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sunnami · 8 months

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you'd be the love of my life when i was young

summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)

tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)

They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.

What a load of bullshit.

You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate.

There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months.

Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.

Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room.

And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them.

Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them.

(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.)

Were you dying?

That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees.

No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends.

That was absurd.

You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.

(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”

You huffed.

Maybe you’d try Severus next.

Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.

Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)

Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.

“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?”

Ba-dump!

Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.”

Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares.

(And you were. If only you knew.)

“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius.

Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.”

“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.”

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it at all.

Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.

James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.”

“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.

“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.”

Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins.

(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.)

Something stirred deep in your belly.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”

People could get the wrong idea.

You could get the wrong idea.

“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.

You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.”

“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head.

“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.

“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.”

They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart.

James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily.

“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat.

“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.”

“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words.

“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder.

“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.”

You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression.

(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)

“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)

But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.

“I’m fine.”

As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization.

You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends.

And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship.

Who were you to get in the way of that?

—

They would understand, you convinced yourself.

They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace.

But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise.

If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it.

Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs.

It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests.

(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.”

You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.”

“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.”

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.

“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”

“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.”

Oh.

You were well and truly screwed.

“Thanks,” You croaked.)

But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses.

(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?”

You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”

Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”

“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.”

Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”

But only the wind replied.

Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat.

“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.”

You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone.

You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”

It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too.

You didn’t go to his match later that day.

It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)

Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own.

You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”

“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”

You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!”

“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.”

“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.”

“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.”

“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.

Still, you missed them.

“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”

Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”

You cried louder.

“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”

Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”

Narcissa glared at him.

Lucius raised his arms in surrender.

Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?”

You nodded weakly. “I love them.”

“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?”

“I love them!” You hiccuped.

“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.”

“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob.

Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much.

“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.”

—

Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready.

Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes.

Did you have a place with them?

You were about to find out.

“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.

(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.)

“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you.

Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you.

Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”

You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month.

A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist.

“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain.

(You made him feel unafraid of the moon.)

“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”

“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this.

“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested.

“Because you don’t feel the same.”

The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along.

“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”

“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”

“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.

James only smiled, stealing your third kiss.

Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory.

(You were art that he wanted to worship.)

He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”

He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.”

“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.”

You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.”

Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.”

You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?”

You nodded. “P-Please.”

Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.”

He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips.

Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath.

You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.”

Then, Lily captured your lips with her own.

She tasted like happy endings.

note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #reader insert #marauders imagine #hp fluff #hp angst #marauders fluff #marauders angst

4K notes · View notes

ambrozjas · 4 months

Text

the gang x reader who loves makeup ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

guys i swear i’m working on your requests i just wanted to use this as a filler to feed you guys while you wait, but trust me, i’m workin on it 💕 thank you for all the likes and reqs !! love you all xoxo

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, makeup, reader is compared to “a girl in a magazine” in johnnys part, kissing?? i dunno 😭

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

DARRY’s thumb rubs along your thigh. he lay on his bed while you were sat at the desk besides him. you placed your vanity mirror on the wooden surface and had been working on your makeup for about half an hour.

darry had seen his mother put on makeup whenever she’d go out with his father, so he had a better idea of makeup than someone like steve or two bit. he liked whenever you asked him questions like ‘this or that’.

“which one? peach or mint?” you asked as you held up two lip glosses, the peach gloss in a soft pink tube and the mint in a sage green one.

darry seemed to think for a moment, humming in thought. “th’peach one.” he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of where you were holding the peach tube.

“thanks, dare.” you mumbled, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape, ready for application.

“why do you always put on makeup?” he asks, eyes fixated on you. a satisfying pop of your lips before you look over to him and shrug.

“dunno, makes me feel pretty.”

“you’re always pretty, darlin’.” darry continues, moving his hand from your thigh to your hand, interlocking both your fingers and squeezing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“how d’ya get that thing so close to your eye?” SODAPOP asks. you’ve been doing your makeup for about ten minutes, soda watching you like a hawk.

“i just raise my eyelid and put the curler to my lashes, piece’a cake.” you shrug, mouth open as you apply some mascara. “really?” he asked, taking a glance at your drawer full of makeup products, an assortment of pretty colored tubes, he would guess were either for your lips or eyes.

“yeah, why? you want some?” you laughed, expecting a ‘no’ in return but got only silence. you looked back at him. soda had just shrugged exaggeratedly.

one thing let to another and you ended up perched on sodapop’s lap, his eyes closed as you decorated his lids with blue eyeshadow.

“soda—! don’t crinkle your eyes!” you exclaimed, your boyfriend simply chuckled and gently grasped your wrist. “‘s not my fault it tickles, babe.”

soda opens his eyes to look at you, pulling your palm to his lips for a soft kiss.

“you know, you just ruined the eyeshadow, right? your eyes are hooded so the shadow will get—“

“shh, i’m tryna be romantic ‘ere.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“oh, PONYBOY!” you squealed, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name and running down the hallway already carrying your makeup bag.

you poke your head in through the doorway to find pony laying on his bed, nose buried in another one of his books. he glanced at you, already suspicious of the fact that the rest of your body isn’t visible.

“huh?” he questioned, his eyes flickering between the words of the book. “you wanna be the best boyfriend ever and do me a favor, pony?” you grinned as you dragged out the syllables in his name.

“what’re you doin’?” he inquired. you started to step slowly into view, your bag held behind your back. “i just need’a see somethin’ real quick.” he sat up a bit as you got closer to him and placed the book on the desk next to his bed, careful to mark the page he was on with a bookmark.

you finally bring your hands around to your front, unveiling the small makeup bag filled to the brim with products.

“oh, no.”

“oh, yes.”

“no! you ain’t touchin’ my face!”

and before he knows it, ponyboy has a face full of makeup on and you’re finishing it off with some sparkly highlighter on his nose.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had a date with JOHNNY at the drive-in, planning to see one of elvis’ new movies.

you had done your makeup, using the multitude of products you had in your room, and you looked snatched. your hair was cute, whether greased up or not, it never failed to look effortlessly gorgeous, johnny always thought so.

he was already waiting at the drive-in, accompanied by dallas who unfortunately was “chaperoning” him for the night, probably just trying to keep a lookout for drunk broads.

when you had arrived though, boy, was johnny astonished. his eyes widened at just the sight of you, it was like you were a princess walking up to him in slow motion.

once you had caught up to him and dally, johnny couldn’t help but mutter, “y’look like one of those ladies from the magazines..”, he gawked at just the utter sight of you.

“thank you?” you giggled and gave a quick peck to his lips. “i’ll get us a coke!” you jogged over to the concessions area with a bunched up wad of money in your hand. johnny watched you walk away, mouth still parted a bit in shock.

dallas, being the shithead he is, rudely tapped johnny’s cheek, making him close his mouth. “you’ll catch flies, johnny.” he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

once you two had actually sat down, dally chatting up some girl a few feet away, johnny turns to you. “s’that a new lipgloss?”

“yeah, you like it?” you asked, blowing him an exaggerated air kiss after.

“tastes sweet.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon, doll, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“hold on, DALLY, i have to finish this wing!” you affirmed, your words altered with the way you opened your mouth so your skin would stretch, giving you the perfect opportunity with eyeliner and mascara. one struggle almost everybody goes through, is getting the other eyeliner wing to match the other.

“you’ve been at this for a while, just draw a line ‘n call it a night.” dallas insisted, he didn’t much like waiting, and he never understood why people took so much time just to do their makeup.

“no, you don’t understand. it has to be perfect.” you said, enunciating the ‘p’. you look at dallas in the reflection of the mirror and see him sigh in defeat and hollow his cheeks with another inhale of a cancer stick.

“you better not be smokin’ that thing in here, stinkin’ up my whole room.” you wrinkled your nose, the smell of cigarettes never leaves your room as long as dallas comes over.

“you do it too.”

“i smoke outside, not where it’ll penetrate a whole room full of cute things.” you rebutted.

“whatever you say, doll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“do i look like a pretty princess?” TWO-BIT asked as you applied blush on his cheeks. you and his kid sister giggled at the sight. two’s eyes covered with all sorts of bright pinks and yellows and blues, colors that his little sister suggested.

