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salem-s · 2 months ago

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STONEPIT FINALS AND SPRING CHAOS (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

── SYNOPSIS rafe's been your best friend since forever, and you thought he'd be ecstatic to see you after a three week trip; however, you overhear him telling his friends that it's been nice without you clinging to him every five minutes. so that's what you give him: space. every attempt to get you back falls short, and rafe's confusion only augments when he sees you running with a different crowd. ── WARNINGS suggestive themes, language, half smut (??? everything's over the clothes, lowkey switch!rafe), swearing, angst and miscommunication but with a happy ending. 18+ mdni. ── WORD COUNT 16.9k... That's genuinely not okay... ── NOTES edited from third person perspective to second, so let me know if there are any mistakes. ── SONGS OF THE CHAPTER guilty pleasure by chappell roan | transparentsoul by willow | misery business by paramore. we're gonna pretend these are original songs by their band, alright?

“It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip.”

You've been replaying his words in your head all night.

Sure, you invited herself over with the intent to surprise him after being gone for three weeks. Coming home a day earlier than expected was a set in stone plan all along, and thought nothing of walking into one of his renowned parties like you always have.

The familiar crowd greeted you like an old friend, throwing around heys and you’re back already? and all the other surprise lingo. You truly did your best to smile and nod to all of them, however these people weren't really your friends, instead mere acquaintances in an adjacent social circle.

The one person you really wanted to see was, undoubtedly, out back smoking a joint or nursing a beer away from the crowd with his two close friends, so you knew exactly where to find Rafe Cameron whenever his six foot something height wasn’t peaking above the crowd.

So on you walked: through the yard, in through the kitchen, and out towards the back porch.

Along the way, you bumped into his younger sister, Wheezie, who greeted you with a genuine hug and sigh of relief that, finally, she’d be able to tolerate any social gatherings held at her house, as long as you were there.

You mostly (always) sought out refuge in Wheezie's room when you didn’t feel like entertaining these rich kid assholes, or whenever you were getting bored with whatever conversations you'd been dragged into just for the sole purpose of keeping him company.

Wheezie, too, knew exactly where Rafe was and even grabbed your hand to lead you to him.

"It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip. The clinginess has really been pissin’ me off. It's like she can’t do her own thing."

And of course, Wheezie heard it, too, gripping your hand tighter out of pity - or compassion - you couldn’t tell.

Before Wheezie could do anything, you slipped her hand away and took a step back. The young girl looked mortified at her brother’s words, her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish to attempt to defend his words or spin them to make them mean something different.

But you both knew her fruitless attempts wouldn't mean anything.

They were jarring, the words he spoke.

And, frankly, they really pissed you off.

You only stuck around his hip at these things because he always told you to beforehand, something about not wanting you to wander off into trouble (which you had a tendency to do), or because you always grounded him when he was overstimulated.

Rafe was the one who held you close at night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when he’d snuck in through the window after particularly rough fights with his father. He was the one who needed to hold you, to tether himself to someone, to something, just to make it through the night.

So why the fuck was he talking about your clinginess as he's the one who couldn't go one night without you?

You scoffed when you heard it because, pfft, he must’ve been talking about someone else, surely. There’s no way he said that to his friends, and had the audacity to join in with their laughter.

Oh, it pissed you off.

Because if he really wanted space, sure, you could do that. No problem.

If there's one thing you prided yourself over, it was your dignity and stubbornness. You could give him space. You'll give him all the damn space and go find your own thing.

Which is what you did later that night.

Rafe had advised against it when the proposition was broached to you a couple weeks ago: a music gig.

Here's the sitch: you had a voice people would stop and listen to – not that you particularly liked boasting about it. It just came to you naturally, and you liked producing in the quaint privacy of your bedroom, mashing songs and creating unheard harmonies on audio software for fun.

You didn’t participate in the school plays or drama programs because, no, those were too on the nose and not the kind of music you'd like to sing (in front of people, anyway). Plus, all of the theater kids in the area are even more annoying than the preconception of the stereotype. Your voice was mainly barricaded inside the shower tiles or sitting pretty in the passenger seat of Rafe's car, or occasionally when you found yourself alone at the beach or on a walk in the dark.

After a particularly grueling and obnoxiously abhorrent gala earlier in the summer, you found yourself separated from the party and wallowing with a stolen drink in the back alley of the country club. Rafe was off entertaining whatever girl he had his eyes on for the night and Wheezie wasn’t feeling well so she didn’t attend.

You were bored, tipsy, and feeling pathetically lonely. So, naturally, you started singing softly to yourself in the quiet solitude of the alley, thinking you were alone.

What you didn’t know was that the staff – a group of Pogues who needed a quick cash grab in the catering gig – were having their smoke break, and conveniently needed a new lead after their old one transferred schools to the mainland. They were friends with Sarah, Rafe's other sister, who you haven't been close to since you were kids.

You were weary of their proposition, the group not normally being the kind of people you'd hangout with due to them being intimidating, almost too cool, to where you thought you wouldn’t fit in.

Oh, but you did. You did well.

Rafe's overly protective words echoed in your head as you instantly beelined for the door despite Wheezie's pleas, leaving his home and immediately driving to the Cut.

You were told where they practice, a quaint house on the far side of the island where they could riff and rehearse without a noise complaint. You found herself standing in the garage with the mock stage, with a rising sense of pride and retribution.

You told them, fuck it, you were in, that you'd do anything to take the spot that was so graciously offered to you all that time ago, to contribute to their band and to the competitions held in the rough part of the island.

And in you were.

Meanwhile, Rafe had never felt so fucking lost in his life.

Not when he got into earth-shattering arguments with his dad about his spending habits, his overflowing temper, or anything he did under the sun (because anything he did seemed to piss his dad off).

Not when he’d spent those months of endless fighting in a hole of self pity, drowning himself in partying and occasional lines to numb the phantom ache in his heart.

Not when he’d lose girlfriend after girlfriend because he was incapable of doing what was expected of a boyfriend, not what was expected of Rafe himself.

He was constantly told growing up that feelings were weak, and wearing them on your sleeve was even worse. Being sad was just an excuse to get a pass, to draw attention to get people to feel bad for you. Being sad meant being weak. Being emotional meant being weak. Caring too hard about things meant being weak.

Normally, Rafe was able to move past these episodes because he always had you to seek solace in. But he lost you.

And he had no clue fucking why.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone breathing that he’d been counting down the days until you arrived back from your trip, not even his closest friends that he clung to in your absence.

Because Rafe had a reputation to uphold, and revealing such strong feelings for his best friend would definitely damage his stone cold apparatus. People would see his walls broken down for you and they would assume they were entitled to the same treatment.

No. Rafe liked being unapproachable. Feared, even.

He liked that you clung to him at parties, at the stupid gala events their families would organize to flaunt their money in expensive garb and even more expensive donations that they announce with a bullhorn and neon sign. He liked that you clung to him because he asked you to.

He always asked you to.

And you always complied.

Deep down, Rafe knew that you'd rather go off and stir up some trouble instead, or not attend all together and get into even deeper shit somewhere else, but that meant that you'd be away from him, not under his protective eye, and that always stirred up something ugly in him.

Rafe had to come rescue you one too many times, most times you didn’t even need to ask.

He was just there, waiting for you to be done with whatever you wanted to do, then he’d drive you home and (almost always) stay over.

You would tease him relentlessly, you and your smart mouth riling him up to tremendous heights. But he relished in it. He craved it. Because he’d rather you drag him every time you opened her mouth instead of what you were doing now, which was ignoring him.

And the radio silence was killing him.

Rafe was ecstatic the day you got home, waiting in your driveway to bring you to school like always. But after waiting for what felt like ages, he found himself on the doorstep yelling at you to hurry up.

Instead of being met with your pretty, Rafe had to hear it from your fucking mother that you had already left, that you got a ride from someone else.

That was just strike one.

Arriving at school with a rise in his temper, Rafe was already having a bad morning.

He was irritated. All week he’d been texting with you about how you both were gonna get coffee and catch up in the car before parting ways for classes. It didn’t help that he was nursing a minor hangover, and he felt even more like an idiot bringing in your coffee that he’d gotten for you anyway.

Strike two was when Rafe saw you in the hallway, and the weight in his chest immediately lifted at the sight of you, glowing with a new gleam in your eye that had him yearning to know more about what you were up to.

The prior anger fizzled away the closer you got. You were walking straight to him as Rafe grinned and stuck out the coffee for you.

But as you got closer, Rafe's smile slowly faded as he noticed you were looking beyond him, brushing past him with that beautiful smile – the smile meant for someone else.

He spun around to see who you were ignoring him for, and scoffed when you were greeted with open arms to his sister and her friend group of wannabe rock Pogues that pissed Rafe off at any chance they could.

Rafe was confused and irritated, and he didn’t want to be holding your coffee anymore, frankly. You fit in with them in a sick way that had him aching.

Without thinking, he said your name quizzically with a slight edge to his tone.

A warning, almost.

You had turned around, surprised to see him. He wasn’t sure if you were feigning naivety or just pretending you didn’t see him to piss him off. “Oh, hey.”

He felt stupid, all of a sudden, with all the eyes of your new friend group on him, Sarah even tilting her head at him quizzically.

Rafe held out the coffee. “Here. You ghosted this morning.”

“Sorry,” you smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. He hated the way it looked. You took the coffee. “Thanks.” Then you flicked your gaze over your shoulder, at them, and turned back offering him a curt nod. “I’ll catch up later.”

You spun on your heel and joined the group, walking away down the hall sparking an animated conversation as if he was just a bump in the road.

And that’s how it started.

You slowly fizzled Rafe out of your life.

You slowly stopped responding to his messages, stopped showing up to his parties, stopped everything in your life that involved him and, god, it broke his fucking heart.

Every time he stopped over, your parents would say that you were out with friends and he would scoff, not that they would care where you really were. Sometimes they’d say you were upstairs studying, and when they would let Rafe in to go see you, he’d be met with an empty bedroom and slightly ajar window.

Pathetically, he’d stay in your room because he was usually too embarrassed to go back downstairs and show his face to your parents. Sometimes he slept there in the spot he always slept in on nights where he just couldn’t fucking bear to go home. Sometimes he’d just climb out through the window and leave.

Whenever he’d see you in school alone, Rafe would jump at the chance to talk to you.

You would entertain him for a walk to class or a quick chat in the library, nothing short of politeness. But Rafe didn’t want polite. He wanted you, and you wouldn’t fucking come back to him.

Instead, you would just give him the same tight lipped smile you gave all the other rich kid assholes that you hated, and then go about your day.

God. Rafe needed you.

He needed a friend, a real friend. Someone he could trust unequivocally, without hesitation. Rafe needed to hold you, and that realization made him want to throttle something.

To be so dependent on you felt weak. It felt horrible, really, to have it suddenly stripped from him with no warning. But the longer he went without you, the more he realized he needed you to hold him. That epiphany had him pissed off more than ever.

Naturally, Rafe resorted to anger because if he didn’t, he would just wallow in sadness and that scared the shit out of him.

But an opportunity blossoms – a real chance – to get you talking to him again, even if it’s just for one night.

The annual fall donation gala is tonight, and Rafe knows that you won’t be able to get out of this one due to your mother’s incessant inclination to attend as a family, to uphold your image, whatever the hell that means.

Each season the wealthy families on the secluded part of the island gather in their overpriced suits and gowns, flaunt their money, spew some fake bullshit on how much they love charity and specifically how much money they were going to spend towards renovating the rougher parts of the island and the public institutions, all while they down their drinks and snort lines in the bathroom and plaster on fake smiles of grandiose.

Your family and the Camerons go together every season, being neighbors and all, pairing you off with Rafe while Wheezie and his other sister, Sarah, would stick with each other.

Sarah, being just a year younger than him, mostly always brought a random boy as a date. Wheezie often soloed, but would steal you for a better portion of the night. Rafe normally allowed it, but tonight he refuses to let his sister have the time of day.

No matter how much shit Wheezie gives him, he has to have you all night despite her premature protests, which will probably be a lot given the circumstances from the past few weeks.

That's another thing as of late: Wheezie's been uncharacteristically cold to him, making him do ridiculous shit for her to get back on her good side, like taking her out to eat or reviewing her essay or watching a stupid show with her that he never would agree to watch in the first place.

Sure, he’ll set himself back a few pegs with Wheezie, but he has to get you back tonight.

But of fucking course you just have to look that beautiful, so it takes Rafe a while to even say anything to you besides a pathetic hello.

As tradition, you and Rafe lock arms as you enter the gala. He notices that you don't hold him as tight.

You notice that he’s clenching his jaw so tight it might break, probably pissed that he has to be here in the first place.

You loathe the idea of coming to this pathetic excuse of class performance, but public appearances are the only thing your parents are interested in.

They’ve been lenient about how much you leave to hang out with “Sarah” when in reality you're high tailing it to the rough side of the island getting up to all kinds of trouble (also with Sarah, but that's besides the point). However, they started to get suspicious of where you run off to every weekend, and god forbid they find out you sneak out basically every single night.

Things with the band are going great, too good to jeopardize.

So you figure if going to this gala will satisfy your parents’ consciousness and keep their noses out of your business, then you'll be able to deliver with elegant poise and limited back talk.

It doesn’t help that you and your band have a gig later tonight. The gig. The Stonepit finals. It also doesn’t help that you're stuck here.

But you have a plan.

Since you're here, your bandmates take on the event's catering gig so you'll all leave together an hour before the gala is supposed to end.

It’s slightly embarrassing to be walking arm-in-arm with Rafe under their knowing stares, especially since they have a vague idea of what really went down between you and the Kook prince.

They’re familiar with the island royal because of Sarah anyway, and despite not entirely liking him due to Rafe's douchebag tendencies, they’re sympathetic to you for choosing to step away from someone you once called your best friend.

Your friends, your new friends, care for you and know the hurt that came with ending things with Rafe, even if you never explicitly cried or showed any ounce of emotion when it came to him. They can just tell. And it reflects in the music, much to your dismay.

And sitting next to him all night doesn’t help.

You're polite, saying your please and thank yous. Rafe is quiet, especially with his dad sitting on the other side of him.

One thing you both unintentionally agree on, though, is the synchronized stifled laughter on the faux-emotional speeches the PTO housewives make about the charity of their choice. Rafe and you know of the falsehoods that run through this community, that it’s all a stunt for public decency, and you always bet each year how many times they shed crocodile tears before dinner’s served.

The last ripple of applause begins to die down after the last housewife steps down from the microphone, her lip curled up from a previous sob reforming back to a nonchalant tight lip as soon as she’s out of the spotlight. You push food around your plate with your fork, stifling a cold laugh that will undoubtedly earn a scolding from your mother.

“I counted seven,” you say softly, indulging.

It surprises Rafe. Immensely. His brows raise at the jab and he looks over to see if you were talking to yourself or actually to him, to see you staring at him in anticipation for his response.

Rafe's heart does a weird thump. “One of the better years, for sure.”

You laugh quietly and Rafe nearly sighs at the sound.

Noticing a few older couples heading to the dance floor, Rafe bites the bullet, clearing his throat to get your attention as he holds his hand out.

“Dance?”

You dart your gaze between his hand, his eyes, and the dance floor, uncertain. This makes Rafe's heart thump even wilder, and he’s certain you can hear it through his all-too-expensive suit jacket. He notices your apprehension, and he pushes down the hurt that springs to his throat.

Despite it, he chuckles nervously. “It doesn’t have to…mean anything. Just to get away from this.”

Rafe gestures towards their table, their parents having a little too much to drink and starting to ramble on about shit they don’t care about. Sarah’s off with her boyfriend, John B., who should be working but doesn't look the slightest bit concerned about slacking off, while Wheezie talks to one of her friends off to the side, rueing the day in pre-teen style.

As much as you want to say no and stay cordial to your dignity, you're starting to get a headache from your mother’s high-pitched laughter and dad’s intolerable business talk, so, reluctantly, you accept and takes his hand.

It takes everything in Rafe to not visibly sigh in relief as he leads you to the dance floor. Your friend, JJ, smirks behind the seafood buffet table, watching them. You throw him an eye roll that Rafe doesn’t see, to which JJ just shrugs and winks.

Slinking your hands around his neck, your heart skips a beat at the close proximity. Rafe's hands settle on your waist.

It draws in a sense of comfort, of familiarity that he’s been yearning for all this time without you. He takes a deep breath, embarrassingly deep, because for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe again despite the intoxication of your perfume and the stench of cigarettes wafting from the balcony.

Rafe takes the time to study you up close.

You cut your hair in a more edgy way, drastically different from your previous untouched hair that he was used to twirling between his fingers under Egyptian cotton sheets. It’s different, but he likes it. You looks comfortable, like yourself. He also notices the excessive added jewelry that you've been wearing lately.

Although Rafe frowns after his inspection, noticing it’s none of the jewelry that he’s given you over the years. Your makeup is clean, effortless.

Beautiful, he thinks.

Fuck.

He doesn’t realize you say something until you pinch his neck.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you were okay. You were brooding,” you tease quietly.

It feels like old times again. “I don’t…brood,” he attempts to defend.

You snort. “Sure.”

And that’s that.

Rafe doesn’t really know what to add from that, nor where to start on what he really wants to talk about with you.

It takes everything in him to not scream in frustration. He’s not good with his words, he doesn’t know how to vocalize the sensitivity that he feels in fear of being perceived as weak. He’s only good at physically projecting his anger, his irritation, his emotions that make him feel strong or, more so, his actions that make people fear him and submit to what he wants.

It’s easier that way, to not have to use words to convey what he wants done and what he needs people to do.

But not with you, never with you.

“I…” he starts lowly, trying to calculate his thoughts but they’re just a whirlwind in his mind right now. “How have you been?”

Rafe cringes at himself.

You frown, moving forward with caution at his uneasiness. The classical band plays something slow and melodic and so fucking romantic that it makes you want to throw up. “Good. Really good, actually. Been busy.”

“With?” Rafe attempts.

“With…stuff.”

He swallows. Of course you won’t tell him, why would you?

“How about you?” you ask timidly, noticing his sunken expression. “Are you okay?”

Rafe hesitates.

No, he’s been at his lowest. He’s been losing his mind without you at his side to anchor him to his real self. He’s been lost trying to figure out what you've been up to, why you've been running and hiding from him ever since you got back from your trip all those weeks ago. He’s especially lost in trying to figure out why you've been running with his sister and her annoyingly arrogant Pogue friends.

Rafe assumes you tell them all your tidbits now, like what you did that day or what show you're watching, talking to them how you used to talk to him.

It makes him sick. He feels like a fucking idiot trying to figure out what he did wrong, always coming up blank on answers but never having the courage to just ask you what the hell happened that rendered such coldness from you.

“Yeah. Been okay,” he settles on.

Despite the strain on his voice, you manage to smile at him, but there’s an ounce of worry in your expression that throws him off.

He’s confused: do you still care about him? Is that still on the table? Are you really going to dance around the elephant in the room? Are you going to keep acting like nothing is wrong? Are you ever going to tell him what he did?

“It’s a busy time of year, I wouldn’t-” you start nonchalantly, but Rafe suddenly scoffs at your attempt to small talk with him. This earns a pointed glare. “Is something wrong?”

Rafe scoffs again. “Of course something’s wrong." No going back now. "Everything’s fucking wrong. We’re standing here making useless bullshit small talk as if you haven’t been ignoring me for weeks.”

Curse him and his temper, he wants to immediately apologize for his tone. But you frown even further and loosen your grip around his neck but Rafe tightens his.

“No. We're talking about this. Stop running for a second.”

“Running?” you hiss. “I’m not…I haven’t been-”

“Yes, you have,” Rafe says, trying to stay even but his voice betrays him as it shakes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I’m losing my mind because you won’t talk to me, shit, you won’t even look at me anymore.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. “I just…need to know.”

Your frown turns into a thin lipped line. Isn’t this what he wanted? Space?

Your mind is reeling. On one hand, you're pissed.

How dare he act ignorant to the fact that he was bitching and moaning for some peace and quiet to his friends, how desperate he was to have some space from your oh-so-overwhelming clinginess, how you couldn’t even do your own thing due to how much you depended on him for everything: friends, a social life, style, a personality. Like, what the fuck?

But on the other hand, you sees Rafe. Your Rafe.

The Rafe who climbs through your bedroom window in tears from his father’s vocal bullets, searching for solace and warmth that he simply can’t get in the comfort of his own home. The Rafe who rarely knows how to express himself in anything other than rage because that’s how he was taught to deal with his emotions: through instilling fear. The Rafe who would truly do anything for you if you asked nicely. The Rafe who, behind closed doors, is kind, loving, and sweet when he cares, like getting you your favorite ice cream after you failed your exam or staying up until sunrise with Wheezie finishing the show she’s been raving about.

You sees Rafe, a boy who needs answers.

“Please.”

His tone of desperation pulls you from your thoughts, a tone he only saves for late night confessions under starlight, just for you.

You can’t help but teeter between the two hands.

“Rafe,” you start carefully, “I came home a day early from my trip.”

He frowns. The music is too slow, too beautiful. He’s confused. “You did?”

You nod. “Yes. I wanted to surprise you.”

The gesture is so fucking sweet that it makes Rafe melt in agony. What did he ever do to deserve your love and friendship for as long as he had it?

“I walked around looking for you, and assumed you were in the back with Top and Kelce. You were, but I heard what you said. All of it.”

Rafe reels back in confusion.

What?

What are you talking about?

You notice his confusion and scoffs lightly, the sound heavy with hurt instead of bitterness. “Of course you don’t remember.” You take a breath, replaying the words that have been on repeat in the back of your mind for weeks. “‘It’s been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip. The clinginess has really been pissing me off. It's like she can’t do her own thing.’ You don’t remember saying that?”

What?

Rafe's mind is spinning because. What.

“I…” he starts, but then stops, piecing it together. No, he couldn’t have.

But you nod, confirming it. “I heard it. So did Wheeze. I didn’t want to make a scene and just figured it would be easier to give you what you wanted. So I backed off. Gave you your space. Found my own footing.”

Rafe stares at you in disbelief. The words come back to him, each one hitting him harder than the last.

“It’s okay,” you say before Rafe can get a word in, noticing his internal conflict.

He hates the small, understanding smile you're wearing. You should be hitting him or cussing him out.

Instead you're fucking smiling at him, even though it's laced with sadness, it's still a smile. “I’ve…come to terms with it. I just wish you told me I was being too clingy instead of complaining to your friends about it. I would’ve backed off if you asked.”

Rafe shakes his head, because of course you would do something if he asked you to without any hesitation.

He can’t believe it, how you heard him say something so horrible (and completely untrue) and aren't cursing him out or going around telling people his deepest darkest secrets and demons. He deserves worse. He deserves nothing good after making you feel so unwanted, like you had to completely remove yourself from his life in order to give him what he – seemingly – wanted.

Rafe can only say your name.

“Really, Rafe,” you say after he can’t form the words he wants, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Rafe snaps, chest heaving. “It’s not fucking… I didn’t mean it.”

Okay. Now you scoff and he frowns.

You're not gonna sit here and listen to him spew out excuses, bullshit excuses, so he can get back on your good side. You're not gonna forget how those words made you feel. If there's one thing bigger than your ability to hold a grudge, it's the need to defend your dignity.

“If you didn’t mean it, then you wouldn’t have said them – fuck – you wouldn’t have thought them in the first place.” You try to loosen your grip once more to escape but he holds you tighter. You huff. “Rafe, let go. Seriously. I said it was fine. Let me go.”

It isn’t fine, you both know that, but you personally don't want to entertain his fragment words.

But Rafe can’t let you go. Not like this.

“No, I need to– fuck…” Rafe curses.

Why can’t he just say he’s sorry? Own up to it? Push his pride down? No, because that would mean admitting defeat. That would mean admitting something he’s tried to push down for years and years in fear of ruining your friendship.

Well, he’s already ruined it, so what’s left to lose?

