#richard from the last time i saw richard
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Interesting to see how Richard changed...He's very much into groupies as seen on the last tour and he had hair implant as well as botox so he's not against plastic surgery either!
If this is about the 2008 interview, yeah lmao that was over a decade ago, people do change a lot and the thing with plastic surgery I think is because people back then seemed to be a lot more against it, and now it's a lot more common and easy to get. So I see where he'd change how he feels about surgeries and etc
I didn't know he's been spotted with groupies this last tour, tho. But I thought what he said in the interview was about not having relationships with these groupies, and not that he wasn't interested in them at all (I mean, c'mon lmao), just not interested in pursuing relationships with them
#but yeah i mostly saw what he said as separating groupies from ppl he'd actually have relationships with#like they're two separated worlds yknow#i haven't read much about them lately bc after what went on with till i was just stressed out so i just decided to stay offline#so i haven't read/seen anything abt Richard and groupies during this tour#anyway! i haven't had asks in a long time but last night i thought hmm what if i have something in my inbox#and i log in and yes lmao there you are#thanks for the ask anon! have a nice weekend#asks
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1996 dash simulator
🍊 allpulpnojuice follow
guys i'm serious can we PLEASE leave the battle of britpop in 1995 where it belongs i am So Tired
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👽 skygazer81 follow
has anyone heard of this group heaven's gate? they seem kinda sus but their website is sick as hell
🔬 number1skeptic follow
dude...
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👑 princessdianastyle follow
i can't believe di and charles officially got divorced romance is DEAD
🇺🇸 itstheeconomystupid follow
ok royalist bootlicker
👑 princessdianastyle follow
oh so now the clinton/gore rpf shipper is going to preach to us?
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👩❤️💋👩 lesbianbartsimpson follow
i just saw the birdcage in theatres...tbh i don't love the queerbaiting. why would you cast two straight actors to play a gay couple...
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🫎 tabarnakonwood follow
society if québec had won its independence last year
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🪩 rhythmnation1814 follow
i swear if staff doesn't stop fucking around i'm going to permanently move to geocities.
#i'm just glad my PC can run netscape 2.0 #but the dial-up is so slow it's like barely worth it ugh maybe i'll just stop using the internet in general #it's not like i NEED it yk
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😎 Anonymous asked: Do you agree that if the glove does not fit, then we must acquit?
🚬 mall-rats answered: Bro I'm not getting baited into talking about the OJ trial again. Go troll someone else
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🧠 craneonme follow
can you GAYS stop posting frasier spoilers
☕️ cafenervosa follow
niles fucking DIES
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🍳 waterydomestic follow
does anyone else feel like the pavement fandom kind of sucks now?? i don't want to be an asshole but when cut your hair started playing on mtv all the time i knew it was over.
📻 philselwaysbaldhead follow
lol now you know how radiohead fans felt when fake plastic trees was on the clueless soundtrack
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🍔 kelandkenan follow
i've always loved the way they loved...
#kel climbing thru kenan's window because he just HAS to see him even tho he's banned from the rockmore house #like i'm sorry but it's true love your honor
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🧸 thebeaniebabyenjoyer follow
whenever i see that someone's fursona is a gerbil i'm always like oh so you must be a pretty big richard gere fan
🕺🏻 scentofalpacino follow
hold on let me ask jeeves something
🕺🏻 scentofalpacino follow
yeah this is funny as hell
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𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥
summary: you were a pogue, and now you're a kook. just like how once you were no one's, and now you're rafe cameron's.
author's note: here it is!!! imagine like s1 rafe with the s2 hair, and basically just having a former-pogue girlfriend through out the whole season. i just think rafe would actually be such a good boyf, he just needs someone to settle him down when he gets a lil crazy. follows the sequence of s1 until about 3/4ths down, where i just started making stuff up. you might read this & think no one would act like this.. and that's fine, i know they wouldn't, but this is a self indulgent story for rafe <3 part 2 of the other seasons maybe? enjoy!!
now spinning: black beauty by lana del rey (soooooo rafe coded! he just needs a hug and some pussy!)
word count: 13.5k
warnings/tags: wheeze is a toddler for no reason. reader isn't the biggest fan of the pogues at this point in time. smut: oral (f receiving), fingering, degregation, use of daddy, rafe calls reader kid because <3, lemme know if i forgot something!
“So that’s it? Really? Your mom is marrying a Kook and you’re moving across the island… just like that?” John B speaks to you as if you had any choice in the matter. You look at him sadly, but you’ve cried so much the last few days, it’s hard to find any more tears.
You want to tell him, want to explain everything. The way your mom has been so lonely for years, ever since your dad passed away. The way she would pull double-shifts every week just to make sure you had the nice, trendy shoes and hot dinner every night. The way you grew up in the cut but it never felt any different than growing up in figure eight, because she took care of you.
And now it was your turn, to take care of her. Blake Richards was rich, and he wanted to take care of your mom, which meant for the first time in a long time, she would be the one being taken care of. And you owed that to her, you owed that much.
“I-I don’t really have a choice, John B. I mean, this is my mom. And she’s getting her chance to be happy. I can’t ruin it for her.”
“Yeah, I get all that but, like, does this mean you’re gonna go full-Kook on us? Because I think that would just be disturbing,” JJ says, and you crack a smile, even as you feel a tear spill down your cheek.
“I don’t think I could ever go full-Kook.” It comes out quietly, a notch above a whisper.
“Hey, hey,” you hear John’s voice again, as he stands up to get closer to you. You feel embarrassed, the way your cheeks flush and heat up when he’s only a few inches away from you. He wipes the tear away with his thumb. “No crying, okay? Nothing has to change.”
The way he says it, you almost believe him.
“Right,” you say, still quiet. There’s a sob stuck behind your throat, and you don’t want the boys to know how upset you really are. You’ve stitched up these boys more times than you can count, set shoulders and bones and nursed bruises for them. “Nothing has to change,” you repeat, trying to convince yourself. Everything was about to change, starting with your relationship with them.
And that’s the one thing you wish could stay the same. Deep down, no matter how many times you were teased and laughed with, there was a part of you, buried away, that thought you would end up with one of these boys one day. Sweet John, funny JJ, smart Pope. Well, maybe not Pope. You’ve seen the way he stares at Kie, even when no one else notices.
But John and JJ, the possibility of being with one of them always lingered in the air. Even when they’re flirting with tourists or cracking so-called boy jokes that you just wouldn’t understand, you always thought they were your endgame.
If only you knew.
Pope and Kiara drive up, just as you’re wiping away another tear. You’re dreading repeating everything to them, shedding more tears.
౨ৎ
“Who is that?” Topper asks, eyeing some girl entering the club. Rafe was getting sick of Topper crying over every pretty girl he saw on the street when he was supposedly dating his sister. He hardly cared about Sarah, daddy’s favorite, but that was his family, and he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect to his family.
“She must be fresh meat,” Kelce says, “I’ve never seen her before.”
“Tourist?” Topper questions. Rafe downs the rest of his drink.
“Nah, man, see that guy ahead of her? That’s Blake Richards. My dad works with him, he’s a big finance guy. He’s a widower, but I guess not anymore.”
“Step-daughter? Jesus,” Topper says. “It’s like a cheesy porno. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he married her mom to tap that, I mean-”
“Enough,” Rafe snaps. “Shouldn’t you be in a fight with my sister?” Topper blanches.
“I mean, look at her Rafe. That is something special,” Kelce says, and then finally, Rafe lifts his head to look at you.
You look… confused. Your head is turning, taking in everything about the club, like you’d never been there before. A waiter comes up to your family with tall glasses of water, little pieces of cucumber and lemon floating around in them with ice cubes. Richards—your step-father—takes a glass and hands it to a woman who can only be your mother, with the same hair and complexion. Before he can take a glass to hand to you, you take it from the tray yourself, smiling and saying thank you. The waiter, some teenage Pogue, blushes at your affection.
When you start walking, continuing the tour, the waiter turns to look at you walk away, gawking like men do when they see something pretty. Rafe feels an overwhelming urge to punch the kid, and cover you up with his jacket.
You’re not in anything too immodest, compared to what he’s seeing girls at the club walking around in, but it feels like it’s too much for the leering eyes that follow you. Your jean skirt comes down a little less than half-way to your thighs. Your shirt is white, with puffy sleeves and little buttons that tighten around the chest.
He sees a glimpse of cleavage, which makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, not in the way he’s used to when he sees a pretty girl. He wants to take his shirt off his back and slide it onto you, buttoning it up all the way and making sure no one else looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now.
“Rafe?” his friend calls, and he’s not sure which one. In your glancing, you turn towards Rafe and you lock eyes for a second. You must have noticed him staring. You probably think he’s crazy, but he doesn’t seem to care much at the moment. Your mother must have beckoned you, because you turn away in a second, walking towards the older couple, trailing behind them again.
“Be right back,” he says, leaving a confused Topper and Kelce behind him at the table. He cuts through the tables near the bar, entering the walkway where your family is already, but coming out of the other end. He gets there just in time to run into Richards, who’s leading the little group.
“Hi, Mr. Richards, right?” he says, holding his hand out. “Rafe Cameron.”
“Oh, Rafe, hi,” the older man replies, shaking his hand. Rafe grips hard, making sure Richards doesn’t think he has a wimpy handshake. Otherwise he’s never gonna agree to what Rafe has in mind. “I haven’t seen you in years, I mean you were half your height last time I was over at Tannyhill.”
“Crazy, right? Well I just wanted to say hi since I ran into you. How’s, uh Benny and Brax?”
“I can’t believe you remember them, they haven’t been to Kildare in years. They’re good, yeah, Benny’s in California now, and Brax is out at law school, at Oxford.”
“Oh yeah, international law, right?”
“Yeah,” Richards says, smiling wide. “You’ve got quite a memory, son, I’ll have to tell Rafe when I see him.”
“Oh yeah, he’s around here somewhere.” Then, he makes his move. He turns his gaze to your mom first. He thinks about it briefly, but if he addresses you before her, your mom will be on guard. He knows how their minds work. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, I’m Rafe,” and he shakes your mom’s hand, but turns back to Richards for the introduction—something else in his little cheat-sheet of rules. Let dad do the talking, so he feels like he’s in control.
“Rafe, this is my wife, Anna-”
“Nice to meet you, Rafe,” your mom smiles at him sweetly, and he smiles back.
“-and my step-daughter.” You smile, and hold your hand out. He shakes your hand, gently, and looks at your face, because he can tell the smile is forced. He wonders why.
“Nice to meet you.” he says, and you smile that forced way again.
“You too, Rafe.” You let go of his hand, and it’s good, because if he held on any longer, the adults would get suspicious.
“First time here?” he questions, still looking at you.
“Yes,” your mother answers, laughing, if not a little uncomfortably. “Is it that obvious?”
“Nah, it’s a lot to take in, I remember that much.” Richards smiles at him, almost beaming. He knows Rafe has been coming here since he could walk. That means the old man appreciates him trying to comfort his new family. Another step closer.
“It is,” Anna says, looking at her daughter. She has those worried eyes, the one Ward’s new wife won’t stop looking at him with.
“Well, it’s the perfect place to be all summer. I mean, pretty much everyone our age is at the pool or the courts.” At his mention of the both of you, you look up from staring at your shoes quickly to looking right at him. He smiles. You don’t smile back.
“Really?” Richards asks, still openly friendly.
“I mean yeah, Mister R, I remember Benny on the golf course, like, everyday. And Brax, I mean he practically taught half of us how to swim.” Richards nods and laughs, continuing small talk about his sons. Rafe sneaks another glance at you, and you look back knowingly, like you can smell his intentions from a mile away.
“Honey?” your mom asks quietly. “Do you wanna go with Rafe?”
“What?” you reply quickly, surprised. You weren’t listening, and he tries hard not to laugh.
“Well, I can take you ‘round, introduce you to everyone. I’ll finish the tour if you and Mrs. Richards are heading up to the course?” He nods at the golf clothes your parents have on, that you are lacking.
“I think that sounds great, right, honey?” Anna presses, and after you lock eyes with her, you nod in agreement.
“Yeah, sure,” you say quietly. Rafe smiles again.
“Great, great, yeah. Well, it was great to see you Mister R. Missus R.”
“Thank you, Rafe. Kiddo, you can ask for the car to go home when you’re ready, okay? Your mother and I are going to get dinner here.” Anna looks up confused, probably wondering how they’ll get back.
“I’ll call someone to bring the car back, honey,” he explains, and your mom smiles.
“I can also take her back,” Rafe interjects. “Tannyhill is the same direction, and I’m headed back anyways. If you wanna leave the car here.”
“Really, Rafe, that would be great, thank you.” You look even angrier than before, but the plastic smile spread over your face doesn’t faze them.
“Right, thanks, Blake. Bye mom,” you say, and then lean over to kiss her on the cheek.
You watch them walk away, chewing your cheek and turning back to Rafe with anger splashed all over your pretty features.
“I can’t believe that worked on them,” you tell him quietly, smiling when your mom turns back to look at you before they turn the corner. Your parents were too gullible sometimes.
“Yeah, me either, kid.”
“Don’t call me that,” you reply right away. “And despite what you think, I’m not touring this place with you. I’m probably never coming back here after today.” You start walking away, in the opposite direction of your parents, when he chases behind you.
“Y’know, I don’t get you. Every girl your age lounges around here all day, and everyone else wishes they could.”
“Well, you know what they say,” you start, smiling sweetly, though he sees through it again. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
“Really?” he shrugs. “Never heard that before.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t have.”
“Come on, you’re not even giving me a chance. You don’t even know me.” You laugh at that.
“Yes, I do, Rafe, you just don’t recognize me.” You continue your brisk pace, looking for the exit and getting closer. He reaches out to grab your forearm, holding you back for a second. He guides you into the corner, between the hallway where there’s no one else around.
“Yeah, that so?” Rafe is almost caging you in. He’s so close you can smell his cologne and the scotch on his lips.
“I’m from Kildare, Rafe.” You try to break free of his grip, but it proves even harder than you thought. He holds you in place without even breaking a sweat.
“No, no, no, because I know every pretty girl in Kildare. And you’ve definitely never been here before, so-”
“Really? Even the ones from the cut?” You thought that would be enough to get him to drop your arm, but he doesn’t budge.
“Huh. So that’s why you’ve never been here. Old Man Richards married a Pogue and made her daughter into a Kook? Did I get that right?”
“I’m not a Kook,” you say, squirming, because you still don’t want to be trapped by him. His cologne smells good, your mind wanders and thinks, like ocean air and sandalwood. You snap out of it at once.
“Not yet, you’re not.”
“I’m not going to be, either. A little money isn’t going to change anything for me.”
“Yeah, yeah, kid. That’s what everyone says, ‘til it does.”
“Rafe, let go of me, I said let go-” And he does let go, quickly, and your arm falls. Faint red marks appeared when he was holding on, what can only be a bruise tomorrow. He’s marked you, and you’re not half as angry as you would have thought.
“Come on, kid, we’re finishing this tour. I promised,” he says, and the last bit is so mocking, you can’t believe mom and Blake fell for his act.
He takes you around the entire club, shows you the restaurants, the spa, the pool. At least a handful of girls stare at the two of you walking side by side, but Rafe doesn’t look back at anyone. You don’t know how to feel about that.
The oldest Cameron isn’t a mystery to anyone in Kildare, but you don’t know anything about him besides what the boys have told you. JJ hates him, naturally, John doesn’t let you look at him in passing, and even Pope can find a few bad things to say. But right now, he’s not doing any of those things you would have expected once he found out you and your mom are from the other side of the island. The crude jokes and gold-digger comments are nowhere to be heard.
But you can’t write him off completely yet. After all, this is Rafe Cameron.
He finishes the tour on the golf course, so you can wave to your parents on the course. You’re sipping on a lemonade through a little pink straw, and he finds it hard to look away when your cheeks hollow to draw up the liquid. Your mom and Blake wave back, and you smile—genuinely—for maybe the third time that morning.
“They’re good together,” Rafe comments, on the walk back to the front door, where his truck is waiting.
“Do you really think that?” you ask quietly. You’re tired, he can tell, drained from trying so hard to make sure he knows you hate him.
“Yeah, kid, I do. He’s been a widower basically my whole life. And he married your mom, so he must really love her.”
You can’t tell if he’s just saying it to get on your good side. You hope he’s not. Through all of this, all the crying and the suffering and how much you miss your old life and your friends, if your mom doesn’t at least end up happy, it’ll all have been for nothing. You feel more tears brewing.