“yes keith, you look like a pretty princess.” you said, watching two’s nose scrunch at the brush tickling his cheeks.

“what next?” you asked to his sister, turning to her as she held a finger to her chin in thought. then, it was like a light bulb went off inside her head. she grinned at you, a catlike smile that you returned, one that made two-bit worried about what would come next.

“lipstick.” was all she said, and immediately she handed you a bright red lipstick. you let out a soft laugh as you looked at two-bit’s expression, cocking an eyebrow as usual.

“you ain’t doin’ what i think you’re doin’, right?” he asks, then you wiggle the tube of lipstick at him, getting it closer as he shifts away. he placed his hands up in defense, “baby—! c’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your wonderful lovely boyfriend, would you?”

as he tries to scurry off, you hook your leg around his waist and keep him in place while his little sister laughs hysterically in the background. you grip his cheeks so his lips could purse, giving you the perfect access to apply his lipstick.

he ends up looking like a scrapped lisa frank design and that lipstick ends up in kiss marks littering your face, accompanied by ‘eww’s’ in the back provided by two’s sister.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“shit! it burns!” STEVE yells, his lips a cherry red with irritation.

“why’d you put it on your lips?” you threw your arms up, representing a ‘what the hell?’.

“thought it was your lipstick thingies!”

“why would you put it on your lips in the first place, steve?” you laughed and rushed over to get a paper towel and a few ice cube. “i thought it’d taste good.” he muttered, his lips a comical plump as he glared at the tube, feeling silly how he didn’t read the white letters on it saying ‘duck plump’.

when you came back, you sat down next to steve, gently wiping off the gloss before he snatched the napkin and wiped it off aggressively himself, desperate to get it off.

you both looked at each other before he looked down at the ice cube. “wha’s ‘at supposed to do?” he asked. you stammered, “i don’t know you were in hysterics! ‘pleasee! oh please get it off! it burns—!’” you cut yourself off with a laugh, laying back on the bed.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” he grumbles, throwing another glare at the lip plumping gloss that lay abandoned on your desk.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thank you all so much for all the love n requests, i swear i’m writing them just give me some time 🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

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aureatchi · 8 months

Text

“I GET LOST INSIDE ALL THE STARS IN YOUR EYES, IT’S A GALAXY.” ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, nikolai, sigma

— how do the bsd men kiss you? (& other things.)

a/n. rev writes this knowing well she’s awkward w physical touch ‘n has never kissed a guy. hdjshsh.

info. fem!reader. fluff !! + a bit sugg. established relationships. kissing, making out. mentions of bsd s5ep11 spoilers for dazai. pinch of angst if you squint.

DAZAI loves to listen to you ramble. he loves listening to you pour out your mind’s lively ideas to him out loud, whether it’d be something super philosophical that could match even his intellect, or something insignificant like the tv show you were watching last night before you fell asleep, waiting for him to come home. he is fascinated by anything and everything you say—so much, he wants to shroud the part of your body that speaks with love.

Which, of course, applied when Dazai finally returned to you from Meursault, after what had seemed like himself or you trying to cross the infinite sea of time.

You ran towards Dazai, his face clear and unhidden from the full moon’s light. He stood there with the biggest smile on his face, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck and envelope his taller figure in your embrace, but oh, he shouldn’t assume and expect loving gestures so quickly.

Instead, he was met with a fist to his chest, a punch with quite some power packed into it. Not enough to actually hurt him, of course, but Dazai would react dramatically either way.

“O-Ow! Bella!? What was that for?”

He looked down at you, catching an emotion as intense as fire in your eyes as you met his concerned, honey-dipped ones back, realizing you were being serious. Your fist was still connected to his upper body, and he stole a quick glance to observe your state—good, she’s been taking care of herself; she hasn’t skipped her meals—before meeting your face once again.

You let him bathe in a few moments of anxious silence before you finally started shouting.

“You didn’t even warn me!”

“I had no idea where you were!”

“Do you know how scared I felt?!”

Dazai continued to stand in place, not backing away when you continued to throw feeble punches at his torso with every frustration you cried out, when tears started to fall from your eyes, and when you stopped boxing him to surrender into his chest but not holding your tongue just yet.

“You’re so stupid and insane for this one, Osamu. Prison?! And you couldn’t even get a telephone to…yknow? Call me? Talk to me? I hate y—”

“Shh.”

Dazai had cupped your face, and before you could speak anymore, he sealed his lips over yours. Immediately, you kissed him back, abandoning all anger toward him by his action.

His eyes were half-lidded as he admired how yours looked in the silver moonlight. Up close, you were encompassed in his signature smell of green tea and a hint of mint, tempting you to keep him close to you even more.

“I…missed you so much, ‘samu” you said in between kisses.

“I’ve missed you even more.” You were lifted off of your feet, legs wrapped around his waist, as Dazai continued to press his mouth onto yours. He meant what he said—he savored the feeling of your warmth on him and the taste of your lips once again after not having it for so long. And robbing you of the same bliss along with it.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make everything up to you, love,” he whispered as your hands found their way to sift through his soft, brunette hair. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you wish.”

“I’m sure you will even when I don’t wish,” you replied as you both pulled away for air, chuckling. “You’re not sly—we both know you kiss me to shut me up.”

“And I don’t see a problem with it?” he asked, his usual smug smile returning to his face before he gently peppered your forehead next.

“No. No, I don’t either.”

CHUUYA loves to spoil you. the top mafia executive spoils you with gifts, jewelry, accessories, breakfast…lunch…dinner, you name it. he also loves to spoil you with affection. after long days at work, he is always relieved to come home to the one good and comforting person in the world.

“Welcome home, Chuuya!” you greeted as you heard the front door open, the ginger-haired entering the house.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious, doll,” he responded in a delightful tone, probably the first time he spoke so pleasantly all day.

You smiled. “I just finished making dinner.”

He walked toward you in the kitchen, pulling you into a hug.

“What’s up?” you replied, giggling at embrace as you wrapped your arms around him in return.

“Just missed you, that’s all,” Chuuya replied. “ You’re heaven-sent, yknow.”

You felt touched by his words. “I missed you too, Chuu,” you replied. “And I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve the best, and that’s what I’m trying to be.”

“Doll, you are the best. And you deserve the best,” he responded.

“Like this.” He gently lifted the custom necklace clasped around you. It was his present for one of your anniversaries, brought from some foreign country.

“But you deserve even more than material things.” He moved hair out of your face as he looked into your eyes.

He then moved closer to your face until his lips brushed over yours, and you could feel the warmth of his face.

“Something like this,” he said and then kissed you.

Luxurious as he was, his cologne smelled the same, completely engulfing you in his world. Chuuya showed you just how much you deserved by trailing his hands down to your waist, soothingly adoring every part. Meanwhile, his cerulean eyes gazed into yours, recording how pretty you looked to save in his mind.

“You’re so beautiful, doll.”

He felt you smile against his lips. “And you’re so handsome.” You broke away and then took the hat off of Chuuya’s head.

“You’re like…the person who can pull off the fedora the best.” You placed the hat on your head, his scent even more prominent on that accessory.

“You say that, yet I think I have competition now. Y’look cute with it on too.” Chuuya smiled, approving you with his signature hat.

You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s eat now before the food gets cold.”

RANPO was very high-maintenance. you had to buy him snacks, you had to give him hugs, you had to do anything in the best wishes of the world’s greatest detective or else…he’d whine. and once he started complaining, he would not back down until you gave in. yet, however childish he was, you found him cute and didn’t love ranpo any less for his call of your affection.

“Ranpo! What do you need?”

Your boyfriend had run into the bathroom where you were trying to do your makeup, currently putting lipstick on your face.

“ ‘m really hungry,” he said, obnoxiously staring at you apply the red shade to your lips.

“Hungry? Oh, the snacks are in the pantry. I thought you’d already seen them?”

“No! I don’t want them!”

“Huh?” You paused and immediately turned toward him in utter disbelief that he had just declined his favorite food.

“Are you okay, Ranpo?”

“No!” He was unanticipatedly so loud that you flinched, accidentally running the lipstick off your mouth.

“…You’re not looking for snacks?”

“No!”

“Then what do you want?!”

“You!”

There was an awkward silence, and you noticed Ranpo’s face had gone entirely the shade of your lip as he stood, pouting.

