirk. Azriel tugged on the bond three times, and after a short beat, you tugged the bond four times. It was something the two of you did, the first person tugged three times and the four tugs meant that the second person loved them more. Clarity burst through his intoxication and when he realized, he tipped his head back in laughter.

Moving closer to you, he pressed his lips onto your temple and murmured an apology against your skin, this was the last time he was going to drink this much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a hand on your waist and the other on your bum. You turned to place a kiss on his cheek and then his lips.

He squeezed your body, and you pressed your lips on him again. “Why do you smell like lavender? No wonder I didn’t recognize you, I hate lavender!”

“That’s the oil they used on our massage today,” you said. A slower song was playing so you swayed with Azriel. He held you tight as you gazed into his eyes, melting at the sight of the brown and greens melting together.

After a few more hours of partying, it was time for you and Azriel to go home. Smelling of sweat, booze, and lavender oil, the both of you opted to bathe together.

You relaxed and laid on Azriel's chest as he took the loofah and scrubbed your skin. He said he wanted you to smell like yourself again and insisted that the bath water was to be changed for the two of you to properly soak. Now that the suds smelled of your favorite soap, he pulled you against him and he closed his eyes.

“Az?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy to know that even when you’re shit-faced, you won’t ever cheat on me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, his hand splayed across your stomach and held you tighter. “Why would I do that when I’ve got the most perfect person in the world in my arms?”

You blushed; he always knew how to make you feel loved. Turning around to straddle him, you bent down to capture his lips. Who were you to question his logic?

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction

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eufezco · 1 year

Text

joel miller x fem!reader

c/w - fingering, begging

sarah was in her room with a friend. they both left you alone in the living room a while ago. even though they invited you to go with them, you knew that you'd be a bother to the two girls. you could hear the giggles coming out of her room from there. you were curled up on the couch, your favorite show playing on the tv, and wrapped in a blanket that had joel's scent.

you got up once you hear the keys turn in the door.

"oh my god, hi. i haven't made you any dinner yet–"

"it's fine, i'm not hungry."

"i thought you said you were going to be late tonight-"

"yeah, but we've finished earlier."

joel had been thinking about you the whole day. you arrived a few minutes before he had to leave so the only thing he had time to give you was a quick kiss hiding in the bathroom. one of his arms was wrapped around your waist to help him pull you closer and both of you hoped that tommy could distract sarah for at least a couple of minutes more so that you could enjoy those few seconds you had. but the girl bursted into the bathroom. you quickly leaned into the mirror, pretending you were checking if there was something between your teeth and joel ran his fingers through his hair, pretending to be fixing it.

"you'll have to tell her one day." tommy reminded joel once he got into the car.

"shut up." as if he didn't know.

joel squeezed both of your cheeks and went in for a kiss. you threw your head back before your lips could even brush against each other. he arched his eyebrows at you and you arched yours at him. seconds after that, sarah appeared behind you. he used to be more careful when you both started this, making sure that sarah wasn't around before spanking your ass, checking several times that she was in her room before helping you to jump on the kitchen counter and encircle your legs around his body, even a little kiss on your cheek had him checking that sarah was still busy... but now he'd grown more confident, even though you were caught by tommy, joel truly believed that you were doing a great job of hiding it from sarah.

his daughter ran into his arms but his eyes were still on you. you hit him where it hurt the most. his ego. and he wasn't going to let this go just like that.

sarah accompanied you two to the kitchen, telling her dad about her day and asking about his. you insisted on preparing dinner for him but joel assured you that he wasn't hungry and that a glass of water would do the work. sarah left for her room to call her friend so she could say hi to joel before they both asked if she could stay over. you stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach a glass for him when he approached from behind. his chest pressed against your back as he grabbed the glass himself, his mouth was really close to your ear, your ass against his crotch and his free hand held your hips in place.

"next time you're gonna have to beg for it." he murmured in your ear. his words sent shivers down your spine. before the two girls got to the kitchen, joel was already away from you, drinking peacefully his glass of water like nothing happened.

you sat next to him on the couch, your legs on his lap as you asked how his day went and he asked you about you and sarah did. joel's hand was on one of your thighs, softly drawing patterns on the fabric of your jeans. his voice was deep as he complained about this new client, showing how tired and long his day had been. your foot started to massage his crotch, and joel had to fix his posture on the couch, less tense and leaving you more access to that area for what your dirty mind was planning.

he kept talking about his day, needing to take small breaks to gasp or to bite his lip down holding back his moans. you crawled your way up to his lap, his hands quickly finding your hips and yours on the back of his head, running them through his hair there.

"and i've been thinking about you all day."

"is that so?" you teased him. you know he wanted to hear that you've been thinking about him as well.

"oh, yeah." his hands moved to unbutton your jeans. he took his time unzipping them, wondering what panties you were wearing and how ruined they should be by now. joel sneaked his hand inside your jeans, making you take a deep breath at the sudden contact of his rough hand against your pussy through the thin and drenched fabric of your underwear. he smirked proud of that reaction. you might not have said what he wanted to hear but your body couldn't hide it. his fingers skilfully moved your panties aside, enough for his middle finger to go inside you and his thumb to press your clit.

"all day thinking about you..." he kept talking. you inevitably curled your fingers and tugged his hair at the root. he added another finger and began to pump them in and out of you at a slow pace while his thumb drew circles on your clit.

"...and when i get home..." your mouth opened in a perfect "o" form as you tried to keep your moans as quiet as you could. you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your lips sucked on the sensitive skin, creating a beautiful red mark under them. your wet kisses moved to his ear where you let out a few moans with his name, knowing how that turned him on. your breath against his ear spiked goosebumps on his skin and his erection grew painfully inside his pants, he had to focus to not stop moving his fingers. meanwhile, your lips kissed from his jaw and his cheek to the corner of his lips, and when you finally were gonna kiss his mouth, joel threw his head back all of a sudden, just like you did when he got home.

"... you don't even want to kiss me." your lips tried to find his again but joel kept rejecting your kisses. you whined and shook your head.

"it wasn't- it wasn't like that." your hands moved to press down his abdomen. your eyes closed shut after feeling his fingers go harder in you. "she was gonna see us, joel, it wasn't like that, i promise..." you breathed out. your hips rolled against his hand, seeking even more friction on your clit if possible.

"well, it seemed like it." joel answered and you shook your head at his words again. you rested your forehead against his, his calm breathing mixing with your agitated one. "you know what you gotta do, baby. now, beg-"

"please, joel- please, i need you, please." you cried out before he could finish his sentence.

joel clicked his tongue. "oh, come on. you know you can do better than that."

you were desperate. you needed his lips on yours, you needed his tongue in your mouth, you needed joel biting your lip, you needed your moans to die in his mouth. your walls clenched around his fingers, that familiar knot and warm sensation forming in your lower abdomen.

"fuck- baby, please. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry but please, i need you, joel." and when his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you and your legs involuntarily closed around his hand, his lips collided with yours, quieting your moans as you came and finally giving you what you so badly desired.

you rested your forehead on his shoulder, exhausted and trying to catch your breath. you appreciated his soothing words on your ear as you recovered as well as his free hand caressing your hair.

"if i have to beg again for a kiss, we're done, joel miller."

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thestoryofusstan · 1 month

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request

#harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry #harry styles #boss!harry styles x reader #boss!harry styles #ceorry #ceo!harry styles #ceo!harry styles x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign

ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting, love you!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that?

It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you.

You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled.

You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head.

James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. “You look really lovely.”

You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.”

You start to protest, but he anticipates you.

“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.”

He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos.

“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.”

He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.”

Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.”

“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?”

You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.”

“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.”

He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it.

“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.”

You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her.

“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.”

“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?”

“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.”

“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.”

The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get.

“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?”

He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?”

“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?”

For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?”

You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively.

His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second.

“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?”

You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls.

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killxz · 2 months

Text

Valentine's Day 💌

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

a/n: happy valentine's day! i rushed to get this finished by today

You wait, tapping your finger against the wood of the table impatiently. Where was Jason? He was late, again.

"Are you ready to order, ma'am?" The waiter asked you.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, not yet. I'm still waiting for someone," You say to the waiter sheepishly. The waiiter gave you an understanding nod before leaving. You whipped out your phone, beginning to furiously text Jason's phone.

Me: Where are you?

No reply. You sigh, fustrated. You decided to order a drink first while waiting for Jason. You were rightously annoyed. It's not like he was late to every date, but there was a few times he was considerably late. When your drink arrived, you sipped on t, eyes darting across your surroundings to see if Jason would appear. You checked your phone. No reply. You tsked and put your phone facedown on the table. So much for having a sweet valentines day.

As you sipped on your drink, the bitterness of the coffee matched the tinge of disappointment settling in. The ambiance of the cafe seemed to mock the absence of Jason, and the minutes continued to slip away.

You glanced at your phone again, still met with the silent screen. Frustration morphed into a more somber realization that your Valentine's Day plans were unravelling. The warmth of the cafe felt insufficient to dispel the chill of disappointment.

Taking another sip, you debated whether to wait a bit longer or cut your losses. The sounds of conversations around you became a distant hum as you replayed the scenarios in your mind, wondering why Jason hadn't shown up or responded.

The waiter approached once more, this time with a sympathetic smile. "Are you ready to order now, or would you like a few more minutes?" they inquired.

You sighed, "I'll give it a little more time. Thank you."