You, he realizes. He’s losing you, and he’ll lose you forever if he doesn’t get his shit together at this given moment.

His chest is heaving, he realizes.

His heart feels like it’s in his throat and he’s gripping you as if you're going to disappear if he lets go. Rafe doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that the world keeps spinning around them. Couples keep slow dancing, people keep laughing and drinking, the song still plays. No one knows what’s going on within your bubble right now, the emotional turmoil sizzling between you both speaking in hushed breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he says low and heavy with emotion.

You take that as irritation. “You’re sorry you got caught.”

Rafe shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if that’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “No. No. I’m sorry for saying that stupid shit. I didn’t mean it, Snips. Not really.”

The nickname makes your heart leap to your throat, but you swallow it. “Not really?”

Rafe curses. “No, I…fuck-”

“You what? What, Rafe?”

“I–”

“Wanted to impress your friends?”

He grimaces. “No–”

“Needed to brag about how I’m always at your beck and call? Your bitch waiting at your disposal?”

“No!”

You laugh humorlessly. “Then what-?”

“Because I need you more than you need me, and it scares the shit out of me.”

You freeze, your next retort dying in your throat as you look at Rafe's desperate expression.

His eyes bore into yours, those piercing bright blues, and you don't notice until now that his hands have been shaking, his chest is falling up and down rapidly, how the crease in his brow is more prominent than ever. You study him, looking for any signs of duplicitousness but coming up short.

Instead you see how broken he really is.

Rafe notices your pity and hates the expression, so he shuts his eyes. “I…I think I said it to pretend it was the other way around. That…maybe if I said it and put it in words, I could pretend that you needed me in the same way. I hated the way I felt for those three weeks without you, and it scared the shit out of me.”

Silence.

Your hand travels from the back of his neck to caress his cheek, which makes him open his eyes to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t make it okay,” he quickly adds. “What I said wasn’t okay. At all. I hate that you heard it.”

Rafe leans into your touch instinctively, your palm boring into his cheek. His heart thumps for a different reason now, for your silence. He doesn’t know what to make of it. The tension is thick and he hates the way you don't say anything.

Something foreign pricks in his chest, an unsteady murmur.

“Please, say something,” he pleads pathetically, feeling stupid at the desperation.

You feel flustered from his words, speechless.

Your heart lurches in your throat at the confession that probably ached in his soul all these weeks, that gnawed at him every time you brushed him off or ignored his messages and did exactly what he was afraid of: leave.

What Rafe said was wrong, very wrong, you know. There’s no if, ands, or buts about it.

Your heart sinks, though, at the thought of him pushing down his feelings, his real feelings, so deep to the point where he was drowning in his own mind. This is the boy you grew up with, who held you when you were upset, who knew your every thought before you could formulate it, who begrudgingly took you to prom after your date stood you up.

Your Rafe, sharing something so raw and scary.

You hold him with such lightness, such care, murmuring quietly, “Rafe–”

Suddenly, a throat clears next to you.

Rafe's anger flares back up when he sees fucking JJ Maybank looking at you, feeling tidal waves of stupidity and irritation that he confessed something so raw to you. He wants to rip you away from this crowd, from JJ, to talk somewhere in private, to even sit in silence if it means he can hold onto you like this for a little while longer.

Call him selfish.

“Sorry to…interrupt,” JJ says, darting his gaze between the two of you, finally settling on you after a moment of taking in…whatever was happening here. “We gotta go. Now. Rumlow pushed our slot up.”

Your hand falls from Rafe's cheek and he gets even more irritated. What business does JJ Maybank have with you? Who the fuck is Rumlow?

You step away from Rafe and, this time, he lets you. “What? You’re kidding.” You groan and curse, “The whole deal about winning Greengate was that we’d get first pick of the Stonepit slot.”

JJ huffs. “Freddie slid him a fifty to make sure we go right after his band, so second to last.”

Band? Rafe furrows his brows.

His confusion is put on the back burner as you ball your fists tight at your side. “Damn it.” Then, you take a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go out the back.”

JJ glances at Rafe wearily, whose stare couldn’t be more piercing. “Uh, what about your stuff?”

“It’s at the table. My mom will definitely ask too many questions.”

“Blame the period?”

You snort. “You still clearly know nothing about women. Not believable. Best chance is to just slip out. I’ll deal with my mom later.”

JJ moves to leave, walking a few steps away until he notices you aren't following. You hesitate, looking up at Rafe who has been awfully quiet and confused, watching your conversation happen in front of him. His blue eyes bore into yours, a twinge of pain hidden within his features that makes your heart lurch.

You have the sudden inclination to grab his hand, to comfort him for a moment more.

Silence.

Clearing his throat once more, JJ rubs his forehead at the tension between the two. “Uh, I’ll give you guys a minute.” He shoots Rafe a warning glare, one that makes Rafe narrow his eyes, before turning his attention back to you. “Meet us out back when you’re done.”

And like that, JJ walks off the dance floor and disappears through the staff doorway.

His absence is felt, the air thick between you and Rafe as unspoken words yearn to come into fruition. The slow, romantic melody continues to play as couples sway around you and the emotion behind it makes your tummy feel weird.

“You’re leaving?” Rafe manages to ask thickly, the words feeling like lead in his throat. "With...Maybank?"

You look up at him once more, and this time, you actually do grab his hand.

He gazes down at your intertwined fingers as your other hand comes up to graze his knuckles, fingertips smoothing over his rough, calloused skin in such a delicate manner it allows him to breathe for a moment. Your cool rings feel like ice against his hot skin, and he nearly flinches from the contrasting feeling.

Your next words are cautious and slow. “You’re truly sorry?”

“Yes,” he immediately answers. “More than you’ll ever know. More than I’ll ever be able to say.” Rafe squeezes your hand. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

You meet his gaze.

His pretty blues no longer glisten with sadness, but instead hold their own. Promising. Genuine. Home. You find herself suppressing a smile because, fuck, you missed him more than you'd like to admit.

Glancing back towards the family’s table, you notice your parents are still talking to Rafe's, the waiter coming over to top off their drinks as they obnoxiously laugh over something that probably wasn’t very funny. Nevertheless, they’re distracted for the night and clearly not caring about the whereabouts of their children.

An idea - a really stupid idea - pops into your head when you turns back to Rafe, a newfound determination gleaming in your eye that he only knows as trouble.

“Come with me.”

Rafe's lips part in confusion. “You want me to?” Then, more uncertain. "With...them?"

Pushing down the impending fight night that'll probably happen between him and the Pogues, you quirk a brow as you teasingly squeeze his hand.

“Thought you wanted to make it up to me.”

“‘F course.”

“Then let’s get into some trouble.”

He finds himself narrowing his gaze, but there’s no real strictness behind it as he tries to suppress a smile. “Snips, what are you getting me into?”

You tilt your head to the side and bite the inside of your cheek, taking one last glance at your parents – more occupied than ever – before you start pulling Rafe off the dance floor, dragging him through the crowd and through the same staff door that JJ disappeared into earlier.

You don't let go of his hand as you swerve past the catering staff and waiters, beelining for the backdoor leading to the alley.

Noses scrunch at the smell, reeking of garbage, cigarettes, and gas. It’s not the worst thing out there, no, because Rafe tries his best not to grimace when he sees your new group of friends, the Pogues he oh-so despises, hanging by their clown minivan as they all change out of their catering uniform into their own clothes, their performance clothes, just shamelessly half naked and laughing as if it isn’t ridiculously intimate.

Sarah is slipping her ripped jeans on under her dress and shimmying on a tank, a cigarette poking through her plump lips. Kiara is applying lip liner in mirror, perched in the passenger seat. John B. finishes buckling his belt, taking the cigarette out of Sarah's mouth to take his own hit. Pope is sitting in the driver’s seat, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel and checking the time on his watch anxiously. JJ's putting on a shirt when he sees you and Rafe emerge, hand in hand.

“Country Club, you comin’ with?” JJ teases as he throws his ratty t-shirt on, wearing a smirk that Rafe wants to smack off his stupid face.

You speak before Rafe can start an argument. “Guys, Rafe's gonna tag along tonight. Any issues?”

Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare between you and Rafe, and he squirms under their judgemental stare. He knows he hasn’t been the nicest to them, and vice versa, as their social circles often clashed with ferocity. He also knows that they’re aware of the previous animosity with you based on the way the girls, Kiara and his own damn sister, are glaring at him with such a deep warning that it makes him shiver.

It’s Pope who breaks the silence. “I don’t give a fuck if he shits gold. We need to go now if we want to warm up.”

JJ snorts. “We’d be lucky to make curtain call.”

“Have some hope, Jay,” Kiara mumbles to not mess up her lipliner. “Pessimism gives you crows feet.”

Sarah hums low as she steals the cigarette back from John B., who looks Rafe up and down. The two of them have had their fair share of qualms. Rafe truly can't keep track of how many times he's gotten a black eye from his sister's boyfriend, and vice versa.

But, no, he can't be getting into fights tonight. Not while he's on your probation.

Pope groans and rolls his eyes. “Crows can’t drive. Now, can we please all get in the car before that shitbag gives our slot away?”

It's muscle memory when Rafe lunches forward to snatch the cigarette from Sarah's mouth, throwing out the cigarette butt onto the concrete with a narrow gaze. She sends him an eye roll, but wordlessly climbs into the minivan with John B. behind her, and to Rafe's surprise, all of the back seats are folded down so they all sit in a circle in the trunk.

His mind races at the hazardous set up.

You notice his concern as you sit down next to him, stifling a laugh and squeezing his hand once out of comfort, pulling it back before Rafe can even process what is happening.

“We throw all the instruments back here, so the seats stay down,” you say softly, just to him. Rafe straightens up a little, feeling a sense of pride that you're only talking to him. “You get used to it after a while.”

But that beaming pride doesn’t last long as JJ sits on the other side of you, a little too close for his liking, smirking at the two of you.

Rafe bites his tongue as the blond grins toothily at him. “Don’t worry, Country Club. You can hold my hand if you get scared,” JJ teases, wiggling his fingers at him.

Rafe rolls his eyes and fights the urge to jump him right here and now. The only thing pulling him back to reality is the sound of your laughter.

“Fuck off, Maybank,” is all he manages to pathetically muster up in response.

Pope drives sporadically, ranting about how they’re not gonna make it now that their slot is moved up, how the lights are never green when he needs them to be, how John B. didn’t fill up the gas tank since he was the last one to drive, and so many more complaints that Rafe loses count.

In the back circle, however, they’re talking business and spewing vocabulary Rafe's never even heard of.

John B. is going on about JJ needing to remember to wait a beat before the chorus on their first song, and how Kiara needs to be a second step harmony above you, not just one, and how he himself wants to remember one specific rhythm in a riff he’s been practicing.

Rafe feels a little outdated due to his outright confusion, feeling like he’s at a tennis match just watching them pull out notes back and forth and back and forth.

It isn’t until Sarah tosses you a bag where Rafe truly short circuits.

Your confusion is apparent when you hold up the bag, raising a pointed brow.

Sarah gestures to the bag. “Change. You won’t have time when we get there. I put in some cute earrings for you.”

Such a Plan A girl, you think, smiling at her as you open the bag: a sultry tank top, black mini skirt, and your mile high boots that you know and love. At the bottom there’s a little baggie full of jewelry.

“Thanks, Sare.” You shuffle to slip your heels off, nudging Rafe's shoulder on accident as you do so.

He nearly winces when you take the black mini skirt and starts to roll it on under your long, expensive dress, catching a glimpse of your dainty underwear. Next, you let the shoulder straps slip down your goosebump covered arms.

Then, with complete fucking nonchalance, you turn your back to Rafe, cheekily looking over your shoulder at him.

“Zip?”

Rafe stares wide-eyed back at you, his gaze flicking between your dress zipper and your smug expression.

His heart races in his ribcage at the thought of you changing in front of all of these people with no question. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but the fact that you're ready to completely undress in the back of this dingy van has his head spinning.

JJ snorts, bringing him back down to Earth. “She asked you a question, Country Club. Angel, want me to do it?”

That snaps Rafe out of his trance. His nimble fingers immediately go to the zipper, delicately pulling it down. “Don’t play around, Maybank.”

“CC, you’re my favorite person to play around with.”

“Watch it.”

You roll your eyes at the two. “Alright, brats, let’s simmer. Now, I was thinking–”

Rafe tunes out the rest of what you say when you let your dress slip down off your shoulders, exposing a strapless bra barely fucking covering anything as your long dress pools down on the dirty van floor. Continuing to yap about whatever notes you have, you grab the sultry tank top from the bag and pull it over your head, not breaking your thought process while Rafe's thoughts have been completely broken to begin with.

He coughs quietly to himself to get his shit together, especially when you unapologetically adjust your bra and tank top to how you want it.

Now dressed, you shift again to sit back down on your ass, brushing Rafe's shoulder once more.

But Pope takes a wild turn, everyone shifting from the force of it. John B. smacks his head on the window as Sarah plummets into him, JJ holds his own as he grabs onto the door handlebar, and you fly into Rafe's lap, his hands instinctively thrown up to catch you, or at least attempt to, as you scramble to get up.

“Fuck, sorry,” you murmur, placing a hand on his thigh to push yourself up. “You good?”

But JJ's laugh interrupts. “Oh, he’s great.” He holds his fingers up to wiggle at Rafe again, wearing a shit eating grin that, pathetically, turns the tips of Rafe's ears pink.

He ignores it. “You wanna see great?”

You sit back down on the floor in your original spot, sliding on your socks and boots. “Boys, play nice. You’ll have to get used to each other at some point because you’re both not going anywhere.”

Kiara pipes up from the front seat. “Maybe we can lock them in a closet together. That’s what John B. and Sarah do whenever they fight.”

“Usually we end up fucking instead of actually making up, but, who knows? That could probably work for you guys, too,” John B. chides, earning a slap to the chest from Sarah.

Rafe rolls his eyes so hard it kickstarts a migraine.

He feels your hand brushing his thigh as you laugh and, despite his rising temper, it manages to relax Rafe just a fraction. Especially when you lean more into his arm. Christ, your perfume scent is the only thing he can think about.

Then, Pope makes a screeching halt and everyone is thrown around once more. Before you can fly across the van into Sarah, Rafe grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him.

Everyone waits a beat, then two, then sigh in relief when they realize the van isn’t going to be moving anymore.

Pope turns around with a giant grin. “We’re here, andiamo!”

Everyone blankly stares at him, hair askew and clothes out of place. He frowns at the crowd.

“What? At least I got us here with ten minutes to spare!”

It only takes one minute for shit to hit the fan.

It’s already unnerving enough for Rafe to realize where they are: in a dingy basement nightclub in the shitty part of the Cut where he normally wouldn’t even think about coming to.

A slice of anger rises in his throat, to cuss you (and Sarah) out for being so reckless if this is where you've been spending all of your time, in a place that doesn’t feel safe to him in a part of town that isn’t meant for girls like you.

He hates thinking like that, knowing damn well you're capable of protecting yourself – Henry Kennedy's permanently crooked nose can attest to that – but there’s a sliver of primitive instinct in him that wants to constantly protect you, shield you from everything and everyone. If he ever found out something happened to you in a place like this, there's no question that he'd burn it to the ground.

Rafe's hand ghosts over the small of your back when they enter the venue, which earns a finger wiggle from JJ, teasing him. Thank god you don't see it, or Rafe would’ve really had to punch the fucker in the face.

But the play time’s over when the group watches the slot before them get on stage, the Pogues (including you) collectively booing them and flipping them off. Rafe looks around to see if anyone’s pissed at the Pogues for, once again, creating a public disturbance, but they just sort of let it happen.

You nudge Rafe, nodding to the lead singer who all but gropes the microphone. “That’s Freddie.”

Rafe studies Freddie: tiny, skinny, shaggy hair and a crooked smile that’s directed right to you. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he immediately straightens up protectively, sizing the scrawny guy up and down, narrowing his fixated gaze as Freddie grabs the mic and introduces their band with a deeper voice than Rafe expected to come out of him.

“You know,” JJ nudges Rafe as if they’re best buds and he darts his gaze from the spot JJ nudged back up to the blond boy to try and find the audacity in the space between, “Angel here beat him up once. It was one of the greatest things I’ve ever seen in my life. I won ten bucks out of it.”

Rafe quizzically looks between JJ and you, stunned.

JJ laughs. “What? You didn’t think his teeth are naturally that fucked up, did you?”

But his attention leaves the nuisance and solely focuses on you. Rafe snorts, suppressing a beaming grin. “Snips, how hard did you hit the guy?”

“What?” You feign innocence, shrugging as if the thought of it doesn't make Rafe's head spin. “I hit him as hard as he deserved. He did touch my ass.”

Rafe stills.

“He what?”

“Easy, Rafey. I took care of it,” you joke. Then you notice the stone cold glare in Rafe's eye as he sizes Freddie up and down, suddenly frowning and grabbing his hand to pull him out of the trance. “Rafe. Jesus. Don’t actually kill the guy.”

JJ's cackle just pisses Rafe off even more, especially when he claps a big, audacious hand on Rafe's tense shoulder. “You know, I wasn’t sure what part Country Club would play in our show tonight. But I think we just found our new bodyguard.”

You squeezes Rafe's hand once. Twice. He relaxes his shoulders, shrugging JJ off but still keeping his hold on you.

The glue of the group, Pope, claps his hands together. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck about Freddie’s set. Before I get up there and strangle Rumlow myself for being shady, let’s go backstage to–”

All of a sudden, Freddie's band starts playing their set, and the first few notes cause the group to freeze, including you.

“Are they–?” John B. starts in disbelief.

Sarah gasps so dramatically it gives Rafe whiplash.

Pope grips his hair so hard it might rip out. “I knew it. I knew something was up. Those cock sucking, donkey bastard motherfuck–”

John B. slams his hand against the wall, cursing. Sarah tilts her head back in frustration. JJ and Kiara attempt to wrangle Pope from jumping on stage from throttling the lead singer. Each Pogue crashes out unexpectedly, though their actions and waterfall curses are drowned out by the amplified music. No one even bats an eye.

Rafe glances from the scene happening with your friends, to the stage, and down to you, brows furrowing in confusion as to why everyone suddenly started crashing out as soon as they stepped in the building, the band on stage playing a song he vaguely recognizes.

“Uh, what’s going on?”

You watch the stage, unnerved. “They stole our set.”

Rafe follows your gaze beyond the stage, to a burly guy standing behind the curtain, shrugging at you mockingly in a way that makes Rafe straighten up and fight the urge to pull you to his hip.

“What?”

“Our songs. Fuck.” You curl your hands in a fist. “Of course Freddie paid for us to get bumped. He knew our setlist, and paid Rumlow to bump us so we wouldn’t have time to figure something else out.”

Rafe places a cautious hand on your shoulder, testing to see if you'll shake him off. You don't, so he keeps it there and gives a gentle squeeze. “Why would he…do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole, Country Club,” JJ jabs, walking into their conversation with a struggling Pope under his bicep in a headlock. “He knew we’d beat him so he fucked us over.”

John B. joins the circle, clenching and unclenching his fists. “What’s our play?”

“Kill Freddie with a gun,” Pope quips from his headlock, trying to break free but failing.

Kiara places a hand on Pope's head and Sarah follows, as if they’re trying to summon something. “Use that brain of yours. Think about something other than murdering Freddie for one second.”

It’s JJ who speaks up. “What about using the same set from Greengate?”

“We can’t reuse those songs, Jay,” Kiara murmurs, lost in thought. “We’d get points off.”

“What about ‘I’d Rather Die’?” Sarah suggests, rubbing Pope's head like a crystal ball.

Kiara's face upticks in disgust. “That song is way too outdated. The ratio between boys and girls is too drastic, we need more girls here for that song to hit.”

“Pink Floyd?” John B. suggests. “Or even Zeppelin. Something to get people on their feet.”

Rafe watches the group like a tennis match, gaze shifting from person to person as they spew out ideas that ultimately get rejected due to some reasonable excuse. He can feel their anxiety radiating off of them, bubbling in the air between them. He hates the way your brow is permanently furrowed, lost in thought yet pinched a fraction in worry.

Sure, he has no idea what’s going on, nor can he really offer any help, but he hates the dejected look on your face.

Before he can speak and embarrass himself, Pope squeaks from underneath JJ's arm.

“What about our originals?”

The group ceases their arguing, freezing as the only sound heard is Freddie’s not-so-bad singing voice, singing their songs. They gawk at each other, waiting for someone to bring up a counter argument but no one offers one.

Noticing the contemplation, Pope wiggles to free himself from the headlock and JJ eventually lets him, joining the circle and stretching his neck from the kinks. He shoots JJ a glare that has him throwing his hands up in surrender.

“It could work,” Pope defends cautiously. “I have the hard drive with all the backing vocals on it. We’ll still have Sarah, Kie, and JJ on backup vocals, but I can relay Angel's adlibs and prerecorded harmonies during the performance.”

Pope's the tech guy, Rafe realizes. The guy behind the curtain, and it suddenly makes so much sense why his anxiety was severely heightened on the drive here: he has to manage the sound check, the back tracks, the entire performance. Despite the guy being a little crazy, Rafe can’t help but nod in respect despite the tense moment. The group is right to elect him as the brains of the group.

You speak up so quietly Rafe barely hears you. “We’ve never shown anyone our originals.”

Nerves prick at your voice, straining it.

It doesn’t take an idiot to notice your apprehension, even Rafe, who has no idea what’s happening. You don't even want to look at him, at the concerned look you know he’s wearing.

There’s a lot of fear surrounding the originals, mainly because they’re your originals that you wrote sporadically in journals over the last few months, never expecting the words to actually see the light of day. Recording and creating their own originals was more of a passion project, something never meant for the general public to hear.

Especially when the words on the page were mainly about the guy standing next to you.

What if they’re not as good as your friends say they are? What if the recordings don’t match up with the live audio? What if the judges and crowd hate it, ruining their chances of winning the competition and getting the money?

Kiara is the first to move towards you, gripping your hand so tight it hurts. “We should. We all worked really hard on them.”

“Kie’s right,” Sarah pipes up. “Plus, it kind of gives us an advantage. Shows people we actually give a shit, and we’ll surprise them.” She leans against John B., who wraps an arm around her and holds tightly.

Pope holds his arms out in a well? gesture.

JJ beams, latching one hand onto Rafe's shoulder and the other on John B's, shaking them as he whoops.

Rafe almost shoves him off with his death glare alone, annoyed with his assumed immunity since you'd break up any sort of fighting that could happen. Plus, he's really trying to be on your good side, to get back in your good graces, even if this blond fuck is making it really, really difficult not to drop everything and deck him across the face right now.

“I’m all in. I vote we do ‘Guilty Pleasure’, ‘Transparentsoul’, and ‘Misery Business’. Those will get the crowd bumping.”

You snap her head up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. And in that order.”

Pope nods. “That works. I can do that.” His anxious gaze darts from the stage and back to the circle. “I need to know right now so I can start setting it up. Pinkies?”

JJ holds his left pinky up first, his hand still resting on Rafe's tall shoulder. He attempts to tickle Rafe's ear until he gets shoved off. John B. holds up his pinky, actually sticking it in JJ's ear. Sarah and Kiara follow, wiggling their pinkies at you, who hasn’t held up anything yet.

With a sigh of great reluctance, your eyes meet Rafe's for a fraction of a second before you hold up your own pinky, grimacing when JJ whoops.

“Country Club, you in?”

Rafe blinks out of his daze of staring at you, looking up to face the group who are all looking at him in expectation. His heart skips a beat. “Uh, wh–?”

JJ nods towards his hand. “Bodyguards get a say too. What’s your move?”

Rafe hates the way his face feels warm, and he thanks the world silently for making it dark in this venue. He clears his throat to push away the feeling, holding up his pinky without much convincing as he looks over to you, gazing up at him with your big pleading eyes that makes the room spin.

Pope claps. “Okay. Good. You guys head back and go to our room, the guitars are in there and so are John B's sticks. CC, you stay with me.”