It was apparent he was embarrassed for what he just blurted out. You almost wanted to laugh.

“You could’ve just asked me!” you replied with a chuckle in your voice. “Come here.”

Ranpo trodded toward you, still visibly frustrated.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, you didn’t kiss me before I left for work this morning!”

You sighed, amused that he was whining so much because of that. And how he would never directly admit what he wanted from you—always making you have to solve puzzles and guess riddles to figure him out.

But it was also incredibly endearing how Ranpo took all your affections toward him to heart, no matter how big or small they were.

“Awh, I’m sorry I missed that,” you replied. “I’ll make that up to you.”

You kissed Ranpo’s cheek, stamping a red signature on the spot. You moved to his other cheek, and then his forehead, and then everywhere in between until he was covered in your smooches.

“Look!” you turned Ranpo toward the mirror for him to see what art you’ve created on him.

“You’re forgetting one place,” he said, turning his face to look at all angles.

“Really? Where?” you asked. He surely didn’t need anymore—his whole face showed proof you touched him everywhere with your lips.

“Here stupid, duuuuh,” he responded, kissing you on the lips. He moved your back to the edge of the sink counter, and then lifted you up to sit on it.

“Hungry, are you?” you giggled as he teased you with his tongue. “I avoided that spot on purpose, stupid.”

“Who are you calling stupid, stupid?” He ran his thumb over the stain your lipstick messed up on. You could feel him smirk.

“You, stupid! It was your fault after all. And look at your face!”

“Sweetheart, if you’re calling me stupid, you are too. One, you’re just stupid, and two, you’re stupid for being with me!”

You pulled back, laughing. “If I must be stupid to be with you, then I guess I’m stupid.”

“There’s a solution! If you call me smart, it’ll make you smart.”

“Fine, Ranpo. You’re the smartest person I know in this world.”

NIKOLAI loves surprising you. he finds your sudden reactions nothing short of adorable. which is why he caught you off-guard so much, so that he could see the cute responses you made, duh? widened eyes, mini jumps, and yelps were a few things he oddly took delight in.

Which is why the jester loves to surprise you with a kiss whenever he greets you. Though, whenever he does, you receive no warning. And you never know whether he wants to give you a simple peck on the lips or a full-on makeout session. It was expected to always be unexpected.

You were walking down the hallway to your room with a basket of clean laundry when you suddenly heard the all-too-familiar cheery, charismatic voice.

“Dove being productive, hm?” he chirped.

You scanned the entire room with your eyes, but you couldn’t see Nikolai anywhere, even though there was nowhere to hide.

“Kolya?”

“Hehe…I think it’s time for a quiz time!! Where am I?

“Am I here?” You heard a swift movement to the right of you, but as you turned, nothing was there.

“Orrr, here?” Now, you felt something brush your left side, but once again, when you turned to look, you were greeted only by Casper.

“How about here?” His voice was suddenly quieter but closer, more intimate.

You felt his frame against your back.

“Kolya!” you jolted in reflex, dropping the laundry basket—not expecting Nikolai to appear right behind you—but then, he surprised you even more by turning your face to the side and crashing his lips into yours.

He was so tall that he could easily lean over you to kiss you from behind your back.

You made a muffled squeal, and in the next moment, Nikolai had you against the wall with your hands above your head.

He stared at you as if nothing else in the world mattered because he already knew the reaction he would get out of you. You felt so shy and vulnerable under his complete gaze, but Nikolai was also mean—he didn’t allow you to move an inch to save face.

He wanted to enjoy the full show.

“H-hey! You can at least blink…” you blurted out when he finally let your face go, though he immediately grabbed you again seconds after.

“Hm? What’d you say, dove?” he asked, kissing you again. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were so soft and tasted like candy—how could he not be greedy for more?

“You’re so cute, baby!” he exclaimed when he finally pulled back. You were panting—Nikolai showed no mercy when he wanted you to himself.

But you still smiled in return when he gently bopped you on the nose with his mouth, a stark contrast to what he just did.

“Ah, did I get carried away?” He only then noticed you out of breath. “Sorry, I just missed you so much!”

“It’s alright,” you replied, hugging him, the scent of strawberry cake lingering on his body. “Though, whatever happened to a hi; hello?”

“You’ll never get anything boring from me, dove,” Nikolai giggled. “That’s one thing I’m certain of.”

SIGMA treats you like the most precious thing in the world, a princess. you need your shoes tied? oh, he’s on the floor with the laces. you need to go somewhere? he’s driving you there. you want to visit the sky casino? he would rig all the games so that you’d win every time. sigma is sweet and polite—he would always make sure you are fine with something before going ahead with it.

“How about here? I think this is a nice spot.”

“Okay! Let’s set our stuff here then.”

You and Sigma set down everything you brought for your evening picnic on the hills. The spot he had pointed out was directly in front of the sun setting behind the mountains, its golden glow bathing the earth in the day’s final hour of light.

Once all the food was organized on the blanket, you took out a couple of ribbons from your pocket.

“Do you want me to help you?” Sigma asked as you tried to figure out where to put them in your already-styled hair without a mirror. He noticed your struggle.

“Oh! Sure,” you replied with a shy smile, and immediately after, he was behind you, taking the braids in your hair and tying the ribbons onto those.

“Thank you,” you replied when he was done, and when Sigma stepped back, he smiled in admiration.

“Of course.” He took your hand as you both sat beside each other.

“It’s so pretty here.” You turned to face the mountains, the sun halfway below the horizon. “You were right; this is the perfect spot!”

You looked back at Sigma, but it seemed like he paid no attention to the view at all. His eyes were only on you.

“…Sigma?”

“Y-you look really pretty,” he said, eyes not leaving once you made eye contact with him.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Immediately, you felt your heart melt because your lover was so innocent and lovely. You had been together for months, yet he was still asking for permission to kiss you.

“Of course, Sigma! We’re literally dating, you can kiss me whenever you want.”

“O-okay!” You giggled at his smitten reaction.

You closed your eyes and puckered your lips in a dramatic act of preparation.

It seemed you had been mistaken, though. Because, he had kissed you on the forehead.

“O-Ohh—oops, I thought you meant-”

But then, Sigma’s lips were over yours. His hand that wasn’t holding yours gently guided your face towards his. His touches were all tender, expressing how much he adored you.

You wrapped your own free hand around his neck, pulling him closer. You opened your eyes slightly to take a peek, seeing his own were fluttered closed under such pretty eyelashes, and his expression content, basking in your comfort.

It was as if you and him finally breaking away was the moon’s cue to rise. The sun had set entirely by the time you were done, shades of warm-toned colored clouds left as a trail.

“That was sneaky of you, Sigma,” you laughed, cheeks warm and your head a bit hazy from how everything in the setting was so dreamy. “You tricked me by going for my forehead first.”

“I wasn’t going to kiss you straight-up like that! It was intimidating, you just waiting!”

You laughed some more, seeing his own cheeks tint a light shade of pink. “Come on, let’s eat.”

if u rb this post, i heard that ur fav will kiss u tn! reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

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fyodior · 8 months

Text

DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?

★ pairing: husband!fyodor x reader

★ cw: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! 18+, MINORS DNI. noncon, drugging, forced breeding, lots of breeding/pregnancy talk, vaginal sex, not enough foreplay, fyodor is evil!!

★ notes: breedtober fic #?? sorry the fics have been coming out so late, thank u for ur patience ily all <3

want more of breedtober?

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone noncon in any way, shape, or form. this is just fiction with no reflection of real life. please refrain from leaving hate comments, and just unfollow/block. or simply scroll away. thank u!

Dizzy – you’re so fucking dizzy. The room is spinning, your vision is dark and fuzzy around the edges, and you have no clue if you’re sitting or standing up currently. Because, worst of all, every part of your body is numb. You can’t move.

All you can see is the normally gentle, sweet face of your lover that’s now marred with an expression one can only describe as evil.

You want to reach out, ask him what’s wrong, what’s happening, but you can’t. All movement and speech have been rendered impossible, due to the teacup that lay shattered on the ground, bathed in the liquid that made you like this.