“Thanks, Rafe,” you end up saying quietly, as you put on the seat belt in the passenger seat of his truck. His music plays softly in the background of the drive - rap, something you've heard before but can't place - back to Blake’s house. With your window down, you stare out of it and try to pay attention to the breeze in your hair rather than the entirely overwhelming scent of Rafe, which is all-consuming in his car.
Rafe turns to look at you every few minutes. You look perfectly in place in his car, leaning against the panel with your eyes closed. That means you trust him, even though every word you say makes him think otherwise.
Your eyes flutter open when he puts the car in park, outside the door to your house.
“Home sweet home, kid,” you hear his voice in your ear, but he sounds closer than he should be. When you turn to look, he’s leaning over you and so close to you, you feel the heat radiating from his body.
“What’re you doing?” you ask quickly, heartbeat picking up and rocketing off.
“M’just getting the door for you, kid.” His arm flexes, only an inch or two away from your chest, pulling the handle and swinging open the door. He leans back into his seat, smirking. “Why, what'd ya think I was gonna do?”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and swallow uncomfortably. Your throat feels dry and your palms are suddenly clammy.
“Nothing.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
You climb out of his car, shoes hitting the ground a little too hard. He strains his neck, trying to make sure you’re okay.
“Thanks for the ride,” you say, not meeting his eyes, closing the door behind you.
“Anytime, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.”
You thought he would take over the second the passenger-side door was shut, but he doesn’t. He stays and watches you fix your skirt that had ridden-up on the drive, and walk into the front door, glancing behind you, just for a second, before going inside. And then you hear the roar of the engine, only after the door was closed and you were safely inside.
౨ৎ
You didn’t take it literally, that you would be seeing him again. Rafe seems like the type to play with his toys and get bored before long, but true to his word, you see him days later. And to his luck, you were feeling even worse than the first time you met him.
The morning started like any other—showering in a bathroom that’s just yours, and no one else’s, and attached to your bedroom. You can hardly remember the years when your dad was alive, but after he passed, you and your mom moved into a tiny two-bed, one-bath with your mom’s best friend. You were there for the next five years, until she got married and moved out, and it was just the two of you. But even in all the years since, you’ve never had your own bathroom until now.
You shower as long as you want, whenever you want. Your room is in a completely different hallway than the master, where Blake and your mom sleep. You blast music at night, singing along off-tune from the bathroom, and would stay on the phone for hours with your friends. If anyone answered your calls anymore.
It’s been three weeks since you broke the news to everyone that you were moving. Two weeks since you actually moved. One week since Rafe walked you around the country club and drove you back home, like you belonged to him. In that time, you’ve driven down to the Chateau twice, walked by Kie’s house, which is now just a few blocks away, and texted multiple times—all with no responses. At first you panic, thinking something’s happened, but then you realize this was what always happened. When you’re off on an adventure, you don’t think about who’s waiting for you back at home.
That’s what’s running through your mind when you run into Rafe again that day.
You had showered without interruption, taking your time doing your hair up just because you felt like it. There was no work to be done, no chores assigned to you anymore. Breakfast was always prepared when you went downstairs, so you took your time getting ready now.
You missed a lot of things about your old life, but the limited time and constant rushing and anxiety were not among them.
Your clothes were picked out with the anticipation of seeing your best friends again, your favorite overalls from the thrift store—which had been bought when you were still two sizes too small for them, and had been baggy on you until last year, but they were such a steal your mother refused to let you put them back—and a yellow shirt to match your ratty, yellow converse. They had been washed so many times they were more brown than yellow, but it didn’t matter much.
This outfit was the old you, and it brought up feelings inside you that nothing in figure eight could change. You wore it because you wouldn’t look any different to your friends in this outfit, and for maybe a few hours, you wouldn’t be the girl in the fancy house with the country club membership anymore.
“You look nice, sweetie,” your mom says, when you head downstairs. She’s drinking her coffee at the table, your step-dad nowhere to be found. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s just woken up too, in her robe and slippers, and you smile, watching her more relaxed than you’ve seen in years.
You swing by her side of the table to give her a kiss, and steal a piece of toast from her plate. You’re relieved she doesn’t mention your clothes, not when she keeps offering to take you shopping with Blake’s money, which you keep refusing, but is getting more tempting every time you step in a puddle in these shoes.
“Thanks mom, I’m going to see the boys and Kie, I’ll be back later, don’t wait up!” and with that you’re gone, before you can discern the disapproving look in her eyes.
Your junky old car, older than you by several years and still somehow the nicest thing you own—used to own, a voice chirps in the back of your head—is hidden around several fancy cars in the driveway. It’s intentional, you’re sure, and likely your mother’s doing. Nothing embarrassed her more than you handing out constant reminders of your old life to everyone around you.
And then you’re on the way to the Chateau, windows down and no music, since there was no way to connect your phone and the radio was busted by Pope a year ago, who claims he was trying to fix it.
But it’s what happens when you get there that embarasses you the most—no one’s there, and no one will answer your call. You wait around for a half hour, trying to see if they come back, but they don’t.
And that’s when it hits you. They were off on their adventures, and you weren’t just down the street anymore, which meant you weren’t invited. You get back in your car and slam the door, humiliated, tears falling down your face and probably ruining the makeup you had done, stupidly, this morning, because you wanted to look nice for them, like your old self for them. You don’t realize until later, after you were done crying, and seen Rafe again, that your friends didn’t want to bother you while you were adjusting to your new life.
You feel betrayed, and the words that John had told you rattle through your head, because he was wrong. Everything had changed, and nothing would be the same.
You take off, heading back home. There’s a big storm brewing and your Accord gets dramatic in the rain. It’s not until you cross the border back into figure eight that you realize two things. One, that you had just thought of your new house as home for the first time. And two, that you had never felt more alone.
There’s not much to do about either of these feelings, besides stopping for the biggest bowl of ice cream you can reasonably carry back home, and eating it in your room, crying and watching You’ve Got Mail for the hundredth time.
So that’s what you do, pulling into the ice cream shop closest to home. Your car also doesn’t have the greatest functioning air conditioner, and you don’t need any more questionable stains in your seats, considering how many times JJ had borrowed it and returned it, promising you it’s nothing and that that spot in the back seat was always there!
In line, tapping your foot, calling your mom’s cell. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is red from crying. She’s not answering, but the unspoken rule of your little family is to always, always call when you’re getting ice cream in case the other wants something. You’ve only been gone something like two hours, and you can’t imagine what she’s doing that she can’t answer your phone. You dial Blake’s number, hoping he answers instead, and while it’s ringing you realize it’s your turn to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu yet.
You turn to the people behind you, telling them they can go in front, but when you look up from your phone, you almost drop it.
Of course it’s Rafe Cameron behind you. Of course. Who else would it be? Who else would keep catching you at your lowest moments? He’s with a little girl, who can’t be older than four or five, with dark hair and glasses, holding his hand patiently while staring up at you, while you stare at him and he stares back.
“Rafe, she said we can go in front,” she says, tugging on the hand she’s holding.
“Yeah, Wheeze, I heard. Let’s go order and then thank this nice girl for letting us go ahead, right?” The little girl nods, and follows him up to order. Rafe looks back at you but then your step-dad answers, so you turn away, cheeks heating up. You don’t want him to see.
“Hi, what’s going on?” you hear his voice through the phone, sort of staticky and jumbled.
“Hi, Blake, I just wanted to ask if you and mom wanted ice cream? I’m at the place… yeah, the one near the house.”
“Oh, yes, let me ask her, one second-” You hear him put the phone down, or cover the mic, and then, “Honey! Kiddo’s asking if you want ice cream.”
You feel yourself soften a little bit at the nickname. And then you hear your mom and Blake talking back and forth, for what feels like ages. The girl behind the counter looks at you with a glare and you try to look back at her with an apologetic smile, but you’re a little fed-up from the emotional turmoil you’ve just endured.
“Hi, sweetie, I’m okay, I had some at the club with lunch and twice in a day is just not a good idea-”
“Just get it, who cares? We can have it later tonight too-”
“What if the power goes out? It’ll melt, and then it’s just a waste of money-” Crap. You hadn’t thought of that.
“We have generators for that.” Blake picks up the phone again. “Hey, kiddo, get your mom her usual and make sure you use the card I gave you, okay?”
You hang up the phone, smiling, and then order. It feels weird, being oddly comforted by someone other than your mom or your friends for once. In your distraction, you don’t see Rafe and the little girl hovering near the freezer window that showcases all the ice cream they offer. When you’re reaching for the shiny black Amex, you hear him again.
“I got it, kid,” Rafe says, pressing his matching card against the reader and pushing your wrist down and away. He does it so easily, without trying, just like he did in the country club. You look up at him stupidly, brain not registering what he just did and why he did it, and you don’t move for a moment. You don’t move until he leans down a little, close enough to smell that enticing cologne again but not nearly close enough.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And you should probably get out of the way.” You blink back up at him, and he’s smirking again. You feel kind of stupid, the way he’s talking to you, but you also don’t mind as much as you thought you would. The girl behind the counter yells out Next! and that’s when Rafe takes you by the arm, just above where he had bruised you, and moves you away himself.
“You okay, kid?” he asks, and you feel yourself melt like ice cream left in your car for too long. You don’t know if he really means it, or if he really cares, but you do know Rafe Cameron needs to stop talking to you like he likes you, or you’re going to be in trouble.
“Fine, yeah. Thanks, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” You’re still blinking slowly, stupidly, stuck in a daze. You should really get it together around him. It’s a little pathetic if a strong grip and a couple of nice actions gets you acting like this. That’s a problem for another day right now.
“Is she okay, Rafe?” the little girl asks quietly from beside him.
“No idea, Wheezie. Why don’t you sit and eat your ice cream?” he replies, and she sits down a few tables away, beginning to shovel chocolate ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon.
“Hey,” he says, and you begin to snap out of it. It’s raining outside now. You hear the pitter-patter of the drops on the roof. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yes. I am. I just had a bad morning. Sorry.” But you don’t know what you’re apologizing for.
“Well, are you gonna talk about it and shit? ‘Cause I don’t know you that well yet but you’re kinda freaking me out right now.”
“I-I…I just-”
“You, you, you just?” he mocks, and then when tears fill your pretty eyes and he sees one slip down your face, his own eyes panic briefly. “Hey, hey, I was just joking, kid-” He pulls out a colorful chair for you, and sits you down next to Wheezie, who is still eating ice cream at an alarming rate. Your ice cream is ready at the counter, and he brings it down next to you, holding his own strawberry cone in his hand.
“Hold this for me Wheeze,” he says, not really asking, and the little girl shakes her head right away.
“How’m I gonna eat mine then?”
“Wheezie,” Rafe says, in a voice that you haven’t heard him use before—and then you realize how stupid you sound. You’ve talked with him twice, you don’t know anything about the voices he uses or how he sounds when he’s talking to this girl who can only be his little sister.
“Can I have some?” Wheezie propositions back, and Rafe nods. “Okay!” she says, taking a bite of the scoop with her front teeth.
“So, y’gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to guess everything?”
“My friends, I just keep missing them, or they keep missing me, maybe. I just wanted to see them. It’s really lonely here, that’s all.” You’re staring into his eyes, his really, really blue eyes that are currently a little alarmed and concerned, and the fact that they’re that way for you is making you a little dizzy.
“Yeah, I get that. Sorry, kid, that’s the lay of the land, right? Not a Pogue anymore, are you?”
“I don’t know what I am.” You feel silly and embarrassed for pouring your heart out over ice cream with Rafe Cameron. He doesn’t know you, and he never will.
“Well, right now you have a choice. You can sit here and eat ice cream with us, or you can go home and cry about it alone. But if you choose the second one, Richards and Anna will see you, or hear you, and ask about it. And I’m not gonna keep asking if you don’t wanna talk. So pick one before this shi-stuff melts, okay?”
You nod dumbly again. You’d like to turn your brain off and let Rafe decide for you.
“I need a spoon.” He smiles, not smirks, for a second, before getting up to get you a spoon.
A few things float through your mind while you eat ice cream with the Camerons. First, Rafe remembers your mom’s name. Second, Rafe doesn’t swear in front of his kid sister. And third, and most important of all, Rafe Cameron cares about you.
“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Wheeze, or rather—as you’ve just learned—Wheezie, comments.
“I was feeling really sad,” you reply, shoving another spoonful into your mouth, watching the little girl eye your peanut and chocolate ice cream inquisitively. “You’ll understand someday.”
“Boy problems?” she asks, and you can’t help but crack a smile. Rafe looks up from his phone momentarily
“Not really, but a good guess. This would also apply to that situation.”
“My sister’s always got boy problems.”
“Really?” you ask, and then look up Rafe. “You have another sister?”
“Yes,” he says, in between licks of strawberry ice cream. You should really look away when he does that, because your heart rate is picking up. “And she’s even more annoying than this one.”
You laugh while Wheezie frowns.
“If I’m so annoying, why do you always take me for ice cream, huh?”
“She’s got you there, Rafe,” and you resist the urge to look at him, even when you can feel his eyes on you.
“Because you wouldn’t stop asking, dork, that’s why.” Wheezie shrugs in reply.
“I’m not gonna finish all of this. You want some, Wheezie?” you ask, offering her your spoon. She looks back at you smiling, and then at Rafe for permission, who nods.
She digs into the pile left, while you finally give into the urge to look up at her brother again. He takes another lick of his ice cream and you look away within a second.
“Been eating that for a while, haven’t you, Rafe?”
“Yeah.”
Somewhere in between Wheezie eating so much of the ice cream so quickly that she gets a brain freeze, and Rafe finally tossing his half-eaten cone into the trash, it’s time to go home. And as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t want to leave. The rain is coming down hard outside, a preview of the impending hurricane.
“Drive here, kid?” he asks, as your feet hesitate by the door.
“No,” Wheezie answers, “I came here with you, dork.”
“Not talking to you, kid,” he replies, rustling the top of her hair with his hand, getting an ugh, Rafe, in response.
“Yeah. Yes, I drove here. But my car doesn’t do so good in the rain.”
“Huh?” he questions.
“It’s old, okay. Junky. The AC is broken. And the radio. Sometimes she just stops, y’know?” You gesture to your blue car parked out front, the rusty, tiny sedan two spots down from his shiny truck.
“No, I don’t know. Richards lets you drive around in that thing?”
“She.”
“It’s a car. Barely, at that.”
“She has a name, okay. HoHo. That’s her name.”
“Alright, well, you’re gonna have to ditch the hoe, because I can’t let you drive home in a hurricane in… that.” You turn to glare at him. “Her, sorry.”
That’s how you end up soaking wet in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, Wheezie secured in her booster seat and Rafe even wetter than you are. He drops you home and says the two of you can go pick up your car tomorrow—if it’s still there, he adds at the end, leaning over you again to open your door. You stare at him dumbly again, which has now become a bad habit, and it’s not until Wheezie says you’re getting her wet in the back that you finally climb out and close the door. You stand behind the front door with your mom’s melted ice cream in one hand, and your phone with Rafe’s contact saved in the other, wondering what exactly just happened.
౨ৎ
The next few weeks pass through as quickly as they came. Your car—to your chagrin and your mother’s joy—does not survive the hurricane. Blake gives you a fancy, luxury car to drive around in that he just had laying around, which you don’t believe for one second. But, your mom is pleased when you actually start driving it, and you can actually listen to music from your phone and enjoy air conditioning and the most luxurious of luxuries—a backup camera.
The night of the ice cream shop incident, Rafe texts you. You were completely ready to wallow in bed, waiting for the text from him that never comes, drowning your sorrow in more ice cream, but he does text you. First and right away.
R: Is it wrong if I hope hoho drowns tonight?
that’s so mean. she never did anything to you.
R: She’s kinda ugly. And what was that about no ac?
so she deserves death????
R: The impound lot at the very least
if she dies, it’ll be because YOU manifested it
R: Never thought I’d believe in that manifesting shit, but here we are
did Wheezie eat dinner after how much ice cream you let her inhale?
R: No.
R: Ur fault. You gave her yours
you gave her yours too
and btw, I offered her a bite. she ate the rest. not my fault
R: She’s five, genius
R: I’ll come around noon tomorrow. Sleep tight kid
౨ৎ
Somewhere in between picking up your car—which entailed no less than stopping for lunch, even more ice cream that you can’t stand to watch him eat, and driving through town to see how bad the damage from hurricane Agatha was, and altogether three hours together ending with a wet, heated kiss in his truck with the windows fogged up—and today, you’ve been with Rafe more times than you can count.
And you try hard to suppress the thought that it’s just because he’s available, that the availability is the reason for your attraction. And then you catch yourself trying to justify why you want to see Rafe so much, this guy that you had just been assuming was bad because your friends told you he was bad, without much in the way of an explanation.
