#hiraml

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine almost getting caught with Hiram Lodge, by his daughter Veronica.

Music was playing softly through the speakers that were mounted around Hiram’s office in order to get the best acoustics in the room directly to the chair that he usually sat in. Classic, just like the man himself. Except he wasn’t in the chair right there, he was on the floor, shirt having been taken off a quarter hour ago, pumping himself up with push-ups. He had the physique of a man half of his age, you noticed and admired. He kept himself up well.

He was showing you his dominance. That he was better looking, that he was stronger, that he was more powerful than any of the men that had been hitting on you at the gym that afternoon. You hadn’t given those men a glance and yet .. his jealousy had flared up, bringing you this rather impressive show.

While this was going on, you were sitting atop his desk, still in your own workout gear. And it didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your legs were crossed, watching him, finally snapping your fingers to get his attention. “That’s enough, Hiram, I think you’ve proven yourself.” You slid off of the desk, landing on your bare feet. You held a hand out to help him up, though he hardly needed it. “You’ve got everything those men will never have - so why don’t you take advantage of it?”

He got up without your help. Now he was just showing off. But he took your hand anyway, holding your wrist up above your head and pushing you back against the wall. The edges of the bookshelves had all been rounded for this very reason, so that it wouldn’t hurt. Pressing you against it, his hand trailing low to into your shorts, feeling what was underneath with a smirk. “You going to be good and keep your hands up while I take these off?” He asked, his tone showing that it was not a question at all.

“Yes, Hiram,” You breathed.

You joined wrists above your head, crossing them as if they were tied up, stretching out your body the way that you knew that he liked. He tugged those shorts down, holding up your feet to help you step out of them. He kissed his way back up your body to your work-out shirt, and began to fumble underneath it, touching your chest, smooth fingers.

It was the footsteps at the door that alerted you. The sound there was more hollow, it echoed louder so that no one  could come up on Hiram unannounced. Your eyes caught his with panic. The familiar heels. The familiar walk. Veronica. “Sit,” He said, giving you a little push towards his desk. You stumbled your way there, sitting just in time so that only your upper half could be seen. You moved the mouse so that the screensaver was down, and you looked busy.

“--- and fifty,” Hiram said, having dropped back onto the ground for another push up before Veronica came walking in. “Evening, Veronica. And what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Still working out?” Veronica said, looking at him, and then at you. You smiled at her, hoping to God she wouldn’t notice that there was nothing below the waist. You were pushed further into the desk, making sure that it cut off before your waist. “I was just wondering if I could borrow some money, daddy.”

“Of course,” Hiram said. “I’ll put some on your card before you leave the house. Is that all?”

Veronica looked suspiciously between the two of you. But she was getting what she wanted, after all. “Thanks daddy-kins. I won’t stay out too late.”

“Be careful,” Hiram said. Veronica turned around and walked out, the heavy door closing behind you. You breathed out in relief and pushed the chair back. Before you could relax too much, Hiram was tugging you out of the chair. “Now where were we?”

Requested by: Anonymous

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge imagines #Riverdale #Riverdale imagines #request #imagines #x reader #hiraml

[dopemusicwitch]

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Archie Andrews brother and casually admitting to Hiram Lodge that you like watching him work out at the gym.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead while continuing to work on the bike, pedals rotating with high tension. The bike wasn’t your favorite bit of equipment in this gym, it did afford you the best view of Hiram Lodge.

The older man was definitely the most fit person inside of this gym. Your brother was here, working on the weights, putting in the long hours to be the best football player that Riverdale had ever seen, but that wasn’t the kind of strength that Hiram had. No, Hiram had a real man’s sort of strength, the kind that came from years of fine-tuning, of real work, not just a set of weights.

“Shit,” You muttered, realizing that you weren’t able to concentrate like this. Hiram was just making you feel too damn hot, you might actually overheat on this thing.

He was just over there - doing push ups, watching himself in the mirror. Watching his own figure as he moved up and down with ease in a way that a military cadet could only dream of.

Slowing your roll to a stop, you patted your forehead with the towel around your neck and decided fuck it, you were just going to get closer. Try to see the muscle strain, if there was any, to help fuel your fantasies later that night. As casually as you could muster, you walked in that direction and pretended to be looking at one of the machines.

“Mr. Andrews,” Hiram said, launching up into a burmpee, jumping from the ground as the final exercise of his routine. You’d seen it end often enough.

“Mr. Lodge,” You greeted in return with a nod and a smile. Though your brother had problems with the Lodge, you avoided all of those issues, figuring you were too old to get messed up in all of that teenage dating petty bullshit. No, your smile yowards Hiram was a hundred percent real, as was the way that your eyes wandered down his shirtless body to the gym shorts and then back up.