It was completely normal, a routine at this point, to sit in the living room with Fyodor in front of the lit fireplace sipping tea out of teacups from his beloved collection of fine china. The tea varied – chamomile, earl gray, mint, oolong, just plain green. And the activities often varied as well. Sometimes teasing and laughing over a card game, sometimes long, difficult discussions about the future with stoic faces, and sometimes just comfortable silence. The night before you had been discussing marriage and children. But it was always just you and Fyodor with cups of tea.

This had been a night like every other, though conversation remained at a minimum. Jasmine tea as the fire roared a little hotter than usual. What differed was how the tea started to make you feel. It was slow enough that you wouldn’t push away the cup or become unable to drink the whole serving, but fast enough that once it came on, you couldn’t stop it – it was too late.

And now you lay limp in Fyodor’s arms as he laid you down on the chaise lounge you had been resting on with your cup of tea – the one had fallen to the ground once your strength had started to fade.

“W-wha-” you manage to get out, your vocal cords and lips fighting against whatever was paralyzing them.

“Shhh,” Fyodor soothes, petting your hair as he hovers over you. “This is for the good of our family, my love.”

Your slack face slightly contorts into a look of confusion as your fuzzy mind tries to make sense of his words, barely noticing the way he tugged down your pants until his fingertips circled around your clit lightly. Somehow you could feel that. You attempted to jerk away from the touch, but your body once again failed you.

“Oh, my love, don’t you remember?” he tuts before spitting on his fingers and prodding at your hole. He had little interest in foreplay right now. “Don’t you understand? How you saying you ‘didn’t want kids anymore’ was completely unacceptable.”

It suddenly starts to click, even in your fucked mind. The way Fyodor’s jaw tightened, and smile faded during your discussion last night when you admitted that you didn’t see kids in your future. You had paid little mind to his disappointed “oh”. But clearly, he hadn’t let go.

One finger pushes past your still tight ring of muscle, making you grunt. “In case you don’t, in case the drug has addled your conscience too much, I shall explain.” Another finger sinks in. “We will be having children. At least three, to be exact. You will be getting pregnant, and hopefully tonight.” His fingers pump in and out of you, faster and faster, scissoring apart to stretch you open. “Even if that means rendering you useless and unable to resist me."

Tugging his own pants down, he spits in the palm of his hand before gripping his half-hard cock, pumping it a few times. “I considered just pulling you ass up for easiest access, but I want you to see me – to watch what happens when you disobey my wishes so severely.”

Since you’re completely dead weight, Fyodor has to manually spread your legs wide in order to slot himself between them, his grip tight underneath your knees. Then his lips are on your as he leans over you, the kiss forceful since you’re unable to reciprocate – not that you would’ve anyway.

The leaky tip of his cock as he revels in your inability to fight back is proof that he’s enjoying this immensely, the sick bastard. You want to scream out, thrash against him as his length slides into your cunt in protest of how unfair this is, how he can’t just decide to get you pregnant, but you can’t. You’re completely stuck just… taking it. Until his balls are pressed all the way against your ass, the puff of hair at the base of his cock tickling against your clit.

And somehow, you can feel it on the inside. You can feel the sting and burn as he pushes in and stretches you out, but can also feel… the pleasure. Maybe it’s the way your slack jaw falls open further at his first thrust, your body twitching, but Fyodor can tell. The way your body is forcing you to feel good against your wishes.

You grunt pathetically with every single thrust, legs hanging loosely around his waist and tongue lolling out of your mouth with drool pooling out of the corner. Fyodor is going mad with how much he loves this, how quickly he’s getting off from just using you without your permission. His violet eyes shine fiercely and the sick smirk on his face only grows as he fucks you harder and harder.

"Going to look so pretty pregnant, my beautiful doll,” he coos, massaging the soft fat of your tits. “So round and so full of my babies, so swollen you can barely walk, can’t even see your feet. You’ll need your darling husband’s help to even walk down the stairs,” he babbles, clearly just talking to himself.

“Do you like it, pretty? The way I’m just using you? It turns you on, doesn’t it? You and your body are mine, you know. I own you. And I own the right to use you however I please, to make you whatever I please.”

Of course, Fyodor had always been a bit possessive, always liked to call you his, but never to this caliber. Never to the point where you thought he’d do something like this.

His thrusts get faster and faster with every sick and twisted sentence, and though your hearing was fuzzy too, the wet sounds of skin on skin echoed through the room. Too wet to only just be his precum… were you wet? From what he was doing to you?

The orange light from the roaring fireplace illuminated Fyodor’s face in the most terrifying way, highlighting his sharp features, and igniting his eyes and sweat that had begun dripping down the sides of his face.

He leans in close, whispering into your ear. “Are you ready for my seed, doll? Ready for me to cum so deep inside you your womb is forced to take all of it?”

You’re able to shake your head a bit, and Fyodor clicks his tongue.

“You’re ready because I say so.”

You can’t feel it, but by the way his eyes roll back and his hips stutter, cock throbbing inside you, you can tell he’s cumming. Filling you up with the seed he promised to get you pregnant with.

After pulling out, he kisses you deeply.

“Before we go again, I will fetch you some more tea, my love. It seems you’ve regained some ability to move, and I can’t have that.”

#fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #bsd smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x y/n

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the-aisei-cousins · 5 months

Text

Promo: Murder and Thread

Here are Yolei's and Yoshino's Characters Files

...

A black screen appears as the voice of a girl can be heard.

"Hey Yo- Aaa! Why are you covered in blood!?"

"Hey Yoshino! I just got back from a killing Spree~"

The second girl giggles as the camera went on. It showed two teenage girls. One in what seems to be a black maid Uniform covered in blood. She had long dark purple hair in a braid. She had black tinted glasses and freckles on her face and the back of her hands. She smiled for a bit until she noticed the camera.

"What's up with the camera?"

She looks back at the other girl. The other one had long wavy mint hair with one small piece of it braided. She was wearing a cute white dress with a green vine pattern on the bottom of it and a part of her sleeves. Her sleeves were laced up together up to the halfway point and she had a pretty blue corset on with lace up blue short boots. She stocking where white and had the same vine pattern, but it was though out the shocking.

Both girls had the same body type, same fair skin, and the same bright pink eyes. The mint hair girl smiles.

"Oh, I thought we do a blog like Irofuka suggested to meet some more people."

"Well, if Milord suggested it then let's do it!"

The mint hair girl drops a sweat before turning to the camera.

"My name is Yoshino Aisei and this is my cousin, Yolei Aisei"

Yoshino gestured to Yolei.

"Nice to meet you all. I'm the Ultimate Spree Killer."

"Why did you say that part!? What if the police finds out!?"

"They can't do anything. As long as I have my Ultimate Title, they can't arrest me. Heck, I could even kill them and get away with it!"

"...don't mind her, she just got done with her killing spree. She will be like this for a few minutes or an hour. A-anyways, I'm the Ultimate Seamstress. Please ask us questions or just talk to us."

Tags:

@after-neo-world @ask-emma-magorobi @ask-the-otonokoji-twins @ask-the-warriors-of-hope @xxcottoncandybitchxx @master-detective-archives @y0u-f4il3d-m3 @mikado-sannoji @i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye @fall-of-eden @human-monokuma @sinistersmiles @kamon-of-hope @beautiful-despair @would-you-like-a-scooby-snack @k0k1 @edens-garden-au @scarred-smiles @yui-samidare-reborn @low-activity-side-characters(Akane Taira) @Anyone else

#Buttons and Threads: Yoshino Aisei #Bloodthirsty Maid: Yolei Aisei #Promo: Murder and Thread

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

Text

Simmer #4

CH4. 0800-Awkward | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie’s van was cleaner than you expected and it smelled like mint gum and coffee. There were sheets of paper on the passenger seat he cleared for you with quick hands, boyish scrawls of ink noting down recipes and ingredients, a page of music in between.

Music blared from the radio when Eddie turned on the engine and he scowled at the noise, bashing the button to turn it off so you were both squished between awkward silence instead. You put your hands on your lap, sitting up too straight, throat tight.

The quiet enveloped you both.

“Where am I takin’ you?” Eddie asked gruffly once he turned out of the parking lot. The rain was still bouncing off the roads, the sky dark and angry, navy coloured clouds blocking out all the light. “You live near Robin, right?”