As you gazed out the cafe window, the city lights twinkling in the evening, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness amidst the Valentine's Day festivities around you.

After waiting for about 30 more minutes, you gave up and gathered up your things, slamming a twenty on the table to pay for your drink and tip the patient, sympathetic waiter.

Just as you gathered your things to leave, the door to the cafe swung open. Startled, you turned to see Jason rushing in, panting. His hair was tousled and he was breathing heavily. The panic on his face was obvious, and he quickly scanned the room until his eyes met yours. He shouted your name.

"Wait, don't go!" he exclaimed, breathless. "I'm sorry I'm late! I really am. There was something going on at work and my phone died-I'm really sorry!" Jason felt scared. He was so scared that you would leave him, like his parents, like Bruce when he died.

With shaking hands, he thrust a boquet of your favourite flowers and a box of Godiva chocolates into your bewildered hands. "I'm...sorry, please don't break up with me." He mumbled.

"Break up with you...? Why-why would I do that?" You were stumped. Sure, you and Jason had been dating for years, but does he rreally think that you would break up with him over this?

"Because...because I was late and made you mad," Jason gave you puppy dog eyes. You chuckled to yourself. For being a big, jacked vigilante, Jason can be a big baby sometimes, and that's what you love about him. He always lets his guard down around you.

"I'm not mad anymore," You assured him, hugging the flowers and chocolates closer to yourself. "You're here now, that's all that matters." You got up on your tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheeks. Shifting the gifts toone hand, you grabbed his hand with your free hand. "Come on, let's go sit."

Jason's hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you towards him, kissing you on the lips. The kiss was long and deep, causing others to stare. When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your red cheeks.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

#killxz #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #batman #jason todd #batboys #jason todd angst #fanfic #valentines day #galentinesday

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thebowieconstricker · 2 months

Note

Hello! I saw you wanted requests for Lucifer, and I would love any sort of angst where Lucifer ends up comforting the reader, like maybe something happened to the reader, or the reader is just really stressed and just breaks down

Ease My Mind

(Lucifer Morningstar x reader)

AN: To this request: yes yes yes yes YES I just KNOW that he gives the best hugs and is so ready to comfort the people he loves. For this fic, I decided the angst is a little of everything, job struggles, moral dilemmas, and some self-doubt, so I hope I delivered. This isn’t proofread so please alert me to any errors! Thank you for your request! <333

Summary: You have a bad day at work and it triggers a breakdown. Luckily, your big bad boyfriend is here to help.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, could be read as platonic if you reeeeally squint but it’s implied romantic, heavy on the angst, a dash of fluff, Lucifer is trying his best, you guys are precious.

Warnings: Reader is afraid they’re being used by the people around them and they have lots of thoughts about being useless and others not liking them.

Also, the title is inspired by the song “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, go listen to it! Enjoy ya heathens!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been used by others for your entire life.

And now you were stuck in that same cycle in death.

As a young, naive, alive-person, you were desperate for some one to love you. Growing up in an environment where compassion was scare, you decided that the only way to get people to notice you was by offering to help them in some way. A favor, a ride, somewhere to crash, and, for one specific person, a place to hide the bodies. In life, you had gotten so deep into your desire to please others that you had latched onto the first person to give you the time of day. Unfortunately for you, that individual happened to have a thing for serial killing.

Looking back on it now as you miserably walked back to the hotel, tears threatening to fall down your face, you couldn’t think about anything other than how stupid and useless you were. It was your fault that they were found out, your fault that the innocents were dead in the first place, your fault you were stuck in hell and that fucker was still out there.

How much time had passed on Earth? How many more had they killed?

On most days, you could compartmentalize, putting the bad thoughts in a little box and shoving it in the back of your brain, but work had broken you today. You worked for the Vees, specifically Velvette, and it was no secret how they overworked and abused their staff. You were stuck picking up Velvette’s leftover energy drinks for as long as she had control of your soul.

And yet. You thought maybe someday, someday you might make a connection. You might impress her, or surprise her, or something, and maybe she would give you a break.

But no. Today you had been an hour late for the first time and Velvette had screeched at you, calling out all of your flaws and insecurities and bringing all of the horrible memories that you had oh-so-carefully stowed away to light. But you held back tears and did your fucking job, the emotions boiling all day and the hectic office space doing nothing to calm it.

You had needed this cry for a long time, and now there was no stopping it.

Walking along the brimstone pathways, you finally made your way to the rickety Hazbin Hotel. Its incomprehensible height only worsened your now growing headache as you walked up to the doors, grabbing the handles and swinging the heavy iron frame and red-stained glass open.

You immediately started towards your room, but you were blocked by the obnoxiously cheery Princess of Hell herself, Charlie.

Charlie’s not obnoxious, you’re so vile for thinking that.

Shit, the thoughts were getting worse and you could not do this right now.

Charlie, oblivious to your mood, smiled brightly. “There you are! How was work? I’ve got someone here who’s been waiting-“

You shoved past her, bumping her harshly.

“Not in the mood.”

Charlie frowned in confusion behind you.

“But, wait, hey-“ You ignored her pleas and- ah shit, now Angel’s in front of you.

“Hey, babe, you might wanna hang around for a sec-“

You shut your eyes tightly and moved your hands towards his chest, your fight or flight kicking in as you pushed him.

“ANGEL, leave me alone.”

Why would you yell at Angel like that? He’s just being nice.

Shut up shut up SHUT UP

Everything was only getting worse. You bolted to the grand staircase and raced up the steps. As you sped down the seemingly infinite hallways, the tears you had been fighting back for the last millennia finally fell. With a choked sob, you finally spotted your bedroom and lurched for the doorknob, swinging the door open and slamming it behind you as you bursted into your room. You ran to your bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as you loudly cried.

Charlie only keeps you here because she needs the guests, you know. She hates you. They all hate you. They wish you weren’t here. You’re just lying there, crying, why would they want you?

The hateful thoughts were all you could hear in your mind. As you pulled your knees to your arms holding your pillow, you wanted nothing more than to disappear. To just pop out of existence and finally be free of the burden of yourself.

Then, suddenly, three knocks at the door.

“GO AWAY.” You screamed, throat on fire from your sobbing.

A voice came from outside. A smooth, relaxed, kind male voice.

“It’s me, hon.”

You froze, terrified. Quickly you climbed to the floor on the left side of your bed, blocking your body from the view of the door. You took several deep breaths, trying to steady your nerves.

“Come in.” You said shakily.

You heard the door creek open, then footsteps.

“Where ya hiding these days?” He awkwardly chuckled, clearly trying to lighten up the mood you were in.

“Just- stay over there.” You were still holding your pillow, and you gave it an extra squeeze.

“I’m a mess right now.” You sniffled.

He paused, like he was thinking. “Well, if that’s what you want, but I hope you know by now that I’m always happy to see you. Even when you’re a mess.”

You felt the bed shift. He was sitting on the opposite side.

Like a child looking for a secret, you turned around to look at the back of his head. His hat was gone, probably left downstairs, and all you saw was his sweep of blond hair.

He made a ‘hm’ sound. “Bad day?”

You nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah.”

You watched him nod. “I’m sorry about that.” He fiddled with his cane, his hands tightening and loosening around it. “Would you… like to talk about it?”

You paused.

Lucifer had been a confidant of yours since you first arrived in Hell. He was the one to tell you what was going on right after you died, calming you down and offering you a place to stay. Sure, you didn’t know that he was literally the Devil, but everything about him made you feel at peace. Like you could deal with the hand you were dealt.

Secretly, though, you were waiting.

Waiting for the moment when he would reveal that he only kept you around because he needed you to do something for him.

No one was that kind, or caring, or wonderful.

He wants something from you. Why else would he keep coming back?

You had yet to answer his question. Lucifer sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?”

The voices were still wringing in your head, you were still crying, and you felt pathetic.

“I- I don’t- fuck, would you please stop acting like you care?” You knew your words were harsh but they were begging to be said.

His posture straightened in surprise.

“I do care! What makes you think I don’t care?” He sounded hurt.

Nice going, you hurt his feelings.

You bent forward, hands covering your face in frustration. A fresh wave of tears rises through your body and you loudly cried out, too scared and angry and sad to hide it anymore.

“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay, hon.” Lucifer’s voice was nearing your form on the ground, and he was quickly at your side. You could feel his presence beside you.

He sighed in exhaustion. “Listen, I’m not- I’m not the greatest at this, but I’m gonna ask so I don’t upset you. Do you want a hug? Or a hand on your shoulder-“

Your arms were wrapped around him before he could finish his question, clinging to his waist and biting your face in his neck.

“WOAH there- well hey, sweetheart, there you are.” You could hear him smiling as he gently brought his hand to rub your back.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ve just had a shitty day at work and I’m worried about a lot of things and- I don’t want to take it out on you.” You were shaking, but he held you steadily.

“What kinda things are worrying you?” He asked.

And so you told him. In the comfort of his embrace you were able to somewhat coherently explain all the things that had been freaking you out. Velvette’s torture at work, your own moral dilemmas about your life on Earth, and you were just getting into your feelings about others using you when you felt Lucifer’s breath hitch.

He leaned away from you to look you in the eyes and gently put a finger to your chin.

“Honey, I want you to know that I know for a fact that the people here really care about you. Not because you’re an extra pair of hands, but because you’re you. You’re wonderful to be around. People like you.”