“Thinking of using the chest press?” Hiram asked, picking up his water bottle and taking a drink. Oh, to be the droplets that were dripping from his lips. You never felt so thirsty.

“Hmm?” You questioned, nd then realized that’s what you were pretending to look at. “No, no, mostly just came around to watch you,” You admitted, feeling bold. He didn’t look surprised at your admission. He looked like he had been expecting it. Had you really been so obvious? That wasn’t really a question worth asking at this point.

“I see,” He said, offering you his water bottle. You took it, pleased to be able to drink from the same place that he had. “You should come to my private gym sometime. The equipment is better. And there’s a lot more mirrors. You can watch every angle.”

“Maybe I will,” You shot back, quickly, not missing the chance. “Why do you come out here if you have a private gym?”

“I like to watch too.”

Requested by: Anonymous

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge x Male Reader #Hiram Lodge imagines #Riverdale #Riverdale imagines #imagines #request #hiraml

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Hiram Lodge inviting you to his private gym.

Sequel to: Imagine being Archie Andrews brother and casually admitting to Hiram Lodge that you like watching him work out at the gym.

You would have been a fool to pass up the invitation to work out inside of Hiram’s private gym. He didn’t give out invitations like that lightly - as in your brother, even as Veronica’s sweetheart, hadn’t been invited inside of those doors but you were. You were lead inside by Hiram with confidence, wearing your favorite shorts - the smallest ones that you owned of course, to show off your shapely thighs - and looked around at what was inside.

You noted the main machines - the treadmill, the bowflex, the pelaton bike, the weight rack and the door leading off into what appeared to be a sauna, which you hoped to enjoy before the night was out. But the real star of the show was the fact that every wall was lined with floor to ceiling mirrors. Just by looking in one, you could see how you looked from behind in the reflection. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he could see every angle. He had also said that he liked to watch - that showed in his decorative taste.

“So, y/n,” Hiram said, removing his shirt and tossing it onto a bench, revealing those muscles that didn’t fit his age range at all. He had a body of someone half his age. And his face too - shit, this was a good looking man. You were starting to regret your choice of attire because now it was going to be tough to hide anything. Especially with these mirrors. You could see him from behind too, his back muscles flexing as he picked up his waterbottle. “Where would you like to start?”

You started with a warm up, some stretches in front of the mirror. You felt his gaze upon you. Approving. He looked satisfied and oh, that made you feel a little cocky. You took your own shirt off at that point, wearing very little now except for those shorts and your shoes. Though you felt yourself being watched, you still felt quite comfortable. Like he was appraising you but not judging you. After your warm-up stretches, he coached you through the equipment, showing you how to use it properly and to maximize results. He was a very hands on trainor, and your sweat ended up on each machine that you used, to be wiped up later.

And, as if you had not sweated enough, Hiram invited you into the sauna after your work out was finished, and your legs were feeling shaky from all of the work that you had just put them through. Having seen it when you walked in and hoping to be inside of it, you accepted whole-heartedly. The room was small, which made the heat inside as it was set up with the hot stones, all the more humid and intimate. Hiram, not shy at all, stripped down to the buff and sat comfortably on the only bench. Not wanting to seem rude, you did the same, and sat beside him. Though the steam was rising, it was not yet strong enough to hide anything, so there was no modesty in those couple of moments. You could see everything. And so could he. So it was impossible to hide that there were two prominent body parts that were feeling rather ... tense.

“This is a whole lot better than the public gym,” You admitted, folding your hands behind your head and making yourself comfortable.

Hiram rested his hand on your thigh. It was up higher than would ever be appropriate in a less private setting. It gave you a tingling feeling. Goosebumps despite the heat. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

Requested by: Anonymous

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[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine cuddling with Hiram Lodge after a long day.

There’s just something about Mondays that made you feel more blue than usual. That cartoon cat had it right - they really were just the worst. Man, you could really use a lasagna right now actually, now that you thought about it. Now that the idea was up inside of your head.

So you decided to get some. Order in advance from the only Italian restaurant that Riverdale had. You’d surprise Hiram with it, rather than cooking tonight. You just were not in the mood to deal with all of the pots and pans, the simmering this and the chopping that. Crying because of onions - no thank you. Let someone else do all of that for you and get paid for it.

But everything turned stale when you got to the restaurant and had to wait for the hostess to return from seating a table to pick up your order. A group of older teens got in behind you, and were waiting as well. Usually you didn’t eavesdrop on the conversations of younger people but when they made it evident that they were talking about you and didn’t give a damn what you heard, your ears just couldn’t close.