You nodded, pulling at your knuckles until you gave in and picked at a nail, nervousness clawing at you like a persistent puppy. The boy beside you made your stomach tumble, and you weren’t quite sure why yet. “Yeah, just off fourth and Maple,” you told him. “But you can drop me off at the pharmacy, it’s only, like, a ten minute walk from there.”

Eddie scoffed at your suggestion, like he’d do no such thing, but he didn’t say anything else. So you spoke instead, your heart in your dry mouth, watching the boy’s profile, wondering how someone so pretty could be so damn mad all the time. Was it just you?

“So, uh, is Wayne your dad?”

Eddie didn’t take his eyes off the road, he just stepped on the accelerator a little too hard when the lights changed from amber to green. When the engine stopped yelling, he answered. “He’s my uncle.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. Something told you that asking anything about Eddie’s father would result in a very quiet, very tense ride back to your apartment. “He’s real sweet— your uncle. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Wayne’s nice to everyone,” Eddie replied shortly and it hurt like a kick to the stomach.

The breath left you and you deflated, just a little. The skin around your thumb was becoming raw from your picking. You couldn’t help it, even if you muttered it as you looked out the window. “Clearly it’s not a family trait.”

“What?” Eddie’s voice was all surprise, even the van juddered as he pressed on the brakes a little too hard. You glanced over at him, chin ducked down, fingers torturing the ones on your other hand. Eddie was all raised brows and parted lips, an almost curl of amusement on them. “What did you say?”

It was a dare, a challenge. A ‘go on, say that again. Are you brave enough?’

You glared at him, just like he loved to do to you so often. “I said, clearly, it’s not a family trait.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie laughed, a rough bark that told you he didn’t actually find you funny at all.

You were a built up dam, spilling over the top with a new job, new friends, a new apartment in a new town. It was scary. It had been hard.

You burst.

“You’re so mean to me,” you told him hotly, “all the time! And then you apologise, only for it to last until the end of your shift. I know I’m not like, the best waitress— I mean, I’m hardly Nancy, but I’m trying! I— I haven’t done anything to you.” You sniffed, you wobbled. Tears threatened you both and your voice came out a little higher now. “Have I? If I have, I didn’t mean to.”

You dragged a hand over your face and when you looked back to the boy, Eddie looked horrified. He was pink in the face, eyes darting from you to the road and back again, his finger curling around the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. He didn’t say anything.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you muttered to your lap and when Eddie slowed to the next stop sign, you flung a hand onto the door handle. “Just drop me here.”

The sound of the rain slapping the pavement only grew louder when you managed to open the door a crack and it seemed to spur Eddie into action. He leaned over you and grabbed at your hand, using it to pull the door shut again. It snapped back into place and Eddie was scowling when you swore at him in return. “Fucking Christ, woman,” he huffed. “I’m takin’ you home, alright? You’ll drown out there.”

“It’s a bit of rain, Eddie,” you snapped. “I lived in Chicago, I’ll survive some water.” Your ferocity was short lived, because you gave in with a huff, eyes watering once more as you pressed yourself against the seat and crossed your arms in defeat.

There was a voice in your head, someone from an old job, an old classmate in middle school, your mom. It didn’t matter who, they were all cruel. Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby.

“Can you just - fuck - can you just let me talk?”

You watched as Eddie licked his lips, maybe out of nerves and he gripped the steering wheel harder still. You thought he’d maybe yell at you, maybe he’d tell you exactly why he was so hot and cold with you, maybe he’d explain in detail why you’d managed to piss him off.

Instead, he asked, “why’d you leave Chicago?”

You stared at him. Was he joking? Was he playing some kind of weird joke? But Eddie waited, his face a pretty picture of sincerity and he glanced at you from the road as often as safety would let him.

“Uh, I didn’t like it,” you scrunched your face at the memory, nose wrinkling in distaste. “Too big, too loud. I don’t really—” you searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t make you sound weak and small. “I don’t enjoy big cities. They’re too much.”

Eddie nodded and suddenly, suddenly, you were having a conversation with him. “I get that. My mom moved to Philadelphia, I don’t see her much, but I used to visit when I was a kid. Hated that no matter what time of night it was, it was never quiet - or dark - fuckin’ lights everywhere.”

There was a silence before you pressed your lips together and hummed. “Yeah,” you agreed. “You could never see the stars in Chicago. I missed that.”

The rain was letting up now, nothing more than a horrible drizzle that you knew would still soak you to the bone, but it was quieter. Softer. The sky turned lilac, a hazy kind of purple blue as the sun tried to break through.

“Where did you grow up?” Eddie peered through his curls at you, his fingers unfurling from the death grip he had on the wheel. He turned down Main Street, one hand in his lap, his head leaning back against the chair. “I know it wasn’t here - would’ve remembered you.”

“Fortville,” you told him, wondering if you just kept talking, your heart would stop racing at what he’d just said to you. “With my parents. It was a tiny place, not much there, probably even smaller than Hawkins and we had chickens and a dog my mom rescued just before I was born. I liked it though, it was a nice place to grow up.”

“Why’d you leave?”

You shrugged, turned to look out the window at the spots of rain on the glass, the kaleidoscope of colours they made now the sun shone through them. “Dad left, found another family. Mom turned mean.” You didn’t elaborate more than that and Eddie noticed how your voice turned softer, even quieter.

“Fair enough,” Eddie answered and you couldn’t help but notice that when he wasn’t frowning, when the lines between his brows were gone, his eyes were the colour of dark chocolate, big and earnest looking. “I can, uh, relate. Kinda.”

A comfortable silence passed after that, one that came with the break of the clouds, dark shadows giving way to a late evening sunset, turning the wet sidewalks golden. You could feel Eddie stealing glances at you, quick flickers of his eyes that went from your face to where your fingers were picking at your nails on your lap.

“You haven’t— you haven’t done anything to me,” Eddie murmured. You looked up at the sound of his voice, nails forgotten about and you saw that flush on his cheeks rise over his nose, turning it pink. He licked his lips and you tracked the movement, feeling the nerves roll off of him and fill the space between you. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t, I didn’t mean to be… mean.”

Eddie parked the van and you blinked, not even realising that he’d stopped on your street. Your apartment building was just a little down the road, waiting.

“You lied to me when I came in that day,” you squinted at the boy, both of you cringing at the memory of Eddie pretending that he wasn’t who he was. That he wasn’t who you were looking for. “Why? Why did you do that?”

Eddie turned a deeper shade of pink, cheeks burning and he fumbled over his words before he swallowed harshly and turned towards you in his seat. He tugged at his curls, unsure what to do with his hands now he didn’t have the wheel to grip. “I’m, shit, I’m sorry ‘bout that. That was— that was just. Stupid.”

You nodded, looking at him with sad eyes that seemed to make his brow knit together in despair.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t do well with like, making friends?” Eddie offered an explanation that he didn’t seem to be able to admit easily. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tried to smile at you, tried to ease the feeling of guilt that was swarming him. “I get stuck in my ways, y’know? I just go to work, go home, go back to work— new things—” Eddie glanced over at you with those big eyes. “—new people, make me kinda, nervous. I guess.”

You let your gaze settle on his, watching as he took in a breath and blinked. He looked a little dizzy, his confession making the air a little lighter. But something else lingered. It felt like glitter, a sparkling, pretty thing that swirled in the front space of the van. It was hopeful.

“I get nervous too. Shy,” you admitted. You felt nervous now, tummy tumbling, a whole aviary loose inside. “About a lot of things.” About you, is what you didn’t say. “But I’m not a dick about it.”

Eddie snorted and the sound made your lip quirk up, an almost smile. Eddie nodded, like he was agreeing with your passive insult, his lips twisting as he looked you over once more. His gaze was warmer than you’d seen it before, no furrow between his brow to make you wonder if he was pissed at you. Now he just looked… interested.

“You’re right,” he announced. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve been a dick. I’m sorry.”

“You said sorry earlier,” you reminded him. “With breakfast. But then you were a dick all over again. This hot and cold is making my head hurt.” You fiddled with the hem of your uniform dress, lifting powder blue away from your knee to pick at a loose thread.