But Rafe is the furthest thing from bad. He’s so sweet to you it makes you delirious. He picks you up all the time, even when you tell him you’re just at home, and your car is right there. He pays for everything, he opens every door, the gentle but teasing way he is with Wheezie makes you even more head over heels.
But most important of all, he calls you first. He texts you first. He makes you feel wanted, and you definitely, definitely, want him, so you don’t think twice before saying yes to accompanying him to Midsummers.
You actually don’t know what it really is, besides for a big party. It was always one of the worst nights at the hospital—litters of teens with alcohol poisoning and from car accidents— so your mom would be working. When you turned eighteen, your mom paid for classes to become a junior nurse, and so busy nights like the one of Midsummers usually was, you would get called in too. So before this week, you’d never spent Midsummers doing anything other than cleaning wounds and fetching suture kits.
You tell Rafe this and he looks at you strangely, another of his looks you hadn’t seen before, with furrowed brows, and you flush and apologize, regretting even opening your mouth.
You know you’re deeper than you thought when he takes your head between his hands and kisses you—messy, with tongue and spit left glimmering over your mouth, so much so that he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb when he’s done.
“Go get yourself a pretty dress, and we’ll have fun, yeah?” You nod stupidly again, the way you’re prone to doing around him. He must have realized you get a kick out being told what to do by him, what to worry about and what to focus on.
You finally take your mom up on the offer to go shopping. Her and your step-dad are going to this thing anyways, but you can tell she wasn’t completely sure you’d go to something so Kook-y, maybe not just yet, and she doesn’t want to push it since your mood finally seems to have picked up. But then you tell her Rafe asked you to go with him, and the two of you smile and jump around the living room, laughing like kids. She’s happy for you and you’re happy that the two of you are happy at the same time.
Rafe sends you money for a dress—enough money to pay for a month’s rent at your old place. Your mom says your step-dad insists on paying. You feel like things are coming together for the first time.
You wander the stores, trying on different dresses and feeling like a scene out of a movie until you finally find the perfect blue dress. Blue for Rafe’s eyes and his suit jacket, because you’re not embarrassed to admit to him that you want to match for Midsummers. It’s patterned with little flowers, ruffles and lace moving in the wind when you twirl, and for once, you stop feeling like you need to pick a side to be on—Pogue or Kook—and you decide just to be Rafe’s for now.
The night of the party, Rafe offers to pick you up, but you tell him you’ll come with your parents. They’re both wearing shades of peach and salmon, the three of you together look like you’re headed to a baby shower, which you and your mom laugh about in the car ride there.
You text Rafe to let him know you’re there, and tell your parents you’re going to walk around to find him. When you glance back, they’re talking with some of Blake’s friends, people he had invited to the wedding.
You see, what you can only think, is a glimpse of Pope, in his usual waiter get up, but he disappears before you can see where he was. His father is still there, though, and you make your way through the crowd to get near him.
“Hi, Mr. Heyward,” you say, smiling and unsure if he’ll recognize you. You don’t think he’s ever seen you in anything but your overalls or scrubs.
“How can I help yo-wait, is that you, well I’ll be damned. You’re blending right in, aren’t ya?”
“Well, it took long enough.” You suddenly feel embarrassed, because he knows the old you, the one who wouldn’t be here in a million years. “Do you know where Pope is? I thought I saw him, I just wanted to say hi.”
“He just went off that way, but if you see him, tell him I still need his help over here, just like I did before he walked away—”
“Can I help with anything?” you ask quickly, but he shakes his head and tells you the direction Pope went in.
You follow it generally, trying to see where he could have gone in such a short time. But then you see all of them, and you can’t stop your feet from running over. Kie, JJ, and Pope, all standing and talking about something, but you don’t really care about interrupting. Kie’s all dressed up too, and you suddenly don’t feel so embarrassed.
“You guys,” you feel yourself gushing. “It’s been so long,” and you go in for a hug with each of them.
“Wow, god, you look so pretty,” Kie says, and you hug her again. You don’t realize how much you missed her.
“You too, Kie,” your smile is so wide it starts to hurt. “Isn’t this so weird, all of us here at this party? Where’s John B?” you ask, looking around.
“So weird,” JJ says, and you notice the bruise around his right eye because he’s turning to look at Kie again.
“JJ, what the hell happened to your face?” JJ doesn’t answer, he actually doesn’t say anything at all, which should have been your first sign that something was wrong. You look at him quizzically, before turning to Pope.
“Pope, your dad’s looking for you, I just went over to say hi-”
“Oh crap,” he says, heading back in the direction you just came from. “Sorry, be right back.”
“W-what the hell is going on?” you question Kie and JJ, searching for any answer, desperately hoping that it isn’t we don’t wanna tell you. Your phone goes off, twice, and you pick it up. The look on your face must have been beyond palpable to your friends.
R🧸ྀི: Come inside the house
R🧸ྀི: Got a surprise for you
“I-I gotta go inside,” you say, looking at the confused faces of your friends.
“What’s inside? I thought-”
“No, nothing, I don’t know, Rafe just asked me to go inside, and I haven’t even seen him yet-”
“Rafe? What, Rafe Cameron?”
“Y-yeah?”
“What are you, with him, or something?” JJ asks, and you feel your heart fall into your stomach.
“I-I yeah, maybe. I’m here with him tonight, he-” Your phone goes off again. “I’m sorry, I have to go find him, but I’ll come find you guys right after, okay?”
You leave the two of them there, looking at each other confused, looking at you like they don’t recognize you. And it stings, for a moment, until you get inside the mansion and find Rafe hanging out by the entrance, nursing a glass of scotch and eyes lighting up when they see you.
Everything with him is like that scene from that movie. Lights go dim, you walk in slow-motion, the room goes quiet. He watches you walk up to him and his eyes take in everything—your pretty hair, your dolled up face, the way your dress moves when you walk, and most of all, that you’re here with him. He reaches his hand out to grab you by the waist to bring you in for a kiss. It’s not like the others, it’s chaste and soft and romantic.
“Hi,” you breathe out, resting your forehead against his.
“Hi, kid. You look fantastic,” and he presses another sweet kiss to your temple.
“We’re matching,” you say with a smile, taking in his blue suit jacket and the way you feel dizzy right now, and you feel his grip tighten around your waist.
“Yeah, we are. Now get in line with me, we’re walking out together.” Your eyes are big like coins, because you understood that you were coming here together, but this is his family’s big night, if everything your mom and Blake told you was to be taken seriously.
You don’t have time to say anything, because Rafe’s nice parents line up ahead of you, and his two sisters behind you. Wheezie tugs on your dress and you turn to greet her and Sarah quickly, because then the doors open and you’re walking out, following Rafe’s lead, lots and lots of eyes on you, but only one pair of blue ones you really care about.
You almost want to cry, the whole thing is so magical. You have a flute of champagne and a sip of Rafe’s scotch, and you are deliciously tipsy for the next two hours. Your parents come over to talk to you and Rafe, and you can see how happy your mom is in her eyes. You and Rafe dance until your feet hurt, and it’s only then, when he leaves your sight, that things seem to get back down to how they normally are.
You can’t find Wheezie’s parents or Sarah anywhere. The little girl spilled ice cream on her dress and is crying quietly, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. You want to get her parents, because you think they can help, but you end up taking her to the bathroom yourself. With a damp paper towel, you wipe as much as you can, and you promise to get her another ice cream if she stops crying.
“It’s just a stain, honey, don’t worry.” You toss the dirty tissue and grab another one, wiping the tears and then letting her blow her nose. “It’ll come out when you wash it. And no one will notice because it’s so dark now, right?” She nods in agreement. “Do you wanna go find your big brother?” Another sad nod. “Let’s go honey,” and you take her hand and lead her back out.
You’re not entirely sure what you missed in the last fifteen minutes. Everyone’s gone quiet, staring at what you hope is a trick of your eyes—all of your friends running from the party, hooting and hollering. Kiara’s parents look hopelessly upset, Mr. Heyward downright disappointed, and your mom scanning the crowd, trying to see where you are, until she spots you and Wheezie.
Her and Mrs. Cameron come running over, and you instinctively flinch, thinking the giant headpiece she’s wearing will poke you. You hand off Wheezie and turn to look at your friends, and you think, for a second, they’re waiting for you. They are, you realize slowly, waiting for you.
And you almost take off right then and there, until you feel Rafe’s warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up to see him bleeding.
At that moment, you turn right back around and head inside to the nearest room, sitting Rafe down on the bed and scrambling to find something to clean his wound with, and something cold to help the swelling, and in your panic, you don’t realize you’re rambling.
“I mean, what the hell was all of that? I turn around for two seconds and everyone’s running from the party like there’s a fire, and destroying things and throwing punches, I mean, I get they hate the whole Kook thing, but it was never like this before, even when I didn’t know you yet, and I-” you drop the frozen bag of peas onto the floor in your sudden realization. “I just let them leave. They waited for me. I didn’t go with them.” Your eyes fill with years. That’s a betrayal, not all the stupid stuff you thought was happening before tonight. They waited for you, and you turned right back around to go inside with Rafe.
“Hey, hey hey,” Rafe says quietly, taking your head in his hands again. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”
“You’re bleeding, Rafe,” you say, voice trembling. Your tears are ruining your makeup.
“I’m gonna be fine. You know why?” he asks, and you feel more tears rush down. “Hey, hey, no crying.” Rafe wipes away the tears with his hand, then he brings his hands to your back and rubs soothingly. “You know why, kid?”
“Why?” it comes out a whisper.
“Because you chose me. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”
The way he says it you believe him.
You spend the next two days at Tannyhill with Rafe, wearing nothing but his t-shirts and doing nothing but rolling around in bed. It’s been a month, maybe a little bit more, and you haven’t even had the talk yet—the sex talk. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s not ready for it, but you’re not ready for it, not yet. You’re working on it. He doesn’t make it easy for you, either. You’ve spent hours now, making out in his lap, grinding against each other until you make a mess all over his shorts and his hair is sticking up in every direction, and working your way up to telling him what you want.
You’re almost there. You’re waiting for the perfect time. Which was almost right now.
“You like that? Shit-” he breathes into your ear, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of your neck right underneath. It makes you moan again, louder, until he clamps a hand—the one not three fingers deep inside your leaking pussy—over your mouth, barricading the noise from leaving. “Gotta be quiet, kid, you want the whole house hearin’ what a little slut you are?”
His blue eyes, lustful and blown, stare into your own. You shake your head softly underneath the tight grip of his palm. You’re always obedient with him, but he really likes you like this.
“Yeah? You gonna do whatever daddy tells you? Just so I keep my fingers in this tight pussy?” You nod compliantly, head falling back on to the pillow. His fingers are thick, and the cool of his ring rubs against your clit in the best way, in ways you didn’t even realize it could feel.
He keeps fucking three fingers in and out of you, moans muffled by his hand but not completely silenced. You must be making a mess, because it’s what he keeps talking about, rambling about your messy cunt, greedy and sucking him in, and how you’ve been cumming for him like a little princess for the last two days, but it’s never enough for you.
It’s when he removes his hand and kisses you hard instead, tongue deep inside you mouth, the metal of his chain dangling on your chin, and you feel the similarly cool metal of his ring on you, you finish again, exploding around your boyfriend’s fingers and moaning into his mouth. He hears you, repeating his name over and over again, not Rafe, but rather daddy, and he swallows your chants into his mouth. When you calm down, he makes a show of licking his fingers off while locking eyes, and then you get flustered and bury your head into his neck.
He laughs, because it’s so cute, but only for a minute. Then you two shower together and he makes another show, but this time out of you, kneeling on the floor of his tub while he paints your face with his cum, making sure to cover the necklace you’ve been wearing recently too, the silver, loopy little R hanging between your collarbone.
Then you get dressed—a little pink dress that’s been his favorite recently, with buttons down the front and a pretty bow where your tits sit— and the two of you have lunch with his family like nothing ever happened.
Rafe drops you back at home later that day, gives you a kiss where he grabs the back of your head to bring you in, and then waves bye to your parents as he unlatches the door for you, in his usual way.
౨ৎ
A week later, he does the same thing. Drops you off, drives away once you’re inside, and you’re starstruck walking back, so much so, you don’t realize there’s someone waiting for you.
It’s Kie, and Rafe’s sister, Sarah. You’re a little confused since you thought the two of them didn’t get
along, but they look like they’re fine now.
“Hey, listen, we need you to help us. Can you come down to the Chateau later tonight, after sunset?” Kie asks, and you must look as confused as you feel, because Sarah speaks right away, before you can get a word out.
“You cannot tell my brother. Promise us you won’t.”
“Why are you asking me that? Why can’t I tell him?” Sarah and Kie exchange a look, and it’s clear to you that you are missing several pieces of the puzzle. “Guys! Come on, you-you can’t expect me to just be on board with lying to my boyfriend and showing up to help you guys without knowing what it even is, right? What’s going on?”
“We will explain everything, just please promise us that you’ll come,” Kie implores and you nod hesitantly.
“And you won’t tell Rafe?” Sarah asks again.
“Come on. Pogues for life, right?” Kie says, and you get a flashback to your life two months
ago—doing anything for your friends and dreaming of how you’d end up with one of the boys someday. It all seems like a million years ago.
“Yes, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. I won’t tell him.”
You guess that God was on your side today.
R🧸ྀི: Hey kid. Busy with my dad today. Dinner tomorrow okay?
sounds perfect!! don’t work too hard! i'm gonna watch a movie with my mom and blake and stay in tn
R🧸ྀི: You got mail again?
you know me so well
R🧸ྀི: Have fun princess.
You set down your phone on your dresser, feeling like you could throw up your dinner. It’s just starting to get dark outside, and you’ve just lied to Rafe for the first time since you’ve met him. It feels terrible, like something’s gnawing inside you, begging you to come clean and confess, or not to go out at all. You think about it for a moment, maybe if he knows you’re with some of your old friends, it won’t be like a real lie.
Then you remember your old friends are the ones who punched him. You tell your mom you’re going to Rafe’s, and then you get in your fancy car that Rafe helped you christen the other day—in the backseat, specifically—and drive to your old life.
You park next to the Twinkie and get out, stepping into a slush of mud. Your shoes are new, and were clean, and you cringe internally at how much you started caring about these things. You don’t want Rafe to see you with dirty shoes.
The boys and Kie are sitting on the logs near the fire pit. Sarah is sitting right next to John B, looking at him how you look at Rafe, and then you realize the magnitude of just how much you’ve missed.
“Hey,” Kie says, looking up first, smiling. “You came.”
“Yeah.” You’re at a loss for words. Everyone looks the same. Everything feels so different.
A part of you wants to sink down between Pope and JJ, crack a beer, and laugh at jokes you think you would still understand. Another part wants to get into the fancy car and drive to Tannyhill. You opt for neither, standing a few yards away and letting the light from the fire cast its hazy glow over you and all your old friends.
“Did you tell him?” Sarah asks. She means it well, not in a rude way, but that’s how you feel.
“No, no, I didn’t. He, he thinks I’m at home. With my mom and Blake.”
“Alright,” JJ says, tossing his empty beer can. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Listen,” John B says, getting up and sounding too sincere for your liking. “We all appreciate you coming. Because we need a favor from you, and it might not be easy.”
“I mean, I think it’s gonna be pretty easy. Unless Rafe is like, really, really crazy, like even crazier than we already know he is-” JJ says, but stops when Kie and Pope shake their heads. “What? She knows, she’s the one dating him.”
“Know what? I don’t even know what you want from me-”
“We need a distraction. For Rafe, okay?” John B starts.
“An hour, okay, that’s all we need, right guys?” Sarah asks, looking back at everyone. They nod, trying to convince you, except Jayj.
“Well, like, maybe a couple of hours. If he’s up to that, y’know, I don’t wanna assume shit ‘bout stamina and all that-”
“JJ,” Pope says, shoving the blond’s arm. “You’re not helping.”
“What?” you breathe out, even more confused than before. You start to get what they’re asking, you just don’t want to admit it.
“We need to distract Rafe, for an hour, or like two hours, and we figured you’re our best bet.” John B says, and you look at them with your mouth falling open a little.
“You want me to…sleep with my boyfriend, to distract him, so you guys can do something that you won’t tell me about?”
“Kind of, yeah. Pretty much.”
“And is, is this thing going to hurt him in the long run? Is he going to be upset? When he finds out what happened?”
“My Kook feelings radar is a little off, right now, but who knows, I mean hell, he might not ever find out,” JJ says, and you want to sit down, because your knees feel weak, but the ground is muddy and the logs are occupied. “If we do our job right, he won’t know for a long, long time, right guys?” A chorus of right, right rings around the fire.