You grab Rafe's hand quickly, giving it a reassuring squeeze and you're not sure if it’s for him or yourself. Your palms start to grow sweaty due to the pressure of the upcoming performance, so you drop his hand as fast as you grabbed it. Rafe nearly whines at the loss.

Everyone except Pope starts to move, and instinctively Rafe follows you like a lost puppy, but a strong hand backhands his bicep and Rafe stops, looking at Pope, the culprit who wears a confused look.

“You’re CC now, you hear me?” Pope commands.

Rafe nearly laughs in his face at this five foot something spitfire barking orders at him, but his smirk slowly fades when he sees the craziness behind Pope's eyes.

He remembers the way he drove the band here, nearly killing all of them, as well as how he was seconds away from jumping the stage and taking out everybody in his line of sight, an aura of scrappiness surrounding him that makes Rafe believe he would rough up anyone in his path as a street rat would protect its food.

He decides that Pope is not the kind of guy you want on your bad side, not because of physical strength but because his mind would probably come up with something deeply concerning to torture you with.

Rafe straightens, expression turning serious as he just nods stupidly.

That satisfies Pope. “C’mon. We need to set up.”

To say that the tech stuff is confusing is an understatement, it’s a foreign language.

But Pope seems to know what he’s doing, and all Rafe can do is watch, ask questions that he probably assumes are stupid due to the way Pope snorts as if there’s an obvious answer, and scan the crowd looking for you. He’s unnerved that he doesn’t know where you are, especially when he knows you've been hit on quite ferociously before, which makes his cheek hurt from the way he’s biting it. He doesn’t have a great view of the crowd but tries to crane his neck to see out from the side of the stage.

All he sees is Freddie’s band exiting the stage, right towards them. His black beaded eyes meet Rafe's piercing blues, and he straightens up, fury bubbling in his chest after remembering what he did to you. His girl.

Freddie sleazily sizes Rafe up and down before clapping Pope on the shoulder. “You guys hire a guard dog?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Pope mumbles distractedly, his eyes not leaving his computer and sound board panel in front of him. “Nice set, by the way. Sounded familiar.”

“Ah, that old thing?” the douchebag laughs. “Came up with it all on my own. Just another stroke of my ingenuity.” He then pauses, noticing Rafe's button down rolled up to his elbows and dress pants, which makes him chuckle darkly. “Lookin’ pretty Kook-y for a lap dog. Wanna twirl for me, pretty?”

“Careful,” warns Pope, still fumbling with his sound board. “He bites.”

Freddie holds his hands up in surrender and it takes everything in Rafe not to knock the guy out cold where he stands. Noticing the gleam of unbridled fury in Rafe's gaze, Freddie takes a step back, partly in fear. “Alright, I’ll heel.” He finally looks at Pope as he stalks away. “Can’t wait to see what you guys planned.”

His words fade as he disappears into the crowd, Rafe noticing he's immediately handed a drink and a girl saunters into his other arm. He scoffs, fingernails digging so harshly into his palms he’s sure to draw blood.

The thought of that douchebag laying so much as a fingertip on you makes his blood boil, his heart lurching in his throat in regret that he didn’t lay out the bastard while he had the chance.

“At ease, CC,” Pope murmurs. “You’ll get a crack at him one day. But not right now. Here, I need you to hold this button for me.”

After completing Pope's various tasks, the lights dim on stage. It piques Rafe's attention as he sees five silhouettes sneak onto the platform, noticing the glittery undertones of your top as you march right up to the mic.

The lights fade in ever so slowly, but the crowd recognizes them instantly as they begin to hoot and holler and cheer in a way that surprises Rafe. He reels and suppresses a beaming smile that, holy shit, his girl is…kinda famous?

“Hi Gally’s,” you purr into the mic, the vibrato making Rafe's heart skip a beat. You look so goddamn pretty it hurts. “Didn’t expect to see us so soon, hm?”

The crowd jeers at your improv. You twirl the mic chord and whimsically stalks back and forth on stage, playing into the bit.

“Now, I know you guys love to hear the stuff we usually play, and I only know that because of all the free drinks we get after we finish.”

Someone in the crowd whistles, causing you to breathlessly chuckle into the mic.

“And as much as we appreciate your love, we thought we’d do something a little different tonight. Instead of covers, we’ll be singing our own stuff. Hope you enjoy.”

Rafe catches a glimpse of Freddie’s face in the crowd and stifles a laugh. There’s no longer teasing amusement coating his eyes, instead it’s fear.

And if you're nervous, Rafe can’t tell because you carry yourself as a beaming enigma that can’t be brought down, a supernova. Your cheshire cat smile is enough to pierce through any heart willing to give into you.

JJ's on guitar and he meets Pope's gaze, who counts down on his fingers, three, two, one, then Pope hits a button as JJ plays the opening notes to the song. Rafe realizes Pope cued backtrack vocals, a soprano yodeling fading into the audio. It starts slow, the spotlight beaming onto you as you start to sing low and sultry.

You get to a particular line that has Rafe raising his brows: “I fantasize what we would do, and how would it taste and the way you move–”

His breath hitches.

“--Oh, but some good girls do bad things too,” you sing slowly.

Damn you, because you find Rafe's eyes and throw him a quick wink that has his knees nearly buckling.

You spin around to face the crowd as the lights beam on, coating the entire stage as everyone gets cued in. John B's on drums, Sarah's on backing vocals and keyboard, Jackie’s on his guitar, Kiara's on backing vocals and the bass.

“I want this like a cigarette. Can we drag it out and never quit? And, oh my god, you are heaven sent with your dirty mind, yeah, you’re perverted.”

The song is good. Too good. The people in the crowd are feeling it, cheering and jumping and clinking beers. It could also be the way you're bending over and twirling on stage like you own the place, regardless of rhyme or reason or anything under the sun.

Rafe watches you with a stupid grin that he can’t suppress, because here you are in all of your glory.

He can’t believe this is what he was missing out on, this is what you've been up to: looking too damn fine in a mini skirt and boots with a voice like honey, spice, and nothing nice, especially with that glint of trouble in your eye that means you're up to no good.

“Feels like pornography watching you try on jeans,” you sing after the guilty pleasure chorus, and it has him reeling.

You've totally been jean shopping with him before on multiple occasions. You always claimed to know what style was trending so you insisted on accompanying him whenever you felt his pants were getting a little outdated.

Rafe never thought anything of it, as you both went out and bought stuff together all the time, tried on clothes in the same dressing room, gave opinions on items and then went about their day as if nothing was intimate about it.

“You’re a pothead, you’re a cinephile, it’s been a while since you turned up the dial.”

Jesus, he knows he’s wearing a ridiculous expression on his face as his mind catches up to the notion that, shit, is there any way this is about him?

Rafe's head spins with two distinct things: is this about him, and if the answer is yes, then, holy shit, do you like him? Is he your guilty pleasure? Do you feel the same? Have you suppressed years of a school-girl crush like he has in fear of fucking up the one good thing in his life? Have you both been wasting all this time dancing around each other, caught up in the will-they, won’t-they?

Then he freezes. He doesn’t know if you wrote this one. It easily could've been Sarah or Kiara. Why would you? Why would he automatically assume that?

Rafe sucks in a breath of clarity. He shouldn’t assume it’s about him just because you're the one singing it. Maybe Sarah did write it about John B.. Disgustingly, Rafe wouldn’t be surprised, with the way that they look at each other.

After a whole chorus of disassociated reeling, Pope nudges Rafe, shaking him from his trance as you keep on vexxing. "Chill. It’s about you. No need to stress.”

Rafe coughs, covering up his dumbfounded expression as he watches you in a different light now, a deeper one.

The bridge is just a vocal array of chaos, Sarah and Kiara and even fucking JJ belting yeahs as you fucking yodel, voice breaking in and out of pitch as you shut her eyes, avoiding looking in Rafe and Pope's direction. You belts your last hey, the chords in your neck prominent as you pour your soul into the note.

The backing vocals, the prerecorded harmonies, your powerful belt– it’s all too much and the realization hits him like a truck.

He’s in love with you.

You suck in a big breath after your long note, diving right back in. “You give me guilty, guilty pleasure.”

You repeat the line, over, and over, and over again until you build up to the end, “Pleasure, pleasure.”

Then you suck in a big breath, practically moaning, “Pleasure!”

The crowd wastes no time roaring their applause, hooting and hollering tremendously louder than they did for Freddie’s performance. You're spinning, as you can barely see three feet in front of you with the spotlight being so bright.

You instinctively looks backstage to Pope to see when he’s cueing the next song, but instead locks eyes with Rafe's piercing blues, wearing a smile so fucking big it makes your heart melt. You feel your cheeks burning red, that song written from the confinements of your journal, not that you'll ever tell him that.

But with the way he’s beaming, you have a feeling that he already pieced it together.

You jump right into ‘Transparentsoul, starting off with a crazy drum riff that John B. formulated when he was drunk off three margaritas. It’s manic, but fuck, it works too well. You get right back into it, riffing and belting as if your life depends on it. John B's performance is one to note for the books, helping craft a nearly impossible song for drummers to replicate. He switches back and forth from double time, half time, and then free styling in the short breaks in-between right before the chorus.

The three thumps of the drums and the lingering note from you end the song, sucking in a big breath to steady yourself. The crowd goes crazy, most people pointing to John B. and cheering for him. Sarah walks over to him, placing a messy kiss on his lips that leaves a red lipstick mark on his grinning smile, to which Rafe involuntarily rolls his eyes.

They take their places for the last song, ‘Misery Business’, and you nod to Pope to start the track that begins with a non-instrumental lead.

Then JJ and Kiara jump into the riffs, this song being more punk rock that allows you room to show some attitude, and attitude you'll give as you see the dejected look on Freddie’s face, angrily sipping his beer with a blonde bimbo hanging off his arm.

You wrote this one, the lyrics and melody originally being slower and more of a sad ballad.

Pathetically, it’s about Rafe and one of his past girlfriends that you just couldn’t fucking stand for the life of you. She’d ice you out, make you look stupid in front of your friends, belittle you, cling onto Rafe as if he was going to fly away with her and start a life in a different country.

She couldn’t handle being Rafe's second girl, so you showed her what it means to be his first choice, always.

It was originally slower, pitiful, and regretful. But when JJ read them during their pitch meeting, he said it feels angry, vengeful, hateful, and you liked the idea of making it a power ballad. Sure, it strains your vocals on the practical screams, but it’s all for the show. All to emulate the emotion.

And, god, if Rafe doesn’t smirk the entire time.

He knows this one’s about him because you've fully said to him once that his misery business is finally over, when he told you that he broke up with Ada, his girlfriend of eight months.

Usually he’s the one dripping in jealously when it comes to you, shit, he could barely handle you spending all your time with different friends that weren’t him, but here you are – wearing green like it’s meant for you. And, dammit, if you don't rock green.

They hit the bridge, and JJ and Kiara absolutely shred it for a few bars until you get real nice and close to the microphone.

“Whoa, I never meant to brag, but I got him where I want him now.”

Your vocals riff up the line, throaty and raw and angry.

Oh, and Rafe cannot wait to tease you about this one. He gets (and deserves) an eyeroll when he turns to Pope with a stupid smirk. “This one’s also about me.”

“Congratulations,” Pope deadpans before focusing back on the board.

You belt out another note, then delivering your last line with that same sultry tone you began the night with. There isn’t even a moment of silence between the end of the song and when the crowd starts cheering – no – roaring in applause.

You linger in it for a moment, taking a breath of relief when you see that they like it. They actually like your stuff. You feels JJ clap a hand on your shoulder, shaking it back and forth in excitement, as Kiara comes up to bow while Sarah ambushes John B.

You can barely see out in the crowd anyway, the spotlight being unbearable. Taking a step back from the front, you glance over to Rafe and Pope.

Pope prays up to the sky like he always does when he orchestrates another successful performance. And Rafe...

Rafe just stands there with his arms crossed, a cheeky smirk splayed on his lips. That dress shirt does him wonders, and you have to physically roll your eyes in order to tear your gaze away from him.

Finally, finally, they exit the stage towards Pope and Rafe as the announcer comes up to say that there’s one more band going on before they pick the winners for Stonepit.

Rafe murmurs a good job to everyone – even JJ – as they pass by him. Realistically, he’s waiting for one person who happens to exit the stage last.

And for someone who was so confident and sultry on stage, you sure look sheepish as you approach him.

Rafe tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, feeling a fresh sense of confidence that he certainly didn’t have before the performance.

“You could’ve warned me that you were some kind of rockstar.”

“Stop,” is all you can muster, fighting a smile.

“What? Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You playfully shove him away, but you both know there’s no true malice to it.

The group walks through backstage back to their dressing room. Rafe trails you, this time firmly placing his hand on the small of your back as you weave through other bands and stage managers, and he admits the notion is nothing short of wildly possessive, but he doesn’t care.

You just sang about wanting him twice on stage, so, yeah, he’s gonna make sure they all know who it was all about.

The group enters their private room, two giant couches and an open space with empty guitar cases and bags full of clothes and makeup. JJ puts his guitar back in the case and collapses on the couch with a dramatic sigh, his grin wide as day.

Kiara sits next to him, nudging his dropped head so he can readjust for her. “We’re so fucking winning this thing!” she yells, JJ whooping and hooting next to her.

John B. and Sarah shack up on the opposite couch as she practically sits on his lap. Pope squeezes in next to them with an annoyed eye roll but knowing smirk. You move to sit on the couch with Kiara and JJ, and motions for Rafe to sit first since there’s only room for one more.

So he does. And when you moves to sit on the arm, he grabs your hips so you're planted firmly on his lap.

You roll your eyes and smack his chest. The act is nothing short of normal, there’s been plenty of times where you've sat like this at one of his parties, at family gatherings, on his boat, you name it. But now there’s a new underlying meaning, especially with the way his fingertips are light as feathers against your hips, almost teasing you.

You decide this is your favorite place to sit. Your throne.

John B. shamelessly fondles Sarah and no one bats an eye. “We have fifteen minutes until we find out. I dapped Sean up before we came in here, so he should be bringing us drinks.”

“Thank god,” JJ groans, letting Kiara mess up his hair and Pope's hair reluctantly. Her boys, happy as sinners in church.

“You guys were fucking crazy,” Rafe finds himself saying before he can stop himself. You turn your head to look at him softly. “Way better than that piece of shit who went on before you.”

Pope snorts while everyone looks to Rafe in surprise for even saying anything, Sarah looking lovingly at her brother's words. “Country Club scared him away without needing to say anything.” He leans over Kiara to look at JJ. “JJ, I support your decision to elect CC as our official bodyguard. It was great. I didn’t even have to look up or throw a punch or take out my knife or anything. He just…fucked right off.”

JJ hums in satisfaction. “Ah. See, CC? You fit right in.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, but surprisingly there’s no poor intentions behind it. Just mild irritation and a bit of swelling pride.

Suddenly, the door opens and in comes a buff looking guy with a platter full of beers, Sean, Rafe assumes. Sean sets the beer down on the table between the two couches, wordlessly dapping John B. up one more time before exciting the dressing room.

You lean forward to grab two, one for you and one for Rafe, and his grip tightens when you bend down enough for him to see a sliver of underwear peeking through.

But you sit back within a second, back flush against his chest as you hand him a beer. He reluctantly takes a hand off of you to grab it, clinking the bottle to yours and taking a sip.

The group gets lost in conversation about the show, but your gaze focuses on Rafe's, faces inches apart.

Despite the chaotic and irritatingly loud conversation happening in front of them, it’s as if you're the only two in the room.

You look into his piercing blues, his gaze softening when he realizes you're not gonna look away and contribute to your friends’ conversation. His hand is searing hot against your hip, especially when his fingertips play with the hem of your top with eased nonchalance that it makes your head spin.

It’s like a second nature to him, to touch you like this, like you're the only thing that matters in this given moment.

To him, you are.

God, you missed this. It’s embarrassing how much you do. You know you shouldn’t have, but your dignity is already out the window because you, frankly, forgave him as soon as he brought you on that dance floor.

“What’re you thinkin’, Snips?” he murmurs, a contrast from the yelling going on around them.

You purr, the adrenaline from earlier starting to wear off. “I’m happy you came tonight,” is all you say without giving in that easy, even though he probably knows how much you missed him from that performance alone.

His gaze alternates from looking into your eyes and your lips. He hums, almost distant. “Thank you for letting me. Thank you for sharing it with me, even if it’s just for tonight.”

Your posture straightens when you feel his hand smoothly running up your back, leaving your hip and making it all the way to your flaming cheek, brushing that stray piece of hair away from your face once more and tucking it behind your ear, careful not to brush against any of the piercings that he definitely hasn’t noticed before. Rafe's hand comes back down to ghost over your cheek, his palm barely caressing it, almost afraid.

But you lean into his touch, making the contact for him. He hums low in his throat, almost in praise.

Rafe's next words send shivers down your spine. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you tonight. Especially when you were singin’ about me.”

Your cheeks unabashedly turn a deep shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Out of embarrassment because, fuck, you got caught, you go to pull away from his hold but he slides his thumb to your chin and grabs your face gently, holding your gaze to his.

“Baby, if watching me try on jeans got you all hot and bothered, you could’ve just said so. Instead of, you know, writing a song about it,” he teases as you groan, trying to pull away again but he tightens his grip just slightly. Then, softer, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Probably had a girlfriend at the time,” you mumble right back, but a knowing smirk forms on your lips. “Wrote another one about that, too. Maybe you’ve heard it?”

Rafe hums in acknowledgement, running his thumb down your chin to the column of your throat, then back up to ghost over your bottom lip.

“Mhm. I have. Might need to hear it again, though. The girl who sang it kept distracting me the whole time. Could barely even think straight,” he admits, his eyes flickering to your lips for a fraction of second before meeting your eyes.

“Yeah?” you challenge quietly.

“Yeah,” he confirms immediately. “Could barely even stand up knowin’ you feel the same way.”

You quirk a brow. “Hmm? And what way is that?”

“The way I can’t breathe when I’m not with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the confession, the cool-girl facade fading as you take a second to look at him, to really look at him. Your brows furrow when you take note of the sincerity of his tone, or how his eyes don’t leave yours.

Or how his brow furrows and his lips barely part when he shifts his hips and you can suddenly feel him.

Suddenly you're the only two people in the room, everything else drowning out besides the sound of your syncopated breaths and heartbeats thumping out of ribcages.

Rafe's hand lowers from your face and stalks down your spine, taking its rightful place back on your hip and squeezing ever so slightly. Your beer-free hand instinctively comes up to the back of his neck, fingers splaying on the nape to intertwine with the ends of his longer hair. His chest raises with a particularly deep breath, brushing against your ribcage for a fraction of a moment that sends a shock through your body.

“Fuck, they’re starting the announcement,” Pope interrupts, causing you and Rafe to jump away from each other of surprise.

Everyone in the group stands, excitedly bouncing towards the door and running out to the backstage. The last one to leave is JJ, who looks back to hold the door open for them but notices you and Rafe unmoved from your position, looking sheepish as if you've already been caught in a scandal.

After a moment of silence, JJ's face changes from confusion to understanding, and he barks out a short laugh.

“Ahh. Okay. I get it,” he teases, quickly glancing at the group leaving before turning back to them with a wink. “I’ll put my sock on the doorknob.”

And with that, JJ shuts the door, leaving you and Rafe in the same emotional position as he did when he left you on the dance floor, the thick tension in the air growing between you as you take a moment to stare at the door, prolonging the inevitable.

Eventually, you move your gaze from the door back to Rafe, who’s already staring at you.

You're nervous all of a sudden, the consequence of flirting and fooling around catching up to you. Months of assuming there were unrequited feelings – feelings you buried deep down to maintain the strongest friendship you've ever, and probably will ever, have – being disproved in the matter of the last twenty minutes.

But now he’s here, sitting pretty in front of you with such a serious expression on his face that it makes you suck in a deep breath at the intensity of it, the gravity of the situation and where it’s about to lead to.

Rafe notices immediately. “Hey,” he says softly, running the pad of his thumb over your hip bone, this time out of comfort. “We don’t need to do anything.” Then, he manages a genuine chuckle. “I just got you back. Being with you is enough f–”

He doesn’t get to finish before you're pressing yourself forward, taking the leap of faith and pressing your lips to his.

Rafe makes a noise of surprise, the words dying in his throat as he stays still for a moment, processing that, holy shit, this is happening.

You, however, take his apprehension as rejection, and sheepishly begin to pull away.

But Rafe doesn’t let you as he leans forward to kiss you again, leaning far enough to place his beer on the floor without breaking contact. His new free hand allows him to caress your face, greedily pulling your body closer and closer to his to which you let out a noise of surprise.

He swallows the sound, his hand leaving your chin to slowly trickle down your arm and to your hand, where he takes the beer away and reiterates the same action he did with his bottle, allowing you to have your hands free to roam and touch and feel as you shamelessly make out like your lives depend on it.

Your fingers instantly grasp at his dress shirt, wrinkling the nice material as his other hand smooths up your thigh to grip the base of your ass, shamelessly fondling it like he has every right.

And, fuck, you whine so quietly that he barely hears it, but it makes him twitch underneath you.

The sound is music to his ears, so he does it again, and this time you lift your hips off of him, swinging your leg over to straddle and press back down against him, a sensation that sends warmth to your core and makes your eyes roll back.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs against your lips before hungrily taking you back in as he shifts underneath you.

Hips stilling, you focus on kissing him fervently first, to which he gladly accepts. Rafe manspreads so god forsaken arrogant that it allows you all this room, but also forces your hips to spread wider.

You test the waters, gradually pushing your thighs down to further mold into his body. The act causes your skirt to push up your legs, your underwear shamelessly meeting his slacks right at the zipper as you grind down into him.

You both moan at the sensation, you stilling with worry that you went too far.

But Rafe death grips your hips as he guides you down again, teasingly urging your body back and forth against him that has you quietly moaning into his mouth. He seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue to meet yours, kisses getting messy, sloppy, dirty. But neither of you seem to care, solely focusing on the high you're both chasing.

Rafe grips your ass and hips so hard it’ll probably bruise, refraining from letting his hands do what they normally do and dive in recklessly.

He wants to do this right the only way he knows how – by slowing himself down. For you, he needs to be patient. The last thing he wants is to scare you off.

But you sense his reluctance, his hesitation, and nearly groan in frustration. You slow down your pace and find his right hand, putting your hand over his.

Rafe tenses in fear of hurting you, but instead you grip his hand and guide it up your body, over the curve of your ass, under your shirt and up your tummy, fingers splaying over your rib cage and, finally, just stopping under the swell of your breast.

His breath hitches, then he hums quietly. “Gonna let me touch you there, baby?”

You nod against his lips. “Yes. Anywhere, Rafey. All yours.”

“All mine?”

You nod again, squeezing his hand to wordlessly assure him it’s okay. He mirrors your action, giving your breast a test feel and you sigh in relief.

Jesus. He nearly groans at the sound, the feel, the everything that’s happening right now. He doesn’t have a moment to process it because your hands are traveling further and further down his chest until they toy with the belt of his pants.

You tease him, running your fingers delicately under the waistline of his underwear, cool hands smoothing over his warm skin. Rafe unintentionally bucks his hips up at the sensation, his lips parting all pretty in a way that makes you cheshire-cat smile.

“Am I yours, pretty?” you mumble, low and teasing, relishing in his fucked out gaze at the mere thought of you touching any lower.

He nods dumbly and you reel with the sight of it. It makes your tummy pool with anticipation.

“Will you let me?”

“Fuck, always,” he manages pathetically, chest heaving as he watches you undo his belt and zipper. Rafe nearly whines when your fingers ghost over his length, barely even touching him and you've got him a writhing mess. “Makin’ me go crazy, looking at me like that.”

You frown, feigning naitivity. “Like what?” you pout, pressing your thumb to his tip through his boxers that has him gasping in the shell of your ear. “Am I gonna have to ask nicely? Or will you be good?”