He looked at you with a warm smile and leaned towards you, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I like you. I care about you because you’re worth caring about.”

You stared at him in awe, your mind finally at ease after such a chaotic day. Smiling, you leaned back into him to rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Luci.” You reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly in an effort to show him how grateful you truly were for his words of assurance.

He tightened his fingers around yours and grinned down at you.

“Always, love. Now, let’s get you on the bed, okay?”

You nodded and he gracefully picked you up, gently placing you on the bed. With a snap, you were in comfortable clothing with a warm blanket around you and plenty of soft pillows.

“You want me to hang out for a bit?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, clearly sleepy.

“If you don’t have anything else going on…” You offered, already half dozing off.

“Even if I did, I would love nothing more.” With an affectionate grin he curled up beside you, and you immediately went to lay your head back on his chest. As you drifted away, listening to the King of Hell’s heartbeat, you took a deep breath.

He was right. Things were gonna be okay.

You had friends.

You were loved.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer Morningstar my beloved

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crimsonbubble · 10 months

Note

Hello! Hope you're having a wonderful day/night.

I'm not sure if you're taking requests but...

Just came on here to ask if you could write a Professor!Miguel O'Hara x Student!Reader type au?

Please and thank you for listening! 🤍🙌🏼

cw. nsfw, gn college student!reader, professor!miguel, age gap (reader 20s, miguel 40s), forbidden relationship (?), manhandling, fingering, oral (m receiving), cum eating, praise, degradation, cockwarming, spanking, one use of 'daddy' *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SOREY I GOT TO THIS SK LATE AAAAAAAA 🥹🥹]

MINORS DNI!!

another day, another class. college seems to be keeping you swamped with essays and assignments, but a certain someone's class made the workload that tad bit easier.

Mr. Miguel O'Hara, your biochemistry professor. you knew you weren't the only one with your eyes on him. he was tall, incredibly handsome, and made paying attention worth it when he'd turn his back to the students. if you asked anyone in your class, you'd all unanimously agree that Mr. O'Hara is undoubtedly attractive. you've imagined things that would haunt you till the day you died.

being bent over his desk or being sat on his desk while his hands curl into your spots. clutching at his broad shoulders as he kissed and bit at your neck, pressing the pads of his fingers insistently into the spot that had you seeing stars. slotting your lips together as you come undone, trying to muffle the sounds from being heard by others. hearing him coo out praises as he made you writhe and shake on his desk.

tears streaming down your cheeks and saliva dripping down your chin as he held your mouth at the base of his cock. letting out a rumbling groan as you choke and gag on him. pulling you off his cock so he can lean down and capture your lips in a sloppy tooth and tongue-filled kiss.

"gotta be quiet, honey. can't have others hearing us." "that's it, just like that. being so fucking good for me." "oh you filthy little slut, look how much of a mess you made."

even with all the eyes that linger on him, he has his eyes on you. you've piqued his interest when you first popped into his class and he almost didn't want to admit that he looked forward to the days when he got to see you.

it was when he had bumped into you at the coffee shop near your college that set your relationship into motion. you had stopped by there during your break between classes, needing a little pick-me-up. Miguel simply needed more caffeine to keep him awake for his next and final class of the day. you two decided to get a table together and chat, and yes, Miguel did insist on paying, meaning he paid before you could even get your wallet out of your bag. he ushered you off to a table with a soft tut and waited for your drinks.

as you bonded over drink blends and classes, your alarm for your next class rang. Miguel sighed and checked his watch, before getting up along with you. he quickly scribbled something on a napkin and gave it to you, giving you a soft smile and winking quickly as he left. you grabbed your stuff and rushed off to your next class. you fishes the crumpled napkin out of your pocket and nearly dropped your drink as you read the note over and over.

even with such a simple note consisting of his number and a small "text me when you're free? ♡" made your heart flutter and a familiar warmth spread across your face.

In the following days, Miguel made an effort to slip in some inconspicuous praise at any given time. when you do good on an assignment, when you ask questions in class, and of course when he has his thick and heavy cock buried between your thighs. he never holds back on praise; you deserve it. but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to discipline.

he's a college professor, of course, he should know. so he's not partial to having you cockwarm him while he grades assignments and essays. if you've managed to catch him at a bad time, yet still insist on pushing buttons, he won't hesitate to pull you down over his lap. he'll tug your pants down just under your ass and leave it rosy, hot, and stinging. though he immediately follows up with soft caresses as he lifts you into his lap properly, gently soothing your skin as you sniffle lightly.

"you're okay, sweetheart. I'm almost done, then you can have daddy's attention, yeah?"

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader smut #spiderverse x y/n

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roosterforme · 11 months

Text

It's Okay, Daddy's Here | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Even after your honeymoon is over, you find yourself needing your husband all the time. One Saturday, when Bradley is out with the guys, you have an itch you just can't scratch by yourself. When he comes home and finds you a desperate, horny mess, he assures that "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Warnings: Smut and fluff

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

You couldn't understand what had happened to you since you stopped taking your birth control pills, but you'd been insatiable for the last month and a half. The ten day honeymoon you and Bradley had spent in Hawaii had been pure perfection. And now you'd been enjoying your husband as frequently as you could get your hands on him since returning home.

"What do you mean you're going golfing tomorrow morning?" you asked Bradley as you got undressed for bed on Friday night. You paused, naked with his tee shirt in your hands, and gaped at him. "Roo. That'll be hours. And then the guys will want to go out for drinks," you whined. "You won't be here to fuck me."

He groaned and patted his lap before he reached for you. "Tee time at the country club is Javy's Christmas present to all of us, so I agreed to go." You tossed the shirt aside and climbed up onto the bed to straddle his thighs. "But I can cancel, Baby Girl," he grunted, palming your tits as you leaned in closer to kiss him.

"No," you moaned against his mouth. "I don't want Javy to be mad at me. But you better do me so good right now, Roo. Seriously."

"Don't I always?" he growled, flipping you onto your back and running his fingers down along your belly and over your tattoo. "Don't I always take care of you?"

"I have the best husband," you whispered as his lips connected with your neck. Then his fingers met your clit, and he eased his body weight down on top of you. And it was heavenly. And he fucked you hard into the bed until you came, screeching his name. And then you slept all night long, curled up on his warm chest in a state of satiated bliss.

But as soon as you woke up to a cold, empty bed late Saturday morning, you flopped onto your back and tried to coax yourself back to sleep once more. But you couldn't. The need was almost immediate as you sat up. The bedding smelled like Bradley, and you knew you needed to go into the other room.

After you grabbed your glasses and pulled on his soft UVA shirt, you went to make some coffee. But as it brewed, your mind wandered to how good he looked in his white golf pants and polos. You hoped he was wearing that deep blue floral print shirt that hugged his biceps.

"Good Lord," you gasped, fixing your coffee the way you liked it and walking out onto the back patio with Tramp. But even the chilly December San Diego air couldn't cool you down. Bradley was probably getting all sweaty right now, gripping his nine iron and wearing those soft gloves.

"Jesus," you whined, pacing around and sipping your hot coffee. "Just chill. You made it through work all week without him." But that wasn't exactly true. On Tuesday, you'd fucked him on your lunch break in the backseat of the Bronco in the parking garage. And on Thursday afternoon, he'd come into your office reeking like jet fuel and fucked you up against your file cabinet.

Tramp looked up at you when you let out a noise close to a whimper. You finished your coffee and went back inside to start packing for the Christmas holidays, but as soon as you opened your underwear drawer, you caught sight of all of your wedding lingerie, and you had to leave the room again.

A shower. That would help. But you tried hot water and then cold water, and you just ended up with your back pressed against the tile wall, stroking our fingers over your clit. You must be ovulating. That would explain a lot right now. But as you tried to get yourself off, you kept coming up short.

"No," you whined, dipping your fingers into your own slick before bringing them back up to your clit. When you managed to get the tiniest bit of relief, you finished up in the shower and went to get dressed.

But you ended up pulling out your vibrators only to glare at them, because they did not look as appealing as Bradley did. "Fuck," you grumbled, tossing them back where they belonged and kicking your drawer closed.

How much longer could golf possibly take? You'd be fine until you could get the real thing. You could wait.

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

Bradley rushed through the eighteenth hole, hoping to get back home to you faster, but the guys weren't having it.

"Let's hit up the bar," Hangman drawled. "Drinks are on me."

Bradley opened his mouth to protest, but Jake cut him off and said, "And don't even try to use your wife as an excuse, Bradshaw. You and Angel can go a few hours without your hands all over each other. The honeymoon is over."

But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Bradley wanted his hands and mouth on you at the moment so badly, he hoped the honeymoon would never end.

"Fine," he grumbled. "One drink." But one turned into two, and the jukebox at the Hard Deck was playing Christmas music, and Penny got him to dance with her before he was able to sneak out. He had been gone most of the day.

As he walked back to the Bronco late in the afternoon sunlight, he texted you and let you know he was finally on his way home. Your response was almost instantaneous.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Hurry

"Damn," he muttered, starting up the engine and rushing home to get to you. He thought maybe you'd be waiting for him in bed, wearing that little red lingerie set he liked so much, but what he discovered was even better.

"Holy shit," he muttered as soon as he walked inside the front door. His golf bag clattered to the floor as you turned your head to look over your shoulder at him.