“And you’re not gonna tell me what this is about at all?”
“Well, it might not be a good idea. Because, you’re dating him, and listen, we just need like an hour, and he never has to know you were a part of this, okay? I will never tell him, none of us will,” Sarah says, and you do believe her. But you can’t believe that they’re asking you to do this.
“And if he finds out, and he breaks up with me, then what?”
“Yeah, I, uh, knew this was a bad idea. She’s not gonna do it, guys, so let’s just reformulate-”
“Oh, you knew I was gonna say no, JJ? Lying to my boyfriend? For the people who hurt him?”
“He hurt us too, y’know,” Pope says, and you feel your heart begin to race.
“No, I don’t know, because no one tells me anything! No one answers their phone and no one’s here when I drive down. Kie, you live two streets away from me now. The first time I saw you all month was at Midsummers and then, today. Asking me to come here to lie to Rafe, to sleep with him to distract him.”
“No, no, we shouldn’t have asked you, because I knew you would say no, I told them-” and you can’t believe the words coming from your friend's mouth. “Look at you, you went total Kook on us.”
And then you feel like they’re taking it all in. The R around your neck, the jewelry that sparkles in the light of the fire, all yellow citrine, for Rafe’s birth month. The pink dress that’s his favorite—you put it on this morning in case you ended up back at Tannyhill tonight. And worst of all, his white button up hanging from your shoulders, smelling like ocean and sandalwood and Rafe Cameron.
“It’s like you belong to him now.” You feel a tear sliding down, but you wipe it away.
“Maybe that’s because he was actually there for me, when I needed it. And I get it, maybe I should have tried harder. But you guys should have too.”
The group of you stand there in silence for a moment. Your phone goes off. You know it’s Rafe. They know it is too. It starts with Kie, and then a course of apologies from everyone. John B wipes away your tears like nothing has changed. JJ scratches his head, and then hugs you tighter than he ever has before. Pope tells you how much he’s missed you, how he had to start bandaging wounds in your absence.
“I’ll distract him. An hour, that’s all you get. I’m not sleeping with him because you guys want me to, okay? So if he leaves, he leaves.”
You take off for Tannyhill, leaving your old life behind and risking your new one all at once.
౨ৎ
Rafe’s phone goes off again, and he lets out a short, tight breath.
Princess: are you still busy at home? i need you
Princess: please rafey
“I’ll be back,” he tells Ward, and before he can even respond, he’s out of the room, calling you. The line rings twice, and then you answer.
“Rafey?” you sound quiet, like you’ve been crying.
“Hey, hey kid. What’s going on? I told you I was working tonight,” and then he runs a hand through his hair, because he knows he’s fucked, if you’re crying and you need him, then he’s going.
“I know, Rafe, I just really need you, I had a really bad night-”
“Woah, wait, I thought you were just with your parents?”
“I was, it just got really bad, I-I’m outside Tannyhill because I had to leave, and then I got lost and I was scared so I just came straight here.”
“Lost? Jeez, kid, it’s, like, down the street.”
“But I didn’t wanna bother you, ‘cause you were busy-” and then he hears a hiccup, and then a sob.
“Okay, okay, stay there, I’m gonna come get you,” and he hangs up the call. He darts outside, spotting your navy car and you inside, still in the same clothes from this morning, just wearing his shirt over it, like a jacket. He gets close and you climb out of the car yourself, jumping into his arms and burying your face into his neck, like you always do when you get like this. He can feel the way your body shakes under his arms, the wetness of your tears on his black polo.
“Okay, it’s okay now, come on, let’s go inside.” You make it up the stairs to his bedroom, when Rafe guides you inside and pulls his blinds, so no one peeks inside.
He sits you up on the edge of his bed, squatting before you, hands in yours, arms resting on your knees.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” You shake your head, another tear falling. You wish you could say you were pretending, but the tears find their own way when you think about the encounter you just had. You’re lying when you tell him it’s between you and your parents, but his reaction makes you regret it instantly. “Did they say somethin’ to you? Did they try something? I’ll go over there and sort it all out, okay, kid, don’t worry about a thing.” He stands up, running another hand through his messy hair, letting it fall in the moppy way it always does, over his forehead. “Stay here, okay, princess, I’ll be back.”
Then you realize he’s gonna go over there and talk to your perfectly happy, clueless parents, so you stand up and turn him back around.
“No, no, Rafe, don’t leave,” and then you melt into a hug, taking in everything about it. Rafe rests his chin on the top of your head, his arms tight around your back. He smells so good, and the way he’s taking care of you makes you realize a couple things. “Will you just…make me forget?”
Your boyfriend looks down at you, and you don’t shy away from his gaze like you often, when you get flustered.
“Make you forget?” he questions.
“I just don’t wanna think about anything else,” you start, undoing the bow of your dress, more cleavage revealing itself. “I just wanna think about you,” and then your fingers undo the buttons trailing down the front of your dress. It falls off your shoulders, and you stand before him, naked, certainly not for the first time but what feels like the most intimate it’s ever been.
There’s a pretty lingerie set hidden in the back of your closet, what you had actually put aside for this moment, but you had no time to run home and get it, so you opted for the next best thing, taking your bra and panties off in the car ride here, shoving them into your purse, and hoping that Rafe was as tempted as you were.
“Just about me?” he questions, and you take his hand into yours, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips.
“Just you, Rafe. I’m ready, Rafey, I want you to fuck me,” and it seems like that’s all it takes. Rafe crushes his lips against yours, kissing you how he always does, tongue in your mouth and spit everywhere. He holds you by the back of your head and your hands run through his hair. You want him closer, even closer than he already is, than he possibly could be.
His hands leave your head and go down to your ass, grabbing both cheeks roughly and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you on his bed, head hitting the pillow, and you pull away for a second, to catch your breath. Rafe doesn’t let it happen, gripping your cheeks between his hand and bringing you back in for another kiss. You’re naked, and he’s still completely dressed, but you don’t miss the obvious way his hardened dick presses against your bare cunt.
You can’t breathe, and all your senses are overpowered by Rafe, but you also don’t really care. You keep kissing, moaning into each other’s mouths and gripping hair and skin that’s sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, until you feel him finally pull away for a second. You catch your breath, open-mouthed and heaving, eyes locked.
“‘M only gonna ask this once, kid,” he breathes, leaving another hot kiss on your neck, which makes you spread your legs further open with instinct. “Y’sure you want this? ‘Cause there’s no going back.”
You nod in that way you always have with him, telling him everything with no words at all.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes against your neck, and you feel him bite down into the soft skin of the flesh there. You yell out, but it turns into a moan when Rafe licks his tongue over the wound. “That’s just so you can remember this night, okay baby?” You look back up at him, wet eyes, swollen lips, and flushed, sweaty skin.
“Thank you, daddy.” He smiles, because you’re in for it now.
“You’re welcome, kid. Shit,” he breathes out, “I knew you’d like it, little freak.” He starts with more hot kisses, all the way down your neck, down your sternum, and stopping to press a kiss to each side of your ribs, before continuing down to your stomach. You whine from your position below him, one huge hand holding your hip in place and the other tracing the pattern of the kisses down, until he finally reaches where you want him to be.
“Gotta be quiet, kid, everyone’s home. You gonna let them all hear how much of a whore you are for me? Huh?” he mocks, and you shake your head fervently. “Good girl. You’re being so good, you’re gonna get a treat, okay?” You nod stupidly.
His breath catches for a second, when he gets down to your glistening cunt. He looks up at you from his position there, your chest heaving, tits bouncing with how much you’re squirming, how much you want him to do something. He moves his hands, one resting on your breast, pinching the nipple with his finger, and the other running a line down your pussy. Your whole body twitches up when he runs the metal of his ring over your clit, because he knows you really like it.
“Rafe, please,” you cry, sounding stupid and fucked out, even though he hasn’t started yet. “Please, please,” and your hips jerk up. He pushes them down.
“Be patient, kid. Gotta admire this virgin pussy for the last time before I ruin it, ‘kay?” You feel your walls tighten at his words, and you hope he missed the way everything just clenched, but it’s Rafe, and he didn’t miss a thing. “Like that, huh? You like being my little slut?”
You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the damage is done.
Rafe dives in, and you let out a moan that you didn’t realize you were capable of producing. You clamp your own hand over your mouth, because you know he’ll stop if you get too loud. His tongue licks you up and down, and true to what you had always thought, he does know what he’s doing.
The hand pinching your nipples doesn’t relent, and the weight of his arm holds you down when you buck up as he pushes two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your walls out. It hurts, in the best way, and before you know it, he’s added a third.
His mouth stays focused on your clit, and your legs tremble, even though it’s barely been a few minutes. It’s all of it, all at once. Being naked in Rafe’s bed, his hand groping your tits, the way he holds you down without trying, the smell of his cologne and his skin and his sweat, making you lightheaded.
His fingers push in and out, and when he hits that sweet spot inside you, the one your own fingers have never been able to reach but somehow, Rafe’s have become well acquainted with, you can’t help the noises you make.
You repeat his name over and over again, and you think you’ve felt the height of this pleasure, that nothing could surpass this feeling, until your stomach tightens in an entirely new way. Your fucked out brain gets it together for a minute, to feel the overwhelming, ecstatic pressure of Rafe’s tongue on your clit, spelling out his own name. Your stomach tightens, unbearably so, that coil winding up, but before he even finishes the F, it snaps all at once.
You let out a scream—which you think is so stupid of you. But it feels so good, there was no way around it. Rafe reacts instantly, grabbing your hand that’s pulling his hair and using it to snap over your mouth, all while he rides you through it.
His nose presses against your clit while he slides his fingers out, your pussy walls clamping around nothing, missing him already. He laps up the mess you just made with his tongue, the noise being so overwhelming, you want to scream again.
You use your other hand to yank his hair, pulling him up to look at you, because you know you want to see this. Rafe, your Rafe, your boyfriend, with blown, wide eyes and the entire lower half of his face glistening with your juices, with the mess you just made, and then you collapse back down onto the bed.
Your breathing is heavy. You aren’t sure it’ll ever go back to normal.
Rafe pulls his shirt off by grabbing it from the back, yanking it over his head. Your hand floats up to
touch his chest, to make sure he’s still real and not just a vivid sex dream, but he slaps it out of the way.
“What did I say, hm?” he asks, leaning over you. His face is just an inch too far to kiss. Your limbs feel numb, and you can’t pull him down yourself. You want to cry, because you want to kiss him so badly. “I said you had to be quiet, or everyone’s gonna know what a little whore you are.”
“I tried, daddy, I did-”
“I don’t think you tried at all, kid.”
“No, I did, I swear-”
“You’re lucky that I-” and before he finishes his sentence, you pull him down into another kiss. He tastes like you and scotch, and the combination is so intoxicating, you can’t pull away. “Hey, hey,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” and the soothing way he says it, you believe him.
“I’m lucky that you what?” you ask, unbuckling his belt and snaking it off the loops.
“That I love you, and I’m not gonna punish you tonight for not listening to me.” You drop the belt over your stomach, the melt part hitting with a little clink. You look back up at him, your eyes wide, you imagine, your cheeks flushed.
“You love me?” you ask, quietly. You can barely hear yourself over the thud of your heart pounding in your chest.
“I do,” Rafe replies, running his hand to smooth over your hair, which you’re sure is a mess now. “Enough that I’m gonna fuck you now, but I had to say it first, because I’m gonna fuck you until you break.”
You’re speechless, watching Rafe unbutton his pants and kick them off, boxers going with them. He strokes himself once, twice, and you’re still staring up at his face, even though normally you would get distracted.
He looks up again.
“You ready, kid?”
“I love you, Rafey,” you say, twisting your hands around to the back of his neck, pushing him into yet another kiss. You can’t pull away, even if you want to, you want him so close that you forget everything else in the world for now. While you’re kissing, he lines himself up with your leaking pussy, which has probably ruined these sheets, and pushes in the tip.
You pull back from the kiss, just to moan, but Rafe silences you with his mouth again. He pushes in more, and more, until you’re sure he’s bottomed out. Your cunt is so, so stretched, you can’t fathom this is what you’ve been missing out on, and it feels so good, like nothing has ever felt before, not his fingers, not his tongue, not any other part of him.
“That’s halfway, kid, you doin’ okay?” and your eyes jolt up to his in a second.
“H-half?” you breathe out. “I can’t, I can’t take any more, s’not gonna fit Rafe, not gonna fit-”
“Hey,” he repeats, which always has that calming effect on you. “You let me worry about that, okay? Just relax this pussy f’me, okay?” and the way he says it, you do, because you have no other choice. He pushes in again, fast, hard, and then pulls all the way out. You’re too scared to look anywhere but his eyes, so you stay locked in on them, until he pushes all the way in again, and your eyes clasp shut.
“Oh, oh my god, Rafe-” And you don’t care who hears you this time. He pulls out again, just his lip still inside you.
“Look, princess, look down,” he urges, and you follow his instructions, because you always do. “Look where we’re connected, yeah?” He fucks in and out of you, slowly but then faster, and you do look, entranced at the way your pussy sucks him in, the way your cum is coating his dick, at the brutal pace he’s set.
You look until you can’t anymore, leaning back against the pillow and watching Rafe above you, his face twisted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, mouth panting. He buries his face into your neck, and you grip the top of his shoulders, nails digging in, because you just need to hold onto something.
He told the truth, you think, in your fucked out, blissful state, that he was going to fuck you like he hated you, battering into your sore pussy over and over again.
You repeat his name—daddy, not Rafe—until he shuts you up with a kiss, and he watches the strings of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away.
“Just needed this dick, didn’ya princess? Just needed daddy to think for ya?” You moan in reply. “You got it then, kid, because m’never gonna stop fucking you. Y’never gonna think about anything else again.”
And then he finally does you in, because he presses down, right below your stomach, while he slams in, and you feel something inside you break, like a flood breaking through a dam. It washes out to every part of you, from your ears to your fingers to your toes. White hot pleasure runs its course through your body, cunt tightening and shaking, eyes rolling back, your spine arching forward. Through all of it, Rafe pins you down, and fucks you through it. And finally, deliriously, you open your fucked-out eyes, looking up at him.
“I love you, daddy,” and he cums before he can even pull out, messy rivulets shooting inside you, leaking out onto his expensive sheets. He moans into your neck, and his entire body slumps forward, and you giggle under the weight.
A few minutes pass by.
“Rafey, you’re gonna crush me,” you say quietly, sing-songy. You’re so happy, you’ve forgotten everything else that’s happened.
Rafe presses a kiss to your forehead and rolls off, slumping next to you. Your head lands on his chest not a second later, his arm around your shoulder and another kiss to your hair.
“Feel better, kid?”
“So much better, Rafey.”
You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that you woke up to the sound of your phone going on. You pick it up, trying to turn down the light so Rafe doesn’t wake up too. There’s one message.
JJ: I thought you said you weren’t gonna sleep with him?
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Wayne Brothers’ Gala Girl
synopsis: Bruce Wayne’s galas are held every once in a blue moon, but when they did occur, every Gotham socialite was sure to attend. The eldest sons of Gotham’s favorite billionaire always wound up in some trouble to entertain themselves, this time the brothers’ idea of fun was a beautiful woman who looked almost as bored as them.
notes: Jason Todd & Dick Grayson x reader, 3rd person pov, little bit 🌶️, inspired by the painting above.
The Eldest Wayne brothers found themselves in the quietest corner of the gala, bored with no idea of what they can get into this time around to beat last gala’s “performance” as they would call it.
“We could set off the fire alarm,” Dick suggests lazily to his younger brother.
“What are we twelve? Most of the people here already think we’re still fifteen.”
“No, they think you’re still fifteen because you were legally dead for like four years.”
“Shut up, dickwad.”
“HER!” Dick exclaimed, “Her, her, her, her!”
“You were Robin not a fucking parrot, her what?”
“That beautiful beautiful woman right there that looks even more miserable than we do with those tuxedo vultures circling her.”
Tuxedo vultures was spot on. These rich pigs had her trapped, all trying to win her attention one at a time, attempting a better pitch than the last guy. Any kind of manners that were instilled in her from an early age couldn’t apply after the third man insisted that he was the perfect man for her, actually, the perfect man for any proper woman, brains or not. All of the men here were the exact same, they believed their money and family were enough to flatter any woman here, that having any form of a likable personality or distanct traits besides snobbery was, “not something women really wanted.”
The woman couldn’t control her eye roll after the second attempted joke was made, averting her gaze where her eyes landed on the two men who already had their bright eyes on her, Bruce Wayne’s oldest sons.