“What, did KFC run out of fried chicken?” One of them said, letting out a snort. His friends laughed with him. And then another cut in. “Maybe we should go somewhere else. They’re going to need to restock the place after she orders.”

Mondays. Cruel, cruel mondays. You didn’t want to think that everyone in this town thought of you like this. That they weren’t all racist or enjoyed picking on your size. It was just a rough day. It was just the Mondays. They probably had it rough too, you thought, but then you could hear Hiram’s voice inside of your head telling you to steal up, fight back, don’t just take it. But that wasn’t exactly you.

The hostess greeted you with a smile, and you tried to give her one back, but your heart wasn’t in it. You gave your name and order number, and within twenty minutes, you were back home, food on the table, and sitting on the couch, looking at it. Your appetite wasn’t what it had been earlier.

Hiram noticed. He noticed the smell of the food, and then he noticed your mood. He looked at you, a black cloud forming over his own head. “What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing,” You said, trying to dismiss these feelings. “Just some - some stupid kids. I’m fine, really.”

“Do you know their names?”

“No, I’m not really in the habit of knowing all the teenagers in town,” You said. “Sticks and stones and all that. I’m fine, Hiram. Trust me.”

He gave you a long look. Thinking. He wanted to get details. He wanted to call the Italian restaurant and ask for the names of everyone that was there tonight, and then mess some people up for talking to you in a way that clearly hurt you. But he also didn’t want to hurt you further by bringing it all back up. He was at a crossroads. Eventually, he figured out which route to take. The one that brought him to your side on the couch, his arm around you, trying to tuck you in closer to him. “You’re beautiful, mi amor. Espléndida.”

You allowed yourself to be held, comforted, complimented. It might have been a horrible Monday. But the night was looking better than the afternoon.

Requested by: @smolchubbygoddess​

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[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine charming Hiram Lodge into a game of strip poker.

You’re feeling the lateness of the hour creeping closer and closer, the part of the night when any self-respecting person would excuse themselves and go back to their own home rather than stay for a third nightcap with Hiram Lodge. You’ve been putting it off and putting it off, and now - now you were too intoxicated to even think of driving home. Nobody would blame you for wanting to stay longer now, would they? Nobody would fault you for not wanting to drive home drunk? You’ve just been whisked into the bottle, that’s all.

“Oh, one more couldn’t hurt,” You said to Hiram’s offer. He poured a couple of fingers of the smooth scotch into your glass. Every sip of it made you feel warm. Bold. “So, Mister Lodge, do you like to play any games for fun?”

“Games?" Hiram said, taking his seat once more, crossing one leg over the other. “Games. I’m fond of poker, myself.”

“Really?” You asked, an idea coming to mind. “As am I. Perhaps we could play sometime. I’ll let you know, I have one hell of a pokerface.”

“Let’s play then,” He said with a glint in his eye. He reached across towards a side table, pulled out the drawer, and removed a deck of cards. “What should we play for?”

“Money is ... cliche,” You stated, eyeing him from his shoes to his perfectly placed hair. “Neither of us are wanting. So how about we make it interesting?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Strip poker.”

He thought about it for a minute, making your heart race. You were nervous that you might have just overstepped a boundary somewhere. There had been flirting between the two of you but this was taking it to the next level. He pulled the side table over and placed it between the two of you, and started to shuffle the deck. “I like the sound of that,” He said, dimples showing in the corner of his mouth.

Only a couple of hands were played. Shoes were off. Shirts were off. And it was when he won another hand that his eyes roamed as you stood up to unbuckle your pants. Button undone. Zipper sliding down. A peek of deep red underwear that had matched the pullover he had been wearing and the game was done. Table flung. A ravenous Hiram. This was a game without losers - only winners.

Requested by: Anonymous

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[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine getting into a very heated argument with Hiram Lodge.

As usual, Hiram was driving you absolute crazy. What had started off as a minor disgreement had turned into a full blown argument, with the both of you getting into one another’s faces, and yelling. Even through anger, there was a line that was never crossed - you never laid your hands on one another but oh, yours were shaking right then, fingers trembling. He was so lucky that anger, to you, was like an aphrodisiac or you would be thinking about putting your hands on him in more violent ways.

You fell silent after he said a couple more words to you, and you could see that in his eyes, he thought that he had won. That his point had been made and that you were either going to storm out so you wouldn’t have to admit that you were wrong, or you would finally come around to his point of view. But this time, you weren’t doing either.

He was surprised when you went for him, when you gave him an unexpected shove onto his desk, setting his very attractive ass into a sitting position. Your fingers deftly played with the buttons of his shirt, but unsatisfied with how they were working, you just ripped it with all of your might, sending the little pieces of plastic flying around the room and exposing that chest that he worked hard on, never quite giving up his high school wrestling days. He starts stumbling on his own words.