"Roo," you moaned, and it was the neediest, most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. And before he knew it, he was palming himself through his white golf pants at the sight of you naked, straddling the arm of the living room couch. Your back was to him as you rubbed your bare pussy up and down the arm, back arched and whining softly.

He stumbled closer to you, his eyes glued to your ass as you moved in the most appealing way. You were leaving glistening streaks of your slick along the upholstery, and it was so fucking hot.

"What's going on, Baby Girl?" he managed to ask as you looked back at him again.

"I can't help it," you gasped, your voice bordering on pitiful as you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so fucking horny, Bradley. I've tried masturbating all day, but nothing feels as good as you do."

"Oh, Sweetheart," he rasped, unzipping his pants and getting himself ready. "You should have called me."

"Please! I need you. Make it go away."

You were almost in tears now as Bradley put his hands on your hips, helping you rock your soaking wet pussy against the couch. "Shh. Daddy's home now. It's okay, Daddy's here." He stood behind you and kissed your bare shoulder, letting his fingers skim up your belly to stroke the undersides of your breasts.

"Oh! Your fingers feel so good," you groaned, planting your hands on the back of the couch and rocking your hips a little faster.

"How did you get like this, Baby Girl?" he whispered next to your ear, pressing the front of his body to your back as you rocked your pussy along, trying to find some satisfaction. "You're like a dog in heat," he groaned, squeezing your nipples.

"I know," you keened, head tossed back to give him access to your neck. "I'm ovulating."

"Oh, hell," he grunted. That was music to Bradley's ears as you bumped his hard cock with your ass every time you rolled your hips. "You need me to fuck you?" he asked softly, licking a stripe up your neck. "You need my cum?"

"Please, Daddy," you begged softly, but he could hear the desperation there. "Fuck me."

Bradley eased away from you and lifted you up a bit by your hips as you whined. "Aww, Sweetheart," he said, stroking his fingers along your ass down to your soaking wet pussy while he admired the wet spot on the couch. "You need me."

You looked back at him and nodded as he palmed your ass up in the air. "I need you, Daddy," you said, your voice breaking with tears in your eyes.

Bradley stroked your soft skin and asked, "Do you know how bad I want you knocked up?"

You nodded again, practically on the verge of tears. "I know it."

Bradley set you down gently on the arm once more, tipping you forward slightly so your clit was rubbing against the wet spot you made. Then he grabbed his cock as you wiggled your ass at him, just begging to have him fill you up.

"I got you," he promised, rubbing himself through your wetness. "I'll take care of everything."

With one steady thrust, he filled you and bottomed out. A sound of relief escaped you as you moaned, "Daddy." Bradley pulled you snug to him by your hips, and with each fluid thrust, he helped you rock your clit against the couch.

Bradley kept you going at a steady pace, fucking you nice and slow as he guided you along, praising you for being the perfect wife. "You always look so good for me. With your pretty pussy and that ass on display. You know how much I like coming home to find you ready for me?"

"Tell me," you whispered, starting to clench around him.

He kissed along your neck as you jerked yourself along a little faster. "I love it when you're waiting for me to fill you up. I love how needy you are."

Bradley knew you were close now, so he let you ride the arm of the couch and bump back along his length while he held himself still for you. And then you were cumming, shaking against his body, reaching back for his hands as you clenched around his cock and sobbed softly.

"You feel better?" he asked, still fucking you slow and steady. You were like a feral animal that only he was able to tame.

"So much better," you whispered, turning and licking his bicep. "You're all sweaty, Roo. You smell so good."

"Damn it," Bradley grunted. Now he was starting to feel slightly unhinged over you. His wife needed him so badly around the clock right now. He expected that your body would start to adjust to being off birth control, and this extreme need for him would start to ease up. But for now, he didn't mind one bit. And he wanted to keep you filled up with his cum until it took.

He slammed into you a little harder as you gazed lovingly at him over your shoulder. "You can do it, Daddy." He reached for your chin, grabbing you and kissing you a little rough.

"Oh, fuck." Then he was filling you before he collapsed against your back. Bradley ran his hands along your pristine skin, paying extra attention to your tits as he caught his breath. "I can't believe I found you riding the couch like this."

"Nothing would even take the edge off, Bradley. Just you."

He squeezed your tits and ran his nose behind your ear. "I love you. Next time, you call me. I drop everything for you whenever I can. You understand me?"

"Yes." Your voice was soft and calm now, and he could tell you were feeling much better.

"That's my girl." When he withdrew from your pussy, and his cum leaked out onto the arm of the couch, Bradley whispered, "Don't move."

He dug his phone out of his pocket and took some photos of you turning to look at him with a sweet, fucked out expression on your face and a messy pussy. He knew those images would keep him warm when he was deployed. Then he helped you stand right in front of him, and both of you admired the soiled arm of the couch together.

"Beautiful," Bradley murmured next to your ear, stroking his fingers along your belly and wishing.

He watched you run your finger through the mess before licking it and turning to kiss him. You traced his lips with your tongue and he tasted himself before you said, "I'll clean up the couch."

"No, you're going to go get in bed like a good girl. And after I clean up out here, I'll be ready to take the edge off for you again. Okay?"

You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him, and then he watched your ass as you headed to bed to wait for him to take care of you again.

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

Roo always takes care of his wife! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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devildom-moss · 8 months

Text

PDA - kissing their cheeks (the demon brothers)

What happens when MC decides to kiss their cheek around others? It couldn't possibly go wrong, right?

(Lucifer x gn!MC) (Mammon x gn!MC) (Leviathan x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Beelzebub x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,200 (oh no wonder it took me a while. Mammon got a longer one because things occur, I guess)

Lucifer

Lucifer had another late night in his study yesterday, and it left him a tired husk of a demon. He was even nodding off in the middle of his meeting with Diavolo and Barbatos. Asmo and Mammon were in attendance as well, and their pointless questions gave Lucifer a cover to send you a message.

Your screen lit up: Could you bring coffee to the student council room for me at your earliest convenience? Black, iced if they have it. I’ll make it up to you later. You sent back an “ok” sticker and informed him that your class would end in 15 minutes.

When you arrived at the council room, the meeting had temporarily concluded while Diavolo held another meeting with the head of the art department about an upcoming student showcase. In Diavolo’s absence, Asmo had decided to paint his nails while Mammon was on his phone – no doubt attempting to check his recent bets. Barbatos was the only one getting any work done.

Mephisto, who had entered shortly after Diavolo departed, had taken the opportunity to whine to Lucifer about the newspaper’s budget, despite Lucifer’s half-conscious attempt to inform him that Satan had approved the paperwork that Diavolo signed off on. This had nothing to do with Lucifer. Luckily, Mephisto was too wrapped up in his complaints to notice that Lucifer had once again nodded off.

You walked straight to Lucifer – not even stopping as you returned Asmo’s cheery greeting with a soft, “good afternoon, Asmo.”

Mephisto turned around at the sound of your voice. “Second human.”

You assumed he intended to rank you under Solomon. While it was true that Solomon was more powerful than you, Mephisto could at least learn to use your name, so you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Ugly tie demon.”

If Lucifer was awake, he would have chuckled. You noticed his even breath and his closed eyes. It was a rare and rather adorable sight, but you figured you should wake him up before anyone noticed. This was the sort of sight Mammon would try to exploit for money (and Asmo for likes, and Barbatos would share a picture with Diavolo just because he could). You set the drink down to the side and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

A soft moan left Lucifer’s mouth as he reluctantly opened his eyes. In a daze, he smiled at you, attempting to look seductive, but he only managed to appear cuter than before.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you teased, but it didn’t wipe the smile from his face. What did that was Mephisto’s subsequent annoyance upon realizing that Lucifer had been ignoring him.

“You no-good, arrogant bastard. How dare you fall asleep while I’m talking to you about important matters!”

Lucifer had enough of Mephisto for the day. He got to his feet and walked to the other side of his desk. Grabbing his coffee in one hand and your hand in the other, Lucifer sighed and turned towards Barbatos. “I need some fresh air. I’ll be back in 20. Alert me if Lord Diavolo returns before that or if you find my presence is necessary.”

“Understood.” Barbatos nodded.

Lucifer ignored Asmo’s whining about how jealous he was and Mammon and Mephisto’s insults as he pulled you out of the room with him. With their noise in the distance, and comfort in the fact that Barbatos would not allow anyone to disturb his break unless necessary, Lucifer chuckled.

“Thank you for that. You went through the trouble of getting me coffee, but nothing restores my energy like you do. Will you help me wake up until I have to return?”

Mammon

It had been a long, shitty week, and Mammon could tell you were running on empty. The way you walked to school was as if every movement was an unimaginable effort. He wanted to ask if you needed to take a break, but he didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to your slow pace that morning; if it was him, he would be mortified – but he would also be so happy that you noticed. That made his decision even harder. Maybe he should just say something? Or maybe he should just do something to help you out? He could try to carry you the rest of the way to school. Hell, the Great Mammon could carry Beel when he needed to – certainly he could handle his favorite human. His mind raced in his indecision.

To his absolute awe, you both arrived at school – on time and without a single complaint from you. If he was having a bad week, no doubt he would be talking your ear off about it. Did you not trust him? No, just chill Mammon, he thought to himself. Focus on them today.

After you completed your classes, you returned home with Mammon. He had been almost suspiciously well-behaved today – he even stopped a fight between Asmo and Levi. You could question him, but you were too grateful to care. When you stepped into the entrance of the House of Lamentation, Mammon dragged you directly to his room and pulled you into his bed. It smelled like him.