“I did, didn’t I?” The boy let his head fall back onto the window, a dull thud, curls sticking to the glass that was all fogged up from you both sitting talking. The setting sun made him golden, peach coloured cheeks and honey eyes, all bronze shadows and inky lines over his arms, peeking out from his T-shirt. “Was it good? Your breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes and Eddie grinned, truly, he beamed at you. It was a flirtatious thing, a pretty thing - it made your heart pick up and your breath catch in your throat because it was so fucking unexpected.

“Yes, it was good,” you murmured, back to shy, back to dipping your chin and not really being able to look him in the eye. “But that’s not the point.”

“You’re right,” he said again. The boy seemed so much more agreeable out of his chef whites, without the heat and the noise and the constant sizzle of the kitchen. “I really am sorry - I hate, fuck, I hate that I didn’t make you feel welcome. That was shitty of me.”

You sniffed, pulled the thread loose and watched baby blue spring and curl around your finger. “It was.”

Eddie looked hopeful when you finally found the courage to meet his gaze again. He gave you a slow shrug, a half smile that still didn’t look fully sure. But he tried anyway.. “Can we start again?” He moved, shifting closer to you, close enough that the stick shift was pressing against the slight pudge of his tummy and you could smell his cologne, could see the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He held out his hand for you, silver rings and all. “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

He waited with wide eyes for you to reach out too, to slip your hand into his and curl your fingers around his palm. He did the same, engulfing you. His hands were much warmer, wider, bigger. Calloused and with silver scars, no doubt from too sharp knives.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

—————

You burst through the kitchen doors just as you broke. A burn in the corner of your eyes, a hollow thud in your chest as the adrenaline of being yelled at surged through you. A family with too many kids to keep track of, a plate of fries on the floor before you could bring out every meal, a stressed out mother who took out her frustration on you and the fact you’d forgotten the soda one of the small boys was yelling about. She was sharp about it, loud enough for the other customers to hear and you watched as Robin frowned from the booth she was serving.

She grabbed your elbow as you passed, feet threatening to stumble with how quick you moved, cheeks hot, throat tight. “I’ll get it,” she whispered. “Take a minute.”

But you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak before you could suck in a breath. “S’fine. It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”

So you let the kitchen door hit the wall as you almost ran in, eyes blinking back tears of embarrassment and the noise was enough for Eddie to look up from the grill where he was flipping burgers. He frowned at the sight of you, but this time, he looked concerned. You rushed past him to grab the glass of soda that was sitting forgotten on a tray - next to the extra basket of fries the woman had requested, fuck - and turned on your heel to go back out the way you came.

“Hey,” Eddie called after you, “what’s wrong?”

You brushed him away with a raised hand, the other holding the tray of missed items and you didn’t trust yourself to look back at the boy as you rushed back out the door. You sniffed and blinked before you put on a smile, approaching the woman who’d loudly berated you in front of the entire diner.

“I’m so sorry again,” you whispered as you placed the drink and fries on the messy table. One of the kids screamed and you flinched, trying your best to keep the smile on your face as the woman turned to you. “If there’s anything else I can get you, ju—”

“If there’s anything else I need, I’ll get it myself,” she scoffed meanly. Her voice was too sharp, still too loud, a biting thing that dug into your arm and wouldn’t let go. “You got a pretty face, honey, but that’s not gonna get you far. Can hear that empty space in that head from all the way over here.”

You blinked again, uncaring that a tear slipped out, a hot drip of water down one cheek. You kept smiling. In fact, you smiled all the way back into the kitchen before your breath stuttered and your face crumpled.

“Hey, hey, c’mon.” Eddie. At your side, a hand catching your elbow, fingertips grazing your skin like he was still too unsure to hold you fully. “C’mere. It’s fine.”

He led you through the kitchen, hand guiding you so your blurry eyes didn’t lead you into the corner of a station. There was something spicy cooking in a pan, garlic and chilli and soy that Argyle took over stirring as Eddie left it alone in favour of you. Jim must’ve heard the commotion in the dining room, ‘cause he made a rare appearance outside of his office, hand holding onto the door frame as he leaned out, frowning at what he saw.

“Chicago,” he called through the kitchen, voice booming over the radio, the sizzle of the grill, the drone of the vents. “You good? You wanna talk?”

You turned, bumping into Eddie’s side and shaking your head, all whilst trying to smile and appear like you were absolutely fine. Totally normal. Definitely not crying like a baby. You cringed, turning back around and ducking your chin to hide your glossy eyes, your wet cheeks.

“S’fine, Jim,” Eddie called back. “I’ve got her. Jus’ give us five minutes.”

“Munson, you got burgers on!” Your boss called back, you heard him sigh and Argyle told him that he’d manage.

“Five minutes!” Eddie said again, his voice sharper and louder than before and you were moving faster to the back door, bypassing the walk in altogether.

“If they burn, that’s too much money to get thrown in the trash, Eddie,” Hopper complained. “That’s prime fuckin’ beef from the Sinclairs, Eddie and I don’t got time to get Lucas back out for another delivery— hey! Are you listen—”

Eddie ushered you out of the fire exit, blue skies and too bright light making you squint, a rush of hot air that was heavier than the kitchen, muggy and smelling like cut grass and the smoke that came from the vent on the wall. The door snapped shut before Jim could finish talking.

The silence was a warm thing, cloying like the summer afternoon, the edge of a heatwave, the steam from the kitchen that lingered in the small alleyway out back. You brought the heels of your palms to your eyes, pushing there meanly as you sniffed a little wetly and tried to stop your bottom lip from trembling. If you faced the crumbling wall, maybe you could pretend Eddie wasn’t there, watching you.

“Hey, c’mon.”

You groaned.

“C’mon,” Eddie coaxed again, his hand pulling at your wrist, urging you to stop hiding. “You gotta stop letting customers get you all upset like this. ‘Specially the ones that are utter assholes.”

“You heard her?” You asked weakly, embarrassment crawling up your neck. You knew he would’ve, shit, Wayne probably heard it all the way down the street. Of course Eddie heard it from the kitchen. “God, that’s so—” you let out a small groan of anger, a soft wail that was tinged with a little shame.

“No, no, stop that,” Eddie frowned as you buried your face in your hands once more. He got you by your shoulders, palms and fingers curling over the bone there, impossibly wide, engulfing. You turned soft for him, letting him manhandle you until you were facing him, brows crinkled, your cheeks warm. “She was a bitch. You’re okay, it’s alright.”

You sucked in another breath, one of those awful ones that hitched and made your throat close up a little. It was hard to look into Eddie’s eyes. They were big and warm and earnest, crazily so, the colour of burnt honey and he was painfully close. The alleyway pushed you both together, space limited between the walls, the empty pallets, the stacked up crates.

“She was out of order, yeah?” Eddie continued softly, his thumb pushing softly into the meat of your shoulder, drawing circles through your uniform. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We’re all just human here, Chicago. It’s fine.”

You nodded, numb. Tears still stained your hot cheeks, salt gathering in the corners of your mouth and you felt embarrassed at the reaction, the white hot rush of anxiety that gripped the back of your neck as soon as someone raised their voice at you. You blinked again, feeling heavy, another fresh wave of tears making your vision turn into kaleidoscopes. You scrunched your face, annoyed with yourself, head tilting back to the strip of blue sky you could see between the buildings roofs.

“God, I’m so fucking lame,” you groaned. “So stupid.”

You brought your chin back down to just catch the boy smiling, a dopey, soft thing that made you think he was gonna laugh at you. He did, but it wasn’t mean. In fact, Eddie’s laugh was a damn pretty thing. Scratchy and raspy and warm, enough to make you stop screwing your face up and blink at him.

“You’re not lame,” he told you firmly. He dropped his hands from your shoulders now that you weren’t intent on hiding. You found you missed the weight of them on you, a grounding feeling that helped the tears subside. “Or stupid. Shit, kid, you gotta stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I’m always forgetting stuff though,” you argued. The sun was a blazing thing above you both, hot on your head, your shoulders, the back of your neck. Your uniform itched under the heat and you were backing away into the shadows along the line of the diner wall. Eddie followed, shoulder to shoulder as he leaned against the brick, lounging enough to bring him to the same height as you. “I’m messing up orders and I keep walking into the same stupid table - even though it’s always there! I got a bruise on my hip the size of a fucking peach,” you grumbled unhappily.