Slowly feeling him up over his boxers, Rafe bites his lip so hard he’s sure he’s gonna draw blood.

“You’re being a real fucking brat right now.”

“Hm? Am I?”

You squeeze around his length, causing him to huff, getting sick of the anticipation and just wanting to pin you down on this couch and make you eat your words. “Yes.”

Then you tilt your head so you can meet his gaze, taking note of his brows furrowed in frustration, and you can’t help but smile for knowing every trick in the book to push his buttons.

“So punish me then,” you purr, sending chills down his spine.

Before Rafe can pick you up and throw you down on the dingy couch, the door swings open and his irritation sky rockets as your friends hoot and holler obnoxiously, flooding the room.

Your pretty little fingers leave his boxers and settle on his tummy, your arm shielding the compromising hand placement.

Pope holds an envelope, undoubtedly filled with the money the first place winner is promised, while JJ thrusts a makeshift trophy in the air as if it’s the Stanley Cup. John B. holds Sarah bridal style, settling in on the couch across from you. Kiara runs over to the pair, ignoring the scandalous scene in front of her and gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you in such ferocious motion that it makes Rafe wince.

“We fucking won!” she shrieks. “The whole damn thing!”

You beam, ignoring the fact that your skirt is pushed past your hips and that Rafe's hand is settled on your ass and how his belt is unbuckled. “You’re kidding?”

Pope waves the envelope in your face. “You should’a seen Freddie’s face. I wish I had a picture of it, I’d print it out and leave it on his doorstep every day for the rest of his life. Stupid fuckin’ prick.” He waves the envelope once in front of your face then in front of Rafe's face, then pulls back and starts doing it to everyone individually.

What makes this whole situation worse for Rafe is that JJ decides to sit right next to you both, exhaling as if he’s had a long day at work.

In his nimble fingers, he admires the trophy that looks like a third grader made it, sighing and smiling. You make no effort to move or conceal what you were doing, so Rafe tries to push down your skirt to cover up a little bit with a huff, irritated even further that JJ's arm is brushing against Rafe's.

Oh, the audacity-

“Oh! Hey, guys. Didn’t see you here,” JJ says. He holds up the trophy. “You see this? Pretty fucking sick, right?”

“It would still be pretty fucking sick if you were three feet away from us,” Rafe spats, gripping onto you so tight to hold back from knocking his teeth in.

JJ pushes his luck by gasping and nudging Rafe's shoulder. “Aw? You like it, too? I knew you had a soft spot, Country Club.”

You laugh, chest bumping Rafe's in the process. “JJ, you could’ve at least knocked to let us know you guys were back,” you scold playfully, wrapping your arms around Rafe's neck and smushing your cheeks together, which makes the situation a little better.

Besides, it gives Rafe a better grip on your skirt, pulling it down over your ass successfully.

“Oh, please,” JJ chuckles. “No one gives a shit if you were fist deep in here. Sarah and John B. basically fuck all the time in front of us. We’ve seen more scandalous stuff than this, guys.” JJ gestures to their position. “Honestly, it’s a bit prude in comparison. We were brainstorming that there would at least be an ass in the air,” he teases, then wiggles his fingers at Rafe, “whose ass, we didn’t specify.”

Rafe seethes. “Anybody ever tell you to shut the fuck up and mind your own business?”

“All the time, actually.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and you hum in contentment, knowing that this is going to be their version of getting along from now on.

The group lingers in the room for another hour or so, as you remain in your rightful place on Rafe's lap with the exception of getting up to use the bathroom with Sarah.

During your absence, JJ relentlessly teased Rafe when he fixed his slacks and belt to zip them back up. John B. jabbed that, hey, at least he was getting some, and for that he earned Rafe's slight respect.

Pope had complained that it wasn’t anything they weren’t used to seeing, then shooting John B. the most diabolical glare he could muster. Kiara had cooed that it was nice to see you so giddy and smiley, and Rafe liked the way it made him feel.

Rafe can, truly, complain all he wants, but your friends aren’t that bad.

With the exception of JJ being the most annoying human being to grace the planet, but the others are situationally tolerable, including his sister who he (really) enjoys spending time with.

Plus, Rafe likes the smile that you wear when you're around them, a smile once reserved just for him. As much as he wants to be selfish and have it all for himself, he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one. It’s glorious. He likes that you share it with the people you care about, even though he really hates sharing.

You come back with Sarah and retake your seat on his lap, Rafe wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you back flush against his chest. He places a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder, relishing in the moment.

You turn to look at him, a soft look in your eye.

“Hi,” you say quietly, bringing your hand up to brush some hair out of his face.

“Hey, Snips” he responds even quieter, resting his chin against your shoulder. He notices your sleepy expression and manages a small smile. “Tired?”

You nod slowly, mirroring his smile. “Had a long day, if you could imagine.”

He hums. “Hm. No. Wanna tell me about it?”

You yawn, and before you can say anything, someone claps.

“That’s our cue,” Pope interrupts, suddenly standing. “Everyone in the van.”

Everyone groans, JJ louder than everybody else. “No! C’mon, man we’re just getting–” he interrupts himself with his own yawn, “--started.”

Pope simply shakes his head.

Minutes later, they’re all in the car packed to the brim with bodies and equipment. A little while later, the van stops in front of your house, the low whir of the engine being the only thing heard on the quiet street. Pope shuts the lights off and puts the car in park, John B. opening the heavy door with ease.

Pope turns around to look at Rafe awkwardly. “You, uh, going home? I can drop you off with Sarah.”

You stand and exit the van, speaking before Rafe can. “He's staying with me,” you say, shooting Rafe a knowing look.

Rafe quietly sighs in relief, since the idea of going home alone crossed his mind more than once and he did not like the thought one bit. So, without further coaxing, he exits the van behind you and slides an arm around your waist.

“Uh, congrats on tonight,” Rafe says awkwardly. “It was great.”

“Such enthusiastic words, Country Club,” JJ taunts. “We were serious about that bodyguard offer if you’re up for it. Unless you’re scared of jackasses like Freddie.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, huh, Maybank?”

You roll her eyes, lazily pushing Rafe towards your house. “Okay, recess is over. I’ll see you guys on Sunday for the fire.”

The group choruses a goodbyes to Rafe, goodbye Country Club to Rafe (along with a quiet yet grateful 'bye, Rafe' from Sarah), and the two of you head up the driveway towards your house.

You both sneak in the way you've always snuck in, climbing up the porch gate and onto your balcony (with Rafe's help, of course), as you quietly slip into the confinements of your room. Granted, your heavily decorated bedroom is on the opposite side of the house from your parents’ but you're always extra careful to avoid any suspicion.

Standing in the dimly lit room, you sigh and shut your eyes, fatigue coming over you more harshly than you'd prefer, swaying gently when you feel Rafe's cool hands steadying you on your hips.

Then, you feel him hug you, his broad shoulders caging you in as he rubs his hands up and down your back soothingly, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. God, it feels so nice and your knees nearly give out at how much you missed this, missed him.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nod against his chest, drunk off the way you feel in his arms, letting him gently push you to sit on the edge of the bed while he grabs your favorite pajamas from the bottom drawer.

He comes back over to you, kneeling in front as he sets the pajamas down next to you. First he unzips your boots, delicately pulling your feet out of the shoe and rolling your socks off over her heel and past your toes.

Once they’re off, Rafe gently taps her knee. “Hey. Your pajamas are ready.”

You pout. “Can you do it?”

Rafe lazily grins, his hands running up and down your thighs gingerly. “Of course, baby. Arms up.”

You do as you're told, raising your arms over your head as Rafe pushes your tank top up past your rib cage, over your bra, and up over your shoulders until it’s off. It leaves you in your bra, one that he caught a glimpse of earlier in the van, but he doesn’t move to pull it off.

Instead, Rafe grabs your pajama shirt, pulling it over your head and covering your torso protectively, then he reaches behind and unclasps the strapless bra, which falls into putty in his hands. He tosses it carelessly to the side.

Rafe pats your thigh gently. “Can you stand for a second?”

You whine in protest, but again do what you're told, pushing yourself up to stand while Rafe stays on his knees. He pushes your mini skirt down your thighs until it pools at your ankles, making him eye level with your core for a fraction of a moment. It doesn’t last long before he’s coaxing your feet to step through the pajama shorts, pulling them up your legs until they rest comfortably on your hips.

He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand before standing, making his way into your en-suite bathroom to rifle through the drawers, looking for makeup wipes. When Rafe finally finds them, he brings it out to you and gingerly rubs circles on your cheeks, forehead, neck, all over to get the remnants of tonight off your pretty face.

Discarding the wipe in your bedside trash bin, Rafe pushes stray hair pieces out of your face. “All done. You ready?”

You nod gratefully, crawling onto the bed and slipping under the covers on your usually side of the mattress. Rafe quickly undresses out of his dress shirt and slacks, leaving him in his underwear – his normal attire for whenever he sleeps over – turning off the bedside lamp before sliding in next to you, practically caging you in.

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you hum when you notice the lights are off. Although the befuddlement doesn't translate, because Rafe settles in, wrapping an arm around you and slowly rubbing circles on your back as he slowly gets comfortable in a bed he missed so damn much.

“Wait, hang on,” you murmur against his neck, “the light’s off.”

“And?”

“Well, I…”

“You wanna sleep with the light on?”

You nearly groan in frustration. “Are we not… finishing what we started earlier?”

Instead of initiating like you want, Rafe simply chuckles, the vibrato rumbling your nerves. He pulls you flush against his chest. “No, baby. Get some rest.”

“But…” You trail off pathetically, almost whining. “I want to.”

“You’re tired.”

You fight a yawn. “No, I’m not.”

“Snips,” he warns. “Sleep.”

“Ugh, Rafe.”

He says your name mockingly, his tone insinuating he’s wearing a lazy grin.

Your shoulders sag against him as you huff, fanning hot breath over his chest. If you were standing, you probably would’ve stomped your foot, and he definitely would've poked fun at your desperation.

But not tonight, because the way he’s holding you, shit, you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress.

Nonetheless, you reach out to press a palm on his chest, yawning once more but gently slapping him for emphasis on your next promise.

“Fine. But in the morning, I’m giving you the best head of your life.”

Rafe chuckles, amused at your determination. “Brat. Go to sleep.”

notes this was a long spiel of absolute brain garbage, genuinely. if you understood the snips nickname, shoutout. hope you somewhat enjoyed????

#rafe cameron #salem-s works #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fanfiction #reader insert

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munsonsmixtapes · 9 months ago

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Flattery Works With Me

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: with a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask

part two

The conversations that were happening throughout the cafeteria rang in your ears as you headed to the table that you always sat at. The usual suspects were all there and you were going to take your seat right next to Eddie just like always.

You were nervous to speak to him, not only because you were shy, but also because you had been meaning to ask him if the DnD session for that night could be postponed because you had a lot of homework. But you knew how he felt about that sort of thing so you were dreading it, hoping that he would agree just this once.

Before you could sit, though, you could see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all arguing a little ways away from the table. From the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty heated and there was no way you were getting in the middle of that. You hated hearing people argue, the loud voices always making you feel anxious because you didn’t have control of the situation. And you liked having control, craved it, even.

But as soon as you set your tray down on the table, Lucas waved you over. You didn’t know what he was wanting, but you reluctantly made your way over to the boys, your curiosity piqued. You now had to know what their little spat had to do with you.

“What’s going on?” You asked and Dustin was about to speak before Mike cut him off. That was something that happened often considering that Mike didn’t like how slowly Dustin would take to explain the situation.

“Look,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. “We have a prior commitment and can’t make it to the session tonight.” You just knew that they were only telling you that because they wanted you to ask Eddie.

“Correction: Mike was out late with El last night and got grounded so he can’t go to the session,” Lucas corrected with a roll of his eyes.

“We were wondering if you’d talk to Eddie for us?” Dustin looked at you with hopeful eyes and the smile on his face made you want to pinch his little cheeks.

“Why me?” You knew exactly why, but you wanted confirmation that Eddie did feel how you thought he did. That you weren’t just being delusional. Because that had happened so many times; you having a crush on someone and your feelings not being reciprocated in any way shape or form.

“Are you kidding? The man is in love with you.” You scoffed at the comment, but couldn’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks. Could it have been possible? You supposed you were going to have to ask, but you just couldn’t get yourself to. Asking him to postpone the session was one thing, but asking if he had feelings for you? Absolutely not.

“Yeah, he’ll do anything you say.” There was some truth to that and if you had more confidence, you would have tested just how far you could get by batting your lashes and putting on a flirty tone. “So will you please ask him?” You were going to ask him anyway, but now there was pressure on you to actually make the move.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Surely he would have postponed it for them, right?

Mike rolled his eyes and made a beeline for Eddie and you watched the conversation, barely picking up what they were saying, but Eddie definitely didn’t look happy. He then waved Mike off and the boy gave you a look as if to say “See?”

“I told you, he won’t listen to us. But with you? I think we have a shot.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You really didn’t believe them, because why would Eddie have been interested in you? You had barely uttered a full sentence to the man in the few months that you’d known him so there was no possible way that he could have liked you like that.

“Please?” Dustin begged one more time and the three of them jutted out their bottom lips, their eyes pleading. God, you really were a pushover.

“Well, I do have a lot of homework to do tonight.”

“I knew she’d do it,” Mike nodded with a smile and you ignored him, taking a deep breath and heading over to the metal head who was sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie took no time to turn to you, a bright smile appearing on his face. You were so pretty that it was unfair and he kept wondering to himself what he had done to have been so lucky to have you in his life. He thought your shyness was adorable, the way he’d have to lean forward to hear what you were saying because of how soft spoken you were.

And the dresses you always wore nearly killed him. The way they swung when you walked and how everyone would stare at you in the school hallway, he wondered how you didn’t realize just how beautiful you were. Surely you had to have known, but with the way you were always so surprised when he complimented you, it was clear that you had no idea.

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted him, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him, every time you caught sight of that beautiful brown color, you knew you’d be a goner. They were hypnotizing, so fucking pretty that it should have been a crime.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning fully in his chair to face you. “Take a seat.” If he knew it wouldn’t have made you uncomfortable, he would have offered his lap.

You hesitantly sat in the seat next to him and he could tell you were uneasy, your anxiety palpable. He let his hand inch towards yours underneath the table, letting his pinky stroke yours gently as if asking for permission to take it. Without a word, you wrapped your pinky around his, ignoring his gaze, unpacking your lunch with your free hand.

You felt your anxiety melt away as you felt his pinky squeeze yours gently, as if to tell you that he was right there for you. And he was. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, because at that point, you were his number one priority and he would stop at nothing to help you. He wished it was possible to go into your mind and quiet the voices that were always whispering to you.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked, feeling your hands shake as you realized what you were about to do. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Eddie just leaned forward so he could hear you. His hearing wasn’t that great anyway, but he actually kind of liked that you were so soft spoken so he had an excuse to get closer to you.

“Anything,” he replied, giving your pinky another squeeze and you beckoned him forward. Eddie leaned closer to you with no question and you nervously reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, cupping your hand around it before leaning in and whispering into it.

“I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight and I was wondering if it’d be okay if we postponed the session tonight?” You asked and felt your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for his answer. You pulled away from him and bit down on your bottom lip and Eddie had to stop himself from staring, wanting to pull your lip from your teeth and kiss you, not giving a single fuck about who was looking.

You were so goddamn adorable that he felt his chest ache. Didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? Just one bat of those eyelashes and he would have even been willing to commit murder if it meant that you would give him even a sliver of a chance.

“Yeah,” he nodded his head furiously. “No problem. You know flattery works with me," he winked, giving you a nudge. He hadn’t even given his decision a second thought as he stood up from the table, his mushy feelings subsiding as he took on his authoritative role.

“Alright, everyone listen up,” he said, his voice a little too loud for your liking. “The session tonight is being postponed until next week because y/n has homework to do.” You turned to the others at the table and they all groaned, digging into their pockets and pulling out money that Dustin was gratefully taking, thanking them all for the cash.

You could hear grumbles from the others, upset that not only was there not going to be a session that night, but also because they now were out five dollars. It was seemingly a lose-lose. You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you, a warm smile playing on his pretty pink lips.

He then leaned down and put his lips right by your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shudder. His hand fell to your shoulder and the way his hair was fanning around you made your cheeks heat even more.

“I can help you with your homework if you need it.” He pulled away so that your faces were only inches apart, that stupid smirk still evident on his lips.

“I-I’d like that,” you nodded.

“It’s a date,” he said, shooting you a wink before sitting back down in his chair. You lowered your head and began eating your lunch, letting yourself come up with things to do with Eddie because there was no way you were actually going to do your homework.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x shy!reader

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littlegrapejuice · 15 days ago

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Grid Mum 3 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Triple headers are tiring, especially when you have to take care of both your boyfriend and your grid kids.

Author's Note: okayy ig grid mum is officially a series now haha i fr never would've thought that I'd write anything else than one-shots but I've been surprisingly enjoying it + the love y'all are giving is insane so thank you sm for the support🤍🤍

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

Although you weren’t the one racing, triple headers were more exhausting than you remembered.

It was one thing to just accompany your boyfriend. But it was another to also have to take care of six other people.

First, there was Japan.

Thankfully, there had been the break after China; but when you had arrived in Japan alongside Max, Jack, and Liam, the other rookies had swarmed you. From Kimi asking why he wasn’t invited to fly on Max’s jet – “you were literally in Italy for school”, you had replied – to Gabriel complaining that you were playing favourites, you were definitely not catching a break anytime soon.

So you now had to make sure that everyone managed to get time with you – and Max, although the rookies cared more about you than your boyfriend – each weekend and started organising your own race schedule. You tried your best to equally split your time between the six of them, and asked them to make an effort as well. They couldn’t expect you to always only spend one-on-one time with them, so they agreed to hang out with you in duos or trios. Your main argument had been that this way, they could even see you multiple times during the weekend and that’s how you then easily convinced them.

You had spent half of Friday with Jack, who had been replaced by Alpine’s reserve driver – Ryo Hirakawa – for FP1. Then, after FP2 was Isack and Liam’s turn. They had both managed to get into the top ten during the practice, so you decided to take them out after their work day was over.

“Is it okay with you two if Max isn’t here?” You eventually asked them, as you were nearing the paddock’s exit.

“Because he was supposed to be here?” Liam wondered. “I thought you were the one we were spending the evening with.”

“Well, yes.” You let out a chuckle at Liam’s assumption. “It was the plan indeed, but I just felt like telling you in case you had expected him to come too.”

“Trust me, we’re perfectly fine with only you. We see Max way too often anyways”, Isack added.

“I swear”, you agreed with a laugh. “That man is everywhere, it’s crazy.”

“Plus, his team isn’t really that good. Racing Bulls is better, right?” Isack teased.

“Totally agree. Red Bull is mid, honestly. I mean, you both did better than him in FP2 so I’m with the real champions right now.”

Liam and Isack both knew that you were joking, as Max was obviously a better driver than them, but they liked that you were still supporting their small victories in Red Bull’s sister team. They had heard from the other rookies about your hatred slight dislike of Max’s team, but it was still unexpected to actually hear you talk about it.

“But I’m for real proud of you both, you know.” Your tone was now a bit more serious, to show them that you were being genuine. “You boys are rookies and it’s your first full season in F1; so compared to your first race, I know you’re already improving and you’ll achieve great things in the future.”

You meant every word. Simply from the fact that they were part of the world’s twenty best drivers, you were certain of their bright future. They had both earned their seats, and nothing would ever take that away.

You thought of the first race of the season, not even a month ago. They had unfortunately both DNFed the race. You remembered leaving the Red Bull garage back then, making your way to the Racing Bulls one after Isack had to give up his first F1 race during the formation lap. You had seen on the cameras that Lewis’s dad had found him on his way back to the paddock and had consoled him, which you also did when Isack eventually reached the Racing Bulls location. You hadn’t hesitated one second to offer him a loving hug, which he had reciprocated as you rubbed his back before letting him go to his family while you went back to Red Bull. Way later in the race, Liam had also been a victim of the rain and you had offered your support to him as well.

And now, you were able to see their improvement. Even though Liam had been demoted back to Racing Bulls, you felt that he was more comfortable there. He and Isack made a good duo, which seemed to benefit them both as you observed their new dynamic during the rest of the day.

Two happy rookies for now, four left.

…..

For this one, you left the other rookies no choice but to accept that you would solely be focusing on Jack. He was definitely not having the best weekend for now: replaced in FP1, he only had two sessions to test the car in Suzuka before qualifying. However, an unlucky DRS issue had led him to crash into the barriers during FP2 which meant that he only had FP3 left to make the most of the car.

He had understood your absence yesterday after FP2, when you had sent him a supportive message and offered him to spend Saturday morning with you. So now here you were, having breakfast with Jack before FP3 was to happen. Fortunately, he had confirmed to you that he was physically fine after his crash from the day before even though he could be feeling better mentally, and told you that the car had been fixed for him to drive today.

“Please, always remember that you are more important than the car. Alpine can make another one, but I don’t think your parents could remake you.”

“I know…” he replied. “I just– I still need to prove myself out there. I have Franco’s fans after me, and four fucking reserve drivers waiting for me to slip up. I can’t afford to fail after everything I did.”

“Jack, we’re only on race three. Out of twenty-four,” you reminded him. “I know the pressure is insane right now, but you know your worth – I know your worth. It’s not abnormal that you’re here, racing at the pinnacle of motorsports. You’ve been chosen because you deserve the seat, and even shitty Alpine knows that you’re capable of succeeding.”

Jack stayed silent for a couple minutes, taking in your words.

“Thanks… it means a lot to me. My whole family is behind me, my friends too; but they obviously support me because of our relationships.” He pondered on how to word his next train of thought. “But you, well… you’re not forced to have this opinion of me. So, it’s really worth a lot to know what you think.”

Jack could have cried. You knew he would have. But he still wanted to be strong, especially with you there as you had this high opinion of him. You weren’t giving him the same pressure that he felt everytime he stepped foot in the Alpine car. No, this was good pressure. He wanted to impress you, and the best thing about it? He knew that you would never hold it against him, and never be disappointed with his results.

The rest of your breakfast was spent in a light-hearted atmosphere, before it was time for you both to go to the track. Jack would be getting in the car with some weight off his shoulders, all thanks to you, and he eventually managed to be P14 despite the little amount of time he’d had in the car this weekend.

…..

Qualifying had been the easiest moment for you to split your time between the rookies. You had first begun to watch Q1 in Max’s garage – turns out he had slightly been jealous of you playing grid mum to the rookies and thought that you hadn’t spent enough time in girlfriend mode – before making your way through the other garages depending on who would not take part in the next session.

Both Jack and Gabriel had been eliminated in Q1, so here you were with them at Alpine. The three of you were watching Q2 together, and sharing opinions on who had the best shot at getting pole for tomorrow’s race. Your bet was – obviously unbiased – on Max while the two rookies were thinking that either McLaren would get it, given that Lando and Oscar had both topped the practice sessions.

Not long after, you were joined by Liam who had ended up P14. You had texted him about your whereabouts when you saw on TV that he was out in Q2, offering him to come spend the remaining time of the qualifying session with you and the two other rookies. Safe to say, he had wasted no time in reaching your location after a brief exchange with his team and one quick interview – actual debriefs wouldn’t happen until after qualifying ended as a whole, so he was in the clear to wander around until then.

You congratulated him on his performance in the Racing Bulls car, and asked him if he wanted to take part in your betting pole pool. None of you had put actual money whatsoever on the driver you each had chosen, the prize simply being some bragging rights over the others. It was all done in a friendly atmosphere as the four of you then spent the rest of Q3 together, and got a couple looks as people wondered about your weird little family hanging out in Alpine when only one driver was actually part of the team.

…..

When qualifying was over, you waited for your boyfriend to come and get you. He wasn’t really thrilled with the idea of having to enter Alpine, and the both of you knew that you were taking advantage of it. Still, you agreed to meet him outside in the paddock. What you hadn’t expected though, was that behind Max were three other people. And the look on Max’s face as half of the rookies followed him to where you had been waiting for him was hilarious, you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your mouth.