“Why?” you asked, only half-concerned about the answer.

“Shush. I want ya to take a nap for me, ‘kay?” Mammon laid you down on his pillows and gently stroked your hair. “You’ve done such a good job. The Great Mammon’s gonna show ya a good time tonight – but ya gotta rest first.”

That would have sounded like such a lewd offer if he hadn’t said it in such a tender voice – and if you weren’t so comforted by his touch. Mammon eased you into sleep, and when you woke up, there was an outfit laying at the end of the bed. All the clothes appeared to be yours, but Mammon had styled it for you.

Mammon entered the room with a sandwich and a large bottle of sparkling water. “Happy to see ya awake. Ya hungry? Eat this before we go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere fun – just trust me and stop askin’ questions, alright?”

“Okay,” you nodded, “I trust you.”

Mammon tried to hide his smile as he handed you the food and unscrewed the cap on the bottle before giving it to you. As you ate, he changed – noticeably grabbing clothes that would match the outfit he picked out for you. He glanced back and saw you staring at him. Something about having your eyes on his half-naked body delighted him, but this wasn’t the time.

“Oi, if ya want a show, pay up. Otherwise, finish eatin’ and get changed.”

You followed his orders. Upon further inspection, not all the items laid out on the bed were yours. Mammon had set a gold bracelet on top of your clothes.

“Mammon, this isn’t mine,” you told him.

“Lemme see.” You handed him the bracelet. He gently grabbed your wrist and put it on for you. “Is now.”

Mammon was careful to sneak you out of the house without anyone noticing. You held your questions until you arrived at a club. You heard music blasting from outside the door.

It had been a while since Mammon had taken you out – and even longer since you had danced, especially with him. Maybe the movement was cathartic. Maybe watching Mammon dance by your side – and occasionally feeling him grind on you – simply made you happy. Maybe you felt adored when he kept his eyes and hands on you. You couldn’t stop smiling, and Mammon noticed.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek in the middle of the dance floor. “Thank you, Mammon.”

Someone had to have seen that, right? Mammon was as thrilled as he was embarrassed, but he tried to play it cool.

“Good.” Mammon offered you a shy smile. “Wanna get outta here?”

“Are you bored or something?”

“Nah. Nothin’ like that.” Mammon shook his head and brought his lips right up to your ear so only you would hear him when he whispered, “I wanna take ya back to my room and show ya an even better time.”

A kiss on the cheek wasn’t enough. He needed more of you.

Leviathan

“Why did I have to come to school today?” Levi asked – rhetorically, of course.

“Because you can’t do a lab from your room at home,” Satan replied, annoyed by Levi’s complaining. Levi knew the drill by now, so there was no point in asking.

“How is it my fault that RAD isn’t equipped to do remote labs? We should have more otaku-friendly courses.”

“How ‘bout you shuddup and do classwork like the rest of us?” Mammon rolled his eyes.

“If I did classwork like you, I’d be failing all of my classes.”

“I mean, you’re not too far from that,” Belphie added, only half awake. That was uncalled for, but Levi took it without protest. Belphie was the only slacker with good grades, after all.

“Enough,” you sighed.

You sympathized with Levi for not wanting to show up in class. He was an indoor-demon – so long as the “door” part of “indoor” was his door specifically and maybe your door on occasion. Maybe you were being soft on him, but you didn’t care. All you really cared about was Levi not feeling bad about being a shut-in. The longer this conversation went on, the more likely it was that someone was going to say something cruel.

Determined to cheer Levi up and reward his effort, you pat his head and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m very proud of you for coming into class today, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes widened and his face burned. He screamed – and he was only partially muffled when he buried his face into his arms at his desk. You kissed him. You kissed him – in front of an entire class of demons and Solomon, no less. Levi wasn’t sure if he was going to die from embarrassment or if he just had his social battery supercharged. His arms were hiding his huge smile as well as his blushing cheeks.

He could nearly taste the jealousy in the room. For once, it wasn’t coming from him. It had been so long since anyone was jealous of him that he forgot how amazing it felt to be envied, especially when he was being envied because you kissed him. Just a minute ago, Levi was anxious and upset about having to leave the comfort of his room today, and now he was overjoyed and wouldn’t change a thing about the day so far – although he knew he still had plenty of time to ruin it.

While Levi took a minute to calm himself down, you waved off any protests and complaints about you kissing Levi’s cheek. You also had to shut down the incoming requests for a reward from you – including Asmo telling you that if you offered him a reward, he would be such a good boy.

Levi clung to your side throughout the lab, glaring at anyone who got within a foot of you. He wondered what kind of reward you might be willing to give him if he went to school for the rest of the week – or if he got a good grade on this lab. He wanted to make you proud. He wanted you to kiss and touch him more.

Satan

It was a rare sight to see Satan not reading in the library. He was on his phone, and that look of joy on his face meant one thing: he was watching cat videos again. You came up behind him and leaned over his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck. If it had been anyone else, Satan would have been irritated – and a violent outcome would have been a possibility.

“Having fun?” you asked him.

“MC, I was just about to send you this video. Have you ever heard of a sand cat?” Satan didn’t even wait for your response before he restarted the video for you. “Look at their big ears! Do you think that the person filming was able to pet them? I wouldn’t be able to resist.”

You watched the adorable beige cat scurry across the screen. Normally, you would entertain Satan’s love of cats, but that grin on his face distracted you.

“There are so many cats that I want to pet. I wonder if I could summon one,” he mused.

“So cute,” you whispered into his ear before placing a kiss on his cheek. You could hear him gulp hard.

“The cats or –” Satan paused, choked up on his shock and embarrassment, “or me?”

“Both.” You kissed his cheek again.

He was comfortable with you wrapping your arms around him, but he hadn’t expected you to kiss him. Twice, even. His face burned as he felt a demon, who had previously been studying, staring at him.

From behind you, you heard another demon ask her friend, “did that human just kiss Satan?”

“Oh my, how scary. They must be brave to attempt that.”

“I think that’s Solomon’s apprentice.”

“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

“Me either, but it makes sense, right? Someone like that has to be brave.”

“I don’t care how hot Satan is, I’d never have the nerve.”

“He must like them a lot.”

You wondered if they knew how loud they were speaking. You turned their conversation topic to Satan, teasingly, “well, do you?”

“What do you think?” Satan set his phone down on the table and made room for you to sit on his lap at the desk. He pat his thigh, expectantly. “Well?”

Ignoring your concerns about the library chairs not being built for two people (luckily, they were surprisingly sturdy) and the few added stares from demons around you, including someone who was definitely in your Seductive Speechcraft class, you took Satan up on his offer. His arms engulfed you, and his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“You didn’t answer me. Do you think I like you?” Satan whispered seductively against your neck.

“Of course.”

“Wrong.” Satan clicked his tongue. “I don’t like you – I adore you. I love you more than anyone. Now, can we watch cute cats while your cute lover holds you?”

“Of course,” you repeated your previous answer.

“Good. But MC?” Satan dropped his tone and whispered, “when we get home, it looks like I’ll have to show you exactly how strong my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

You were comfortably settled into a window nook in a quiet part of the library, trying to read the book that Satan had lent you the other day, but when Asmo stumbled upon you, he decided to disturb your peace. You couldn’t really be annoyed with him, though, when he took a spot next to you and gave you that charming smile of his.

No, what annoyed you was that as you continued to read, Asmo was trying to get a picture with you. You didn’t want your picture taken.

“MC, lean in, come on! You could be at least a little affectionate with me,” Asmo demanded. He was usually spoiled with affection; it wasn’t as if you had been particularly neglectful of him. His whining – and his presence in the library in general – was starting to attract attention.

Eager to appease him, and in the hopes of not attracting anymore onlookers, you pulled Asmo a bit closer and rested your chin on his shoulder. As he adjusted the angle of his camera, you kissed his cheek. Asmo managed to snap the picture, and he immediately checked it – in part to see if it was good, because this was definitely going up on Devilgram, but also to make sure that you had really just kissed his cheek. He wasn’t just dreaming.

He turned with a smirk and hopped into your lap. If you had been in a chair, you probably would have fallen. Instead, Asmo pushed your back gently against the wall and started kissing you all over your face and neck, whispering about how adorable you are between kisses. It felt impossible for Asmo to hold back. He kissed your lips once. Twice. He couldn’t seem to stop, and it wasn’t long before he was making out with you.

One of the problems with Asmo was that he was an amazing kisser – which usually wasn’t an issue. But right now, the feeling of his lips on you made it hard to care about any onlookers. He was all you could think about – until his phone rang next to your leg on the seat.

Asmo pulled away, irked by the interruption. His fingertips teasingly traced down your thigh as he lowered his hands to grab his phone. The name on the screen didn’t ease his annoyance, and he reluctantly accepted the call.

“What do you want, Mammon?” Asmo placed one hand on the wall behind you and held his phone to his ear with the other. As irritating a distraction as this was, Asmo was determined to shower you in affection, so he lowered himself to your neck and began to kiss and suck at your skin.

“Get the fuck outta the library, Asmo.” You heard Mammon screaming through the phone. Did Asmo have to keep the phone so close to you? You were already trying to keep it down because you were in the library, and now there was a chance that Mammon would hear even the smallest moan you made.

“Why?” Asmo asked between kissing your neck.