She didn’t have a problem with the Wayne Family of course, she was after all attending their gala, it was just some of the guests that she wasn’t so fond of.
“What about her?” Jason looks over to who Dick was fawning over. Jason wasn’t blind, actually his vision only got better after he was resurrected, he too thought that the woman was beautiful, maybe one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, which is why he immediately shut Dick down, knowing what he was going to try to do.
“No, Dick. No chance, leave her alone.”
“I don’t think she wants me to,” Dick replies as the woman returns his famous flashy grin with a soft smile.
Dick had been trying to get Jason…well more out there after the whole dying, coming back to life, and then out in the public eye again thing. Jason died young, he barely got a chance to live his teenage years so whenever Jay’s attracted to someone, he starts acting like a teenage boy but at the age of twenty instead of sixteen.
Dick, make every girl swoon over him since his Robin days, Grayson mastered the whole girl thing by now and is trying to be his not so little brother’s tonight’s wingman.
“Follow me,” Dick whispers to Jason, not taking his eyes of the beauty across from him.
Dick and a hesitant Jason make their way over to the group of men that were all secretly jealous of their father, probably jealous of his sons too, interrupting the lifeless conversation and taking all of her focus off the vultures and onto him and Jason.
“Good evening gentlemen, how are we doing tonight?” Jason almost gagged at his at his brother’s fake politeness, he was always the better one at socializing, his charming personality didn’t stop at women.
“Richard Grayson, boy you’ve certainly grown up since I last saw you!” An older man around Bruce’s age greets him stirring up the rest of the men.
“Dick Grayson huh, pleasure to finally meet Gotham’s new prince.”
“I hear you’re very popular with the ladies,” the group erupted into laughter, these men really love any jokes to do with a woman don’t they?
“And you must be Bruce’s other son, Tim is it?” Jason’s takes his eyes off the woman to give the man a slight scowl, he promised Bruce he’d behave tonight.
“No, no, that’s Jason the one that…” one of the men tries to begin to tell the epic tale of Jason Todd.
“Say, we would love to stay and chat but our date has been waiting for us for quite a bit now,” Dick quickly interrupts him before Jason pulls out any kind of weapon on these men and offers his hand to the woman.
She places her hand into his thinking that she’d rather be a damsel in a in distress in need of saving by a knight, or in Gotham’s case a masked vigilante, instead of spending another moment with some men that are old enough to be her father thinking about how’d she make the perfect trophy wife and the younger who simply want to get laid after the gala. As Dick pulls her away from the hungry drunken men, she offers her hand to Jason who gives her a confused and flustered look.
“If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Grayson said our date,” she says to him in the most soothing and charming voice Jason’s ever heard.
Forcing himself to snap out of this teenage haze, Jason takes her hand earning a smile from both her and his brother.
“I hope you don’t mind us whisking you away like that, you just seemed like you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Dick started, never dropping his darling smile.
“I don’t mind at all, I needed an excuse to get away from them,” the woman looks back at the men as they watch the brothers walk away with their “prize” in envy, “god they’re pathetic,” she sighs.
“Tell me about it,” Jason mumbles beside her.
“All night I’ve been surrounded by these people that only talk about their money, their jobs, their mansion and penthouses, it’s a bit exhausting, they really can’t think of anything else to discuss. It’s fascinating that they really think that’s the way to win over a woman.”
“Well I can promise you we’re a lot more interesting than that,” Dick laughs, “We also have access to all parts of the manor, how about Jason and I give you a little tour?” Dick states rather than asks earning a questioning look from Jason about what he’s planning.
“If you insist.”
Jason knew how Dick wanted him to jump into the dating pool. He frequently tried to set him up with either other vigilantes so he wouldn’t have to worry about his partner 24/7, or an ordinary Gotham citizen where Jason could escape from Gotham’s criminals and Red Hood duties to enjoy a semi-normal life. What Jason wasn’t understanding was why Dick had a chosen a woman that he was madly attracted to as well.
As Dick began his small tour of the manor, Jason stood awkwardly alongside the woman who was attentively watching his older brother and the places he showed. Jason didn’t know if he should join in or take over, make some small talk, he was sort of frozen in place and shy. You’d think that the big bad Red Hood who always had a mouth on him since he was Robin and would break Batman’s moral code would be the last person to get nervous around a pretty girl, maybe Red Hood wouldn’t but Jason Todd would.
“And this is the library, Jason’s favorite place in the manor,” Jason was snapped out of his thoughts when Dick mentioned his name, “once he comes in here you won’t see him for hours.”
“Big reader?” It took a moment for Jason to realize that the question was for him and not Dick.
“Yea, um, yes, I love literature.”
“Really, would do you love to read?” She was now fully focused on Jason who was struggling to maintain eye contact as his cheeks and ears were colored red.
He couldn’t keep his cool physically but he could try verbally, “classics,” he responded simply, not adding more to his portion of the conversation to which Dick internally sighed to.
“Dostoevsky, Shakespeare, Austen?” The charming woman tried to get something out of the boy.
“All of them, and more of course,” Jason gave her a shy smile.
She heads towards the leather chair that Jason always sits in, making herself comfortable in his spot.
“This where you sit, get lost in all those stories you read?”
Something about her sitting in his chair made his blood rush. The way that she had made it look twice the size bigger being half the size of Jason, the way she relaxed into his chair, sinking into his molding. The boy was so mesmerized he forgot to answer her question.
Dick noticed and decided to swoop in, “Mhm, right here,” Dick drags now standing over her, “he’s a very smart guy you know with all the books he reads, runs in the family.”
She slowly shifted her gaze from Jason to Dick who was getting closer and closer, “I guess the looks do too, interesting for adopted brothers,” earning a smile from both boys.
“Excuse my brother for his shortness, we usually occupy ourselves with stunts at these galas, not beautiful women,” Dick says switching the attention back onto Jason, “he can get pretty shy.” Normally that statement would earn a punch to the shoulder or at least a nasty remark but Dick was right, Jason was pretty shy around pretty girls.
Dick and the mystery woman were now smiling at Jason who was leaned against the wall, close enough to where he can see the rise and fall of her chest, but far enough from engaging the way Dick was.
Dick gently tilts her head up with his large calloused hands forcing their gala girl to look up at him, “What do you think of my brother?”
Now it was the woman’s turn to be painted red, “I think he’s one of the most handsome and intriguing men I’ve ever seen.”
“And me?” Dick pouts.
“I think you’re one of the most handsome and charming man i’ve ever come across,” she says in a sultry tone that lures the boys in like sailors to a siren.
Both Dick and Jason’s blood is rushing, relishing in the fact that this goddess of a woman found the boys to be worthy of her attraction, that nobody else at the gala was as good as them.
“Tell me something, both of you,” she starts, “why stray from your usual chaos and shenanigans to show me around your manor?”
“You’re much more intriguing than anything we had in mind,” says Jason surprisingly boldly as he moves closer to her.
“You’re the most entertaining here tonight, baby,” adds in Dick who quickly got back his confidence after a brush to his ego.
“I heard I was beautiful too,” she teased, trying to get the higher ground again.
“I bet you get told that a lot, don’t you angel? You think that’s what those pigs were telling her Jay? How much of a pretty girl she is,” It was too late though, once Dick Grayson got wound up, he got complete control, “Now you tell me something doll, did they tell you how sexy you look in that dress of yours?” She shakes her head no, any kind of witty and teasing responses wiped from her pretty head, “Aw, well that’s just wrong, Jason tell her how good she looks in that dress.”
Both eyes are on Jason, waiting for his compliment, “She looks—you look stunning in that dress,” Dick was waiting for more, he knew Jason had the vocabulary he just needed the push, “You suit my color, red’s my favorite,” now they were getting something out of him.
“I’ll be sure to think of you when I wear red again,” god she was good. Dick had to bring the power back to him and Jason again, this all quickly became a game to him, his real entertainment for tonight’s gala.
“And what if we got rid of the red,” Dick slips the strap of her dress off her shoulder causing her to shudder, he’s in control again, “how’s that look?”
“Fuck,” Jason whispered under his breath.
“I think Jason feels the same way about it as I do,” with how quiet it was in the library his whisper was heard easily by the two, “what do you think pretty, you think it’s better?”
She felt like how Jason felt in the beginning, mesmerized and stunned. From Dick talking to her so confidently and his usage of pet names, to the way Jason was losing his fucking mind over her.
“Y’gonna answer me or are you gonna keep looking at Jay with fuck me eyes?” Dick wasn’t jealous, he was trying to tease the two, get them riled up.
Before she gets to respond there’s a knock at the door, “Master Richard and Master Jason, Master Bruce requests your attendance for at least another half hour.”
“We’ll be right out Alfred,” Richard quickly answered before Alfred could barge in on the scene, “shall we?”
Dick heads towards the door as Jason and their gala girl slowly fix themselves up, avoiding any kind of eye contact with each other.
Dick stops Jason before they head back out to the gala, “You’re welcome, Jaybird.”
#jason todd#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#batboys#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#red hood x reader#nightwing x reader#batboys x reader#jason todd fic#dick grayson fic#red hood fic#nightwing fic#batboys fic#jason todd x dick grayson x reader#red hood x nightwing x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#dick grayson x fem!reader#jason todd x female!reader#dick grayson x female!reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x female!reader#nightwing x fem!reader#nightwing x female!reader
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♪ — 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦 - part three
lando norris x fem! streamer! reader (fluff)
“. . . lando finds himself addicted to playing video games with this girl he cant get out of his head.”
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devilsdare03 posted a tiktok
> replies . . .
user the guy is hooked, good luck devi 👍
user this confirms the suspicions. devi, you are the hottest woman on earth if you got lando norris all smiley like that
user the way he was in the middle of a convo with max and totally forgot the world around him once he saw her and sat up
⤷ user someone tell him her favorite type of flowers fr
mclaren is that our lando?? 😲
⤷ devi.03 yep, it is
user the smile omg my heart
⤷ user girl just the smile?!! look at the little wave! he’s so cute i cant!
user the way he looks at her tho awwww
user ok but like, lando better ask her out, she went out of her way to go see him
⤷ user better not mess this up, lando norris
⤷ user on god
user honestly im so glad they finally met, i've been waiting for this moment since december
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
How to approach you, how to approach you, Lando pondered watching you standing at the little bar in the mclaren hospitality, waiting for your drink. "Suck it up." he mumbled, brushing his hand through his hair one last time before walking up to you. He was lucky enough that you wore the merch and the watch he got you, he would’ve thought you were an influencer if you hadn’t run your hand through your hair which showed the richard mille that identified you as you.
Lando awkwardly cleared his throat before asking the bartender for a drink. You looked up from your phone upon hearing the new but familiar voice. The brit in papaya tried to act cool, leaning on the counter and looking out of the glass wall onto the paddock. You smirked, leaning on your forearms as well. Taking a sip from your drink once it was set in front of you, you lightly nudged Lando.
He hummed, turning his head to face you. You shrugged your right sleeve up to reveal the watch. “I think I broke it.” Your words drew a frown from Lando, making him hold your wrist gently to inspect the watch.
“You haven’t had it for two months.” He scolded trying to find where the fault would’ve been. You held in a smile, watching him put his ear down to listen to the ticks.
“I’m telling you, man. Every third tick is slower.” Lando furrowed his eyebrows, staying there to see the apparent faulty watch. It was only when he realized you quoted the line from the movie cars did he nudge you with a huff.
“You scared me. I thought you broke it.” He scolded, taking his monster drink and popping it open with a grumble.
“I’d never even put a scratch on it.” you assured, nudging his shoulder with a laugh. “This is the first time I’ve worn it anyways, I wanted it to be a special occasion” You sighed happily, admiring the watch. Lando glanced at you while taking a sip from the drink.
“You think this is a special occasion?” he asked quietly, looking the other way as if he saw something when he was just trying to hide his smile.
“Oh yeah, for sure.” you nodded, giggling. “I finally get to meet Max Verstappen.” the brunette turned to you with a deadpan while you tried to hold in your smile. You both knew you were joking. Lando would’ve thought you were playing a trick on him if you weren’t wearing his ln4 world merch and McLaren cap.
“So,” you pushed off the counter, “P4 for tomorrow's race, you think you can get a podium? A win maybe?” Lando tried to hold in a smile as he followed you, walking with you from the hospitality to the garage.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"I'm not letting you stay in a hotel?"
"What? Where should I stay? The curb?" You held your hands up confused.
"You can't even afford the meal plan!" Lando scolded as he pushed you from behind in the parking lot.
The awkwardness a person would get from meeting someone for the first time didn't last long between you and Lando. It lasted only 30 seconds before you nearly gave the brit a heart attack by telling him you broke the watch. You randomly read it somewhere, it doesn't always work but it sure did this time because Lando was the same silly and funny guy who always butts in asking for a partner or a teammate in a game when he doesn't need one.
"I can just eat out??" You tried to argue not seeing where he was going with the conversation.
"That's wasting even more money!" He scolded, turning you right and letting you hop down the sidewalk into the rows upon rows of cars.
"What am I supposed to do then?!" you threw your hands up just as Lando stopped to search for the car keys, with you still frozen, hands up in the air.
"Are you summoning god or something?" Oscar mumbled as he walked by.
"I wish, I think he's going to throw me on the side of a highway or something." you replied, sighing.
"Dev's staying in my room so I'm sleeping at yours." Lando told Oscar as he pulled the car door open. The aussie paused in his tracks, turning back and looking at you.
"You're dev?" Oscar more like stated before walking away, mumbling something about his girlfriend Lily. When the other papaya driver was out of earshot, you took the opportunity to roughly punch Lando's shoulder.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"You're giving out who I am?! What if someone hears? My face would be all over and I'm not gonna be able to set foot in campus!" You scolded him.
"What am I supposed to call you?!" he whisper shouted back.
"My name, duh." ". . ." "I've spent 5 hours with you, how do you not know my name?"
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"De- Y/N." Lando corrected himself. After a long night of secretly eating room service pizza in his room and getting up early for the race, you and Lando decided to spend the morning in the paddock. You stopped chewing on the grapes you somehow got your hands on and looked up at him. Lando looked right and left before pulling a box of biscuits from his shirt.
Your eyebrows rose in surprise as you took the box happily, opening it as the boy took the seat beside you. The best thing about this certain hospitality is that there were no current fangirls sneaking around or trying to take pictures. So you and Lando were safe, fighting over cookies with no one noticing or paying any mind.
"I'm the one who got them!"
"I'm the guest!" you argued back, trying to reach forward and take it back.
"Yeah, but I'm the driver and I have a big race today so I need it!"
"You need healthy food! Not carbohydrates—" un-thankfully for you, Oscar came up from the side and took the cookie while both of you were distracted.
He chewed peacefully while you and Lando had a face of utter despair. "It's my home race." he justified, taking another bite. "Also," he pointed the tiny piece of the cookie left at you. "I heard some people are looking for you." Your eyes widened in confusion.
"Am I getting deported?" Now both of the McLaren boys were looking at you in confusion.
devs03 and landonorris posted on their stories
credits to proofreading to the lovely @classiclitfreak <3
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#﹒and they were streamers ﹒𐙚#lando norris#lando#LN4#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#ln4 x reader#formula 1#formula racing#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris f1#lando norris fluff#lando fluff#lando norris smut#f1 smut#formula one smut#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula one fanfiction#sub!lando#formula one x reader
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FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!
OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋
'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)
theseus scamander x fem!reader
summary: 1.7k
“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.
or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.
warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?
masterlist
He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past.
Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him.
That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.
No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one.
“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.
“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six.
“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.
“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away.
“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together.
It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.
“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods.
It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.
“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask.
“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it.
Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway.
It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you.
He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”
“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.
“A penny?” he huffs amused.
“For your thoughts,” you say.
“I told you it was nothing.”
“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic.
“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying.
“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”
“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him.
“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows.
“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers.
“This is about him?”
“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time.
“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”
“I know,” he grumbles.
“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space.
“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”
“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”
“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them.
“Thes-” you start.
“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”
You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers.
“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”
You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold.
“I don’t want Richard,” you say.
“I know.”
“I want you.”
“I want you, too, darling.”
“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”
His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours.
You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”
“I can do that,” he hums.
“Good,” you nod.
“Good.”
“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides.
“Alright,” he says.
“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”
#theseus scamander#theseus scamander x reader#callum turner#callum turner x reader#harry potter#fantastic beasts and where to find them
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@steddielovemonth Day 24: Love is the only thing we can take with us.