“You know you’re being stalked right now?” You teased Max when he was finally in front of you.

“Said they wanted to file a complaint,” he explained as he pointed to the three drivers behind him. “But I told them to directly speak to you, so they tagged along.”

“We do have a complaint,” Kimi confirmed. “We” – as in him, Ollie, and Isack – “feel like you’ve spent more time with the others, especially me and Ollie. Isack had yesterday with you, but still.”

Ollie nodded beside him, as a way to confirm his words.

“And I’ll agree with you.” You weren’t about to gaslight those kids and tell them that they were overreacting – they were kind of dramatic, but it was endearing. “I’ll remind you that the weekend isn’t over yet, so we still have tomorrow.”

The rookies stayed silent, waiting for you to continue, and nodded to show that they were listening. Beside you, Max was weirdly invested in the ‘drama’ as it was kind of funny how the rookies had come to like you even more than him.

“Tell you what: whoever brings me some points tomorrow, we’ll spend time together after the race. And if you’ll authorise me, I’ll celebrate my boyfriend’s pole tonight. It’s been a while since he’s been performing well, and I don’t want him to get depressed.”

The offer seemed to satisfy them, as they all agreed to those terms.

“I’m still here,” Max reminded. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, I know. Does that mean you don’t want to spend the evening with me?” You argued, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t put words into my mouth.” Max sighed, but he still had that familiar smile on his face. “I’d love to spend the night with you”, he sarcastically added while sneaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Okay, we don’t wanna know more. We’re gonna go”, Ollie said as he grabbed Kimi’s shoulders and motioned for the other rookies to follow him.

“Max!” You exclaimed as you slapped his chest. “You traumatised our kids!”

“We could still find new ones?” He suggested.

“Not in F1, though!”

“There’s still Lando, I don’t know.” Max shrugged before he had an idea. “Or we can make our own.”

“Win tomorrow’s race and I’ll consider it”. You wouldn’t consider it, but what Max didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Oh, I’ll win it alright. I just had some new extra motivation,” he bragged with a smug smile on his face before leading you away from goddamn Alpine and back to Red Bull.

…..

And the motivation did seem to have a positive impact on Max, as he had crossed the finish line in P1 – his first win since the 2024 Qatar Grand Prix. You obviously knew that Max had won all thanks to his racing talent, but he still teased you about your comment from yesterday when he went to hug you after getting out of his car.

“Have you considered ditching the kids and having our own?” He asked you in between kisses.

“Nice try, but I’ve grown too attached to them so it’s too late now.”

“Fair enough”, he replied. Max gave you one last quick kiss before going to share his win’s happiness with the rest of his team.

The joy on his face was contagious, and you couldn’t help the matching smile that appeared on your face. Max would have a tough season, but he had shown that he wouldn’t give up that easily and that he was still capable of greatness even with both McLaren against him.

Speaking of great things, you were also over the moon due to three of your grid kids managing to get points today. The ones who had gotten into Q3 yesterday had succeeded in finishing the race in the top ten – that is to say Kimi in P6, Isack in P8, and Ollie in P10. You were especially proud of Isack as he had scored his first points as an F1 driver.

So that’s why you were now collecting everyone from their respective garage. You had told Max that you would come back to Red Bull with the rookies, and he agreed to wait. He had planned to celebrate with the team tonight, but he thought that it would still be nice to spend time with you and the rookies before going out to party.

After a quick trip to Haas, Mercedes, and Racing Bulls, you had the three drivers around you and you all walked back to Red Bull where Max was waiting for you. Obviously, race talk was to be expected as soon the four drivers were reunited. So you all began to discuss today’s highlights – there weren’t that many if someone asked you, except for Alex’s radios.

“The only impressive thing about today is Max winning four times in a row here,” you stated. “Y’all didn’t really give me an interesting race.”

“But we all got points!” Kimi argued. “That’s the main achievement. And I also led the race for a while!”

“Of course, and I’m very proud of you! The race as a whole was just… very reminiscent of a certain track where nothing happens.”

“Monaco?” The rookies all wondered, to which you nodded.

“I mean, Monaco last year was actually a bit more entertaining than usual. There were a couple crashes,” Max reminded.

“Says the guy who should have brought his pillow. You’re just saying that because Charles finally won his home race.”

“God forbid a guy is happy for a friend”, Max sighed with a shrug.

Stopping in your tracks, you were left speechless. The drivers kept walking for a few seconds until they noticed that you were behind them, looking at Max like he had grown another head.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked.

“Who taught you that?” You knew the trend from spending way too much time on TikTok, but why did your boyfriend know it too?

“Gabriel and I did”, Isack proudly claimed. “Before the parade, we were just exchanging ideas for our teams’ content.”

“It’s very educational,” Max said. “Maybe I should spend more time around the youth.”

“You act like you’re fifty, mate.” Ollie’s words made you laugh. “But we can fix that tonight; teach you more about social media.”

“I feel like you’re gonna ask me to film a stupid trend at the end of the night.”

“Never”, you reassured him. “As long as you pay the bill.”

“Be careful with the headline: Max Verstappen’s girlfriend is a gold digger and forces him to pay for her at the restaurant.”

You had seen Max laugh in the years that you had been together; seen him chuckle, burst out laughing; or just a sarcastic laugh. But the one he let out at this moment after Kimi’s words, was almost one of a kind. It was the genuine laugh, the one that took over Max within a second and left him breathless.

Max put his arm around Kimi’s shoulder, and you knew at that moment that this was it: Max was as smitten as you with the rookies, and he would never let them go from now on.

…..

When you arrived at the restaurant where you had booked a table, Max had come back to linger by your side for a bit as a waitress led the rookies to the table.

“They’re great kids,” he simply stated. “Don’t think I can be apart from them now.”

“You didn’t really have a choice from the moment that you started taking them under your wing. Should’ve thought about it before you became a role model for them.”

“More like they chose me as their own”, Max clarified.

“Except for Isack.”

“Except for Isack”, Max repeated with a chuckle. “Can’t compete with Lewis on this one.”

But honestly, even if the rookies had other favourites, the bond they were creating with Max was one of a kind; and you were glad to be able to be part of it.

When you and Max reached your table, the rookies were all sitting down and already looking at the menus. They asked about what you were planning to eat, comparing who had the most similar taste to yours. They even offered to share some of their food with you, after they had seen that you had taken a few bites from Max’s plate. And only when you reached dessert, did they realise that Max was still with them.

“You’re okay just spending the evening with us?” Ollie wondered.

“Yeah, didn’t you want to celebrate with your team?” Kimi added.

Looking at Max, you were carefully awaiting his reply. You hadn’t commented on it when you saw the time pass, and he was still peacefully enjoying his meal.

“Well…” Almost nervous to have been put on the spot, Max took a few seconds before answering. “I’ve won so many races already; doesn’t hurt to skip one celebration.”

He tried to pretend like he was indifferent to this, but you knew better. And Max knew that you knew when he caught you softly smiling at him, mouthing ‘liar’.

“Or maybe you just enjoy spending time with us”, Isack jokingly suggested.

“Yeah, maybe… must be that,” Max kind of confirmed.

But it was that. Max did currently enjoy spending his evening with you and your grid kids more than he would have enjoyed going out to party with his team. And if you weren’t already completely in love with this man, then you sure as hell were now.

_________________________________________________

Then, there was Bahrain.

To avoid having jealous rookies, Max had offered them all to fly on his private jet from Japan – safe to say, no one had refused the offer. Liam and Jack didn’t hesitate to remind the others that they had done this before, a smug smile on their faces as they confidently roamed around the jet when everyone got on.

“Okay, so this is where I sat last week”, Liam proudly announced as he pointed to a seat. “Jack was right there, and–”

“Mate, shut up. We don’t need you to play tour guide”, Kimi complained.

“Yeah, we’ll be just fine without you…” Ollie added as he side eyed the Kiwi driver. He approached what Liam has described as his seat, and took it as his own. “Though, I gotta admit this one is comfortable indeed.”

“That was where I was planning to sit, Ollie. You can choose somewhere else”, Liam nicely suggested.

“Don’t see your name written there”, the Brit said as he pretended to look around.

“Oh my God… I swear I’ll run you off track,” Liam threatened with a sigh before he went to sit a couple rows behind.

“I don’t want anyone to threaten anyone, please. I won’t hesitate to leave you stranded in Japan,” you warned the rookies. “Is that clear?” Your gaze stayed longer on Liam and Ollie than on the others, hoping that they would get the message.

“Yes Mum,” they all replied in unison. Their tone was definitely sarcastic, as a few of them rolled their eyes along with a smile.

“Be careful with how you speak to her,” Max told the rookies as he went to stand beside you. “You’re on my jet, you respect my girl.”

“We’re being respectful!” Kimi claimed, to which the other rookies nodded.

“Suddenly, you’re all getting along when it’s to be united against us. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, though.” You sat down across Ollie, getting comfortable. “Everyone sit please, I think we’re taking off soon.”

“Yeah, buckle up kids.” Max motioned for the rookies to find a seat, before he confirmed to the cabin crew that they were good to go.

The flight would be a long one like the previous week when you flew to Japan, so you really hoped that you could manage to keep everyone entertained. It honestly didn’t take long for all the drivers – Max included – to find something to do, and you were glad to be able to do your own thing.

You always brought a couple books with you when you were accompanying Max to his races, as you could take advantage of the numerous flights done throughout the season to at least finish several series in a short amount of time. So as usual, you were pulling out your current book and looked forward to finishing it. Last time you had paused your crime novel, you were in the middle of the investigation and making crazy theories – that you sometimes annoyed Maw with – about who the killer could be.

…..

An hour later, you were finally closing your book and putting it down on your lap. Similar to most of the crime novels you would read, you hadn’t predicted who the murderer had been even though it was making so much sense when the detective explained it.

While you unlocked your phone to add your finished book to Goodreads, you could feel a gaze on you. And when you looked up from your phone a couple minutes later, your eyes met Kimi’s. You gave him a smile, silently asking if he needed anything. He took that as a sign to stand up and walk up to you, his face showing some stress.

“Can I bother you with something?” He shyly asked, afraid that he was disturbing your peace. He had waited for you to finish your book before even having the nerves to come up to you.

“Of course, Kimi. How can I help?”

“Are you good at maths?”

“Maths?” You repeated. Kimi nodded and you thought for a second. “I think I can manage high school level, yeah. Want me to look at it?”

The bright smile that made its way on Kimi’s face was almost enough to blind you. He was so relieved at your positive reaction, and he immediately handed you his textbook.

“Take my seat, Kimi.” Max slowly stood up as he motioned for the Italian to replace him next to you.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Max ran his finger through his hair, as his eyes settled on the back of the jet. “I’m gonna stretch my legs a bit and get a drink, you guys want anything?”

Both you and Kimi shook your heads. Kimi then took Max’s seat, and observed you as you were reading the maths problem he was having issues with.

“Show me what you’ve done for now,” you said before Kimi also gave you his notes. You looked back and forth between what he had written and the exercise, before you managed to pinpoint what was confusing him. “Okay, got it!”

For the next couple hours, you worked with Kimi on his maths exercises as he showed you his method which you would correct when necessary. He was not a dumb kid, far from it, but he just needed someone else other than his high school teacher to explain things to him. You were definitely not a teacher yourself, but it seemed that your way of seeing things was close enough to Kimi’s. Therefore, he was gradually understanding his lesson better and was able to do his calculations a bit quicker than before as he more easily knew which formula to use.

You didn’t know whether you had just gotten the title of Kimi’s official maths tutor or not, but the esteem that the young driver had for you had exponentially risen and you were definitely his favourite person from now on. He thanked you at least a dozen times, as he was over the moon that he would not get behind his classmates while he was racing around the world.

Although glad that you had been able to help him, you were thankful that Kimi was the only driver who still had school as you didn’t know if you would survive parenting and teaching all the rookies at the same time.

…..

A short layover to breathe some fresh air, several chaotic card games, and a couple naps later: you were finally landing in Bahrain.

You already knew that the race weekend was starting more peacefully than the last one, as all your grid kids were leaving the plane on equal terms. This meant that the rookies would be less grumpy about having to split your time between them.

On Friday, you spent the first half of the day with Ollie. He was being replaced with Haas’s reserve driver – Ryo Hirakawa – for FP1 and was therefore “free to hang out with you” as he happily told you. His notion of being free wasn’t exactly the same as you, especially when he actually spent the first half hour of FP1 at the pit wall. Still, he eventually took the time to be there with you in his garage during the second half. He introduced you to the mechanics, showed you his driver’s room, and tried to make you spill secrets about Red Bull with some engineers.

You had a good time, and you truly enjoyed seeing more of Ollie in his ‘racing habitat’. You had always spent most of your weekends in the Red Bull garage since you started dating Max, so this was a nice change. Haas was another type of family, maybe – definitely – friendlier than what you were used to with Christian Horner and Helmut Marko. You even had the opportunity to meet Laura, the first and only female engineer in Formula 1, after the session had ended. You were glad to talk a bit with her, and you could only express your admiration towards the fact that she had reached the pinnacle of motorsport.

Eventually, Max called you to know about your whereabouts and suggested that you have a late lunch with him. He then had no choice but to accept when you answered his call on speaker with Ollie beside you, the rookie asking to join you. He also had to agree to Kimi tagging along when you and Ollie met him on your way back to Red Bull.

Fortunately for Max, the two rookies were needed back to their respective garages earlier than expected due to their lack of racing during FP1. So now, he could properly enjoy some alone time with you.

“I know you pretend to be annoyed with them, but you actually love spending time with them.”

“I only put up with it because you love spending time with them.” That was a lie, and the both of you knew it. “I can admit they’re growing on me, but I’m allowed to want to hangout with my girlfriend during the races. Alone.”

“We’re always together outside of races though,” you pointed out.

“Except when we do overtime”, Max added.

“Overtime?” You stifled a laugh. “You act like it’s a full-time job to take care of them.”

“It is a full-time job to be parents.”

“So you admit to being their grid dad?” You teased him.

“Step-dad, maybe…” He reluctantly admitted. “You’re the one who adopted them, I’m just accepting my fate because I’m dating you.”

“You’re unbelievable! You’re the one who began taking them under your wing during testing!”

You were appalled at Max’s refusal to admit of being the one who started this entire thing, until you noticed the smirk on his face. That damn smirk, you thought. That damn smirk that meant that Max was just toying with you, enjoying the fact that he could rile you up anytime.

“You’re just fucking with me”, you concluded.

“Of course I am,” he confirmed with a laugh. “I know what I did. And I absolutely know that I can’t pretend not to enjoy spending time with them. They’re indeed a bit overwhelming sometimes when I just wanna be alone with you, but they’re nice kids and I can’t argue with their passion.”

“You’re just a softie, Max. Who would’ve thought?” You wanted to tease him; but deep down, you were just melting at how sweet Max was. He had truly grown attached to the rookies, as much as you did, and it warmed your heart. “Wait, so you wouldn’t mind if we adopt some more? I have some names to suggest.”

“Please no,” Max immediately refused. “Six is more than enough.”

“But I’m sure they’re nice kids too!” You tried to plead your case, doing the best that you could at giving puppy eyes to Max.

“No”, he refused once again. But after a minute of silence, he eventually asked: “Just out of curiosity, who are you thinking of?”

“Luke and Dino”, you told him with a satisfied smile.

Max pretended to think about it for a moment, grabbing a bite of his food. You were thoroughly watching him, and waited for his reply. Eventually, Max sighed and you knew you had won.

“Maybe when they’re in F1, you can ask again…” He mumbled before you quietly cheered with a fist pump. Max softly smiled at the scene, and shook his head when he realised what he had just promised you.

He now just had to hope that there wouldn’t be any new rookies for at least a few years.

…..

The rest of the weekend was quite uneventful, the only thing worth noting was the insane heat that had you always carrying an iced drink wherever you went. You had been envying Mercedes’s space jacket that seemed to be doing wonders for Kimi and George, which almost made you go to their garage to ask for one.

Max wasn’t having the best weekend, which was a slight disappointment for him and his team after his superb race in Japan last week. On Saturday, the Dutch driver had only managed to reach the fourth row. He was two tenths off Lando and six tenths off Oscar – who had gotten pole, which was highlighting the fact that Red Bull was not going to have a flawless season. Even Kimi had qualified higher than him, getting P5 after a small penalty that made him lose a position post-qualifying.

The other rookies were scattered across the rest of the grid: Jack and Isack would start right outside points; while Liam, Gabriel, and Ollie had not made it to Q2. You had offered extra support to Ollie, who would start dead last, and encouraged him until the day of the race.

It seemed to have positively affected him, as he gained ten positions during the race and ended up being the only rookie to score points in Bahrain. Max had only reached P6 at the chequered flag, far from the podium he had been used to being on. He knew he had no choice but to accept that this could be a reoccurring performance from his car, and could only hope to keep getting the most out of it to still be a podium contender for the next race.

After the post-race interviews, you wanted to celebrate with Ollie as you were over the moon at his performance and his working strategy that had accommodated the safety car. But you knew he was with his father and brother, so you decided to let him have some family time.

However, you hadn’t thought about the fact that you were now like family to him as well. Because as you were waiting near the Red Bull hospitality for Max to finish his interviews – he was weirdly always in very high demand from every channel when he missed out on a podium, you saw the Bearman men walking up to you.

Ollie was frantically waving at you, yelling at his father and brother to keep up.

“She’s there, come on! Be quicker”, he ordered them as his long legs made him reach you faster than his family.

“Ollie, hi sweetheart!” You went for a hug, rubbing his back. “What a great race you did, I’m super proud of you!”

“Thanks,” he replied with a bright smile. He noticed his family finally there, and introduced you to them. “So this is my dad, and my brother Thomas. Guys, this is–”

“We know”, Thomas interrupted with a deadpan tone. He said your name and reached out his hand for you to shake. “He already talked a lot before, but now he talks even more when it’s about you.”

“Don’t be rude to your brother”, his dad scolded. “Sorry about him. But he’s right, we’ve heard lots about you.”

“Oh! All good things I hope,” you said with a nervous chuckle as you also shook Ollie’s dad’s hand.

“Of course, Ollie just loves telling us about you and your boyfriend spending time with him. It’s honestly reassuring to know he has you if we’re not there for him.”

“Well, I love Ollie – Max does too. So, it’s really my pleasure to have him around.” You were being genuine, and Ollie’s dad could only approve of you being a new adult figure in his son’s life. “You have a good kid, sir. Extremely respectful and really passionate,”, you told him as you softly looked at Ollie.

Ollie couldn’t have expected a better encounter between his dad and his grid mum. His eyes were bright and his smile wide, happy to have made his two families meet.

“Do you want to join us for a late dinner?” Ollie’s dad offered. “You can bring Max as well if he wants too.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. But I wouldn’t want to impose!” You wanted to refuse, but another glance at Ollie and you saw how hopeful his expression was.

“Just a drink then?” Ollie’s dad suggested, to which you nodded.

“Great!” Ollie cheered. “Call Max and get him here ASAP,” he told you.

“Jeez, calm down. It’s almost like you’re more excited to see him than me now”, you teased.

“Well, he’s the world champion.”

“And here I thought you were starting to like me better!”

As you bickered back and forth while texting Max to know his whereabouts, Ollie’s dad observed the exchange and he could only smile at the scene. It was easy for him to notice your motherly nature, gentle and caring. He knew his son was in good hands around the paddock, and he was truly glad to see that Ollie was surrounding himself with good people that could be trusted.

_________________________________________________

Finally, there was Saudi Arabia.

You had seen the pictures of some drivers arriving at the airport. And you had witnessed how welcomed they were when you arrived with Max. Like everyone else, he had been gifted a massive bouquet of flowers that you would have been jealous of if anyone other than the grand prix staff had given it to your boyfriend.

As soon as you left the airport before taking a taxi to your hotel, Max immediately gave you the flowers. One could have thought that it meant he just wanted you to take them as Max was already holding your suitcases, but you knew better.

Without a word, you understood what Max meant. He was just offering you the bouquet. For him, it meant more sense for you to have it. The flowers were pretty, like you, and he just felt like you deserved them more than he did. Also, it meant that Max could see a smile slowly making its way on your face and that was worth more than anything else in the world to him.

…..

As soon as you entered your hotel room, your first instinct was to lay on the bed with a relieved sigh. Max was supposed to be at the track soon, and your only wish was to take a nap.

“I really need to get used to triple headers again. That shit is exhausting,” you complained.

“Just rest,” Max simply told you. “I’ll come back after I’m done with media day and we can go out to eat, is that good?”

“That’s a great plan, yeah.” You turned on your side, ready to fall asleep at any second.

Max softly smiled at you, and hoped that you would be able to get some energy back for the weekend. He closed the curtains a bit before leaving the room, hearing you thank him as he was about to open the door while you were quickly getting into a deep slumber.

When you woke up several hours later, the sun was starting to set. You yawned and stretched your arms before getting up, noticing Max on the couch a few metres away. He looked up from his phone when he heard the sheets rustling from your movements.

“Slept well?” He asked. He actually knew the answer already, due to you not having heard him get back as well as the pillow marks on your face.

“Best nap of my life, top ten easily. When did you get back?” You glanced at your watch, before taking a seat next to Max.

“Half hour ago, I think. Maybe forty minutes. Wanna get some food now or do you wanna do something else?”

“Food sounds perfect right now, I’m starving. I think I could go for…” Your voice got lower as something in your peripheral vision confused you.

“For?” Max repeated, expecting you to finish your sentence.

“What’s that?” You were now forgetting all about food, your gaze focused on the table near the windows.

“What’s what?”

“The flowers.”

“You mean the flowers from this morning? Yeah, what about it?”

“Why did one bouquet turn into seven?” You could have thought you were going crazy, but you were certain Max had only given you his bouquet earlier today.

“Oh, that’s just the rookies.” Max was acting as if it was a normal occurrence, leaving you speechless.

“They gave me their bouquet?”

“Yeah. Apparently they saw pictures of me giving you mine and they felt like you deserved theirs too,” he explained. “They all accompanied me to drop them off when I came back here.”

“Oh, okay…” You felt like crying. Why are those kids so sweet? You wondered. Even if they thought you deserved their flowers, you definitely didn’t deserve their kindness.

“Are you gonna think about it every day for the next week?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed with a chuckle. “You know me so well – that’s for real so nice of them, I love them.”

“And they definitely love you too”, Max added.

After admiring the seven bouquets adorning the table for a few more minutes, you took a picture of the scenery and decided to make a groupchat with all the rookies to thank them for their thoughtfulness.

You didn’t know it yet though, but the groupchat would never experience a day of silence from the moment it got created. That’d be for you to enjoy – and for Max to dread whenever your phone would notify you of a text – as the rookies were definitely certified yappers.

…..

If you thought the heat had been too much in Bahrain, it was somehow worse here. You were extremely thankful for night races, but you were definitely not built for extreme temperatures and were already dreading Singapore months in advance.

Like the previous weekend, you were therefore holding a refreshing drink at every given moment and gladly sipped it. Max had stocked up for you in his driver’s room, but you had to discover that there was only Red Bull. Was Max trying to kill you? Perhaps. Was Max trying to kill himself? More likely.

But you just couldn’t be drinking that for the entire weekend. So on Friday evening, you ventured around the paddock to look for something else and met Gabriel on your way. He was unfortunately unable to take part in FP2 due to a fuel leak, and you offered him to join you on your quest for a decent drink.

“Sauber has surprisingly good stuff, if you want” Gabriel pointed out.

“I don’t wanna risk seeing Binotto, though. What about sneaking into McLaren?” You suggested. “The champions must have something nice.”

“You mean other than a life supply of Monster? Is it actually better than Red Bull?”

“Well, technically I do prefer it. Don’t tell Max though,” you whispered with a chuckle. “But yeah, I guess that means Mercedes is out too.”