“Someone’s live streaming you and MC! It’s up on DevilTube right now. 500-some people are watchin’.”

Still focused on your neck, Asmo wanted to shrug it off with a “let them watch” and keep going – as long as you were into it, at least. However, another voice boomed in the background of Mammon’s call. “Meet me in the student council room, immediately – both of you.”

Lucifer. Now it was serious. The line dropped and Asmo sat up.

“Show’s over,” Asmo said – mostly to you, but also loud enough for anyone nearby (especially a particular live streaming voyeur) to hear. He helped you to your feet and sighed. “Sorry, darling. I got us in trouble again. I couldn’t resist.”

You had a long lecture ahead, but Asmo promised to make it up to you. At the end of the night, you both were of the same mind: worth it.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub was determined to win his match when you told him that you were coming to watch. It wasn’t like he would have been embarrassed to lose in front of you – he had lost in front of you before, but knowing you were going to watch him lit a fire in Beel. He wanted to win more than ever.

All his effort was worth it when he spotted you among the cheering crowd. He rushed to you after the final whistle blew.

“You were amazing, Beel.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Don’t worry, if you can’t reach, he’d pick you up. “Congratulations.”

Normally, Beel would feel self-conscious about you touching him after a match when he was coated in a layer of sweat, but right now, he was all smiles. You were so proud of his victory that you kissed him. He didn’t mind that his team members and the entire audience could see – that might have made it better. Sometimes, even Beel wanted to show off that you loved him.

His chuckle rang out in your ear. “Thank you, MC. Do you mind waiting up for me?”

“Of course not,” you held Beel’s face in your hands. “I wanted to go home with you.”

“Thanks,” Beel grinned. “Wait for me outside of the locker room. I’ll try to be quick.”

Beel was true to his word. He showered, changed, and hurried out to see you – taking just enough time to quickly congratulate his teammates before leaving. His teammates were used to a bit more talk about the ups and downs of their match from Beel, but after they saw you there, they knew exactly why Beel was in such a rush.

He spotted you in the hall immediately.

“Ready to go?” you asked with a smile.

“Yes – well, no. Not yet.” Beel furrowed his brows, and a faint blush painted his face. You tilted your head in confusion. “MC, can I kiss you back?”

He melted your heart. “Of course, you can, Beel.”

You expected a kiss on the cheek, but his lips met yours, instead. His hand slid up the side of your neck to your cheek. Beel had a tender touch that caused your skin to burn. Even when he caught you off guard, he was so sweet that you would let him do whatever he wanted. His tongue teased you slightly. The footsteps and chatter further down the hall didn’t cause either of you any hesitation. Both of your minds were clouded with desire, and who knows what would have happened if Beel’s stomach didn’t interrupt you with a loud growl.

Beel pulled away, embarrassed that his own stomach had betrayed him. There goes the mood. He gave you a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Sorry, can we get something to eat on the way home?”

“Don’t apologize. You must be starving after all that exercise.” You caressed his arm. “We can get food on the way back.”

“Good. I wanted to take you out on a date, anyway.” Beel took your hand and headed towards the exit.

“You did?”

“Yeah. You made me so happy when you kissed me earlier. I wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Beel.” You could feel your heart melting all over again.

Beel stopped in his tracks, and with his free hand, he tilted your chin towards him and ran his thumb across your lip. “Besides, we have to eat while we’re out. Once we get home, I want to focus all my attention on making you just as happy.”

Belphegor

No one could get Belphegor to wake up that morning. Beel had gotten him dressed in the same way one changes the clothes on a doll. Lucifer was determined to get him to school on time – even if that meant that he or Beel had to carry Belphie there themselves.

It was lucky, then, that you arrived to walk them to school. Lucifer pleaded (or at least in his own, prideful way, he was pleading) with you to help him wake Belphie up. He was already dressed, so there went the option of dumping water on him. Sometimes Belphie was a hassle, even for you, but other times, all it took was a simple trick.

Despite everyone watching on in anticipation, and Mammon rudely trying to make a bet against you – one which Levi and Satan gladly took him up on, you leaned down towards Belphegor’s ear and whispered, “it’s time to wake up, Belphie, please?” before you placed a kiss on his cheek. The protests came flooding in, as you expected. Belphegor moaned sweetly into your ear as he stirred from his sleep. He sat up to drape himself around your neck.

“Carry me, please?”

Asmo shrieked in response. “Belphie is so cute when he’s sleepy, but this is so unfair. Stop clinging to MC like that!”

“Don’t compliment that jerk for cozyin’ up to MC!”

“I’m so jealous. If I knew MC would kiss him, I would have stayed in bed, too.”

“If you spoil him MC, everyone in the house will start refusing to wake up,” Satan scolded you to mask his own jealousy.

“All of you, shut up and head downstairs,” Lucifer shouted. “We’re leaving in a minute – and if any of you attempt to sleep in tomorrow, I will tie you up and drag you to school myself – and we’ll take the roughest, most jagged paths to get there.”

That sent them all running, except for Beel. “I’ll grab you a snack from the kitchen before we go. You have to eat breakfast, Belphie.”

“Make it quick, please Beel,” Lucifer sighed. “Can I trust you to get him down the stairs and out of the door?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer offered you a guilty smile – the kind a parent gives when someone else soothes their crying child in their stead.

Belphegor pulled you in tighter and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t, you have to get to school.” You made a half-hearted attempt to push him away, but you caved and allowed him to snap back into the warmth of your body.

“I know. I was just thinking,” Belphegor hummed and nuzzled into your neck, “I wish you could wake me up like this every morning. Getting up wouldn’t be so bad if you were the first person I saw. It’d be even nicer if you were the last one before I went to sleep, too.”

You placed another kiss on his cheek. “That’s very sweet, Belphie. If you hurry off to class, maybe I’ll find a way to sneak you into my bed tonight.”

“You mean it?” Now he was alert. An adorable smile formed on his lips. You really knew how to incentivize a demon.

(the dateables version) | (the side characters version)

#lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #gn!mc #obey me demon brothers #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #shhh I'm hiding this in the tags but does anyone want some more Mephisto smut because I had an idea...

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worksby-d · 6 months

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Wrong Donut

Pairing: Andy Barber x pregnant!Reader

Summary: You can't get your favorite donut with your coffee, so Andy lets you cry to him about it over the phone 😖 (Idea from a lovely anon).

Warnings: None. Just soft and silly 🤭

Word count: ~800

∘◦❀◦∘

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

You roll your eyes at yourself. Repeating the words in your head only makes it worse really.

Pulling up to the drive thru window, you’re thankful you have your sunglasses on so the teenager working doesn’t have to see that he inadvertently ruined a pregnant woman's day by telling you that they’re out of your favorite donut.

The short drive back to work is spent blinking tears away so you can see. You think–hope–it does the trick to ward them off completely.

It feels like you’re in the clear until you sit down at your desk to drink your coffee and, reluctantly, the donut the guy recommended to you instead of your usual. You only said yes to it because any more words out of your mouth would have given away the sob you were holding back.

You break down when you open the paper bag and catch a glimpse of it. Not the same.

“Fuck,” you curse at yourself for being so upset, pushing the bag away.

Wiping some tears off your cheeks with your sweater, you grab your phone and fast walk down the hall to a restroom so no one can see you.

The only way you know how to cope lately is calling Andy and hoping he has time to let you vent. The poor guy. You suspect one of these days he’ll just stop taking your calls, but you hope it's not today.

It takes a few deep breaths before you can get yourself to dial his number.

On his end, he sees his phone light up and he knows the drill since you're only voice calling and not video calling like you usually prefer with him.

“Hi, honey,” he answers carefully, bracing himself.

“Hi,” you answer back, ready to lose it again from just hearing his voice.

He can hear the frown on your face.

“What's wrong?”

“I got the wrong donut,” you sniffle.

That's a new one, he thinks to himself. “What?”

“I went to get my coffee and donut, but I had to go during lunch because I was running late this morning,” you recount. Tears fill your eyes again. “But because it was later in the day and they were busy, they didn't have the donut I wanted. I had to get a different one. And it's just not... right.”

He tries his best not to laugh, he really does.

“I'm sorry that happened.” You can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice, but he's also being genuine. “It’s just a donut though, baby…”

“I know,” you sob – Loud enough for him to hold his phone away from his ear for a second. “I think that's why I'm crying. I know it's stupid.”

He can't help but laugh now. “It's not stupid,” he assures. “You’re just emotional.”

He just listens to the residual crying on your end until it sounds like you're ready to talk again.

“Where are you, by the way?”

“Hiding in the bathroom.”

He smiles hearing you laugh a little.

“Did you eat?” He asks. Stupid question. He bites his lip. “I know it wasn't the you-know-what that you wanted, but you have to eat.”

You roll your eyes at the way he censors the word.

“Not yet…” You sigh, fixing your smudged makeup while you finish talking to him. Or maybe not. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Distract me while I do?”

He can't say no to you. “Of course.”

∘◦❀◦∘

When you get home from work a couple hours later, you’ve forgotten all about your mid-day crisis. It was just like all of the other minute things that have made you cry over the past couple weeks.

You don’t question that you got home before Andy. Every evening is a little different depending on how busy each of you are. Besides, you probably did hold him up by crying to him during your lunch break anyway. So you just go ahead and get everything out that you need for dinner while you wait for him.

Hearing the door open, you call out to let him know you’re in the kitchen.