@thefreakandthehair
Steve looked around his room, it would be the last time he did. He could hear his parents still arguing downstairs. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, soon he'd hear his father's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"You're no son of mine!"
Steve hadn't felt like his son in a long time anyway. When he thought of dads he thought of Hopper at his graduation or Wayne watching the game with him. He'd called Hopper, Dad, when he woke up in the hospital and saw the previously dead police chief at his bedside. No, Steve Harrington hadn't been Richard Harrington's son in a long time.
He knew he didn't have much time, but he'd been planning for this moment, the day they would find out. It was inevitable, small town, nosy neighbours. Steve kept his room impersonal for a reason, it wouldn't last forever. Kneeling quickly he grabbed his box, it was all he would need.
The clothes he actually liked wearing weren't in this closet anymore, the beemer had always been in his name. Nothing else in the house mattered but this box. The last piece of Steve in these four walls.
"Steven?"
He'd asked her to call him Steve all his life, she didn't.
"Can't you see what you're doing to your mother?"
Maria Harrington hadn't been Steve's mother in a long time. Mothers were there for their kids when they woke up from nightmares. Claudia never judged when he woke up screaming on the couch. A true mother looked after their son when he was sick in bed, soup and comfort and love. Joyce brought him soup last winter, when the flu had him stuck in bed, he didn't even call, she just knew.
"I know, I'm leaving now."
"Please, Steven, there are places we can go to fix you," she cried. Mothers don't think their kid's heart needs fixing.
"You were supposed to be a real man!" Richard yelled as he passed him down the stairs. Fathers are proud of their sons growing into protectors and carers.
"This will never be your home again!" Was the last thing Steve heard as he closed his car door and placed the small box on the passenger seat. Parents always have a home waiting for you, even when they think you're wrong.
"Steve?"
Wayne is the first one to spot him as he arrives at the trailer. It's sunday, family dinner at the rotating family table. Tonight was meant to be at the Munsons.
"Steve, honey? You ok?" Joyce is the first one to touch him, worry in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, son." Hopper is the first one to read his teary eyes like a book. They all knew where he'd been.
Claudia gingerly took the box from him, "I'll put this in your room, sweetheart, let Eddie know you're back home."
Steve could hear the kids yelling around the picnic table outside; could smell dinner cooking. Robins laughter piercing though the air and Eddie's boombox playing loudly.
"Baby?"
There he was.
"Hey, Eds, think we'll have to move up that moving date, if it's ok?"
Eddie's features softened from worry to sympathy, "Course, sunshine, although I'm still surprised Joyce and Hop didn't kidnap you months ago.
Later, when he'd given everyone hugs goodbye, some were a bit tighter than others, he sat on the bed with his box.
"You wanna unpack that alone, or want help?"
"You can look, it's not a secret, just special," Steve replied, patting the space next to him. Eddie plopped himself down beside his boyfriend, lifting the lid.
Inside was a mess of bits and pieces. Eddie reached in and took out a stack of photos. Steve at his graduation, a big smile with Hopper's arm around his shoulders, Dustin beaming beside him. Robin putting Steve in a headlock at the quarry last summer, he refuses to say he let her win. Eddie at his first show back, scars on full display. And countless other memories.
There were also little toys from the arcade and pebbles and ticket stubs and letters and a full life story of one Steve Harrington told through the love of his family.
"This was all I went back to get, all I needed. Wasn't expecting them to know about you already, but I knew they'd find out one day. Couldn't let them have this, not after they spent so long trying to take my heart from me."
"I think it's high time we clear some space around here for all this, Stevie, time to let your love be out on full display."
When Steve fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of a boy who went to hell from him and staring at the new photos on the wall, he truly felt home.
#i hope u enjoyed lex#this got away from me#half these love month prompts is me character studying steve#and i will not be shamed for it#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve has bad parents#but he has great parents elsewhere#ficlet#steddielovemonth
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More dommy mommy reader!
this time, using some lines from makima’s jp cv’s asmr and devil wears prada scenes. pretty sure i wrote this scenario before but like a long time ago, and just in headcannons so.
YANDERE! BATFAM x DOMMY! MOMMY! READER
You do not think Bruce Wayne was completely aware of the logistics when it came to Galas. If he did he wouldn’t be holding so many of those damn things all the time.
“I’m so sorry, Miss [Y/N]! I really did confirm last night.”
“Tales of your incompetence do not interest me.”
But maybe you shouldn’t be blaming him, but the lack of tact, wit, or remarkable capability the entire staff had. Then again, it’s because you’re always around the Batfamily that your standards for competency were so high.
“Miss [Y/N]!” You heard someone call out to you.
The assistant behind you visibly tensed. Anyone with a brain on them knew not to bother you during work. Hell, any thing that could breathe knew not to approach you when you were swamped with work (which was usually all the time)
“Drake, let me go.”
“Damian. Stay.” Damian doesn’t even notice the condescending way his father reprimanded him, jealousy consumed him entirely. He only saw red.
“How can you be so calm about this? They’re practically smothering her!”
“There’s a reason why Miss [Y/N] was picked to be Alfred’s successor y’know. Beyond just family ties.” Dick caressed Damian’s hair. “She values professionalism above all. She’ll reject them right about now…”
“You . . . love me?” You parroted back. Your features do not budge an inch.
“Y-yes. I’ve been —“
You interrupt, frankly too busy to listen to their rambling, “Then pray.”
“Huh?”
“You love me right? Then pray that I love you. Beg if you have to.”
Despite their flustered almost angered reaction to your command, your admirer felt their knees turn into a soggy noodle like substance. Their heart practically leapt at the opportunity to obey you.
“Only God will make me consider.”
Not even a moment passed before you were back to your duties, the confession long gone from your thoughts, “Tell Timothy for the 48th time, no. I do not want those devices of him in my room, and if I find another one I’m promptly sending in my resignation. Has Bruce confirmed?”
“Uh- oh!” The intern snapped out of their daze, scribbling furiously on their notepad.
You finally stopped where the guys were at, a bit befuddled by the way they were staring holes at you. Damian practically had a mix of panic, relief and anger painted all over him. “Yes, how may I be of assistance to you, young master?”
“I- I’m fine.”
“Richard, make sure to confirm your attendance.” You glared at the eldest brother.
He saluted in response, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Busy day?” Jason inquired, an attempt at small talk if you will.
“Busy day.” You swiftly cut off his olive branch. After making sure none of the men needed your presence with a quick once over, you make a bow and left. Your voice, though soft could still be heard, “Do I smell freesias? If, I see, freesias anywhere I will be verrryyy disappointed —“
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagine#yandere fic#dommy mommy reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere core#yandere batfam#batfam x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere concept#tw yandere#yandere scenario#batfam#yandere bruce wayne#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere dick grayson#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson x reader#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere damian wayne x reader
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Part 1
(Slight blood and language)
Mrs. Rich!Player x DogDay!Rich
September 12 1992
Three years before the hour of joy.
-
“Richie?” You muttered lightly still between the realms of being awake and sleep, though you were starting to wake up more when you moved your hand and didn’t feel the warm body of your husband Rich, You blinked your eyes a few times to get the sleep out before turning over and turn the lamp on,
Rich came out of the bathroom at the same time, dressed in his work blues and you couldn’t help but make a face.
“Your supposed to be off today”
“I know Angel” Rich spoke as he came over making sure his shirt look presentable “I got a call, a surprise load came in and the night crew needs a manager”
You crossed your arms lightly “can’t they get someone else to watch over them?” You asked, You been waiting a whole year to celebrate your first wedding anniversary and may have bother Rich a bit to always make sure he had that day off.
“It will only be for a few hours, when you wake up, I’ll be here with breakfast and those donuts from Randy’s you like so much” Rich spoke smiling softly, leaning down giving you a gentle kiss on the lips then on the forehead before turning off the lamp next to you.
“You get some sleep angle and I’ll see you soon”
***
Present day.
13 years after Richard was killed, 10 years after everyone went missing.
-
“How the fuck were these things even approved!” You couldn’t help but yell annoyed as you shot another flare when a small unicorn and chicken plushy started craving you way. Like what was cute about blank eyes and big grinning smiles that would be like nightmare fuel!
You sigh and gently rubbed your eyes to try and get them from being blurry having not slept in about what a day if you could remember correctly.
You let out a frustrated sigh as you heard more of those tiny animal squeaks as they came closer again. You could understand why Ollie found this place terrifying but to you it was starting to get annoying with all of the critters. You saw the wires you been fallowing lead to a button and you hope that
It would open it a door thus leading to a exist.
Ok so you were half right it did lead you somewhere, when you went down the stairs beyond the door and into a indoor swimming pool(they seriously had one?) You fallowed another pair of doors into something that definitely didn’t look like a child’s place, your eyes gazed over the cell block area, a frown appearing on your lips as you remembered this was where Catnap-Theo was kept.
You took in a deep breath and slowly walked in, looking around as you went and frown as the inside of the cells, your nose twitching, smelling blood.
You walked by a door and almost jump out of your skin when you heard a voice spoke, a familiar voice.
“You…Your Poppy’s Angel”
You glance that way, eyes widening slowly as they looked over what appeared to be half of a Dogday costume, but knowing this place it was anything but that.
Your nose twitch a bit at the smell of blood coming from what was left of the Dog’s lower half.
“Come to save us” The costume wheeze a bit “nothing left to save, not here…”
You frown upon hearing that and step a bit closer, eyes trailing over the mix of belts holding the character up.
“Your in catnap’s home,Angel”
And there it was again, the nagging feeling in the back of your head, it been years since someone had called your Angel, the last one to do so was Rich…
You slowly felt your face stiffen and eyes slowly widening in horror a bit.
You could be wrong you really wish you were wrong but from the evidence you seen here and the videos you saw everything was singing a different tune.
You didn’t have a open casket for Rich’s funeral nore did you ever saw his body, you were only told that it was best for you to not see it, to remember Rich the way he was.
Your mind wander franticly trying to remember the last few days before Rich’s death.
You remember being excited about your anniversary, double checking with Rich to make sure he gotten the day off even though he had assured you a millions time that he had.
You made dinner reservations for that day and you had went over to the calendar to write it down so neither of you could forget.
You remember seeing in red pen ‘PlayCare interview’ written the day before Rich’s death.
Oh sweet god.
You made a noise and step back away from the cell before bending over and promptly lost your lunch.
You tried to take in a few deep breaths only to end up coughing a bit.
“Listen to me,you need to get out-“
“Say that again”
His head move a bit, blank eyes covered by ears, now looking annoyingly (you pretty sure he was annoyed cause you were having a bit of a crisis during his speech). “You need to leave” he spoke again, emphasize on the word leave.
You took in a deep breath and rubbed your temples “Trust me I’ve been trying since the moment I got here, I…I need you to say Angel again” you spoke, a bit embarrassed upon the request, but you did have to make sure.
You heard him wheeze again, you were sure it was a chuckle,he looked at you annoyed(this time you were sure).
“Angel”
You recognize that tone, the same tone Rich would you when you stared to get on his annoyed side.
“Rich?”
Dogday’s eyes widen (as much as they could since their eyes were already big )
And saw a peice of fabric start to move bring him, wagging like a tail.
“Angel?” He ask softly.
You took in a deep breath.
“Fuck”
(Hope you enjoy part 1, it might be a two or three parter)
#poppy playtime#fanfiction#video games#dogday#poppy playtime au#au#fanfic#player#player poppy playtime#poppy playtime smiling critters#poppy playtime deep sleep#poppy playtime chapter 3#rich poppy playtime#reader x poppy playtime#rich x reader#Dogday x reader
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Sweet and Strong
Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader
Summary: You stop by the parlor to drop off some treats.
Word Count: Over 2.3k
Warnings: Fluff, flir-ting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Tess is a real one, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)
Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly
A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from my Sin on Skin AU.❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You did your best not to let your mind wander during the work day, but Bucky hadn’t left your thoughts since he dropped you off at your place. A dopey smile formed on your face more times than you could count. The tattoo artist was your dream come true. Someone who looked like they could destroy everything in their path, but treated you with such care.
And he said yes to a date with you.
How does a man like him exist?
“Careful,” Tess said, nudging you to the side so she could take a cookie from the case. “Keep making that happy face and it’ll get stuck that way.”
“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled, making sure there were no customers looking as you typed a quick message to Bucky on your phone.
“Hope you have a good day, Hottie.”
After a moment, you cringed and put the device away. Though Bucky gave you his number after he dropped you off, you didn’t message him immediately. Waiting until today was better because enough time had passed, but was the text too casual? Not casual enough? Was it clingy to message him before you had your date?
Why am I overthinking this?
“If you’re smiling because of Bucky, it’s a very good thing. Especially after what he did to help you. I think he should get a permanent discount,” Tess said, making you raise an eyebrow when you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“We talked about this,” you gently reminded her when she pouted, a look that told you she was still upset. “Please, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
When Tess heard that Richard ambushed you after closing, she beat herself up for not being there. You assured her it wasn’t her fault that your ex showed up. She was thankful you were okay and that Bucky, and everyone else in the shop, stood up for you. She also added that if she saw Richard sniffing around the place that she’d kick him in the nuts.
Bucky assured you he wouldn’t come around and you believed him.
“I’m just sorry I didn’t see him get put in his place. Been a long time coming,” she said, a bit of mischief back in her eyes as she leaned against the counter to smile at you. “And I’m bummed I missed that kiss.”
“Why did I tell you about that?” you asked, your cheeks hot as you recalled the moment Bucky’s lip touched yours. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel him kissing you again. The memory made your heart swell.
As if on cue, your phone went off.
“Day’s better now that I’ve heard from you, Sugar. Can’t wait for our date. Planned something special.”
Your heart skipped a beat as you reread the message and hugged the device to your chest. You weren't sure how many women Bucky dated or how many special dates he planned before you. The thought of it being a high number didn't make your stomach sink as you expected. What mattered was that the two of you were taking a chance on each other.
And even though you technically asked him out, he took the time to plan something for you. When was the last time a guy did anything remotely nice for you without expecting something in return? Why had you settled in the past for less than what you deserved?
“You told me because we’re best friends,” Tess answered with a smirk when you looked her way. “Is that him?”
“Yeah, it’s him,” you smiled, showing her the message. “I wonder what he has planned.”
“Whatever it is, you better give all the dirty details when he dicks you down. And not to be graphic, but I bet he eats pussy like-"
“Tess!" you groaned, praying the nearby customers weren’t listening. But, god, if you hadn’t thought about what he’d be like in bed. He’d be so good to you. “Let’s try and be professional.”
“Professional, my ass. I’m not the one flirting with the hunk or making eyes at him every time he steps into the shop,” she pointed out.
Fair.
“And, look, I’m not saying you have to get laid on the first date, but I am saying you have to let him in your pants at some point,” she said, laughing as you tossed a towel at her face.
You laughed, too, and wondered just how the night would go. If you put out on the first date, would he think you were easy? If you waited too long, would he move on? You were overthinking again, but you couldn't help it. You really liked him.
He likes me, too, so I must be doing something right.
“What do you get out of it if I let him in my pants?” you asked curiously.
Tess placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I get to keep seeing you happy, which you have every right to be."
"Thanks," you smiled, a wave of fondness crashing over you. The two of you saw each other go through many ups and downs of life. She deserved the world and it meant a lot that she wanted that for you, too. "Is it too much if I run some treats over for him? Especially since I just texted him?"
Bringing a small selection of baked goods for Bucky and the guys would be a small way to thank them for defending you. Deep down, it was also an excuse to see him before your date. You hoped it wasn't too obvious.
"The guy has visited the shop for all of your shifts since he first came in. So, no, it isn't too much if you surprise him and send something his way. He might like it."
"I'll be quick," you promised, selecting some of the best treats from the case, including one with little hearts.
"Take your time. Jill and I can handle this," she smiled as if she sensed your giddiness. "Go treat your man."
"He isn't my man yet," you teased.
But I'm already his girl.
"Yeah, he is," Tess winked, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now go."
It didn't take you long to cross the street to the parlor and thankfully you didn't drop the box. You hoped you looked decent. Well, as much as you could during a work day. At least you had a cute apron on.
"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" Jake said as you walked through the door. "Sugar! It's you!"
You held back a laugh when his voice echoed. "Yeah, it's me," you smiled, holding up the box. "I wanted to drop these off Bucky and the rest of you, if that's okay?"
"You brought us food?!" he asked, leaning on his arms to look over the counter. "Hold on. Lemme grab him."
"You sure? If he's with a client…" you trailed off when Jake dashed away from the counter.