Eddie snorted at hearing you swear, a cannonball of a word coming out of your sweet mouth, usually talking softly and shyly at him and customers. He knocked your shoulder with his and tutted. “You’re still new,” he shrugged when you scoffed. You’d been at the diner for almost two months. “Get out of here with that, you are. You’re in a new town and a new job. Give yourself a break.”

“I’m just— god.” You bit down on your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m such a crybaby, I hate it. I must look like such a mess.” Your eyes felt sore, your cheeks puffy and warm, all too familiar and just as embarrassing as it was when you were ten, fifteen, twenty years old.

Eddie just shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his chef whites. He looked at your face, just for a second, before ducking his chin and studying the concrete below his feet. “Nah,” he said quietly, “you look pretty like always.”

It was quiet for a second or two, the surprise on your face morphing into a crooked smile, a quirk of one corner of your lips at the boy’s words. You sniffed and laughed a little watery, a shy sounding thing that made Eddie blink at you. “You’re being nice to me,” you told him.

He grinned like he couldn’t help himself, a sharp, sudden thing that made his face look even prettier. Curls spilled from his poorly tied bun and his cheeks went rose coloured, more blush than flushed from the heat. He knitted his brows together in faux confusion, tried to act too cool, too blasé. “I am, aren’t I?” He huffed. “Weird.”

You shoved at him in jest, your hand on his shoulder and he barely even budged. But you felt a thrill in touching him, your hand just by the muscles in his arm, where you knew a tattoo lay, curling around a bicep that you couldn’t see under his uniform. It was easy to joke like this, to smile and wipe your eyes one last time when Eddie was playing nice.

You felt like a teen with a crush, that lovesick, giddy type of softness settling in your chest and it purred when you looked at the boy. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But Eddie got prettier when he smiled at you and when he reached out to straighten the pen that was about to call out of your chest pocket, you were done. A goner.

You wanted to ask if this made you friends.

Instead, you swallowed your embarrassment and hoped you hadn’t been staring. “Thank you,” you murmured shyly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Eddie pulled open the fire exit and waited for you to enter first, holding open the door as the noise of the diner flooded back out to you. Kids yelling, the grill popping, the coffee machine whirring.

“Would you rather Jim gave you one of his famous three minute counselling sessions?” Eddie winced theatrically. “I haven’t had one myself, but rumour has it there’s a stress ball and some talk about toughening up and how the world just ain’t fair.”

You laughed, walking back into the kitchen with Eddie by your side. Your shoulder brushed against his arm and you shook your head, looking up at him with a heat in your cheeks you were sure he’d be able to notice. “No, m’glad it was you.”

You must’ve surprised the boy, because he blinked as he stopped at the grill. Argyle had flipped all the patties and left the spatula by the countertop but Eddie didn’t take his eyes off of you as he grasped it. You watched his brows lift a little, mouth parting before he closed it again and nodded, looking a little numb.

And then: “cool. Yeah, no, good. Come get me next time too.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #linecook!eddie

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princessbrunette · 4 months

Text

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

#outlaw!johnb #john b fic 🎀

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mariahcarreyyy · 3 months

Note

congratulations on 2k!! deserved 💌

how about charles being an ABSOLUTE cat dad like reader has a cat and once he gets introduced to it they become inseparable

# i'm very much a cat person this was so cute to write. i imagined this early on in the relationship but dream as u will!

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

When jealousy took form and blossomed in a person's wretched heart, it did so in two branches: rational and irrational. The glint coloring your eyes in an ugly green after witnessing Charles enter your flat for the first time, automatically gasping and fawning over the white ball of fur idly strolling past the hallway, was certainly the latter of the two.

A gentle, startled sort of coo slipped past your newly minted boyfriend's lips. "A cat! Oh," his dimples form in slopes on his plump cheeks, his eyes creasing in a giddy smile as he drops his belongings and rushes to craddle the kitten in his arms. "I didn't know you—aww, bebé, qu'il est mignon!"

The otherwise quiet hallway was filled with the fondness of Charles' voice and soft, satisfied purrs reverberating in the kitten's throat (who looks comically small in his bulging biceps, by the way). Past the lingering envy and sudden urge to morph into a cat and have Charles hold you carefully, you can't help but grin at the sight.

Charles neck must hurt from looking down sideways and murmuring sweet nothings to the cat as if it were a baby. Or it didn't, very possibly, seeing as you've walked into one too many workout sessions of him training his neck. You allowed him to topple closer to the edge of a cuteness overload before the fatigue piling in your waterline proved too heavy to bear.

Kick off uncomfortable heels; Charles giggled when the ball of fur nuzzled its tiny, pink nose into his neck.

Shrug the jacket onto the floor; Charles dips down to rub the button of his nose against the kittens.

Hang it on the coat rack; Charles melts into an incoherent puddle on the floor when your pet reciprocates his movements.

Pad against marble floors, rubbing your eyes sleepily and shutting the door of your bedroom halfway once you get there; Charles lets out a distant, "Y/n? Mon amour? Where'd you go?" from the hallway.

A smile, your heart appreciating your boyfriend shifting his attention from the cat, threatens to crack at your lips until—

"Oh, mon dieu! He's rolling on the ground. Y/n! Y/n, viens! Viens, come see!"

You throw your hands up exasperatedly despite your solitude, hastily take off your makeup, and nestle into the coldness of your generously sized bed; Charles will come later, but not alone. The warmth radiating off the tiny ball of fur is easily noticeable, squished between two frames and contrasting heavily with your boyfriend's presence.

"I love you," the monagesque murmurs; and then, after a few beats of silence, before you were to open your mouth and echoe his words, he says, "You too, Y/n."

As his cackles bounce off the walls of your bedroom, only growing louder and intensifying when he receives a harsh slap on his shoulder, you find yourself joining in the laughter, unable to resist.

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wettvagina · 6 months

Text

RIDE IT LIKE A RODEO [collegeau!eren yeagerxreader]

warnings: p in v , creampie , softdom!eren

"Erennn" your honeyed voice cooed, "Huh? Oh hi." you observed how the tall, brunette stiffened, his green emerald eyes boring holes into your own pupils, you walked up to him, your pink bag slung around one shoulder, you watched how Eren eyed you, stopping at the jot of skin which was exposed from your tight, bubble-gum pink spaghetti strapped top, which stopped right below your navel, paired with some black shorts.

"I was absent last class, mind sending me the notes?" you chirped, walking at his side as you both journeyed to your history class. "I-I know, but we had a free class." Eren informed you, a tint of blush forming on his face. "Oh, alright. You comin' to my party tonight?" you enquired with a calm smile, watching Eren's face from the corner of your eye.

Eren noticed how your figure had slowed into a halt, stopping alongside you, you grabbed at Eren's forearm, "Can you come, please? I wanna show you something." you say with a seductive smirk, you found it funny how his entire face turned red, even after you had fucked him so many times, you lost count. He always acted somewhat shy around you, you thought that when you first met him that he'd break out of this caged up persona he sported around you, but that was yet to come.

"I'll be there." he sighed, earning a small smile from you, "Oh and, don't bother bringing any condoms." you whisper to him, smiling before walking ahead of him, leaving him flushed and stationary.

Eren had came before the party even started, you were a bit worried about the party, wondering how anyone would even engage in the party if the host wasn't present. You texted Sasha, Connie and Jean, telling them to handle everything, of course you didn't want your party to flop just because you wanted some dick.

Hearing the boom of speakers downstairs, Sasha texted you, informing you that everything was ready and that they'd take over, you smiled to your phone before placing it on your side table.

"You're early." you say to Eren who looked around your room like if he hasn't been in it atleast six times already. "Sorry, I was just..eager to see you." Eren confesses, his deep sultry voice echoing in your head. Woah, this is different, usually he'd stammer out a mess of a sentence.

"Really?" you walk up to him, pressed your hands against his toned abs, sliding them down his waistband, grabbing at his fully erected cock, hidden in his sweatpants. "You weren't lyin'" you say with a smirk, you watch how his face contorted into a look of lust as you massaged his throbbing cock.

"So fuckin' hard, I want you to come inside me tonight." you whisper, dirty talking him, you pulled your hands out of his pants, draping them around his neck and pulling him into a sweet kiss, tasting the mint on his soft lips as he grabbed at the fat of your ass, fingers massaging your clothed clit from the back, causing you to moan into his mouth.