Eventually, you and Gabriel ended up getting basic tap water somewhere random in the paddock as you were both too thirsty to spend more time deciding where to go.

It was rare for you to spend one-on-one time with Gabriel, but you were glad to get to know him more – you truly hadn’t spent as much with him as you did with the other rookies. Max had always told you about how he held the Brazilian driver in high regards, and you could easily understand why. Gabriel was easy to get along with, and you really hoped that he would one day be able to show his full potential to the world. He had won the F3 and F2 championships back to back, but was unfortunately in the worst car of the grid now that he was in F1. He was still waiting to get his first points of the season, and you were definitely rooting for him to score some before the end of the year.

It still wouldn’t be his weekend yet as once again, he had qualified P20 on Saturday. And although he had gained two positions the next day, he was still last in the race due to Pierre and Yuki both DNFing. Jack didn’t have the best end of a grand prix either as he finished right above Gabriel, both having been lapped during the race by the leaders. Ollie and Liam had been a bit closer to reaching the top ten, but only Isack and Kimi had actually scored points.

You wished you could have spent your post-race time with the rookies to congratulate the point scorers and cheer the others up, but you felt like Max needed the support more despite having finished on the podium. He had gotten P2, bringing some good points to the team. But it wasn’t enough for him – he should have been first at the chequered flag.

Max was pissed. He was mad about the unfair penalty, mad about the FIA, mad about everything. He had refused to say more than two words during the post-race interviews of the top three, and didn’t even participate in celebrating the papaya drivers on the podium – he had preferred to immediately down his fake champagne as if it were a real one.

You knew that it wouldn’t last. Maybe he would throw some snarky reminders during the next grand prix and complain about it for a couple days, but then he would get over it because it would annoy him even more to keep thinking about it.

So you did what a loving and supportive girlfriend would do: you waited for him to come back to his garage, sitting on the couch in his driver room. He was glad to see you when he entered the room, and even more so when you gave him a kiss.

One turned into two, and you were soon ready to give Max the best makeout session of his life. You really thought you would’ve stayed there all night with him until some Red Bull mechanics would force you out as they were dismantling everything. But that was until he was the one to cut it short with one last quick kiss before he let go of your waist. You reluctantly removed your arms that had been around your boyfriend’s shoulders, and waited for him to say something while he had begun to change from his racing suit.

“Text the kids, we’re going out as soon as I’m out of this.”

“The kids?” You questioned.

“The kids,” Max confirmed with a nod. “Tell them we’ll do whatever they wanna do, whether it’s having the biggest post-race dinner of their lives or just doing something fun – ask them if they wanna check out one of the amusement parks near the track.”

“Wow, okay.” You let out a chuckle, not expecting Max to suggest that. You did as you were told, and texted the rookies about Max’s idea.

Anyone free to go to an amusement park?

Max is offering (and probably paying)

Safe to say, replies were sent almost instantly. The rookies were all happy to see that you were the one texting, and they got even happier when they actually read the content of your messages. The smile that was forming on your face was enough of a confirmation to Max, as he knew that you had definitely received positive answers.

“All good?” Max asked you, to which you nodded. “Okay, let’s go then. I don’t wanna see or talk to anyone else here so let’s get the hell out of here before I go insane.”

“Yes sir,” you answered before following Max until you were out of the garage and walking towards the track exit.

When you were finally out of the paddock, you notified the rookies of your whereabouts then sent them your location so that they could find you and Max more easily. Soon enough, the six rookies had joined you and you could all go check out the nearest amusement park.

…..

You had been at the Atallah Happy Land Park for almost two hours, having already gone on several rides – the first having obviously been bumper cars. It was unusual to see Max being so carefree and relaxed around other people than you, but it seemed that the rookies got this effect on him – on anyone actually. Max was just having fun, enjoying the night.

Right now, you were currently on a bench. You were sipping a drink Max had insisted on buying you after you had made a comment about the heat still being too much for you. Your eyes were carefully observing the drivers from a few metres away. Max was in the middle of organising the order in which he and the rookies would do the next rides, based on how long the queues were and how far the rides were from each other.

You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face, as you thought about how lucky you were to have Max in your life. He was being so attentive to the six drivers around him, listening to all of them, and treating them like they were his equals. He was just glad to make them happy tonight, because it made him happy too.

Checking something on your phone, you didn’t notice someone approaching until they were right in front of you. You looked up at the sight of unknown shoes, and met the eyes of a random man. You raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he needed anything.

“Hi! I couldn’t help but notice you were sitting all alone here,” he said. “So I thought you might need company.”

The guy wasn’t necessarily creepy or making you uncomfortable – he seemed nice and had a gentle smile, but you wondered if he would eventually notice that seven F1 drivers were now looking in your direction.

“I’m not here alone, though.” You glanced at where Max and the rookies were. Your relaxed form was enough of an indication to Max that you were handling this, and he knew that he didn’t have to intervene.

“But you’re alone right now,” he pointed out. “I’m not trying to be insistent, sorry. But can I still sit and maybe get to know you?”

“I’m fine by myself. Thanks for the offer, though.” You gave the man a smile, one that would be kind enough but still showing that you wouldn’t change your mind.

“Oh, okay…”

From afar, Max was almost wanting to laugh as he noticed how the guy’s posture had slumped a bit – it was a sign that he wasn’t successful in shooting his shot with you. However, the rookies weren’t reading the situation in the same way as Max, and they were confused as to why your boyfriend was leaving you alone to fend for yourself.

“Shouldn’t you go save her?” Ollie wondered.

“This creep is bothering her and you’re not doing anything,” Liam added.

“She’s fine, don’t worry.” Max actually enjoyed seeing the rookies being worried for you – it was cute and endearing, but it wasn’t needed.

“If you won’t protect her: I will,” one of the drivers said before leaving the group to walk towards you.

Back to you, you thought you would now be left alone. But despite his previous words, it actually seemed that the guy would insist a bit more before giving.

“Well, it was still nice to meet you. I’m–”

“Leaving?” Someone behind the man asked.

You leaned on the side to see who had talked as you took another sip of your drink, and noticed that it was Kimi. He was trying to look intimidating, even though he was definitely a few inches shorter than the guy.

“Who even are you?” The man asked, now annoyed that he was being interrupted by a kid.

You wondered if he knew that there had been an F1 race right next to the amusement park, and if he would realise that Mercedes driver Kimi Antonelli was standing in front of him.

“I’m with her,” Kimi simply said. “And I think you’ve been bothering her too much, so you can leave now.”

“You’re dating her?”

“What? No! Oh my God, that’s my mum you’re talking about.” Kimi didn’t think before speaking, and he eventually processed his own words a few seconds later.

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to laugh so bad right now, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to follow the lead of Kimi’s lapsus. You obviously knew that he had meant to describe you as his grid mum, but the lack of precision about your actual parental role was working better in this situation.

“That’s actually flattering that you think I’m young enough to date him, but yeah that’s my kid right there.” Deciding that you had entertained the guy enough, you stood up from the bench and smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress before going to stand by Kimi’s side.

“I tried to be nice and polite to you, you know. But I wouldn’t even date someone who’s already a mother, at a suspiciously young age.” The guy sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair, and turned around to walk away.

Exchanging a look with Kimi, you both bursted out laughing at what just happened.

“That was kinda funny, to be honest. Thanks for saving me”, you told Kimi as you ruffled his hair. “Son”, you added with a teasing smile.

“Stop, I’m embarrassed to have said that.” Kimi covered his face with his hands, blushing as he remembered his words.

“Don’t be”, you tried to reassure him. You put your arm around his shoulders, before pulling him alongside to walk back to the other drivers that had observed the situation from afar. “It was kinda cute how you came to save me – my knight in shining armour who protects me better than my own boyfriend.”

Blushing even more at the praise, Kimi couldn’t help the proud grin that appeared on his face. He realised that you would have actually handled it perfectly on your own, but he was glad that you had appreciated him coming to help you.

When you both joined the group that had been waiting for you, they all asked questions about what had been said. Not wanting to embarrass Kimi in front of his friends, you stayed vague and simply said that the Italian driver had been way too intimidating for the guy and that he had scared him off.

“I honestly have a hard time believing that Kimi would look threatening,” Gabriel teased.

“That guy didn’t stand a chance against Kimi, though. And I don’t know how much longer it would’ve taken for him to take a hint,” you explained.

Max knew what you meant. You would have been fine on your own, but you were still glad for Kimi to have sped up the process of making the man give up on you.

For several more minutes, the rookies kept commenting and making theories about what had gone on - which Kimi neither confirmed nor denied. Out of the corner of your eye, you then noticed that Jack was stifling a yawn as the conversation died down.

“Might be time to go to bed?” You suggested as the other rookies also started to yawn.

“Yeah, I think so…” Jack admitted.

“Are you leaving with us?” Ollie asked, expecting you and Max to walk them back.

“There’s one more ride I wanna do with her,” Max joined in as he slipped his arm around your waist. “So we’ll stay just for a bit, but you go back safely.”

“Text me when you’re back to your hotels”, you told the rookies who all nodded.

After sharing hugs, they then walked away from you and Max. They turned back a couple times to wave at you, yelling thank yous for inviting them. You waved back at them with a large grin on your face, until they were out of your sight.

“So, what have you planned for us now?”

“Just follow me, you’ll like it.”

“Confident are we now, Mr Verstappen?” You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to guess which ride – amongst the tons the park had – you hadn’t been on yet.

“Always, when it comes to you.”

Squeezing your waist, Max pulled you along while he started walking to where he wanted to take you. It only took a few minutes before you noticed which ride was in the direction where you were going.

The Ferris Wheel.

You had often told Max of your love of ferris wheels, trying to go on them whenever you had the chance. But to your luck, or more like lack thereof, there was always an issue: too many people queuing, technical difficulty, arriving right after it closed…

But as you stopped in front of the ferris wheel, it seemed like nothing was preventing you from going on it with Max.

So here you were now, sitting next to Max as the cabin was slowly going up. You could only admire the streets of Jeddah from up there, noticing the track that was near.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” You eventually asked when the cabin stopped at its highest point. Your tone was quiet and soft, afraid to ruin the peaceful silence.

“Yeah,” Max replied. “Thanks for tonight, I really enjoyed it.”

“Well, it was your idea. I barely did anything.”

“You came. That matters to me,” he explained. “You matter to me. The kids too.” Max leaned back with a sigh. “Fuck, I love those kids.”

“Welcome to the club”, you said with a chuckle. Slipping your hand into Max’s, you squeezed it to remind him of your presence – not that he would ever forget it. “I’m really glad you had fun, that was like the best post-race activity we ever did.”

“I can think of another activity that might be on par with that.” Max looked at you, a smirk on his face.

“I really can’t take you anywhere, of my God!” You couldn't help laughing, which made Max chuckle as well. “If you’re lucky and I’m feeling generous, you might get to do this one too.” You saw the way Max's eyes lit up a bit as he straightened up. “Only if you behave once we’re back on the ground.”

“Yes ma’am,” Max promised with a grin.

A comfortable silence settled again, lasting until you were leaving the ferris wheel. You and Max roamed around the amusement park for a bit, walking hand in hand under the bright artificial lights, until you saw that they would close soon and it would be time for you both to go back to your hotel room.

The smile on your face hadn’t left yet, and your cheeks were still flushed as a result from the heat. Max stole a couple glances at you, admiring how you looked under the night sky of Jeddah. He was truly grateful for you, grateful for your support, grateful for your love.

As he removed his hand that was in yours, Max draped his arms around your shoulders. The gesture made you stop in your tracks and look up at him, before noticing that his eyes were already on you.

“What?” You asked with a confused smile.

“Nothing, you’re just beautiful. Can I not admire my girlfriend anymore?”

“Who would I be to deny you that”, you sarcastically replied as you put your arm around his waist

Taking advantage of the fact that your face was so close to his, Max leaned down and kissed you. It was short, but meaningful. When he pulled back, you didn't hesitate to use your free hand to cup his face and pull him down to kiss him again. His lips smiled against yours, and Max realised he could taste the slight remains of the sugary drink he had bought you earlier.

Not a word was needed between the two of you, as you mutually started walking again in the direction of your hotel. When stopping at crossroads, waiting for the lights to turn green, Max would give you quick forehead kisses. You would smile every time he did it, and the blush on your cheeks never had a chance to go away.

Max usually wasn’t much for PDA, unless it was an arm around you or his hand resting on your lower back, so you were pleasantly surprised at how affectionate he seemed tonight.

It was the consequence of everything that had happened today on track, making you the somewhat only stable thing in his day-to-day life. Max liked having you close to him, and he was definitely not letting go of you for the rest of the night.

..........

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita

Hope y'all enjoyed this🫶🏻🫶🏻 took me a while to write it omg like i respected the poll that showed most people wanted the whole triple header in chap so this ended up being almost 10k words lol

I'm trying to not be too repetitive when i talk ab the race weekends, so I'll keep doing my best during the rest of the season to spice things up a bit and also focus on what happens off track like i did a bit here!!

I've started writing for the miami gp, and it should be out next week (i hope😭) + I'll def write a short part ab jack being swapped w franco bc i need smth to cope w the driver change

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #grid mum series<3

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wonderjanga · 7 months ago

Text

Billy’s Homelessness

Being a homeless kid has its perks, Billy supposes. He’s picked up tips and tricks from other kids and even adults during his time. It’s practically second nature to him at this point. Only thing is, the fact that it’s second nature in the first place is what can come back to bite him in the future.

Like lock picking. He’s good at it, and it’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but it’s helped him when he’s needed it most. He’s gotten shelter from blizzards, sleet, and rain with this skill. That’s why when Billy, Flash, GL, and Supes got locked in an all yellow room with red sun lamps and a locked door.

Supes, GL, and Flash: *all discussing how to get out* Marvel: *leans down in front of the keyhole of the door*

Supes: “Alright Flash, vibrate through the door-”

Marvel: “Done!” *opens door*

*silence*

GL: “How’d you do that?”

Marvel: “I picked the lock.” *walks out and immediately gets shot in the face by one of the guards*

Then there’s pickpocketing. He’s also unfortunately good at this. Freddy says he’s better though. Billy isn’t about to make a contest out of it. Batman found out about this particular talent when both him and Billy went undercover for a mission to uncover the scheme of some foreign politician.

Batman: *as Bruce Wayne* “That’s the man.” *subtly gestures to him*

Marvel: “Him? Okay… What do you wanna do?”

Batman: “First, we need to properly identify-”

Marvel: “Oh, okay.” *walks over to the man, passes him, then comes back to Bruce* “Here.” *places the man’s wallet in Bruce’s hand*

Batman: “…that he was involved in the crimes.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: *opens the wallet anyways and starts looking through it*

Marvel: “Do you want me to put it back?”

Batman: *puts one finger up to Marvel’s face while he continues looking through the wallet*

Marvel: *deflates slightly* “Oh, okay.”

Batman: *pulls out a clue from the wallet* “Put this back, chum.”

Marvel: *scurries off to put the wallet back*

Bruce then heavily lamented how Marvel knew how to pickpocket so well. Cause the thing is, Marvel’s like six feet tall. (Had to make him a little shorter guys. My bad.) A man like that had no business doing that so well in a bright red sweater and yellow hat.

Then, there’s the avoiding cops. He rarely sticks around for them. He does not mess with them. He’s had too many bad experiences as Billy for it to translate well to Marvel. Whenever one tries to talk to him, he’ll say the bare minimum as politely as he can and fly off. Sometimes, if he knows it’s a cop who’s harsher on the homeless than most, he’ll act polite(passive aggressive) and then give them a nice, firm(crushing) handshake. One such incident was when a cop asked for a photo:

Cop A and Marvel: *posing for a photo by shaking hands*

Marvel: *smiling at the camera, his grip tightening on the hand*

Cop A: *awkward laugh* “That’s a tight grip you got there, Captain.”

Marvel: *lightens his grip, looking down to Cop A’s name tag: Richard* (This isn’t Nightwing guys) “My bad, dick.”

Cop A: “Excuse me?”

Marvel: “Oh no no no, not like “dick,” Dick.” *grip tightens again* “Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit from the bottom of my boot that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.” *smiles the whole time as he speaks* “No, like your name, officer, Dick.”

Cop A: “I prefer Richard.”

Cop B: *takes photo*

Also, anybody who gets that reference gets a kiss. Man or woman. It doesn’t matter. I don’t make the rules. By the way, someone definitely recorded that entire interaction and #passiveaggressivecap ended up trending on twitter.

Then, there’s the time Supes came over to Fawcett to hang out. They were chilling on a rooftop talking when down below they both saw a teenager steal food from a seller.

Supes: *doesn’t see Marvel move* “Aren’t you gonna stop that kid?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. He’s homeless. He clearly needs it more than we do.”

Supes: *blinks rapidly but then remembers he’s not in Metropolis and can’t really tell Marvel how to run his city* “Okay then.”

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #superman #clark kent #the flash #wally west #green lantern #john stewart #batman #bruce wayne

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on-the-clear-blue · 9 months ago

Text

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

#batman #batfam #danny is a little shit #dc x dp #dpxdc #tim drake #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce is so done #bruce wayne #Dead Man's Diner #jason todd #but only a little #damian makes an appearance #he just wants to be like his dad #danny is just a little guy #danny phantom #ghost king danny #toxic twinks

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neeeooon · 2 months ago

Note

HII HELLOO HI HI HI HOW ARE YOUUUU

CAN WE GET LIKE PART 2 FOR BLLK BOYS FINDING OUT ABOUT THEIR KID, LIKE AS I. CONTINUATION WHAT HAPPENS AFTER MEETING THE KIDDO

YESSS i added the boys u guys voted for most!! (reo has his own oneshot here!!)

when they find out they have a kid, cont.

ex-husband!bllk x fem!reader. angst, (most get) happy-ish endings! chigiri, shidou, and rin’s kids have names

itoshi sae

-> the three of you sat at the table, you and your son on one side and your ex-husband on the other. your son was wiggling around in excitement, eager to jump on and hug his father, but you’d warned him against it. you knew how sae felt about touch and didn’t want him to be even more uncomfortable around his son

-> “does he have to use the restroom?” sae asked when he noticed your son’s restlessness. you shot him a glare. “he’s not a dog. he’s excited to meet you, that’s all.” “oh.”

-> if the comment made your son feel any sort of way, he didn’t show it. “are you really the soccer player from tv?!” sae looked at you before nodding once. it set your son off again, causing him to tug on your sleeve in excitement. “see, mama, see! i told you it’s him! i told you he’s my daddy!”

-> you opened your mouth to explain that it wasn’t that simple, but your son continued as he danced around the kitchen. “and he’s here, which means you’re getting back together!” “huh?!” “and i’ve always wanted a little brother or sister!” “okay, calm down.”

-> you wanted to give your son some alone time with his dad, but it was clear that sae was getting overwhelmed by the hyperactive child. it was strange how his son reminded him more of his brother than himself from when they were young

-> after putting your son down for a nap, you retook your spot across from sae, who was staring very intensely at his clasped hands. you felt a pang of… something as you watched him, and your voice came out extremely soft as you asked, “how are you feeling, sae?”

-> he struggling to meet your eyes right away, but when he did you could see unshed emotion in them. “i don’t… know what to do. he’s mine. my kid. i have a kid. my parents are grandparents. my brother’s an uncle. and i had no idea.”

-> “you didn’t exactly give me the chance after you left me, after you told me how much you regretted us. me. but he’s here now, and he wants you to be his father, so let’s not play the blame game.” sae seemed a bit taken aback by your harsh tone, completely contradicting how quiet you were a moment ago. “you’re right. i’m sorry.” “don’t be sorry. be here. be his dad.”

-> sae couldn’t stay in town long, but he promised your son that he’d visit as soon as he was available. there wasn’t a smile on his stoic face, but when your son ran forward and hugged his legs, telling sae he loved him, sae patted the boy’s head and said, “i’ll see you soon.”

michael kaiser

-> your daughter happily ate her choco bears, unaware of the tension at the table. you sat across from kaiser, who was picking at the skin around his fingers to the point where if you didn’t mention it, you thought he’d start bleeding

-> you don’t know what compelled you to reach over and cover his hand with yours, but kaiser looked as surprised as you did. stammering for some sort of explanation, you gave up and went to pull your hand back until he grabbed it. neither of you said anything as you turned your attention back to your daughter

-> she raised a quizzical brow at her dad. “you look old.” you choked on a laugh as kaiser choked on air. “i’m not—! okay. how old are you, again?” your daughter humphed and admired one of her choco bears. “mama said i’m not supposed to give my age to strange men.”

-> you thought the comment would offend your ex, but he only scoffed. there was a slight, amused grin tugging at his lips. “well, your mama is right.” at the sudden softness of his voice, your daughter sank down into her chair and avoided his eyes. “… you’re my papa, aren’t you?”

-> kaiser swallowed hard. “yes.” “why didn’t you come to my birthday, then?” your heart broke, and the way kaiser’s fingers tightened around your hand showed you that his did as well. “i didn’t, um… i’ll be there for your next one, if you’ll have me.” “will you bring me more choco bears?” “all the choco bears you could ever dream for.” that wins her over. “okay!”

-> she lost interest in the conversation after that and tuned you out while she played a game on your phone. though she wasn’t paying attention, you kept your voice low as you leaned closer to your ex-husband

-> “i’m sorry for never texting. it was wrong of me to keep her from you.” kaiser squeezed your hand in return, trying to show you an ounce of comfort. “it’s not okay, but it’s the past. we can’t change the past, we can only… move on.” the kaiser you knew would never say something like that, and it left you reeling

-> “i want to be in her life, y/n.” “i want that, too. i want us to start over, micha. can we try? as her parents? as friends?” his smile is pained, but his voice is determined. “yes.”

isagi yoichi

-> thankfully, isagi didn’t fight you anymore that day and went home. you got his number from bachira, texting him a time and date to officially meet his daughter

-> “mama, what if he doesn’t like me?” after you told your daughter what was happening, her smile faded into a pout. you quickly hugged her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “no, baby, don’t think like that. he won’t hate you!” “but what if—“ “if he hurts your feelings, uncle bachira and i will hurt his much worse.” you made a silly face to make her laugh and tickled her side before sending her to bed

-> isagi was prepared when he arrived at your house the next morning with breakfast and flowers. peeking around your legs, your daughter gasped at the sight of the sweet pastries. she was on the shyer side, so while you could tell she wanted to grab them and run to share with her ‘uncle,’ she wouldn’t move unless given the go-ahead

-> you took the items from isagi’s hands and offered him a polite smile. “thank you.” as you reached for the flowers, you handed the box of pastries to your daughter and scoffed when she darted into the kitchen with her goodies

-> isagi awkwardly rubbed his nape, still standing in the doorway. “i want to apologize for how i acted yesterday. i was shocked and angry and i took it out on you.” you shook your head and stepped aside for him to enter. “i… understand. why you were angry, i mean. that doesn’t mean i appreciate getting yelled at, but i know that if i was in your position, i’d be upset, too.”

-> “then why not tell me? why keep her from me all these years? i would have loved being a dad, y/n.” something in his voice caught, and the sound felt like driving a knife through your chest. “i know things got all fucked once we got married, but you were my best friend first. i should have checked in on you. i should have paid closer attention. i should have at least sent a text, making sure you were alright.” “yoichi—“i’m not saying it’s all my fault, and i’m still pretty pissed at you for keeping this from me, but i made mistakes, too.”

-> brushing off the silence that fell between you, you put your differences aside and beckoned isagi into the kitchen, where your daughter was drooling over a chocolate croissant. “you can eat if you’re hungry,” isagi offered with a smile, and your daughter didn’t need to be told twice before devouring the pastry

-> “are you really my dad?” isagi choked on his muffin. “um, yeah..” “okay. are you gonna live here now?” “sweetheart—“ “i work a lot,” isagi began with a gentle look. “but if your mom lets me, i’d love to be around more. maybe take you to or pick you up from school.”