You took a moment to look around again, your gaze settling on an intricate flower tattoo. Seeing the place without the fear of your ex following you made it even brighter than before. Like your shop, it was expressive and inviting. Bucky likely put as much love into it as you did with yours.
"That was my first piece."
You tore your gaze away from the wall to find Bucky beside you, a dopey smile back on your face. There was only a small amount of space between you and your heart raced as you looked him over, the large man clad in his usual tight shirt and jeans. He had his hair pulled back and you resisted the urge to tuck a few strands back that came loose.
He would manage to look sexy as hell with latex gloves on.
"It's beautiful," you said honestly.
"Thanks. She's a good friend and still a client of mine. So is her husband," he smiled gently. "I'm glad you stopped by."
"Me, too," you smiled back, holding up the box in your hands. "I just wanted to say thanks again to you and the guys for sticking up for me. It isn't much, but I hope you all enjoy them."
"Oh." A slight frown formed on his face when you handed him the treats. "You know you don't have to give us these, right? We didn't do it expecting you to give us anything in return and I'm sure as hell not going to let anyone speak to you the way that prick did."
You furrowed your brows a bit, even as you nearly swooned at his protectiveness. Had you upset him? "I know I don't have to," you said, clearing your throat. Why did the thought of them defending you just for being good guys make you emotional? "I just wanted to do something nice for you."
Was this a bad idea?
You let out a breath when he smiled again. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated," he said, touching your arm. Even with the glove, the touch sent heat between your thighs. "It's a very sweet gesture, Sugar. Thank you."
"You're welcome," you said, satisfied that he wasn't unhappy with the small gift. "And I'll admit. I also stopped by because I wanted to see you before our date," you added.
"You did?" he smirked, bringing warmth to your cheeks as you nodded. "While we're admitting things to each other, I've been watching the door and hoping you'd stop in. I even dreamt about you when I took a nap."
"No, you didn't," you giggled, a sense of power and elatedness filling you that his pull to you was that strong.
"I swear. I don't think Steve will let me live that down" he chuckled. You wondered what exactly he dreamt about. Was it passionate? Intense? "Can't get you outta my mind. And, frankly, I don't want to."
Oh.
You didn't think he could make your heart beat any faster, but he continued to surprise you. There was no shame or timidness in his tone or his stare. It was steadfast and true, like he wasn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve with you. If he could be vulnerable and open with you this way, you could do the same in return.
Go big or go home, right?
"I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him, proud that your voice didn't waver.
"You can't?" he whispered and you suddenly didn't like the box between your bodies. It made him feel too far away.
"No, I can't," you whispered back, gazing into his blue eyes. "I waited to text you because I didn't want it to be too soon. And even though I don't know where you're taking me on our date, I already have the perfect sundress laid out and ready to go."
"You can text me as much as you want. I don't care what time of day," he assured you before his eyes lit up mischievously, like he knew something you didn't. "And a sundress is fucking perfect, but no asking for hints about our date"
"Not even a little one? Please?" you asked, giving him what you hoped was a cute pout. You didn't actually want him to tell you because you wanted him to surprise you, but you hoped you looked enticing.
Bucky slowly licked his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look hot, he more than succeeded. If he wasn't, did he have any idea what that teasing motion of his tongue did to you? "I'm tempted to tell you and I'm very tempted to kiss you right now, but no. No hints. I need to stay strong."
I'm very tempted to kiss you, too.
"Fine, Hottie. I'll be good," you teased, pouting again. "For now."
Bucky moved the box beside him so he could step closer, his eyes darker than before. "You wanna be good for me?"
Yes, sir.
"Yes," you answered, leaving out the "sir" that echoed in your mind and shivering as he continued to stare. Before you could say anything more, you noticed that the shop had gone quiet. You leaned over to look past Bucky and giggled when you saw the crew staring, taking you out of the moment. Steve and Hal both had knowing smirks on their faces, but no way could they have heard your conversation. "Hope you enjoy the treats!"
"Oh, we will," Hal winked. "What about you, Bucky? You gonna enjoy your treat?"
"Get back to work!" Bucky called back before he smiled disappointedly. "Speaking of, I should, too. I think my client gave me enough of a break."
"Yeah, I need to get back," you said. You didn't want to leave Tess and Jill hanging. "I hope you have a good rest of the day."
"You, too," he said as you went to the door. "Be good for me until I see you again."
Fuck.
"Only if you're good for me," you smiled over your shoulder, catching his surprised smirk before the door shut.
You took a breath, allowing the breeze to cool you off. Maybe a cold shower would do a better job. You smiled as your phone went off, expecting a teasing text from Tess. It caught you off guard when "Mom" popped up.
Well, that can't be good if she's texting me. God, did she somehow hear about Richard? The last thing I need is a lecture.
Instead of opening the message, you tucked your phone away. You needed to get back to work and you had a date to look forward to. You wouldn't allow your mom to sour your mood because Tess was right.
You had the right to be happy.
No ruining this upcoming date, mom! Love and thanks for reading! 💙
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#tattoo!bucky barnes x reader#tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader#tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader#hottie and sugar#sin on skin au#tattoo!bucky barnes#tattoo artist!bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#tattoo artist au#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x fem!reader
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𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤
𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘺!𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘶 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴.
𝘊𝘞: 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵
part one
recommended listening:
The Search - NF
Waltz for Richard - First Aid Kit
Late Night Talking - Harry Styles
It wasn’t a question for any of you.
These kids? They were staying.
No way in hell was Suguru letting those kids, sweet, good kids go to the fucking Zen’in estate to be ruined and brainwashed into the same thinking as the higher ups.
They settled in easily, Tsumiki enjoyed playing with Suguru’s hair, braiding it to match hers sometimes in the morning. Megumi definitely gravitated to you, a comforting presence, less extroverted than either of the boys. Satoru loved introducing them both to Digimon - which Megumi became enamoured with.
And then - one day when the kids were at school, and you and Satoru were at work - Suguru had a mission.
A village. A shitty village. The middle of nowhere.
Pathetic, weak, cruel people.
Two small, tiny and scared girls.
Two small girls, no more than 4.
Two small girls, in a fucking cage.
He came so close - so fucking close to just wiping the village out. He could have done it. He nearly did. There were only 2 reasons he didn’t.
Y/N and Satoru. He couldn’t, he couldn’t do that to you both. He couldn’t do it to himself.
He finds himself grateful this didn’t happen 2 years ago. Because then he would have followed through.
Without hesitation.
He hauls both girls into his strong arms, and leaves the town with a warning that if something like this happened again - he would be back, and he wouldn’t be alone.
The terrified girls slept soundly as he transported them back to the house. He opened the door, and softly kicked it shut behind him.
“Suguru? Is that you? ‘Toru and I are about to start a movie - I made pop-” Your voice carries from the kitchen as you round the corner and the plastic bowl of popcorn clatters to the ground at the sight before you. Two small girls, one curled up in each of your boyfriend’s arms. Suguru looked exhausted, and there was something in his eyes that was rare to see - fear.
Satoru came skidding around the corner at the sound of the bowl falling, clad in one of Suguru’s hoodies and basketball shorts. He stops in his tracks right beside you.
“Holy shit.”
“They were in a cage.”
“What?” You whisper.
“The mission. They - they kept them in a cage.” He stuttered, voice laced with raw fury.
“Suguru, baby, give me the kids. I’ll lay them down on the sofa. ‘Toru?” You say as you take a tiny girl in each arm, they were so small. Not the size a 5 year old should be.
“I got him, princess.” Satoru says, turning to Suguru who is stoney faced.
“C’mon, baby, let’s go to the kitchen.” Satoru says, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and pulling him into the kitchen to sit at your cosy table.
Suguru sits, elbows resting on knees and hair falling in inky tendrils down around his face. Satoru kneels in front of him, between his knees as he lets him breathe for a moment. The last time he saw Suguru like this was after Riko, the darkness in his eyes reflected what he felt inside.
You walk back into the room, having put the sleeping girls down, wrapped in blankets on the sofa.
You sit on the table beside Suguru, and exchange glances with Satoru.
“Suguru, what happened?” You ask, gently as possible.
You hear a deep breath.
“The village. The curses they had, weren’t curses. Just two little girls, they were scared of them so they locked them in a fucking cage. I couldn’t - I couldn’t leave them there. I - fuck, Satoru, Y/N - I… I nearly killed them. The village. All of them. I was ready to burn that place to the ground.”
The shake in his normally languid voice startled you and Satoru. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into your chest as you press kisses to the top of his head and Satoru wraps his arms around his middle and kisses his cheeks.
There’s 3 of you, and 4 kids now. It took some discussions and figuring stuff out - but you all believed the twins should stay with you. Megumi was 6 now, Tsumiki was 8, the twins newly turned 5. At 21, you never expected to be mother of 4 but you wouldn’t change it for the world - not when you had the two best dads by your side.
It took Suguru a few weeks to shake the feeling from the village, but the twins soon came to be known as two balls of sunshine. Megumi took some time to warm up, but about 6 months later acknowledged them as his sisters, Tsumiki was just happy to an even bigger family.
Figuring out the legalities was tricky, when you all decided to adopt the kids formally. Eventually, you decided that Megumi and Tsumiki would be legally you and Satoru’s kids, and the twins would legally be Satoru and Suguru’s. Having the Gojo name as backing would ensure a level of safety for each of the kids, so that was decided from the get go.
The twins insisted on sharing a room, which was fine by you - so they stayed in the room next to Tsumiki. They were just old enough to start school, so you enrolled them at the same school as the older two. Megumi immediately went into protective big brother mode and more than once you were called in because he beat up some kids being mean to his baby sisters.
However one day, you were called in with Satoru and Suguru and told that Nanako and Mimiko had beat up some boys who wanted to fight Megumi. The three of you barely contained your laughs when you found out that your two now 7 year old girls beat up 5 10 year old boys with ease.
As the kids grew up, they started to ask questions about the family. So you came up with your answer. You and their dads had so much love that you all decided that you would use that love to be with each other, because you all made each other happy. You loved Suguru and Satoru, Satoru loved you and Suguru, Suguru loved you and Satoru. Then, because you guys loved each other so much - it grew even more love, and that’s where the four kids came in. It wasn’t always easy, having four kids under 10 in the house, but with there being 3 parents (and a usually semi tipsy aunty Koko in the living room) it was easier.
It was never even discussed, but Satoru somehow became Papa to everyone and Suguru became Dad (daddy had been off the table, because that’s what you called him).
One night, Suguru was cooking a meal for you and Satoru. The girls were having a slumber party with Utahime and Aunty Koko, and Megumi was having a nature documentary evening with Uncle Nanamin having vehemently declined the offer of joining the slumber party with the girls.
You three sat and ate, laughed and chatted and then went to snuggle up on the sofa with a glass of wine each.
After an hour or so, Satoru left to get a top up for everyone.
But when he came back, it wasn’t wine in his hands - but two small blue velvet boxes.
You clasped Suguru’s hand as you gasped and he whispered the white haired man’s name.
“This isn’t half as flashy as people would expect from me, but neither of you like flashy - plus, it only felt right for this to be just for us. Nothing we’ve done has been normal, from day one, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. When Y/N and I first started dating, I never thought I could love a person as much as I loved her - until I realised that I was ridiculously in love with you too, Suguru. When Y/N and I realised we loved each other, and you - and you loved us back - any infinity or infinite void would never compare to that feeling of having you both by my side.” He kneeled down on one knee in front of you both, as you sat up with Suguru’s arm around your waist. “Y/N. Suguru. Will you both do me the honour of promising to spend the rest of your lives doing stupid shit and annoying the hell out of everyone together with me, and each other?” You couldn’t hold it in any more as you flung yourself at the kneeling man and pressed your lips to his, one had dragging your other love behind you as you said yes a million times. Your antique ring was accompanied by a plain tungsten black band for Suguru and a platinum one for Satoru.
The wedding was simple, you all married each other (that was tricky to organise) and had a classic, small and intimate reception at the rooftop garden in Tokyo.
The years passed, the kids became teenagers - 4 teens simultaneously was testing - Tsumiki and Megumi were easy enough, Tsumiki worrying both her dad’s endlessly with her popularity with boys and Megumi was easy going, just sullen and grumpy - but not that that was a change from when he was 6. The twins were just as fun as ever.
Tsumiki’s curse hit everyone hard. She was everyone’s big sister, everyone’s rock. You vowed with your husbands that you would find a way to wake her up, you promised the kids.
Once Megumi was getting ready for his move to the dorm at Jujutsu High, the twins started talking about how in a years time they’d be starting too, a year below their brother. Gakuganji tried to coax the twins to enroll in Kyoto, so that not all 3 of the Gojo-L/N-Geto kids would be in Tokyo but he was swiftly denied with a ‘shove your shitty old school, I’m going with my brother, you wrinkly ballsack’ by a 14 year old Nanako.
Gojo said he’s never felt more proud.
With Tsumiki… not around anymore, Megumi only a few months from only spending weekends at home and the twins joining him in a year - you and your men realised the house would feel pretty empty pretty soon, and you all felt a bit young at only 27 for empty nest syndrome.
Geto was the first to broach the topic. Suggesting that maybe, because your IUD is running out next month - that maybe, you just don’t get a new one. You looked to Satoru, who quickly nodded in agreement. Because the truth was, you all loved raising your adopted kids so much, but they’re grown now.
So maybe, just maybe
It was time to try for a baby…
Before any pregnancy started - you rang Satoru one day - telling him to come to your location. Megumi and you were there. Behind you, hoisted up by your eldest son, was an unconscious pink haired boy. You introduced him as Yuuji. Why was he unconscious? Oh! You had to knock him out, because he’s also Sukuna.
He came home with you that night. You set up the spare room so that he could settle and you could tend to him before he started school.
“Another kid? Y/N, Megs just moved out.”
“Hey! You two both brought home your strays. This one’s my stray.”
The next weekend, a fiesty girl reminiscent of yourself a decade earlier joined the gang - your second stray, your Nobara.
Again, Satoru saw your little body roommate first. He noticed a trace of cursed energy in your belly before you did. There were tears and joy between all three of you. Neither of them cared who the kid belonged to biologically - it was a baby made of a huge amount of love. That’s all.
They were nightmarishly protective during the pregnancy, never leaving you alone. Geto discovered his intense kink for seeing you with his kid in your tummy and couldn’t keep his hands off you, Satoru was only spurred on more by this - seeing your belly all soft and round with his baby? The baby that he made with the two people he loved? Had him leaking in seconds.
9 months later and 14 exhausting hours later, the baby arrived.
The minute you all saw the baby, freshly cleaned and placed in your arms, the three of you burst out laughing.
“Well, I guess there’s no question over the paternity of this little one.” Satoru giggles.
That’s because Genji Yu Geto L/N Gojo was staring at you all with the brightest blue eyes from under a swathe of snowy white lashes to match his snowy white hair. He was placed into Suguru’s arms, who kissed you and his husband and thanked you both for his beautiful son.
Raising the baby was no different from raising the kids, you were all the parents. He was loved so much by all three parents, all four elder siblings and his Grandpa and Grandma Geto.
Genji’s godparents were Shoko and Nanami.
When Genji was 2, you fell pregnant again. You quickly realised that unless the child only had your genetics, it would be easy to tell who had who’s genes. This was proven when Keisuke Geto-L/N-Gojo entered the world, all dark hair and dark eyes and ivory skin. Your two babies were carbon copies of their biological fathers, but funnily, Genji behaved like Suguru, and Keisuki like Satoru.
Nobara and Yuuji were asked to be Keisuke’s godparents, with Yuuji very confused by how it would work being his godfather and brother in law - now that he was dating Megumi.
Izumi came next, he looked exactly like you - just with eyes that made him clearly Geto’s, but your hair, your nose, your lips. The youngest now, with Genji being 5 and Keisuke aged 3.
Utahime and Hikari were named as Izumi’s godparents, and they doted on the boy.
You figured you’d finish there. 3 boys under 5? Impressive given that the three of you were only 33.
However, the sudden craving for toasted marshmallows and Sakura mochi 3 years later at Megumi’s 24th birthday made you freeze.
Grabbing Shoko, you drove to the store.
8 months later, the most beautiful little accident arrived into the world. Suki Geto-L/N-Gojo arrived to the world announcing her presence with lungs capable of deafening an elephant. All shiny soft white whispy curls and sparkling blue eyes, your baby daughter joined the world. A true beauty, perfect in every way, Satoru’s other carbon copy but every ounce of her mother’s temper, moxie and gall, she became the apple of her elder brother’s eyes, and the angel of her sister’s. Mei Mei and Choso were chosen as Suki’s godparents.