“Hi,” you beam at him.

He’s relieved to see you smiling as he crosses the room to give you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “Hey, sweetie.”

Your eyes become focused on a paper bag in his hand though, giving him a look when he sets it on the counter in front of you.

“What’s that?”

“For you,” he winks.

You’re skeptical, grabbing the bag and opening it slowly. You let out a short laugh catching sight of the donut that you wanted so badly earlier.

“My donut?” You pout, looking back at him. “You found one?”

“Oh God, don’t cry,” he chuckles seeing the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms. “That was supposed to do the opposite.”

“I can’t help it,” you sniffle, closing your eyes and pressing your face into his neck to keep yourself from crying. “Thanks.”

“It was a fresh batch. I'll go back and buy them all for you...”

He says it like he's joking, but you don't think he is. That's exactly something he would do for you.

“No, it's okay,” you laugh, holding your arms around him tighter as if to keep him from doing so. “Don't want anyone else going through what I did.”

∘◦❀◦∘

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber imagine #requested #a great mentor series

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imaginecolby · 4 months

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a drink and a cuddle || c.b.

summary: after a tough day, all colby wants is to come home to you.

“hey bub, am i gonna get to see you today?” you asked colby when he answered your phone call.

“i wish i had an answer. sam and i have a bunch of meetings and videos to edit today. im hoping we’ll be done by dinner so i can come over like i said i would, but im not sure.” colby sighed.

“if not, its okay.” you said softly. you didnt want to sound too upset and make colby feel bad, because you knew that he loved his job and worked so hard when he needed to. but you couldnt help yourself for missing him.

“if not tonight then tomorrow, i promise.” he said and you heard a smile in his voice.

“im holding you to it.” you laughed.

“baby, i hate to cut this short but sam and i are heading into a meeting right now. ill text you later.” he said.

“okay. have a good day. dont let yourself get too overwhelmed and take breaks when you need to. i love you.”

“i will. i love you too.” colby said, making kissing noises against the speaker. you reciprocated, said your goodbyes and hung up the phone.

you got ready for your day, finished up some work and ran a few errands. it didn’t take you that long to finish all that you needed to do, so you ended up spending the afternoon with your best friend, doing some shopping and hanging out at their house. you watched a couple of movies and as it started to get late, you made your way back to your place. just as you walked in, your phone buzzed in your pocket, a new text from colby flashing on the screen.

“hey babe, are you home? can i come over?” the text read.

“yeah, im here. come over whenever.” you replied. you freshened up and tided up the living room while you waited for colby to get there. you answered the door after colby knocked and took in his look. he was completely disheveled and looked like he hadnt slept in days. you glanced down and noticed a case of white claws under his arm.

“what's this?” you asked as you took them from and put them in the kitchen.

“i've had a rough day and all i want is a drink and someone to cuddle with.” he said as he plopped down on the sofa.

“well, room temperature drinks are no good. lucky for us, i have cold ones in the fridge.” you said as you took the case from him and put them in the refrigerator. you grabbed two cold cans and sat down with him. colby took the can from you and took a big swig as soon as he opened it. “you know my arms and always open for your cuddling needs.” your words caused a wide smile to spread across colbys face, but it didnt last long as he wiped the tiredness from his eyes.

you fixed up your pillows and blankets on the couch and lied down, holding your arms out to him. he made himself comfortable on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist as you draped the blanket over your bodies.

“i love you.” colby said softly as you began playing with his hair.

“i love you too.” you said. you weren't sure if colby was ready to talk about his day, but you didnt want to push him so you and him lied there on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the room as the two of you began to slowly drift off to sleep, wrapped tightly in each others arms.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader

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bittersw33t-lotus · 11 months

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Foot Prints in the Snow

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy, fluff, ooc! Ghost, cursing? I mean It’s ghost.

An: second Ghost fic and I’ve already succumbed to having a baby fever-induced fic 😔 also this is short so let me know if you guys want a part 2. This is based off a tik tok i saw of this guy making footprints for his girlfriend in the snow so she doesn’t slip🥹

(I promise for you guys waiting for part two of great timing, I swear it’s coming out soon😭🫶🏼)

“Its just slush Sargent, you’ll be fine.”

“Nuh-uh, I’ve fallen one too many times on my ass Ghost. One more fall and I will break my tailbone.” You grip onto the railing already feeling your feet starting to slide underneath the slushy snow.

Ghost sighs and walks neck over to you, he turns back around, his back facing you, before he takes a step and shimmies his foot side to side before lifting it and taking another step and repeating his actions leaving visible footprints on the ground, making the gravel more accessible to get more traction on the ground. You didn’t have to ask your lieutenant what he was doing, he was making a clear track for you to follow without walking in the slush.

You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart skipped a beat when you realized Ghost was putting in the effort to help you out instead of just leaving you to deal with not having to fall on your ass. As you began to follow him setting your foot in the tracks he left, you could see how your foot couldn’t fill his footprints entirely. You focused your eyes on the tracks below and soon enough the tracks lead right up to the passenger side of the car door and leading off to the other side where Ghost made his way to the driver side without sparing you a glance and acknowledgment for what he just did for you, like it was nothing.

“You really should get some boots or even ice cleats to walk in this weather, sneakers aren’t going to help you.” He says unlocking the car.

You smile and open the car door, “Why would I when I have you to help me out now.” You say sliding into your seat as Ghost starts to turn on the car.