You parted your lips, giving Eren's tongue permission to explore your mouth, Eren groaned into your mouth, and you felt your panties dampening. "Wanna fuck you so bad." you mewl, "Yeah?" he asks with a smirk, "How bad?" he asks. With an incorporeal click, you feel the tension grow and the roles switch, and it just made you wetter.

"So fuckin' bad." you moaned, "Get on the bed." his firm voice instructed, you followed his directions, taking off your shirt as you strutted to your bed, leaving you in only your bra. You sat on the edge of your bed, Eren's crotch in your face, but you managed to look up at him, smelling a woft of his cologne.

His hand lowers to caress the side of your face, he looks down at you, as you look up at him, his eyes never leave yours as his large hands trace down to your shoulder, gripping it as a small smirk forms on his face. With a vehement push, your back meets your sheets and you watch as Eren crawls above you, knees digging into your mattress while his hand grips onto the sheets near the side of your face.

He leans in to kiss you, savouring your lips in a slow, sweet kiss. He feels your hands cradle his face, as you deepen the kiss, Eren feels his dick fully press onto the cloth of his pants. You immediately notice Eren's absence when he rolls over to the side, back leaning against the headboard of your bed, "Ride me, ma?" he asks, hand woven into yours.

You climb onto his lap, ass pressing against the bulge in his pants, and you hear him gasp before you connect your lips to his oncemore, your vacant hand reaches between your legs, rubbing at your clothed clit, causing you to moan into Eren's mouth.

Eren grips onto the fat of your ass, lips still moving on yours, he feels your hand slip beneath the wasitband of his sweats, grabbing his dick while nudging the fabric down. You push your panties to the side, lining his dick to your hole.

The reddened, meaty tip prods at your enterance before you slip it in, earning a loud groan from Eren as your pussy walls squeeze down on him, "S-So fuckin' tight." Eren says breathlessly, breaking out of the kiss, you immediately bounce on his lengthy cock, his breath hitches as the skin of your ass slaps against his pelvis, Eren wraps his hand around your back, burying his warm face into the crook of your neck as you ride him.

You hear him whisper curses into your ear as you grind on him, feeling your pussy clench around him, "Fuck, 'm gonna come." you mutter, "I-I might too." he mumbles into your ear, "Fuck!" you wail when you feel him thrust up into you.

"You like that?" he asks, "Y-Yeah, keep doing it." you immediately respond, he continues to jut his hips upwards into your welcoming pussy, hearing the creamy sounds of the essence of your arousal mixing with his pre come.

"S-Shit!" you curse when you feel his dick harden inside of you, and as Eren is coming he feels your pussy clamp down onto him, you cream all over his cock as he's coming inside of you, painting your walls white. You both pant as he rubs his large palms up and down your back.

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ghosts-cyphera · 8 months

Note

lovieee im so excited for tmrw its gonna be my birfday weeeee 🐛🩷

🪷

18+; mdni / pornstar!ghost x fem!reader; masterlist here / suggestive little extra ficlet. not an official part of the series, just a little something as a present for the sweetest 🪷-anon. happy birthday, darling!

from the feeling of something heavy falling onto your lap, you lifted your sight to meet the frame of ghost. his eyes were sparkling with amusement, the corners of his lips tugged into a smug grin.

"I know it's your birthday," he chuckled before you got a chance to ask. "I know you tried to hide it from me, but—"

"who said I tried to hide it from you?"

ghost squinted his eyes, playful. "you didn't invite me to your party."

"who said I was having a party?"

"val," he mused, only to curse under his breath as he saw the smirk rising to your features. "fuckin' hell. surprise party, wasn't it?"

"did she invite you?"

"long as I behave," he grinned as he leaned against the side of your armchair and nodded toward the cream-colored box in your lap. "open it, yeah? maybe it'll make up for the spoiled surprise 'n all."

"I'm not sure I should trust you," you laughed. the mint green ribbon tied around the box came undone with just the gentlest of tugs, and your fingers—ever so slightly hesitant—pushed up the lid.

oh.

in the box was a cake: an intricate one with a frosting of your favorite color. little candy pearls and edible decorations had been neatly placed around the cursive words that read—clear as day—talk dirty to me.

"you couldn't go with happy birthday, or—," you glanced at him as your breathless laugh bubbled from your lips, "to my darlin'?" you mimicked his accent.

"I consider it a bloody birthday wish come true," he grinned. "y'know, gettin' to talk dirty to me day in, day fuckin' out. even get paid for it."

cocky bastard.

"you should've just wrapped a bow around yourself," you laughed.

"that your biggest wish?" he grinned. "havin' me all to yourself, eh?"

"maybe." you laughed as you raised your gaze to meet his eyes. "do you have any birthday candles? for seeing if maybe this year my wish will come true?"

he let out a deep chuckle as his lips found your forehead, warm as he planted a kiss on your skin. "no need for 'em, darlin'. 'm already yours."

a/n: happy birthday, bestie!! I hope you have a wonderful, beautiful, magical day full of snacks and love and thoughts of ps!ghost or whoever else it is that gets your tummy full of butterflies, hehe. I adore you!! / pornstar!ghost masterlist / inbox open for all your thoughts and ideas and tea! 💌

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #pornstar!ghost #pornstar!ghost x you #simon riley x you #e:ps!ghost

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writing-mlm · 5 months

Text

Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life.

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could.

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now.

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool.

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in.

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view.

“Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him.

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant.

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

“Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs.

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter.

“No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink.

“Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop.

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course.

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop.

“In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop.

“I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet.

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug.

Not to mention his swords.

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use.

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle.

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes.

“Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory.

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds!

Not that you’ve ever done that.

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine.

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed.

“A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!”

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand.

“Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious.

“Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now.

“Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl.

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred.

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump.

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight.

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes.

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,”

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest.

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body.

“He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you.

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction.

“I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you.

“You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care.

“If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.”

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian.

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body.

“He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff.

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door.

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door.

“…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it.

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor.

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table.

Perfect timing.

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack.

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record.

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together.

But, still. It’s just bros being bros.

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon.

“God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number.

“Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl.

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

“Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking.

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table.

“You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face.

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!”

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward.

“Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school.

“I know, abbā.” You strain.

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker.

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.”

“I’m busy, mom.”

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs.

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube.

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table.

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video.

“Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room.

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas.

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia.

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really.

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods.

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket.

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

“He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year.

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges.

“Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault.

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you.

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!”

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you.

“Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket.

“I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does.

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket.

“Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end.

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please.

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything.

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down.

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in.

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day.

“Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them.

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine.

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much.

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended.

“You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him.

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation.

“Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag.

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh.

“You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do.

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator.

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.”

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator.

“That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug.

“Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage.

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back.

“Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.”

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that.

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out.

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.”

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room.

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards.

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands.

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink.

“It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though.

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door.

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running.

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat.

“Okay, be there in a second.”

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there.

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room.

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little.

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them.

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s.

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks.

“I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?”

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy.

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties.

“Good,” You hum.

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that.

“It’s not,” He shrugs.

“Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back.

“It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns.

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat.

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog.

“Richard.” Damian greets.

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up.

“We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could.

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip.

“Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep.

“And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari.

“As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it.

“She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic.

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife.

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch.

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

“She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?”

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably.

“I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back.

“Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.”

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that.

“(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects.

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.”

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred.

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face.

“You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid.

“When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.”

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles.

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer.

“No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown.

“No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered.

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does.

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace.

“Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?”

“No.” He snaps.

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?”

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs.

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed.

“We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense.

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you.

“Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze.

“Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god.

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

“Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew.

“I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner.

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.”

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others.

“Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.”

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh.

“If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him.

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was.

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.”

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner.

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out.

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting.

“Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips.

“Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful.

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that.

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.”

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason.

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room.

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now.

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone.

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right.

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet.

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture.

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room.

He wants to gag.

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look.

“A word with the parents.” He corrects.

“I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you.

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping.

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too.

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room.

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor.

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear.

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking.

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs.

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it.

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone.

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it.

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other.

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy.

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only.

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin.

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this.

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x male reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian wayne x reader

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