“What the fuck are you doi-”

You caught his lips in a kiss however, as your hands started to roam over that chest. He moaned into it. Normally, he was a very take charge man. A control freak. He had to be in the position of power. But the way that you were just taking charge? He was getting far more into it than he thought possible. He was aroused just from all of it, something you could see clearly in his finely tailored trousers.

You moved your hands down to brush over the mound, causing him to hiss into the kiss. “I think I have a way of making you come around to my point of view, Hiram,” You purred, coming back around with butterfly-soft touches to tease. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“You - do have some - points -”

“Mmm - that’s what I thought,” You said, and with more authority, you started to rub at his through the fabric of his pants, making him agree to whatever it is that you wanted just to get more.

Requested by: Anonymous

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[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine distracting Hiram Lodge while he’s working by appearing in your underwear.

You walked into his office, striding confidently in the shoes that you had received that morning in the post - shoes that were too daring for a place like Riverdale, not fitting in with all of the Americana - no, these shoes looked like they were only meant for a famous district in Amsterdam, not here. You caught Hiram’s eye as he looked at you, getting ready to ask why you were in his office when he had clearly instructed you to remain in bed, phone in hand, but you stopped him by raising up a single finger. He didn’t like being told what to do. He was always the dominant one, but he listened, if only because he realized there was still a voice talking to him on the other end of the line.

You undid the belt of the trench coat. You popped open the buttons and revealed the lacy number that you had on underneath - and nothing else. Someone might have thought you were wearing shorts, or even a dress below since it was so long, you didn’t get looked at twice, but they would have been wrong. Those panties were see-through, with only thin, ornate lace designs covering your most private of areas. He gaped.

“I’ll call you back,” He said into the cellphone, and set it face down upon his desk. His hands folded themselves up on top of it, and he took the image of you in. “Take the coat off.”

He had to show that he was still in control somehow. You did take the coat off, sliding it down your arms and letting it fall onto the floor. That coat was worth more money than the whole of people’s wardrobes but there it was, lying on the hardwood.

“Turn around.”

And you did. You turned on those shoes, so daring, to show off what you had going on behind. You bent over to pick up the coat, giving him the perfect view of your ass. You peeked over your shoulder to see that he clearly liked what he was seeing.

“I thought I told you to stay in the bedroom.”

“But I’ve been so eager to see where you work,” You said, draping it over the back of a chair. “And it’s so nice in here...” The table was also the perfect height. You crossed your arms over it, bending over. “Maybe you could give me some work to do.”

“I’m sure I can think of a task or two.”

Requested by: Anonymous

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[random-imagines-blog]

Love Peas {Hiram Lodge x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1894 Summary: Hiram comes home after a very rough night. Notes: Mentions of death

Shifting under the covers, you heard a noise coming from downstairs. The house was usually quiet save for the murmur of the appliances and electronics, a sound that you had gotten used to over the months of living here with your boyfriend, Hiram. So each and every footstep on the ground sounded like a racket. You laid still, expecting the security system to trigger, saying that there was an intruder, but it did no such thing. The power was still on, you could hear the hum still, that little electrical buzz that was your constant background noise. So that meant whoever was in your house had the keycode. Hiram.

There was even more clamor from downstairs. A groaning sound. Now you knew for sure it was Hiram. You’ve heard him, unfortunately, be in pain on more than one occasion through your relationship. It was the price that he paid for being in the ‘business’ that he was.

You swept the blankets off of you, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. You pulled your robe closed over your pajamas as you made your way quickly to the door, through the hallway, and then started down the stairs to see what the damage was this time. You were always terrified that he was going to come home covered in blood, battered beyond repair. That you were going to hold him and hear nothing but the death rattle right before he would be gone. It was a scene that ran through your nightmares. A scene that if it were in front of you, you were ill-prepared to deal with.

There was nothing lazy, or just-woken up about your movements. Foot descending after foot on the runner of the stairs, keeping the chilliness of the hard floors at bay. Through the moonlight coming in through the windows, you were able to see a form just slipping out of the foyer, making it’s way to the kitchens. “Hiram?" You asked, reaching the bottom of the staircase and turning to follow. He was hurt, though there was no blood on the floor. There wasn’t a trail leading after him. But by the way that his leg was sliding behind him, it looked like it was broken at the very least. You flicked the switch and the kitchen came to life with bright lights, revealing everything. Under those florescent s, there was no room to hide.

Though Hiram was trying pretty hard to hide.