You hear him huff out a laugh with but miss the way his gaze lingers on you for a second too long.

~~~~~

“You’re up late.” A deep voice booms through the darkness of the lounge room, the lights off with only the source of light coming from the fridge and moonlight seaping through the windows.

You’re squatted as you rummaging through the fridges contents, at the sudden intrusions of silence from Ghost you gasp as you jolt and turning around. As you turn around your eyes try adjusting in the dark, the lighting from the fridge having messed with your vision so it was hard to see Ghost in the dark. “Jesus Christ Ghost you’re gonna give everyone a heart attack if you keep going that,” You breathed out going back to rummaging in the fridge. “I got hungry and can’t sleep.” Ghost rolled his eyes, turning on the kitchen light before walking to the cupboards and pulling out a glass cup, “Why are you still up?” You ask eyeing him as he pours water into his cup.

“Bold of you to assume I even sleep.” He mumbles lifting up his mask revealing his blonde scruffy beard and soft pink lips, taking the cup up to his mouth and drinking the cold liquid, watching as the glass made contact with his soft lips. You quickly turn your attention back to the fridge deciding to grab a little snack and closing the fridge door. You stand back up as began to eat the food.

Once you finished chewing, you look over to your lieutenant to see the the mask was pulled back down covering his face once more, “When’s the last time you slept sir?” You asked, the silence was long as he stared into his cup.

You began to question if he even heard you until he shrugs and sets the cup down on the kitchen counter. “Probably three days now.” He says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He looks away upon seeing your concerned expression at his answer, dismissing your concern with the wave of a hand. “Don’t be surprised, I’ve gone longer that this without sleep.” He says.

“You really shouldn’t continue feeding into the habit Ghost.” You say, however it’s nothing but silence on Ghosts end, you can see his body becoming tense and his eyes tell you enough he’s becoming a little agitated so you back down and shift the topic of conversation . “You wanna go for a walk?”

He looks at you with a raised brow. “What for?”

You shrug and look down at the food in your hand, “I dunno, I can’t sleep and you’re obviously not going to sleep at all- so instead of just being in our rooms, I’d think going outside for a bit would seem better.”

Ghost thought on your offer, “eh,” he breaths out leaning off the counter, “why not.”

The smile that made it way to your face almost made him crack the me himself, “Okay, let me get my jacket real quick.” You say not wasting a second and heading to your room.

Ghost waits by entrance door putting on his jacket and boots when you come out of your room sporting a jacket and the new pair of snow boots you bought. Ghost opens the door letting you go out first and following you, closing the door behind him.

You both agreed to walk near the forests, his flashlight lighting the path, the snow crunching beneath your feet leaving a trail of foot prints behind.

You decided to have some fun and slowly trail behind him and tried your best to walk in his footprints, a small smile on your face as you found amusement in it. Ghost didn’t even need to see what you were doing, this was a little habit you began to pick up ever since the day he helped you. He spaces out with thoughts of you and the little moments he savors with you outside of the field. He sees how you make an effort to talk and interact with him more but he’s honestly holding back in fear of being hurt should anything happen, weather you drift apart, leave the force or join another or even worse… you die.

Ghost wishes he wasn’t so closed off as he was because now it’s back fired on him since now he struggles to break free and open up to others, and he feels bad when he sees how you attempt to conversaré with him only for him to struggle to keep up with the conversation and leave due to embarrassment. As Ghost is lost in thought you began to drift off into thoughts as well.

You felt the walk was filled with a nice silence, but you’ve noticed how Ghost hasn’t even spare you a single glance or peeped a single word to you. Your mind began to wander as your pace began to slow not noticing how ghost was watching you. As you walked you began to think about how he hardly really talked to you, he talks to Johnny, Price and Gaz more often than he did with you maybe it was because he knew them for longer, but you wondered if maybe you annoyed him or you’re just to plain and boring to be around. ‘Is he uncomfortable? Is the silence awkward for him? Should I say something? What if I end up annoying him if I do try and talk? Does he hate walking with me? But If he didn’t want to be near me he would’ve declined my offer and gone by himself or stayed back at base. Unless he didn’t want to seem rude? No he definitely would’ve declined if he wanted to..’

Ghost eventually snapped back into thoughts and took notice at how faint your footsteps grew, he sees you’re a few feet away as you stare at the ground with a blank look, like your spaced out. “You alright?” Ghost spoke, breaking your train of thoughts, you look at him with a confused look before you nod. “You seem to be more present n’ your head then here. You space out a lot when your not in the field.” He said, he didn’t turn to look at you’re dumbfounded expression and opted to keep looking up at the sky.

“How could you tell?” You say as you began to pick up your speed and catch up to him making you way back to walking beside Ghost.

“You always stare at things wit’ a blank stare, and your don’t blink for hours on end like you’ve gotta starin’ problem, and when someone talks to you, you look lost.” He says finally turning his head to look at you.

“Is it really that obvious?” You cringe at the thought.

“Very.” You groan and turn away, feeling heat rush up your face in embarrassment. “‘S alright, I used to do it a lot when I was younger…” he says, his voice faltering a bit at his last words.

You look back at Ghost, “How’d you do it?”

He looks back at you with a confused look.

“How’d you stop spacing out I mean.”

He looks at the floor now, ‘My family died and I focused my entire life and thoughts into the army so I don’t have to think about them-’ He thinks. “I joined the army and set my sights on the military, basically burying myself in work.”

“Huh, seems like I should do that then.” You chuckle at your own joke but Simon doesn’t think so.

“No, wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll end up fucked in the head like me. You won’t be human.” He says.

Silence. Ghost begins to worry that maybe he’s gone too deep.

“You’re not.” You say, Ghost cant bring himself to look at you and looks at what little scenery he can see. “You’re not entirely fucked in the head, you still show us that you’re still a human being. I’ve seen how you act Ghost, you show glimpses of the person- the man you are under that mask. Like right now.”

Ghost hears your footsteps stop, so he stops. He turns around and looks you in the eyes. Your smiling at him and his heart skips. He feels a rare feeling bubbling in his stomach, one he hasn’t felt In a while. ‘The man I am under the mask…’ He thinks.

“You noticed how I act out of work and you asked if I’m alright. When I got shot for the first time durning that mission in France, while we waited for evac, I was loosing my shit thinking I was gonna die even though the bullet was in my thigh,” You laugh at the memory. “You talked me through the pain and anxiety I was feeling and told me I was alright, you taught me the breathing techniques and proceeded to make shitty military jokes all to distract me from the chaos ensuing around us as I sat there bleeding.” Ghost remembers that time, you were on the team for almost a year, a rookie on the team but you were one of the best soldiers Price ever saw and that’s why you made it to the task force, you could handle being harmed by the hands of others, wither it be by their hands, being sliced by knives, pepper sprayed, tasered, or hit with inanimate objects you took it like a pro but you never got experienced the power of a bullet before, so when you finally got shot for the first time, the shock made you hysterical and the anxiety wasn’t helping you. It was just you and him teamed together. Despite seeing multiple things in his time in the army, seeing others shot, including himself, it wasn’t new. He was almost desensitized to it minus the pain that came with it, but when it came to you, he was almost scared. Hearing your scream in pain and fall to the ground he never felt his heart drop so hard in his life. He remembered breathing out in relief seeing the bullet was only in your thigh knowing you’d be okay, that you’d live.

“And there was also that time last year when it snowed and rained, the snow turned into slush, I didn’t have my snow shoes at the time and complained about not wanting to fall on my ass. You made a path of your foot prints from the building to the passenger side of the Jeep for me to walk in just so I wouldn’t slip. There’s times where you worry about the well being of Johnny, Gaz and Price and I during missions, especially when we got separated after the whole fiasco with Graves turning on us. Those are the moments where I don’t see a ghost of a man. I see Simon.”

Hearing you say his name made his heart skip a beat, now Simon knows for sure that he’s in love with you. “Thanks (yn).” He says with a small smile hidden behind the fabric of his balaclava.

This was the first time he’s heard you say his name, after the time in Las Almas when they were set to kill Graves, you were there when you saw his face for the first time and when Price used his real name. You got a glimpse of the real Simon for the first time. His eyes met yours and that was the first time he couldn’t tell what you were thinking but that was the day you knew you were in love with Ghost and Simon, the day you both finally gained each others trust, the day you smiled at him for the first time and made him fall even harder for you without even knowing it.

~~~~~

“Simon I can’t find my shoes again.” You call out from your bedroom you share with Simon. Looking inderneath you bed you can’t find your snow shoes to help you track through the ice.

“I think it’s still in the car with all the snow gear from last week.” He calls out from the kitchen already ready to head to the store but waiting for you to find your shoes.

You grunt and slam your head against the side of your mattress, the cushion bouncing your head. You remembered, last week you and Simon had gone snow boarding with the team, Price, Johnny, and Gaz, as a little gathering since you’re all on leave for a month. You and Simon had left all your gear including your snow clothes and shoes in the back of Simons truck. You heard footsteps thumping behind you, you turn your head around to see Simon entering your shared bedroom.

“Can you get them.” You plead. Simon chuckles before walking back out of your bedroom.

“Fine.” He agrees walking out the house.

You sit on your bed and wait for Simon to come back. After a few minutes pass, you grew confused, ‘Can he not find them? He’s been out there for a minute’ You think which makes you groan. Finally you hear the front door close and hear his footsteps approaching the room. You look back up at your boyfriend and don’t see your boots in either of his hands. “Are they not there?” You ask.

Simon shakes his head ‘No’ throwing his hands up in defeat. “It’s alright though, let’s just go.” He says as you sigh. You follow him out the door and wait beside him as he closes the door. You take a look at the truck when you notice a trail of his foot prints leading up to the passenger side of the truck. “Go on.” He says placing a hand on your lower back.

You stare at him for a few seconds until it clicks in your brain. You smile at Simon and kiss his cheek, “Thank you Si.” You say before walking into the snow, you place your feet in the tracks he’s already placed in a range wide enough for you to walk in, memories flooding back to you to that one winter, before you got your boots. You smile at the memory as Simon stands by the door watching you step in his tracks with a wide smile on his face. You finally make it to the passenger door and turn around to look at Simon and see the smile etched on his face. “Cmon doofus hurry up and unlock the door I’m freezing my ass off.” You laugh out.

Simon chortles a laugh, he presses the button allowing you to open the door and climb into the truck taking your seat on the already warmed seat, Simon opens his door. You turn around to place your bag in the back seat when a certain item caught your eye. “Heyy, my boots were back here.” You say grabbing the boots and looking at Simon, whom suspiciously acted surprised.

“Oh, I’d didn’t see them there. My bad.” He looked away and focused on buckling his seat belt.

“Uh-huh…” you squint your eyes at him before you paused. Simon was outside long enough to check the entire truck, you also remember hearing the truck doors open and close before it was silent for a minute. “You purposefully left them here just to watch me struggle to get to the car didn’t you?” You deadpanned.

You couldn’t miss the small smile that made its way to Simons face, “It’s entertaining to see you walk in my foot prints and as much as I hate saying the word, it’s kinda cute to watch.”

You roll your eyes at him before buckling yourself in, as Simon pulls out the driveway, you take off your shoes and replace them with your boots.

~~~~~~

“Simon I’m fine, I walked perfectly fine at the house.” You sat in the passenger seat of the truck with the door open as you watch your husband set out tracks for you on the snow again. The first show of winter arrived yesterday with 5 inches of snow fall over the night. You had an appointment the very next morning to get a check up, but due to the unexpected snow the snow plower trucks were delayed until late morning to arrive at the hospital and the staff couldn’t bother to shovel the gigantic parking lot only the side walks and front entrance.

So Simon ‘forced’ you to stay on the porch as he made footprints for you to follow as you bring out your phone to start recording Simon making tracks, you silently slide off the seat and onto the ground the best you could, placing your feet in his footprints you began. You try to capture your feet but your protruding belly gets in the way, it’s been difficult to see your feet for quiet some time ever since you hit 7 months into your pregnancy. You angle your camera back you to Simon and began to waddle your way towards your husband. He could hear snow crunching and snapped his head back towards you to see you a few feet away from the truck and struggling a bit.

Without a second thought, Simon quickly makes his way to you taking hold of your free hand to help steady you, “I thought I told you to stay on the truck until I’m done.”

You scrunch your face at him as you stop walking. “I told you I was fine, I’m still perfectly capable of doing things Simon. I’m not the baby here so there’s no reason to worry so much.”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I’ll give plenty of good reasons; you can’t see your bloody feet which makes your balance arse, you waddle like a penguin, you walk slow,” He lists off things in a ‘matter of factly’ tone. You glare at him as he smirks and snakes an arm around your waist with the other holding your hand. “Do I need to bring up the amount of times you’ve almost tripped and missed steps on the stairs and little cracks in the sidewalks?”

“Okay, okay- I get it.” You glare at him as he began to lead you up to the entrance, “You’re a pain in my ass.” You jokingly laughed out.

Simon let’s out a chuckle, “Yea? It’s a pain in my ass having to make tracks for you just so you don’t fall on your ass.”

“You have the choice to stop but you don’t, you love me too much to stop.” You purr out giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Simon chuckled and kisses your forehead, “That I do love,” his hand on your waist shifts forward the the side of your belly, rubbing your bump covered by your jacket. “That I do.”

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