-> your daughter loves school, so the fact that he mentioned it all on his own made her eyes sparkle. “really?! and we can go to the park after!” “if that’s what you want—“ “and eat more yummy pastries!” isagi was laughing now. “okay, and eat more pastries. that sounds like a plan.”

shidou ryusei

-> “this is miss poofikins!” your daughter said as she shoved a teddy bear with a tutu into shidou’s arms. “and this is princess buttersquash!” a yellow unicorn. “and that’s fred!” fred was a green monster plushie that you actually got from a pet store, she loved it too much to let you leave without it

-> shidou, slightly overwhelmed, graciously accepted the toys and held them close to make sure none of them fell on the floor. “wow, sachi. i’m so jealous!” your daughter beamed and ran off to grab more from her collection, leaving you alone again with your ex-husband

-> “listen,” you began slowly. “you don’t have to stay. you can walk away now if this is too much. i can handle her on my own—“ “don’t.” you waited for him to continue. “she’s… y/n, i want to be apart of her life. of both your lives. i wasn’t talking out of my ass when i said i’ve changed since we were married.” “… i know.”

-> still holding all three plushies with his arms and chest, shidou reached out and grasped your hand. “i’m serious, y/n. i want this, more than anything. fuck, more that soccer, i think.” you didn’t know why, but your eyes began to ache with incoming tears. “ryu…”

-> his arms were around you before the first tears fall. you laughed when sachi’s plushies pressed between your bodies, but slowly hugged him back regardless. “i’m so sorry, ryusei. i’m so sorry for keeping her from you. for believing that, that,” you couldn’t think of a word insulting enough to describe all you felt for your mother, so you settled with, “bitch.”

-> his laugh rumbled through your body. “whatever. let’s not waste anymore time. i’m here now, i’m all in, if you’ll let me be.” “i will. i want you here with us. with me. i can’t… i don’t want to do this alone anymore.”

-> you felt his lips against your temple, and though there was nothing romantic about the kiss, it made you feel warm inside. “let’s go check on our girl, alright?” you hummed and squeezed shidou once more before letting go. “yeah.”

chigiri hyoma

-> “so…” “so.” “… why is your hair so long?” “😐”

-> you can’t help but snicker at the conversation going on between your son and his father. despite his young age, hikari has a large personality, and you can tell chigiri sees himself before the injury in him

-> “so you, like, play soccer?” “why do you talk like you’re twelve? you’re only six.” “yeah, six inches deep in your—“ “hikari! you really need to stop hanging out with those fifth graders.”

-> despite himself, chigiri laughs. “do you even know what that means, kid?” “…” you rub the ache from your forehead and sigh. “well, i’m at a loss. where do you boys wanna go from here? we fighting for custody, or will this be civil?”

-> chigiri shoots hikari a look before blinking at you. “um, is he allowed to hear this?” “he’ll find out eventually, might as well get his say.” “but he’s six.” “six inch—“ you cover his mouth with your palm. “are you gonna come around, or am i doing this alone?”

-> your bluntness surprises your ex-husband. “i’m in this.” “good,” you nod, posture slouching. “‘cause i am so tired, hyoma.”

-> it’s getting late, so you excuse yourself to tuck your son into bed before you can return to your conversation with your ex. “mom?” “yes, hun?” “do i have to change my name to chigiri hikari? cause that sounds dumb..” you chuckle and give him a kiss on the forehead. “no, you don’t have to change your name. tell me, though… how do you feel about having him around more?”

-> hikari doesn’t hesitate. “well, he’s fun to make fun of, and he’s my dad, right? he should be around… and you won’t be lonely when i’m not here if he’s around.” “oh, honey, don’t worry about me. all i want is for you to be safe and happy, okay?” “okay. g’night.”

-> you find chigiri exactly where you left him. “i have a spare bedroom, if you’d like to stay. i don’t know what your situation is like right now, but if you want to stay and help raise your son, rent is due on the 11th.” “rent?” “mhm! i pushed him out of me and have been providing for six years. you can pay rent.” “… i’ll have your check ready in the morning.”

BONUS! itoshi rin (i had a few reqs for him :p)

-> “will you come play more tomorrow?” your daughter asked. rin’s soft smile fell, but only for a second. “i actually have to fly back to work tomorrow.” “oh..” “but how about this weekend?” she lit up. “really?!”

-> you smiled as you watched the two interact. they’d gotten so comfortable with each other so quick, and your daughter even asked rin to hold her when her legs got tired from standing

-> you weren’t surprised when you checked on them after cleaning up to find emi fast asleep in her dad’s arms. the sight made you want to cry, and you were overcome by a wave of guilt that left tears in your eyes

-> when rin noticed your presence, he gave a small finger-wave, trying not to move too much with the six-year-old in his arms. “hey,” he whispered when you moved to sit on the floor beside his legs

-> “how was it today?” you asked him, fingers toying with the end of your daughter’s navy blue dress. he hummed. “good. she’s a great kid, y/n. you did good.”

-> your exhale was shaky as you dropped your face into your hand. “i feel so awful, rin. how did this happen to us? i should have been the bigger person, not for me, but for her. she didn’t deserve to lose all these years with you just because i wasn’t brave enough to reach out and—“

-> the feel of rin’s fingers grazing your jaw shut you up. his eyes are intense and glimmering as he stares down at you. “don’t. there’s no point anymore. i’m here now, that’s what matters. that and her.” you nod and sink into his touch. “that and her.”

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3

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heartyluv · 1 month ago

Text

🍎 ᯓ ✈︎ ⊹ 🍃 ࣪ ˖

Note: We’re all adults here, but I just want to emphasize that the behavior Caleb will show in this is only acceptable in FICTION! We all love a little crazy, so long as it’s fake LOL ♡

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT interact!!

Warning: Smut, possessive actions and language

Word Count: 3,141

Summary: Caleb doesn’t appreciate another man thinking he can have what’s his and hates that you act like you don’t belong to him.

Possessive!Caleb/Reader

Caleb has done and will always continue to do any and everything that will make you happy. It’s why even though these two weeks of him visiting was supposed to just be time for you two to catch up and hang out, he didn’t hesitate to tell you that it’s okay to have some friends come by to celebrate your birthday.

It’s rare for him to have this much time off and he’s nothing if not a selfish man, so being able to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day, finding things to do around the city, and laying in the house watching movies for hours alone with you, was time well spent in his book. But, he knew you were someone who loved, someone who likes to create memories, so he encouraged you to invite as many friends as you’d like so that you wouldn’t feel bad about it. He’s spent every single birthday of your life with you since you both were kids, some alone and some with others, but this was the first time it would be with people he’s never met before.

After you had moved and gotten a new job, you had to make new friends and while you’ve known them for only a year and a half, they were pretty cool.

“It’s your birthday, pipsqueak. Whatever you want to do, I’m all for it,” he told you with the most endearing smile.

And he truly meant that. Caleb would die for you, he’d kill for you. And that’s not an exaggeration.

Need him to kill a man for touching you? He’ll do it.

Need him to make something look like an accident just because someone got on your nerves? Consider it done.

He’d never tell you he’d go that far. You’re too sweet, it would scare his pretty girl. But it was always a part of him he had ready, just and only for you.

He watches you with a warmth in his chest as you fly back and forth through your townhouse, making sure all the snacks are ready and decorations are set. He takes the time to admire your pretty sky blue dress that rests right above your knees. It hugs your body just right, but not too much. It’s perfect, particularly because you’re wearing it, but even more so because the square neckline gives your breasts just enough wiggle room to bounce with each step you take. Every subtle jiggle makes him want to bend you over the counter and defile you in the most filthy way possible.

Caleb has had… a hard time during several moments while he’s been here. His hand and cock have never been so acquainted in his life. He’d make sure you were sleeping before he went back to the guest room and stroked his length with a pair of your panties that you threw in your hamper. Breathless and embarrassingly desperate, he moaned your name under his breath as his cum shot out of his body. He’s ruined about three pairs— pairs that he has no intention of giving back.

He imagined you sucking his cock that time you went out for ice cream, imagined how pretty your pussy would look filled and covered in his cum when he saw how it strained against your shorts because of how you were laying on the couch one night. It even went as far as imagining how you’d look with his baby in your stomach.

Twins— you two would have twins if he ever got that lucky, he was sure.

But he’s kept himself in line, at least in front of you. Caleb knows you’re a smart girl, he knows that you’re not oblivious to his flirting and subtle actions, but he wasn’t too sure if you felt the same way. It’s why he’s never made a move, too scared that you’d try and reject him. He couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t accept it. The dynamic you two had was safe and he’d keep it that way for as long as he has to. He’d remain the Caleb that you say “plays too much” if you let him continue to do what he’s been doing.

“Caleb, is the grill good to go?” you ask him as you slide your flip flops on. Your voice is like hypnosis in the way he loses himself in your words. It’s a simple question, but the way you say it, the way you speak period, enthralls this man.

“Yup,” he confirms. “I already got some steaks on it like you wanted, remember? They’re almost done.”

You admire your bestest friend in the world as he walks from behind your kitchen counter in his sleeveless white shirt and black jeans. You’re just so thankful for him and everything he’s done for you today and over the years in general.

“You’re the best,” you groan and that makes Caleb’s jaw tense. Down, boy, he scolds himself.

“I know, I know, he gloats. “Your friends almost here?” He steps closer to you and plucks a piece of confetti from all that you’ve sprawled all through the kitchen.

Before you can answer, the bell rings. “That answers my question,” he chuckles. “Let me get it for you.”

You nod and thank him, shaking your nerves out. This is the first time your new friends are seeing where you live too, so you just want everything to be perfect and hope they like it all.

Caleb steps to the side to let them in and you smile. He nods to the three women and two men that enter with ease before shutting the door. He lets you greet and thank them all for coming, but it’s the guy with his hair tied in a bun that gives your best friend pause. When he kisses your cheek, Caleb damn near sets the whole place on fire.

Standing in the living room, you introduce Caleb to them and them to Caleb. His face is friendly, calm, and even. But then he gets his name.

Kendall.

The one with the fucking nerves to put his lips on your precious skin. And you welcomed it. You leaned into the son of a bitch without hesitation and that… that’s something Caleb doesn’t like at all.

You don’t like being touched by people, even more so when it comes to a man. But you let him touch you, let him kiss you, and smiled about it.

He needed to calm down before he lost himself in your home on your birthday.

It’s as the hours went by though, that Caleb started to be physically unable to play nice. Kendall kept touching you, kept getting close, whispering shit in your ear that could not be that fucking funny. It was a natural reaction for Caleb to get between you both and to call you over when Kendall got too close that made him legitimately contemplate shooting him.

He wanted to ask you what all of this was about. You told him everything and he would remember some man named Kendall if you mentioned him. Why hadn’t you? Were you hiding something?

The things that Caleb was really thinking had him fuming inside, but he can’t ruin your birthday. He’d never dream of it. It’s why he has to figure out how to separate you for a moment because he needs answers and waiting until all these people leave wasn’t going to happen. He needed answers now.

So he decided to use your caring nature to lure you upstairs by acting like he wasn’t feeling too great. It took no more than five minutes of him being absent for him to hear you tell everyone to wait on the small deck outside while you checked on him.

“Caleb?” he heard two soft knocks on his door. “You okay? Can I come in?”

After granting you permission, you shut the door behind you. Admittedly, you were confused to not him seem so bothered by the headache he claimed to have when you saw him sitting on the bed.

“How are you feeling?” you still asked. Maybe he didn’t want to worry me, you thought.

“What’s the deal with Kendall?” he asks flatly, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes look up to meet yours and his gaze is every bit of intimidating.

“What do you mean?” Now you’re going to upset him. He hates when people play dumb, even more so when he knows who he’s talking to is one of the smartest people he’s ever met.

You can sense his irritation, but why he’s like that? You don’t know. “He’s…” you hesitate. “He’s just a guy I went out with for a few dates, but we’re not official or anything.”

Ah. So Kendall is a problem, Caleb thinks. “And why didn’t you tell me?” Caleb interrogates.

“I didn’t think it was necessary. You don’t tell me about every woman you’re with,” you challenge. “Besides, it’s nothing serious.”

You’re right. He doesn’t tell you. Because he hasn’t looked at another woman since his senior year of high school.

“It’s serious enough for him to keep putting his hands and lips on you.” Caleb’s voice raises ever so slightly, but not enough to startle you.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?” you snap. “I know you want me to be safe and whatever, but I’m grown Caleb. Grown as hell. You don’t get to try and… and be this protector over things that are naturally bound to happen.”

Caleb’s head tilts and your words feel like ice down his back. “I do get to,” he stands up, towering over you. “I’m always going to protect you. Have you not understood that by now?”

His steps are measured and calculated as he gets closer to you. You’re not intimated enough to back up, though. Yet.

“But this isn’t just about protection, pipsqueak.” His voice lowers and the way his tone flattens makes him sound… tired. And he is. He’s tired of acting like your every thought, action, idea, and movement, doesn’t dictate what he’s going to do. Tired of acting like he’s not supposed to be the only one to know what your skin feels like against his lips and the only one to know every inch of your mind, body, and soul inside and out.

“I have to get back downstairs. I don’t have time—”

“I don’t give a fuck about those people.”

Your eyes widen. You don’t even know what to say. So you don’t say a word as you turn around and try to leave, but he’s quicker than you are, bracing his palm flat against the door. The loud thud makes you jump and the heat of his body behind you is more noticeable than ever.

“Do you know how long I’ve kept my mouth shut?” he mumbles. “How long I’ve tried to let you… come to me, naturally?”

He leans down, his lips dangerously close to your skin. “I never wanted to be too forward. I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” His lips graze your skin. “Cornering you is what I didn’t want to do. But it seems like it’s necessary in order for it to get through that pretty little head of yours that you have always been mine… That you have always belonged to me.”

“Caleb—”

“Do you know how many times your smell alone makes me want to touch myself?” he admits and your breath hitches. “How many times I’ve imagined what you’d feel like wrapped around me for the first time?”

You can barely register everything he’s saying. Your legs feel gelatinous and you can never seem to gather enough breath.

“I’ve been so patient, so accommodating for years. And you give that son of a bitch downstairs what I’ve been deserving of?”

Your hands press against the door as he pushes himself closer to you.

“I didn’t… I never knew—”

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off. “You’ve always known. I know you did. It’s why you wore less around me as time went on, why you kept teasing me, hinting at my feelings for you.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. You’ve had a thing for your best friend for longer than you can admit. But going further than friendship with Caleb felt dangerous. If it didn’t work out, in the end you’d lose the only person who meant the most to you in the world. It was easier to try and get over him—unsuccessfully—for all these years than risk it.

His cock presses against you and the fact that you can feel him through all these layers of clothing makes you throb. “Tell me you don’t want me…” he dares. “I’d tell you that I’d walk away and never bother you again, but I’m done lying to you, pipsqueak.”

He grinds against you, making you ball your flat hands into fists as you whimper. “You want my cock just as much as I want you. Your body is telling me everything your mouth won’t.”

His hand grazes over your thigh as it snakes down. He other grabs hold of your thigh, hiking it up and pressing you against the door and you let him. His hand slips in between your legs and his fingers trail down your panty clad pussy. “Tell me yes, baby,” he whispers as he nips your ear. “Let me give you what you’ve denied us both for too long.”

You nod. Of course you do. Your body shudders as his strong hand creeps inside the fabric. Your mouth falls open and nothing but breath comes out as he gathers your wetness and brings it to your clit. Gently, he circles the tight bud against two fingers, kissing your neck as you press into him.

He’s breathing heavily behind you as you rub against his cock and his ragged sounds make you quiver.

“Oh, hah— Caleb.. That feels..” you moan.

“You’re so responsive,” he praises. His fingers don’t falter, never lose their rhythm, no matter how much he craves some stimulation of his own. Fortunately for him, your hot pussy against his hand and your sounds are just enough for now.

He almost cums in his pants when your hand reaches behind you to grab onto his hair. He grinds against you more, just enough to feel but not enough to finish as you whine as your first orgasm approaches. It’s not long until he’s holding you closer as you start to shake in his grasp. You bite your lip, knowing that even if your friends are outside, you still don’t want to be too loud.

Your head falls back on his shoulder as you finally start to come undone, chasing your high with eagerness. Spent and breathless, Caleb kisses your jaw while you try to come back down to Earth.

His hand slides out of your panties and you watch them trail upwards as he brings them higher and turn your head to see him pop them in his mouth, licking you clean off his fingers.

“I always dreamed that I’d take my time the first time you gave me the privilege to be inside of you,” he says against your neck. “But if you let me fuck you right now, I’m not gonna last and I’m not gonna be gentle. Is that okay, pipsqueak?”

“Yes…” you utter what feels like your first word in hours. Caleb wastes no more time. He’s waited long enough. He spins you around, laying you down on the bed with your hips at the edge.

His pants come down to give him just enough freedom and the sight of his cock makes your already wet and sensitive cunt clench. His tip is flushed with a tinge of red and you gawk at the creamy bead of white that runs down his length. He flips your dress up and he can’t even fathom trying to pull your panties off right now.

He pulls them to the side, looking between your eyes and what he calls safe haven. Guiding himself, he looks to you for approval one more time before he slides into you, your slick making his entry absolutely mouth watering.

His cock grinds against your panties as he starts slow, just to get you used to him. He can’t even form a coherent sentence or thought. Between how good you feel and the way the fabric strokes him roughly, he feels like he’s on another planet.

His pace increases as he feels you relax and the way he fucks you isn’t loving, it isn’t gentle. It’s powerful and it’s every bit of consuming. He’s showing you that you’re his, that you will always belong to him. His hips are merciless as he slams into you and his hands are no different as they roughly grab at your hips.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he pants. “Tell me you belong to me. I need to hear you say it.”

“I-I’m yours..” Not only do you tell him what he wants to hear, but you believe it. You believe him. “Oh god, Caleb, please don’t stop,” you beg him. If he wasn’t so determined to make you come again, he would’ve buckled right then and there because of how sweet you sound.

“I own you just as much as you own me. Do you understand?” He spreads you wider, bracing his forearms beneath your knees. Your breasts jump quicker at the way he’s nearly fucking you through the mattress. He just wishes he had you fully naked to get the whole experience.

“Fuck.. Yes, yes I hear you…” Your eyes roll back as you grip the cover beneath you.

“Allow another man to touch you…” he starts, licking his lips. “…and his blood will be on my hands,” he warns through hooded eyes.

That should terrify you. It should make you scream at him to pull out and to get away from you. Instead, it has your pussy shamelessly sucking him in deeper and he’s so deep that you almost struggle to breathe. The erotic sound of skin slapping together and his balls against your ass is enough to have you falling apart for him for the second time.

“Maybe my girl isn’t as innocent as I thought,” he teases. You want to retort, but it’s impossible right now.

“Shit, I’m gonna.. where do you want me?” he chokes out.

“Inside,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

That’s all he needs for a few more thrusts to have him spilling his seed into you. He fucks his cum deeper, rubbing your overstimulated clit as he watches the look on your pretty face. Once he stills, he takes a small amount of time to admire the sight before him of his fucked out girl.

He wants to stay inside of you longer, but you two have already been absent long enough and he doesn’t want you stressing.

Gently, he hisses as he pulls out and puts your panties back into place with his cum seeping though the fabric, making an absolute mess that makes him feel primal.

After he pulls your dress back down, he fixes his own clothes and pulls you up.

He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your lips, licking at your mouth. He smiles against you and that make you do the same.

“We’ll talk more tonight,” he promises as he kisses your nose.

“Caleb, there’s cum in my panties. I can’t go downstairs like this,” you say is disbelief. Secretly you love it, but you’re not telling him that.

“And it’s going to stay there,” he wraps his arm around your waist. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better.” His smile is mischievous and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be like that, pipsqueak. It’s your birthday.”

You punch his chest. “Oh, go to hell.”

He laughs. “I love you, too.”

#caleb smut #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader

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toast-on-dandelioms · 11 months ago

Text

🕷️Just Another Neglected Story🕷️

[previous] - Part 4.1 - [next]

Any names that you find familiar, in this part, were taken (with permission) from the fanart made by @the-broken-truth, while some changes like description of what's happening were made by me then modified by my beta reader, my bbg, Jamie.

tw: Joker, angst/no comfort, small description of injuries, small description/mention of a panic attack (I am unsure if it was that, please tell me if I am wrong).

Weeks passed with you still being Spider and a 'normal' teenager at the same time. But some changes and new things happened in these weeks.

You got visited by Superman almost daily, or nightly since he always visited when you were patrolling at night. You never questioned how he knew where to find you, you didn't want to think about it and just let him follow you during your nightly patrols.

He also helped you train while using all of your strength because you usually held back in fear of hurting people, so his tips helped a lot considering that he also had the same problem before.

Furthermore, now that you started to help with small problems around Gotham, like small thefts and gang problems, those problems started to slowly stop, giving you more time to train with Superman and help around the community.

You still didn't join the Bats or even the Justice League whenever Superman tried to propose it, you just didn't want to fight big shots like Joker or other super villains.

You liked doing small things and loved seeing the change it brought from you helping.

Just defeating super villains won't reward you with a pie from the nice old lady after helping her move her things in the apartment and give her groceries if she can't go to the supermarket, or getting drawings of little kids after you help them go home safely.

You also scored candies whenever the moms had them, which made you incredibly happy because they always had the candies you loved.

So you were happy, especially since Alfred never mentioned your breakdown after that night and kept on the usual routine of leaving your food on the desk in your room so you wouldn't have to come down to the kitchen.

You did notice him acting a bit weird but you pushed those thoughts aside since you didn't really notice anything weird happening around the Manor so you thought he was just nervous for something Bruce did.

You gave him too much trust and sooner than later you will regret doing that.

But something did change around the Manor, you just didn't notice because you started to walk on the ceiling, without shoes or Alfred would kill you, to avoid annoying encounters with anyone in the house, even if listening to music while on the ceiling was a bit difficult but you’re managing.

Well, Alfred knew that if he walked to Bruce and told him about you and what you felt he would've been ignored, especially since Bruce barely remembers that you even exist in the Manor and that you're a member of the family.

And even if Bruce did remember that you exist he would be annoyed, especially since he clearly hated your mother and was only paying the child support because he had to, especially since your mother threatened to take him to court if he wouldn't pay when he first got the news.

Talking to any of the batkids would've also been useless, because he also knew that no one in the Manor remembers you, especially now that you could walk on walls no one could even see you.

He couldn't count how many times he almost got a heart attack whenever he could see you on the ceiling, just hanging out or doing your homework, even though he still didn't understand how you could work without gravity making everything fall.

So he decided to do it in small steps, starting with leaving photos of you around the house in places where everyone sees them.

He put almost every picture that he owns of you, like you at a dance recital as the lead dancer or you at a science fair to which you won first place with an invention of yours.

One thing Alfred knew by putting your photos was that every person would notice how in all your photos you were alone and how your face never showed any emotion.

He knew it was small but he couldn't wait anymore, he needed to take action now or before you decided to leave for the Kent family, he couldn't let you go after he heard you talk about Clark and Conner while he made food in the kitchen.

He just hoped it wasn't too late for you, especially with your break down. He hoped you could still let someone in after all these years of being alone.

He did try his best but he was only a butler and he couldn't change someone's view of another person if that view was filled with hatred.

And you never noticed thanks to your walking on the ceiling or walls, moreover, you couldn't care less if they actually noticed you now. You were finally moving on and having a new start thanks to Spider.

But now it's not the time to think of Alfred's attempt of getting you acknowledged by the family, you were getting busier thanks to all the work as Spider, school and also dance classes.

You also kept on using yourself as a test subject, just to check the process of the spider DNA that's now in your DNA and seeing if anything changed or you had some mysterious new powers, taking videos to record the process of your evolution with the now Spider DNA in your body.

One thing you acquired after a while was invisibility, or camouflage as you called it since invisibility sounded magical and you didn't want it to sound like you were a kid.

How you found out you could use it was not a good experience.