He sat down on the floor, head leaning back against the wooden cabinets. He was bruised, but that was an understatement. He was severely bruised. Black eye. Split lip. His usually perfect hair was tousled in a not-unattractive way but the very fact that he hadn’t immediately took a come to it scared you a little. If that was the state of his face, you were very concerned about the rest of him. You got down on your knees next to him, ignoring the discomfort, nervous to even touch him. He looked like he would break if he did.

“I can explain...” Hiram started off by saying, but then realized that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He’d look up into your face, and then would immediately try to cut off the eye contact, looking down at the ground instead.

“I think this is going a bit beyond the first aid box’s capabilities,” You winced upon seeing the other side of his face. Oh lord, even that eye was starting to swell up. He was close to being a human bruise at this point. That poor, gorgeous face of his. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital. Is anything broken? How did you get home?”

“Cab,” Hiram admitted, ignoring your first question. “The driver was - taking care of things while I left.”

“Christ, Hiram,” You groaned. You got up to your feet, dashing towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit that was in there. The amount of times that you had to replace this thing. The pharmacy probably thought that you were in an abusive relationship. You came back to see that he hardly moved, other than to wipe a bit of blood that was coming from the deep cut in his bottom lip. You sat back down beside him, opened up the first aid kit, tore into a package that contained an alcohol wipe and started to blot.

“Do we got any ice packs?” Hiram moaned. You stood up to go and check, looking through the contents of the freezer. You rummaged past the frozen vegetables, frozen pizzas, bottles of alcohol to find that - no, there were no ice packs in the freezer.

“Have to do with some vegetables,” You said, grabbing a bag of frozen peas. You held it up to his face, pressing it as tenderly as you could against the rougher looking eye. He hissed, and brought his hand up to grab it, only to show you how damaged that looked too. Bloody knuckles were the least of his worries. “We’re going to have to get that looked at,” You said, pointing towards his hand.

“It’s fine,” He muttered, letting it rest on the bag, which was resting on his face. It looked like it hurt. You didn’t know how he wasn’t crying out for a hospital. You would be if you sustained even half of those injuries.

“As much as we love peas in this house, I don’t think they’re going to be granting you any miracles,” You said, and went back to dabbing with the alcohol wipe. “Your lip is going to need stitches. The cuts too big. It won’t heal right.” “So call my Doctor,” Hiram growled, grumpily. By instinct, you slapped the top of his thigh, making him gasp out in pain and drop the frozen bag onto the ground. It broke open, the little green vegetables scattering across the tiled floor.

“I don’t care how hurt you are, you don’t talk to me like that,” You said, shaking your finger in his face. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t know how many more of these you can take before you have some serious internal injuries. Even Houdini died from a punch to the stomach, and you’re not nearly as good at escaping trouble as he is.”

“Mi amor, comparing me to a dead man,” Hiram groaned, pushing peas off of his lap. You got up again, your legs getting a work out from all of the squats that you were doing tonight, and grabbed another bag of frozen peas. It was weird that there were so many, but even rich people buy stuff that’s on sale sometimes. It’s how you stayed rich.

“You keep this up and you will be a dead man,” You quipped, putting the fresh bag on his face, holding it this time instead of letting him do it. “At least let me look at you, please?”

He finally gave a nod, and you slowly lifted his shirt to see all of the markings and bruises that were on his abdomen. His torso looked like a Jackson Pollock painting with the different shades of colors everywhere. You winced, bringing the shirt back down. You really hated seeing him look like this. You’ve been pleading with him to retire since the last time that he had received a beating like this. Or at the very least, hire someone younger to take his place in these fights. He was getting too old for this. “You should see the other guys,” He quipped.

“I don’t doubt it. And what were they - half your age?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, moving the bag from one eye to the other. “Hiram, my love, don’t you think it’s about time that you think about retiring? We can move away from Riverdale. We can get a spot on the beach somewhere, where it never snows. Where it’s never warm. Where the only damage you have to worry about is getting too much sun. Getting burned. But I’ll take care of you and always put sunscreen on you. Aloe vera if you do end up getting burned. Just - think about it, okay? For me?”

“I can’t give up my business like that,” Hiram shook his head, not even considering the possibility. You sighed. You knew that was going to be his answer. You hadn’t been expecting anything else. And yet you were still disappointed. As per usual. “I cannot be seen as weak or everything that I’ve done so far will have been for nothing. All of that work. I can’t pull out yet.”

“Of course you can’t,” You sighed. “At the very least, can you plan on it in the future? I don’t want to be putting this bag on your eyes when you’re well into your seventies.”

“Do you think we’ll still love peas then, mi amor?” He asked, breaking into a smile despite what must be a lot of pain, especially in his lip area.