Your husbands? The most doting fathers ever. You typically wake up on a Saturday morning with Geto’s arm slung around Satoru’s waist, who is leaning his white head on his chest, Suki having a bottle on Geto’s lap with the bottle held by Gojo, Izumi having pancakes on Satoru’s lap and Keisuke and Genji on either side keeping watch over their siblings or trying to braid Geto’s hair whilst watching scooby-doo. Every time, you’d sit beside them, scooping Suki into your arms and the two elder boys would curl up on their dad’s lap. All was peaceful. Well, that was until big bro Megumi and Yuuji-kun arrived.
All four of the elder kids? Adored by all three of you.
All four of the babies? Adored by all seven of you.
#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#anime#dad!gojo#geto x y/n#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru#geto x gojo#satosugo#poly satosugu
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My Two Cents On The “ Is David Tennant Queer” Drama
As some of you know, I spent a solid third of the past year working on a movie-length video essay about David Tennant. This video essay features an eight minute section titled “Gender, Vulnerability, and Why David Tennant Is A Queer Icon”, which does not speculate on David’s own sexuality, but discusses the queer coding and subversion of gender norms in plenty of his roles and his importance as an ally to the LGBT community. At the same time, I was also coming to terms with my own identity as nonbinary and bisexual, and it ended up playing a crucial role in me finally working up the courage to come out to my parents. Characters like Crowley and the Doctor, both in terms of how they present themselves and how and who they love, have been absolutely instrumental in me developing my queer identity, and my comments section was full of people who had had similar experiences, who’d realized they were trans, nonbinary, gay, etc thanks to David and his characters. And as a result, I won’t deny that if David himself were to be queer, it would mean a lot to me.
Do I think David is queer? It’s certainly possible. I see a lot of how I express my queerness in how david chooses to express himself, most prominently through his frequent queer coding of characters who don’t necessarily have to be played as such. This can especially be seen through his Shakespeare characters, such as Richard, Hamlet, and some would argue Benedick as well. When I was 15 I played Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, who I chose to play as a closeted young gay man harboring an unrequited crush on Romeo. I think I saw this role subconsciously as an outlet for my own repressed queerness, both of gender and sexuality, as I had experienced an unrequited crush on my female best friend the previous year which I was still in denial about. I’ve described my gender identity as “a girl with a chaotic tortured gay man inside of her that needs to be let out every once in a while”, which has never been more true than with Mercutio- a character who I might add, I took a great deal of inspiration from David when playing! In terms of using roles as an outlet for one’s queerness, I could absolutelt see this being true with David, especially when it comes to Crowley, who seems to have had an impact on David’s style, behavior, etc in a rather similar way to how he’s impacted me. I don’t want to act like David wearing pink docs means he must be gay, I think people should be allowed to wear whatever they want regardless of sexuality, but taken in conjunction with so many other things about him, it does make one wonder, and the fact that a seemingly straight man has been so many people’s queer awakening is a bit puzzling to say the least. I won’t pretend that these “signs” (if you interpret them that way), haven’t been increasing somewhat in the past year, and if I got to share my own coming out journey with the man who inspired it, I would be absolutely thrilled. I also can’t specifically think of an instance where David has SAID he is straight, as opposed to Taylor swift, who has.
With all of that said, where I personally draw the line is when mere speculation crosses into interfering with the subject’s personal relationships and the sense that one is OWED something. I believe that what matters to David more than anything is being a husband and a father. I believe he adores Georgia and his children and would not do anything in the world that he believes would jeopardize his family. As happy as I would be for David if he were to come out (probably as bi) I realize that that would put so much unwanted attention on his marriage and family and I think that’s the last thing he wants. I don’t think it’s IMPOSSIBLE that he and Michael Sheen are having a passionate love affair behind everyone’s backs, but I absolutely don’t consider it my place to insist that they are, because as much as I may feel like I do, I don’t know these people! And besides, if David were cheating on Georgia, he really would not be the person I thought he was.
So many queer people see themselves in David and his characters, and that is beautiful. And I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with having theories that David might be queer himself. However, it must be acknowledged that these theories are THEORIES, and they should not be used to invalidate people’s real life relationships- after all, it’s totally possible to be bi/pan and also be in a loving and healthy heterosexual relationship like David and Georgia at least seem to be in! If David were in fact “one of us”, I would welcome him with the openest of open arms, but unless and until he himself decides to proclaim himself that way, I will not expect anything of him other than to be the incredible artist and person we know and love.
#David tennant#michael sheen#georgia tennant#queer#lgbt#bisexual#nonbinary#Rpf#Personal#meta#I try really hard not to discuss David’s sexuality online#But people are so divided on this topic and I wanted to voice my thoughts seeing as I stand somewhat in the middle#good omens#doctor who#Crowley#The tenth doctor#hamlet#the fourteenth doctor#much ado about nothing#benedick#richard ii
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The Greyhounds covering for each other when they’re in trouble: 
Roy: Where's Isaac?
Jamie: Sorry coach, I haven't seen him since the last time I saw him.
Roy: And when was that?
Jamie: The last time I saw him?
Roy: Yes.
Jamie: It was... definitely... the time I saw him last.
Roy:
Ted: Dani, where's Colin?
Dani: Oh, he is off doing something.
Ted: Doing something?
Dani: Correct.
Ted: What about Sam?
Dani: He is trying to stop Colin from doing what he is doing.
Ted: …and Isaac?
Dani: He is attempting to stop Sam from stopping Colin.
Ted: And what are you doing?
Dani: I am to distract you from stopping Colin, Sam, and Isaac.
Ted: *Face palms*
Beard: Bumbercatch, where's Jamie?
Moe: That's classified.
Beard: Classified?
Moe: Affirmative.
Beard: I'm not going to beg you for information about him Bumbercatch…
Moe: I'm impervious to your methods.
Beard: …Would you consider a bribe?
Moe: You couldn't afford my price.
Beard: Extortion.
Moe: You got nothing on me.
Beard: Fine, I'll ask just ask Sam.
Moe: You can't, he's with Jam--@%$#!
Roy: McAdoo, have you seen Richard?
Isaac: Richard? Never heard of him.
Roy: *Deep inhale*
#so they’re all constantly in trouble#because they’re doing dumb shit#except sam#but they all figured out ways to cover for each other#the coaches are so done#especially roy#ted lasso#roy kent#coach beard#jamie tartt#isaac mcadoo#colin hughes#richard montlaur#dani rojas#sam obisanya#royjamie#roy kent x jamie tartt#roy x jamie#ted lasso incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes#source: i repurposed this from an old quote of mine
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I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:
Fae Dick Grayson
F A E
okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)
Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨
Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!
The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.
Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.
And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.
And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.
He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.
Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..
“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”
“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”
“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”
“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”
“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”
It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.
The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.
(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)
Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.
#look growing up in the middle of the woods just does something to you#my entire family told us tales about the creatures in the woods#looking back on it now a lot of them were fairly creepy#but my cousin and I always went looking for the one who ‘swayed the trees’#there’s not a good translation for it but it sounds pretty cool in my language#and also slightly gruesome#double meaning and all that#then again our idea of fun was traipsing into the moors and finding ways through it without getting stuck so idk#wow ok that reads like a bit of a horror story but I swear it was great#anyway#ghost talks#fae dick Grayson#dick grayson#nightwing#Robin
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big boy energy
Jisung × Fem!reader
notes: this is my first text in English, so I'm feeling nervous 😬 English is not my native language, so forgive me for any errors or mistakes like that!! And that's it!! I hope you enjoy it!!
w.c: 0,7k
tw: none
I don't even know if this is good. I write more to see how my English vocabulary is doing, but anyway!!
Good read, sweeties!! ❤️
Your older brother's getting married in a few months, and dance lessons were scheduled for the couple and the godparents to avoid any embarrassment on the big day. Right now, you have no clue who your dance partner will be because your brother keeps saying, “Her right dance partner will show up any minute”.
You're chilling in a chair, adjusting your high heels for dancing, when you hear a noise from the salon door, and your eyes immediately snap in that direction.
— Hey guys, am I late? Sorry, my flight was delayed — Says the guy standing by the door. Jisung looks taller and stronger than the last time you saw him, but he still has that same sparkle in his eyes from when you were kids. Jisung, just two years older than you, used to mess with your braids all the time.
It was tough when he left town to study and work in Korea, his country of origin. You couldn't help but miss him, even though it seemed like he didn't give a damn about leaving you behind.
You kinda resented him for that because you've always had a thing for him, but he either didn't notice or didn't feel the same. I mean, you used to like him, but now that you see him another time, your heart can't help but race.
— Jisungie! You're not tired, are you? — Your brother asks. Jisung, dressed all black, looks even hotter than usual — I've got a mission for you.
— I'm good, let's do it — Jisung says, meeting your gaze with a nostalgic sweetness. You finally stand up, and thankfully, you don't trip and fall flat on your face.
— You'll be dancing with my sister, okay? — Your brother practically pushes Jisung in your direction. Jisung smiles at you, and all you can do is cross your arms and scowl.
— I hate you both — You mutter to Jisung and your brother as he heads back to his fiancée, sticking his tongue out at you in a teasing way. The dance teacher starts the class, and you even have the chance to complain to Jisung. He holds you tighter, causing you some agitation, but all you can focus on is trying to breathe normally while his face is so close to yours.
— Did you miss me, shawty? — He asks, leading the dance with skill, not like the same boy from years ago who learned to salsa from “Shall We Dance?” while you were sighing over the charmer Richard Gere.
— I'm not giving you the answer you want, Andy Park — You say, and Jisung chuckles softly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, but you brush them off, wrapping your arms around his neck like they were made to be there.
— I prefer when you call me Jisungie, babe.
— I preferred it when you didn't leave me alone, babe — You retort, stepping on his feet. Jisung lets out a low groan but still holds you close, dancing like there's no one else in the room.
— I'm sorry for letting you down all this time. I'm an asshole, it's true — Jisung admits, acknowledging all the times you two didn't talk when you really wanted to, even if it was just to argue, something you did a lot as kids — Can we make peace, pretty please? Go back to the way things used to be?
You hesitate for a moment before letting a small smile slip.
— Like the old times, huh?
— But this time, I really wanna kiss you — Jisung whispers in your ear, and your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your chest. You feel his cheek against yours, and if you don't answer him soon, you might just pass out.
— Andy...
— Keep calling me like that, and I'll kiss you right here, not giving a fuck about your brother and my best friend — He says, planting a soft kiss on your cheek, leaving you dizzy with his scent filling the room, making it hard to breathe. You muster up the courage to speak, looking into his eyes.
— When did you get this big boy energy?
— I don't know, but you better enjoy it, cutie.
#sun favs#nct texts#imagine nct#nct u#nct dream#nct dream imagines#nct x reader#nct scenarios#nct jisung#nct imagines#nct icons#nct fluff#nct fanfic#nct#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fluff#nct dream fic#nct dream x you#nct dream x reader#andy park#park jisung#jisung nct#jisung nct dream#nct dream jisung#park jisung fic#park jisung fluff#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#kpop bg
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I’ve always had this idea that reader is like, one of the fittest people that work at AFC Richmond, like she can hold herself in a fight. Maybe she does boxing and the team shows up to support as a surprise and they’re all like DAMN. And a certain Manchester man goes googoo over her and ALSJDISPDODJKLL I feel like in my mind it’s an idea with lots of potential behind for any character matchup and scenarios but yeah that’s it (ps I love your writing it brings me so much joy!!)
got it! thanks @coloursofyen for a) the ideas and b) keeping me on track with these last few fics.
I rage-wrote this fic bc I accidentally saw the Man City score before I had a chance to watch it. I’m very upset rn😂 Also, I know nothing about boxing.
move fast and keep quiet
Ted’s been on this thing recently, where one day of training out of every five is a “physical and mental enrichment day,” which is a fancy way of saying the team does yoga or some shit together. Recently he’s been bringing in this boxing coach for “the team’s aggressive tendencies,” in wake of the whole West Ham debacle, and no one’s quite sure if that was really the best response to the situation. Teaching AFC Richmond how to fight better? Maybe not the best idea.
You’ve been coming once a week for a month now, teaching them how to spar on the pitch. Isaac, Jamie, and Bumbercatch are definitely the most enthusiastic about it, with the way Isaac studies each punch, Bumbercatch practices the footwork, and Jamie asks a million fucking questions every single time.
According to Sam, he’s been an absolute menace, practicing his moves through the halls of Nelson Road.
“What is your problem?” Jan asks one day. “Can you not just walk to the gym like a regular person?”
Jamie shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”
It isn’t long before word goes around the dogtrack that Jamie has a crush on the boxing instructor.
“You like her,” Dani singsongs. Jamie doesn’t deny it.
“She’s mad fit. Even her smile,” Jamie defends.
He’s not exactly wrong. The team starts an unofficial countdown until their next training session, and are disappointed to walk into the regular setup when the day rolls around. There’s a whiteboard with a new play from Roy and Beard, and the whole team barely tries to hide their disappointment.
“Oi, where’s Jamie’s girlfriend?” Isaac asks the moment Ted walks in.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie interjects.
Ted points to Jamie. “We’ll unpack that later. For now, I need you fellas to get ready to run this new play Coach Beard and Roy have cooked up. I want everyone ready to show a lotta teamwork.”
Richard raises his hand. “Coach, where is Jamie’s girlfriend?”
Jamie puts his head in his hands and says, “She ain’t my girlfriend, lad,” but it doesn’t matter. The name is going to stick.
Ted says, “She’s busy training for a match tomorrow, but she’ll be back next week. She told me to tell you all that she hopes you can come watch.”
Sam loudly whispers, “You mean she hopes Jamie will come watch,” and the rest of the team says oooh.
“Fuck off,” Jamie replies, but he’s blushing.
—
They end up commandeering the team bus.
The fight is… well, let’s just say it’s convinced Jamie that he needs to make the “girlfriend” jokes a reality. He will never admit how smitten you make him, what with the way you’re dodging and weaving, wiping sweat from your brow as your braids fly. But when it’s all over and you’re announced the winner, he’s almost positive you can hear him cheering over the rest of the crown because he’s just so damn happy.
The team waits around while the rest of the arena clears out, but Jamie can’t wait. He slips away from the group and asks a security guard where he can find you. The guard looks at him and states, “You’re Jamie Tartt.”
“Yeah,” Jamie responds, unsure of what else to say because it wasn’t exactly a question.
“She said you could come back. Follow me,” grunts the guard. Jamie turns around to make eye contact with Sam before hurrying after the security guard.
“In here.” The guard points to a door then leaves Jamie alone, staring at your name printed on a metal plaque. Shit, how good must you be to have your name here?
He knocks once and hears you call, “Come in,” so he pushes the door open. You’re sitting on the floor downing a bottle of water, still sweaty. There’s a bit of blood dried to your forehead and Jamie is a little worried that he finds it sexy.
You smile at him and pat the floor next to you.
“I’d get up, but I’m really fucking tired,” you say. “She got me good.”
Jamie slides onto the floor next to you. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “Made me rethink my whole career.”
You wheeze out a laugh. “With the way you run your mouth? You’d get brained in a week. I make sure none of my partners hate me. Me ’n the girl you saw tonight are going out to lunch tomorrow.”
Oh. That’s new information for Jamie. He’s trying to figure out if you mean lunch as a friend thing, or if you’re going on a date. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.
You nudge him with your shoulder. “Oi, what’s your deal? Upset you’re stuck as a sad little footballer when you could be getting punched out on the daily like me?”
Jamie shakes his head. “Nah. Just thinking how cool it were tonight.”
You grin and take another swig of water. “Hey, you wanna take me out on a date?”
Jamie chokes on air. After a moment he manages to cough, “Sorry, what?” and you shrug.
“Told myself if you came back here after the match I’d ask you out. I let security know you could come back if you wanted, and I figured you might be kinda fucking interested if you tried to get back here without me inviting you.”
“Uh huh,” Jamie says, still trying to get his breath back.
You look at him sideways. “Is that a yes? It’s all good if not.”
“No, yes!” Jamie says. “It’s yes. Where do you want to go? When’re you available? We could do something tonight if you want.”
You make a face. “I’m absolutely knackered. I was planning on going home to take a nice long shower and then passing out.”
Jamie nods. Right. Sounds logical.
“You could join me,” you suggest, and Jamie chokes for the second time.
“Jesus, Tartt, you’re excitable,” you tease. “It’s just a shower and some sleep. Although I might be convinced that I didn’t get enough cardio in tonight. Depends on if you’re willing to drive me home so I can nap.”
“Done,” Jamie says immediately. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
You grin as he pulls you up off the floor. “Oh,” you say, studying his perfect lips, “one more thing before we go…”
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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