“I think the better question is will I still love you them,” You teased. pressing a kiss onto one of the few parts of his face that wasn’t mottled with bruises. “But yes, to both. These are lovepeas, don’t you know. Rumor says that if you put them on the black eye of the person that you love, you’ll be together until the ends of the Earth. Or until there are no more peas. But given how the bees are dying out, that might not even be until the ends of the earth.”

“And your creativity is why I love you, and why I always come home,” Hiram said, taking your wrists around his hands. You smiled gently, loving that he cared about the weird side of you. Not just the well made-up person who was always by his side at work events. He always had a way of making you feel like you were someone special. Someone worth adoring.

Now if only you could actually get him out of the criminal business and move somewhere like Mexico where you can lie on the beach together.

“Do you love me enough to let me leave for a moment to call the Doctor? I am worried about this lip of yours. I need it stitched up and better so I can kiss you again.”

“Yes, I suppose I love you that much.” His thumbs would rub at the underside of your wrists for a moment, and then he would gently release you so you could get up and walk back to the bedroom where your cellphone was waiting. Even leaving him that long seemed like an eternity. You called the doctor while you were on your way back down the stairs, hanging up as you entered the kitchen, just in time to see Hiram picking one of the frozen peas off of the ground and popping it into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” You asked, going for the broom and dustpan to finally clean that mess up.

“Oh, I thought these were the feel-better peas. You eat a couple and then you feel all better until the end of time?” He’d ask, showing his very rare funny side. You laughed and shook your head.

“Let me clean these up then I’ll get you to your chair. The doctor is on his way.”

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[random-imagines-blog]

Wide Awake {Hiram Lodge x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2350 Summary: Lodge-thrown fundraisers are always a splendid affair - even at a high-school. A room familiar to the both of you brings back memories.

The party was absolutely elegant, everything that it had been promised to be. When the Lodges had said that they were going to throw a fundraiser for the high school, no one had been expecting something cheap and tacky. But this was still beyond all. You had to go to the big city to get a new outfit for the occasion, since you had nothing that suited. It cost a pretty penny, which you could barely afford given your meager teacher’s salary. But it was worth it for the feeling that you had once you walked through those gymnasium doors and seen it entirely transformed. Mr Lodge himself even slipped in next to you, offering you a glass of champagne. “It’s been a while since I’ve planned a party. What do you think?”

“You did a wonderful job,” You admitted. You had seen this gymnasium go through a lot - different dances, prom, events, sports, but whatever Hiram Lodge did was grander than that. He even managed to get rid of the old sweat and shoe smell. Now it smelled of whatever flowers those were on the tables. You accepted the champagne glass and took a sip from it. Expensive stuff. Not the cheap bottles that you were used to. “I would almost think that you were professional.”

Hiram chuckled beside you, and held out his hand. “Hiram Lodge.”

“Oh, was I not supposed to know that?” You laughed but took his hand and gave it a proper shake. “Y/N Y/L/N. History teacher here at Riverdale High School. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mr. Lodge.”

“Please, just call me Hiram. I’ve heard excellent things about you from Veronica. You’re one of her favorite teachers. The one I hear about the most, in fact. I’ve been interested in meeting you for quite some time.”

“Oh,” You said, a little taken aback that Veronica seemed to admire you enough to tell her father about you. She was an excellent student of course, but never went above and beyond in your class. “Well, she’s been a wonderful student. Brilliant mind. Impeccable style. I don’t have to guess where that came from,” You said, motioning around the gym. Josie McCoy was on the stage singing a soft song to greet the guests as they came inside. “Well, I won’t keep you from the rest of your guests, Mr.Lodge. I’m sure I’ll see you about.”

“You will,” He said with a charming smile, and went off to do just as you thought. To rub elbows with Riverdale’s finest. Try to raise money for a renovation on the school for another gymnasium. But you noticed that so far, you were the only one to have received a glass of champagne from the man himself. You took another sip as you took it all in. It looked more like an event hall than something that was attached to the school.

You soon became attached in conversation with student Betty Cooper, one of the brightest girls in your class. She complimented your outfit, and you two started conversing about what a good job the decorators had done. Eventually her friends, Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones, Kevin Keller and Archie Andrews joined the conversation. You were one of the younger teachers at this school, only about ten years older than the kids themselves, and they always seemed comfortable talking to you. “You all look lovely as well,” You smiled.

Teenagers. They always seemed to grow up so fast.

Eventually they would move on, talking to their friends. People their own age. Felt like just yesterday they were coming in as freshmen. Made you smile as you watched them, going on to dancing with each other, having a good time.

“Are you having a good time, Professor y/l/n?” Hiram asked, coming up to you with another glass of champagne. You had just finished your first, had set the empty glass down on a nearby table.

“Oh please,” You said, taking it from him gratefully. He was such an attentive host tonight. It was really a splendor to behold. “Just call me y/n. And yes, especially since someone keeps bringing me champagne.”

“Can’t let my little girl’s favorite teacher go thirsty,” He would say. He kept on smiling, his teeth were dazzling white, like he stepped out of a toothpaste commercial. He was quite a good looking man. “I haven’t taken a walk around the school since I was a student here. Has anything changed?”

“Apart from the complete transformation of the gym tonight, I can say with certainty that nothing changes around here. At least until you came around with this fundraiser. So the most you might pick up is old memories.”

“Care to accompany me through memory lane?” Hiram offered. “Since I can’t stand the sight of anyone standing around by themselves at one of my parties.”

“Ahh, well, if that’s the reason,” You said, and you took his arm once it was extended to you, walking out of the magical looking place into the more mundane halls of the high schools. “Anything yet?” “It smells the same,” Hiram said, causing you to laugh. You found yourself walking towards the trophy case, where he stopped and looked into it. He seemed to be scanning for something - and his eyes lit up once he found it. You didn’t have to ask what it was, or go looking yourself. There was something in there with his name, what else could he possibly be looking for? “Looks like it was just shined this morning,” He said, triumphantly.

Yes, Hiram Lodge had a trophy inside of the case for winning the Wrestling State Championship. And you could see that he was still proud of it. You couldn’t blame him. By the look of his body, he had kept up that athletic spirit.

“Because it was,” You said with a laugh. “It was the punishment for detention today. So don’t be surprised if it’s more of a spit shine than anything else.”

He laughed along with you and then you gave his arm a little tug to continue on through the school. “I don’t even think they’ve painted the lockers since I’ve been here,” He said, running his fingers along the metallic doors. “I bet I can remember where mine is.”

“Really? You gonna show me?” You asked, challenging his memory. He smiled once more, and made a left at an approaching hallway. And then another left. And then a right. You were watching amused and slightly astounded, especially as he stopped in front of locker 714.

“And this is it,” He said, putting his hand against it. “Had a lot of good times, this locker and I.”

“No way.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “This was my locker.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You laughed, and turned your back against it, taking in the familiar view. “Not too far from the best vending machine in the school, but not close enough to any of the bathrooms that you had to worry about residual smells. It really is a good locker. It’s a shame it couldn’t have been passed down through the family.”

“Yes, a shame indeed,” Hiram would chuckle, putting his hands behind his back, standing in front of you. “How ... interesting that we had the same locker. What else do you think that we shared?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t on any of the sports teams,” You laughed, trying to think of what you and Hiram Lodge might possibly have in common. You did not think that there could be much, apart from roots in this town.

A smirk went over his face as he took a couple of steps away from you and towards one of the old janitor closets. “What about this closet?”

Immediately, memories came flooding into your mind, just by the look of that door, by the way that his hand looked on the knob. Well, not his hand on particular. But that of the boy that you had dated during that time. This infamous closet was known as a make out spot for many of the teenagers, back in his day, in yours, in the current time. More than once you had walked by and heard sounds coming from it. Remembering being that age, you would just keep on walking, but clear your throat so that hopefully no one would get pregnant in there.

“Yes, I suppose we all have the closet in common,” You said, watching as he swung the door open. It was empty inside, save for the darkness and a couple of old brooms leaning against the wall. You were almost expecting for there to be a couple in there now. “I wonder if I could even fit in there anymore.”

“Why not see?” Hiram asked. He motioned inside with a raise of his eyebrows. You laughed and started to protest but it was just walking into a room for a second. What could be the harm? So you stepped inside, feeling swallowed up by the lack of light - but the room didn’t have any light to begin with - that’s why it was such a good make out spot. “Well?”

“It’s a little cozy, but I still fit just fine,”  You said, doing a little spin. You weren’t bumping into anything but you could feel how small the space was. You turned back towards the door to leave but a figure moved inside, and then it was closed. “Hiram?”

“Now this feels familiar,” His voice said. A flame flickered between you two as he had brought out a lighter, and you could see just how close he was now. “I couldn’t resist. But look - we fit.”

“Yeah, we do,” You said, laughing a little nervously. Your earlier thoughts came back to you, about how Hiram was a very good looking man. And now here you were, in the school’s make out closet, after hours, with him. And he was standing oh so close. “So umm...”

He chuckled and even that sound was a lot more confident than your own laughter. Something brushed by your chin. It took you a second to realize that it was his fingers. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time,” He said, moving even closer. The flame went out, the lighter back into his pocket, leaving you both in the absolute darkness. His chest was against yours. His hot breath, sweetened by the alcohol, against your face.

“Why?” You asked, voice shaky.

He didn’t give you a verbal response. But he did give you a physical one. His fingers brushed against your lips, searching for exactly where they were, and then his own lips soon followed. It wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. It was soft, but it was still needy. His tongue tried to slip between your closed lips and you allowed it to, letting him explore. He moaned into it, just a very light sound, but enough to send a tingle up and down your spine. It made you feel like a teenager again.

He was respectful. Classy. Though he had initiated this closet-makeout-session, he wasn’t crossing any lines. He wasn’t touching you inappropriately, but his hands stayed by his sides. You’ve done a lot worse in this closet during your own time.

Laughter came from down the hall, causing you both to break apart. His arm went around your waist for the first time that night, stopping you from jumping back against the wall, or from knocking something over. Then the sound of chatting. Veronica and Betty. Your own eyes were wide, your heart beating fast with nerves. You didn’t breathe until the sound had passed down the hallway.

Hiram opened the door and peeked out. There was a faint glow of light coming from the windows into the hallway so you were able to see that he nodded that the coast was clear, and you stepped out of the dark closet, leaving it with more memories than you had going in.

“Enjoy the rest of the party, y/n,” Hiram said, starting to walk in the opposite direction of the gymnasium. “I will be seeing you later.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that you believed it. You brought your fingers up to your lips, feeling how bruised they were. You watched him walk away, before gliding back towards the party, trying not to let your inner excitement show. The rest of the party went on without a hitch. Even Veronica took to the stage, singing a couple of songs, which you cheered for. She might not have the musical talents of Josie McCoy but that girl still had a gift. Overall, the fundraiser seemed to be very successful.

Hiram made another appearance, thanking everyone for coming out. Thanking the catering, the musical guests, the decorators, all of it. And then a pianist took the stage to create a soundtrack as people signed their checks and left the gymnasium, going back to their cars.

You were among the last of the scragglers, helping out the cleaning crew. You had your cellphone in hand, calling a friend to take you home since you had been drinking champagne all night, when a honking from a car caught your attention. Hiram Lodge was standing by the open back door of a sleek, black car. It was idling in place, and he was looking straight at you. He raised his eyebrows, and motioned towards the backseat. You took a few seconds to think about it, before putting your phone back into it’s place and walked towards the car.

He joined you in the backseat. The driver started to drive. This may not be the make-out closet, but you and Hiram certainly treated it like it was.

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge oneshot #Riverdale #Riverdale oneshot #x reader #oneshot #one shot #hiraml #request

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Hiram Lodge’s young lover, and him adjusting to the changes.

You couldn’t hold in the giggles. Your smile was huge on the camera in the video that you were taking, right before you turned the camera to the back view, revealing the hardwood floors and the luxury carpets.

Hiram was doing some paperwork, the painting of Veronica looking over his shoulders. He didn’t look up at you until you giggled and sang his name. “Hiram, are you busy?”

When he looked up, he saw you completely naked, only holding your phone in your hand. He did a double take before dropping his pen down onto his work and jumping to his feet. “Why are you naked?” Despite the question, he was smiling like a lunatic.

You laughed once more, and turned off the video as he came towards you. You let it drop to your side as he put his arms around you and pressed kisses against your neck. “It’s a - Tik Tok prank-” You said, sticking your tongue between your teeth.

“A what now?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Never mind, babe. I’ll catch you up on it in a while.”

Requested by: Anonymous

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge imagines #Riverdale #Riverdale imagines #x reader #imagines #hiraml #request

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Hiram Lodge introducing you to the family as his ‘Baby Girl’.

Hiram looked around the table as if asking the two women to defy him. Hermione looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment, and Veronica looked more shocked than anything. It made you feel uncomfortable, as you shuffled around in your seat. It had never been your intention to break a family apart like this. All that you had wanted was to find love.

“I’m passionate about this relationship. What you think isn’t important, as long as you accept it. Y/N is my baby girl now, and is part of this family.” Hiram said. You blushed, looking down at your lap as he said that nickname once more. It brought shivers to your spine. You were older than his daughter, but you were still quite a deal younger than the handsome and charming Hiram Lodge.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a minute?” Veronica said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Anything that you want to say to her, you can say in front of me.” Hiram protested, folding his arms in front of him. Veronica sighed and stared at you, sizing you up. You continued to look down at your lap, not rising to the bait that she was clearly trying to hook you with. “That’s what I thought. Now let’s enjoy this meal - as a family.”

#Hiram Lodge #Hiram Lodge x reader #Hiram Lodge imagines #Riverdale #Riverdale imagines #nonrequest #imagines #hiraml