You were in the kitchen with Alfred, just hanging out with him while he cooked when Damian suddenly entered the room to ask Alfred for some food for a new pet that he adopted.

In your panic at the sheer thought of Damian seeing you and hurting you like he did in the past made you freeze up, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that he would just disappear from existence. Praying to every god you could recall that Damian wouldn't find you, you tried to not breathe too loudly so he wouldn’t hear you.

After a few minutes of paranoia passed and you didn't hear anything around you, you slowly opened your eyes and saw Damian still waiting for Alfred to give him the food for a cat he adopted and completely ignoring you.

You were still scared he would see you so you stayed silent and waited patiently, albeit apprehensively, for him to go away before actually making a sound, which was a loud sigh of restrained relief as air poured back into your lungs. Somehow you hadn't noticed that you'd been holding your breath the whole time. Strange.

You slowly got down from the counter you were sitting on and walked up to Alfred, confused as to why the old man wasn't looking at you and instead was looking at the ceiling before softly calling out his name.

You got even more confused and slightly worried when he got scared since you were standing right in front of him but he, for some reason, couldn't see you.

After a bit of Alfred trying to explain that he couldn't actually see you and you not understanding why, you finally managed to make yourself visible.

You quickly went to work at the corporation to take a few tests to see what happened and didn't see anything with those tests but after a few days of trying to understand what happened and how you could make it happen again, you managed to go invisible on command.

It took a bit but you managed to do it, which got extremely useful to sneak into the kitchen when you need to get some snacks in the middle of the night so that Alfred doesn't catch you on the wall eating chips at 3 am.

Plus thanks to that time you found out that your eyes glow in the dark, which was a bit weird since the spider that bit you wasn't a bioluminescent one but you figured it was your own DNA that changed some things.

In the time following that discovery and training with Clark, you slowly started to join him in solo missions for the Justice League, but made sure to tell him that you didn't want to partner up with another person except him.

And you made sure that he knew you weren't an official member of the Justice League or of the Young Justice League, you just joined him so you wouldn't get rusty since Gotham is still filled with crime but fighting with teens or men who just swing a crowbar or knife is not really challenging.

You didn't want anyone except Clark to join those solo missions, not because you were scared of hurting another person since you learned to control your strength thanks to him and got pretty good with your spider senses.

You just hated being around people you didn't know or trust, especially if they were a member of the Wayne family, you absolutely detested them.

You refused to look at them and especially talk to them even though you had the voice modulator.

One of the many reasons you used the voice modulator was to not get recognised but also because you hated your own voice and the voice modulator helped when talking to lost kids or just kids in general.

You never told anyone why you hate your voice, you just refused to talk one day and learned asl to communicate with people and also used notes if people didn't know asl.

The mask was like a hearing aid, it changed your voice and helped you use it more so you could talk sometimes.

As time passed, the birdies (basically all of Bruce's kids, you just called them all bird to show how much you didn't care about them) kept on trying to talk to you and showing up where you were when you were patrolling.

You had a list of most annoying to less annoying since you couldn't really do much about them, especially since Clark forbade you to throw another one of them off a roof if they got too close to your liking or just breathed wrong.

They never sustained grave injuries since you always threw them to another building or a dumpster, or to Superman if he was around.

Most of the time in a dumpster to make yourself smile since you would take a photo then swing away before they could do anything, but they started to pose whenever you would take a photo, making you annoyed and ruining your fun.

The most annoying was Dick, with how persistent he was even if he was stuck on a wall thanks to your webs when he got too close or made you uncomfortable by continuing to call you nicknames that he would use with Damian and Tim.

You hated how he would just laugh and call you his little sibling, especially since he would never call you that if you didn't have a mask on and you felt that it was unfair that he suddenly cared about you just because of the mask.

It made you feel like you were getting ignored and forgotten once again but this time to a version of you that he likes while the one behind the mask is always getting ignored.

Just like at the Manor, the real you will never be appreciated and accepted with love.

The second most annoying in the list is Tim, it was gonna be Damian but Tim took second place with how creepy he is around you and how he knows too much of what you do.

Like, you knew he's the one who knows everything about every hero and villain since you saw him work on the bat-computer while you were stealing a few grappling hooks for your web shooters since they broke. (You were invisible and you got lucky that Cassandra wasn't there or she would've found you immediately.)

But seeing him open a folder and watching how many videos and photos he has of you in the bat-computer, like when you were fighting some gang members or when you were helping some nice old lady crossing the street.

If anyone else showed you their collection of you doing badass or just normal stuff while you were a vigilante then you would've felt impressed and very honored because you never thought someone would actually go out their way to be a fan of you.

But seeing Tim, someone you still had some respect for, having so many files, especially from when you first started and hit so many walls while swinging around made you weirded out and somehow violated, especially with how concentrated he was while staring at the videos.

Seeing that folder and all the information he had on you made you lose all the respect you still had for the boy.

Another thing he did was that, whenever you met him while patrolling or eating a few hot dogs with your favorite guy, he would always talk of things you did like he was there and creeped you out so much that you had to restrain yourself from throwing him off a roof or wherever you two were.

Most of the time you just tased him and went your way, paying the hotdog guy a little extra so he wouldn't stop selling you hot dogs.

You're also starting to think that hot dog guy is using you for the tips since you always tip him 50$ or more to stay silent and let you grab more hot dogs from him.

Third annoying but still so annoying that you want to punch his face is Damian. Mostly because he treats you like you're his older sibling.

Like he respects you and looks up to you. But you knew it was because of the mask since you also knew that if you ever took off the mask in front of him he would try to kill you.

You have to be supervised by Clark and even Jon since your only solution to get rid of Damian when he’s around you is throwing him off a roof without worrying about not using your super strength.

You hated the kid and didn't really hide it but he never said anything about it since he thought you two were bonding and you acting like you hate him is normal.

You wanted to tase him when he dared to call you his older sibling in Arabic, hating the look on his face that had so much adoration and admiration for you since it actually made him look like a normal teen.

(You learned some Arabic to get close to Damian when you found out where he was from when you were young)

Like he didn't create so many scars on your arms and legs with his sword and those batarangs. Like he didn’t make you so afraid of the Manor that Alfred had to assure you that he wouldn’t hurt you or you would get a panic attack by getting near the Manor.

Least annoying but still annoying is Jason Todd. You hate that mask he wears because you can't see his face and know what he’s really thinking about, and especially how he acts like you two are two old friends who meet up everyday.

You hate how he pats you on the head when you're distracted, since the spider sense doesn't really deem him a threat for you, and manages to evade your attempts to kick him away or throw him off a roof, laughing whenever you try to do so.

Like you two were just playing and you weren't angry at him and wanting to throw something at him but couldn't.

So your one solution was ignoring him and walking to the side of the building so he wouldn't reach you since he couldn't walk on walls like you.

Which did make you smug whenever he complained about it on the roof of the same building, finding it funny when he acted all offended when he understood you were smug by how you were acting even if your mask didn’t show your face.

Yea you and Jason did get along sometimes, most of the time if you were having a nice day and if he was the first one you would meet of the birds.

You had a decent relationship with Jason, yes you did have fun sometimes but you wouldn't call him a friend or even your brother.

Plus you never forgot about the years he would ignore you and especially when he punched you in the eye and didn't even apologize decently.

Or how he would complain about how terrible of a father Bruce is, or how annoying Dick is to anyone else while you would just stand there, completely ignored since he was probably talking to someone else or to himself.

And acted like he was the only one who's life was 'ruined' when Bruce got in his life when he's still loved even after everything he's done.

Even though he's still remembered every Christmas and given big gifts that means that the person who bought them thought of him, and birthday while no one even remembered you had a birthday and you always celebrated it with a cupcake or some friends.

So you preferred to ignore him or you would punch his skull if he tried to complain one more time about Batman and his death.

Not like Cassandra, Duke and Stephanie were any better.

Cassandra was annoying because of how silent she was. You always managed to see her but you knew she wanted you to see her.

Plus, 'hanging out' with her was just you doing your usual stuff while she followed since you couldn't push her away like the others.

And fighting wasn't in the option since she could kick your ass with just a hand and without moving, so you just ignored her, even though your spider sense was always going crazy when she was around since she was a walking threat.

Even five minutes with her would give you the worst headaches that you had to ask her to stand very far or you wouldn't be able to even walk around without wanting to puke.

You hated her because she was taken in by Bruce like you but instead of being hated because of her upbringing, she got accepted with open arms and he always loved her.

What did she have that you didn't?! Why does she get all the attention and love you always wished for while you're getting forgotten and hated?!

You saw her getting accepted, getting all the love you always wished for, seeing your father going to her dance recitals while he didn't even bother to even acknowledge that you do the same sport as her but in a different and smaller dance studio since you couldn't afford to go to the one Cassandra goes because of how expensive even one lesson was.

Stephanie was another person you hated. You knew of her past, you used the bat-computer whenever no one was in the batcave when you managed to control the invisibility.

You knew about what her dad did. You understood her reasoning to become a vigilante. You didn't hate her for her past, god you didn't even care who her father was.

You just hated her because of how loved she was by everyone. She was like Cassandra but once again, all the love was going towards the two and it never even touched you.

You did try to bond with her when you arrived at the Manor but she did look like she wanted to be everywhere but not with you.

Even when you only talked about things you knew she loved, it still wasn't enough for her. She still avoided you and preferred to spend time with either Barbara, Dick or Tim.

And after a bit you gave up and let her live her life without you in her way since she clearly didn't care about you.

The worst part was that everyone prefers Spider than you, since she also keeps trying to hang out with you when you're patrolling or spending time with kids and teens.

Or getting beat during a game of basketball since you sucked at that game and the teens you played with would tease you which made you laugh since you liked spending time with people the same age as you.

But it would be ruined when she would show up, wanting to play too even though she would just play with you and make it obvious she wanted to make you win.

Which ruined the game entirely for you and always made you leave after a bit with the excuse of being busy as a vigilante, which made the teens and also Stephanie confused.

Duke was the only one of them that you knew tried to hang out with you when you weren't Spider. That's why he was one of the ones you hang out with most if he came to see you while you were patrolling.

He came when you were almost 15, you didn't remember how old you were but you knew he was one of the ones who actually paid attention to you.

But after a while, all his duties as Signal, as a high schooler and as one of Bruce's kids made him too busy for him to spend time with you, to which he explained whenever he was late for something you two planned to do.

And you understood, you cheered for him from the back and always smiled at him whenever he was with you as Signal, even if he couldn't see it. And he did tell you the best places to get food during patrols so you liked him for that, but you remained loyal to the hot dog guy.

But then there was Bruce, acting like he was the savior from his kids that kept annoying you even though he wasn't any better than any of his kids, he was one of the worst in terms of how annoying he was.

He was starting to compete with Dick for the first spot on your list, which you didn't like since you just wanted to be alone, or with Duke and Jason.

Like he would keep on calling you kid and other nicknames you heard him give to his sons over the years, which made you sick because it reminded you of when you were little and that your biggest wish was to also get a nickname like your brothers and sisters and spend time with him as your father even if he never paid any actual attention to you.

But what you hated most was how he always smiled softly at you, even when you tried to kick him away and he would just grab your ankle like it was nothing, like you were his favorite child. Like he didn't tell you that he would never be a father to you when you gave him a father's day card when you were 12 and trying to bond with him.

Looking at you with so much love and adoration, making you disgusted since he was the same man who once looked at you with disgust and hatred just for entering his office because you needed his signature for something.

The same man who clearly told you to not expect him to treat you like his child since you weren't. You were just an annoying kid who had to come to his house since no one else wanted to take you in.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked with love, refusing to forget about everything he did just because you were a child of someone he hated.

You understood why Bruce hated your mother, you couldn't force everyone to like what you like, but you still didn't understand why he had to ruin your life by keeping you with him.

He could have sent you to a foster home, he could have sent you to boarding school all your life so he could never see the face of the one he hates. But he didn't.

No, he decided to accept you in his home and ruined your life, making you miserable by keeping you there and then basically neglecting you and forgetting you even exist.

You wanted to puke whenever he looked at you with love when you were Spider, you had to take so many showers and had to scrub your skin so hard it turned red by how hard you tried to wash away his touch whenever he managed to actually touch you on either the shoulders or head.

You found comfort in Clark since he never forced you to interact with the Robins and Batman and understood why you hated them since you explained to him who you were but didn't tell him everything.

He did annoy you whenever he tried to suggest you to come with him to Metropolis even after you explained that you couldn't just move to another city right in the middle of the school year.

Moreover you were still a minor and you would need Bruce's consent, which you refused to ask since you refused to acknowledge that he was supposed to be your legal guardian.

Plus you always had fun with his kids when they were around since they would throw you in the air and catch you, making you laugh like crazy since their throw was like making you fly for like 2 minutes before catching you.

Conner was more fun to be around because he understood what you were going through since he also had problems with Superman when the kryptonian refused to accept the clone as his son.

Plus he always made the best jokes and made you laugh whenever you would have a bad day after seeing your legal guardian and his kids having a fun outing together while you were at the Manor since they didn't even remember you existed.

Or when you had a bad dance practice and almost destroyed your pointe shoes with your strength because you thought you weren't good enough to be a ballet dancer which spiraled to thinking that because of you not being good at dancing then you weren't good enough to be recognised by your legal guardian and his family.

He was more like an older brother than Dick, Jason and Tim ever were for you. And you didn't even care, you loved him as a brother and loved hanging out with him.

Jon was nice but he was also friends with Damian and you didn't really spend that much time with him because of that. You were scared Damian would be with him and you didn't want to see the evil spawn.

But the times you did hang out with him were nice, he always brought cake that his grandparents made and shared it with you while you listened to him talk about whatever he wanted.

He was fun and very nice but you weren't used to hanging around a small teen who actually wanted to be with you and actively seeked you out for your attention.

You were more used to a small teen who would glare at you and attack you if you dared do anything, even just breathing in his direction, the scars on your arms and back proved that.

But you never said anything to Jon about what his best friend did to you, you didn't want Jon to feel like he had to choose between two sides.

And you knew he would choose Damian's side, no one ever chose your side. You knew no one would even dare to be by your side.

Well after a while of going to missions with Clark and him letting you do most of the work as training with his close by to make sure you wouldn't get hurt, you were finally going on a relatively simple mission with Conner and unfortunately with Jason.

You knew Conner didn't want him there but he probably got Batman to convince Clark and him, so you didn't say anything to him about Jason being there and just stayed by his side while you were in the small ship.

The whole ride was spent in silence, only stopped whenever Conner would check the coordinates or by the sound of you fixing the web shooters to make sure they wouldn't go haywire when you were fighting.

You finally landed in the spot where you were supposed to start your mission, near the villain's lair, if you could call it that since it was an unused bunker a group of cultists found and are now living there, which made you get down eagerly since you wanted to finally do a mission without Clark's supervision.

But your excitement immediately died when you saw Stephanie waiting for you there, making you let out a loud string of curses.

And yes, you did ignore the message on your phone from Clark that said 'language' and just walked past Stephanie and Jason, just wanting to get the mission done and go home with Conner.

Plus he did promise you his grandmother's best pie if you finished the mission and you could not pass up the opportunity of getting another slice of that delicious pie.

As you walked up to the lair with Conner, you patted him on the back before standing in front of the door as Stephanie tried to open it by picking the lock. You waited exactly 10 seconds for Stephanie to unlock the door before pushing her away, kicking the door down with your strength since she was taking too long for your liking.

You didn't even care if they were watching, you just glared at them all in silence for a few seconds before they were able to hear you say.

"Stay here and you two don't follow me, Conner don't try anything or I will tell Clark"

Then, right in front of them you became invisible before walking off, the only sound they could hear were of your sneakers walking down the metallic stairs.

(Switch Pov to Stephanie)

Stephanie knew she wasn't the best person. She knew of her father's evil doings and she knew she wasn't the best Robin or the best vigilante.

But when she saw Spider, she thought that they were perfect. They were always helping people and never too busy for everyone.

She, at first, didn't even know who Spider is because of how busy she was with her life and her vigilante job. But when she saw Tim researching them, she was amazed.

She knew there were other vigilantes in the city, it was a big city but she didn't know about a vigilante who didn't fight big villains like the others.

She saw Spider helping old ladies, stopping small gangs from forming by helping the teens and just being an image for the people to rely on.

She knew Bruce stopped high grade villains like Joker or others but Spider, Spider was different.

They didn't fight Joker, no they just fought the criminals who would bother people that couldn't do anything to stop them.

She admired the vigilante and wanted to be friends with them, maybe one day she could convince them to join her and her family at the Manor.

But what she didn't understand even though she craved to know was why they hated her. Why they hated her and the rest of her family.

She tried so much, she craved their validation so much that she trained so hard and tried so many times to interact with them.

But she would keep on getting ignored or she wouldn't be able to follow them by the speed of them swinging or when they walk on walls to avoid her.

She cried so many nights at the thought of her idol, the one person she wanted, no craved validation would hate her so much when she can't even remember or know why they hate her so much.

But when she heard of Jason joining Spider for their first mission, she was so jealous that she used the bat-computer to check where Spider's mission was supposed to be and followed them in another ship.

She wanted to show to her idol how brave she was, so maybe they will praise her and laugh like when they're with Conner, Clark and Jon.

Plus she wanted to wipe Jason's smirk off his face since he kept on bragging about going to a mission with Spider for days and how he was the favorite since compared to the rest of them, he was the one who Spider stayed the longest before leaving or throwing him off the roof.

But all her excitement and hope died the minute she heard Spider curse when they saw her, her head slowly lowering as she tried not to cry.

And when Spider told them to stay there, god she wanted to protest but strangely Jason held her back and just told her to hack in the security system to watch Spider with the cameras.

She didn't understand why she couldn't follow Spider to help them but did as Jason told her to, watching all the cameras with him and seeing henchmen getting knocked out or tased by Spider even though they weren't visible.

Plus she found it hilarious when a goon got knocked out by a flying metal tray and the others just stood there confused before also getting knocked out by a taser or a punch then getting tied up on a wall or floor.

As she watched the security feed, she noticed that Spider entered the boss's sanctuary, filled with small and useless artifacts that the Justice League used to trace the villain so they could capture him and stop him before he tried to grow his cult or summon some demon.

She kept watching and trying to find a camera inside the sanctuary, starting to get annoyed and also panicking a little because if she couldn't see anything in the sanctuary then she couldn't call for backup if something went wrong, especially by how far Spider was, and even if they were going to help them, it would take too long.

She kept on switching cameras and trying to hack into anything that was electronic, getting more frustrated as time passed since she could see the villain approaching the sanctuary with someone next to him, making her confused since he wasn't supposed to have partners that helped him.

She managed to switch a camera in time to see Joker next to the villain, the blood in her face draining as she stared at the clown on her screen in silence, her eyes wide like bugs and no sound could be heard from all three of the teens.

She went back to where Spider was and noticed a camera was on, to which Stephanie immediately tried to warn them by moving the camera a bit but it was too late and both villains entered the sanctuary and closed the door so Spider wouldn't be able to leave without getting noticed by the cultist and the clown.

She watched the feed without moving any part of her body in terror that if she even moved then the two villains would notice Spider and do something horrible to them.

She gasped when she saw Joker suddenly pulling out a gun and pointing it at where Spider was supposed to be, not managing to hear what he was saying since the cameras were old and didn't register any sounds, plus his psycho-smile made it difficult for her to read his lips so she couldn't even use that to her advantage.

As Stephanie kept watching, not noticing that she was holding her breath by how focused she was on Joker then cursed loudly when she saw the screen turn black, throwing the tablet in anger as she got up, making signs for Jason and Conner to follow as she ran into the lair.

She quickly jumped over any henchmen on the ground, needing to get to Spider immediately and save them.

She had to help. She had to stop that psychopath from hurting them. She needed to protect them.

As she ran, her vision was starting to get blurry by the tears threatening to fall as she ran. As she ran, she suddenly got blocked by the metal door that was blocking her from saving Spider.

She immediately called Conner, wanting to use his strength to open the door but unfortunately he couldn't even throw a decent punch that could leave a dent on it.

Even after a few tries Conner didn't do anything so she started to try to open it by using the panel next to the door, her frustration already growing by how useless he was.

So Stephanie sent Conner outside to call Superman and Batman while she and Jason tried to open the door as they waited for the two heroes to arrive.

As the three of them waited for Batman and Superman to come, Jason and Stephanie saw something coming out the door that made their blood cold.

Some form of gas kept on coming out the door and the only thing they were able to hear were some noises of something or someone getting hit and coughing.

Stephanie did smell the gas, trying to pinpoint what the gas was but she couldn't recognise it since the only thing she could detect was that it had a sweet smell, which was nothing like all the gasses she ever smelled before.

The only thing she knew is that the gas wasn't the usual gas Joker uses on his victims since she wasn't laughing or having a maniacal smile but she still couldn't pinpoint what the gas was.

Stephanie stayed silent, trying not to show how terrified she was while Jason was trying to kick down the door while yelling curses directed at Joker.

Conner was outside the lair to use the ship and communicate with Batman and Superman, knowing they were both on different missions and he couldn't fly to both of them to ask for help, especially since he found out that he couldn't even fly, making him even more desperate for them to come.

As they waited Stephanie tried to make Jason stop punching the door when she saw his knuckles bleed, not wanting another one of her siblings get hurt because of her incompetence before looking at the door.

The blood drained from her face, her knees giving up on her and making her fall to the ground as she heard a scream, the cold metal floor the only thing she could feel at the moment.

She knew the scream couldn't be of Joker. He heard him yell before and this scream wasn't his. She hoped for every god as she tried to hack the panel of the door, even though she already tried before, with a bit of difficulty, her vision starting to blur as tears started to fall and her hands trembling as she was trying to ignore the multiple screams she kept hearing.

She couldn't let Spider get hurt, she should've been there to help them. They didn't deserve the pain and hurt she and almost all of the Robins went through because of Joker.

She stopped when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder, the realization that she was just messing up the wires and making it even more difficult for the door to be opened when she looked at her hands tangled in between the wires.

She looked up at the man and visibly relaxed, completely giving out on the floor as Jason helped her by cutting the wires tangled in her hands while Batman examined what was happening as Conner explained what he knew, Superman next to him and waiting for Batman to give orders since he knew that if he acted irrationally then Spider would be in danger.

(Switch to Bruce's POV)

Bruce knew he wasn't a good person and a hero like Clark and Diana, that's why he called himself a vigilante since heroes save people and stop criminals but he couldn't save everyone.

Sometimes he was too late and he couldn't save someone innocent that unfortunately crossed ways with a villain or a gang.

Another thing Bruce knew was that he wasn't the best father because he let his kids get hurt by going on patrols with him as a vigilante, not thinking about what could happen to them if they fought someone too strong or if he suddenly decided to make them stop being a vigilante by saying that it was to protect them, which made everyone sneak out to be a vigilante.

He had to bury his children too early because of vigilantism and couldn't help his son when he was being trained by the League of Assassins.

But when he saw Spider for the first time, seeing a child that looked no older than 14, maybe 15, made him think that maybe, maybe he could help this one become the best version of themselves.

And if he was good enough, he could be a father again and get another child saved from the darkness and evil that surrounds Gotham.

Even if the only evil Spider saw was him and his family.

One thing he hated was that he couldn't understand why Spider absolutely loathed him and everyone of the vigilantes who live or have lived under his roof.

He couldn't understand why and even after checking every mission he ever did that included helping kids/teens in Gotham, nothing gave him a lead as to why Spider hated him.

And the worst thing was that Spider decided, out of all the heroes and vigilantes in the world, and especially in the Justice League, to trust and get close to Clark.

To Clark! His enemy! He was supposed to be the one teaching Spider to control their strength! He was supposed to be the one laughing with them while eating hot dogs and sharing funny stories of stupid people they say during patrol.

(He knows about it thanks to a small camera he put on Clark’s costume after he found out that he and Spider got close)

He didn't trust letting them go on a mission even if Clark told him that they could and that they were ready.

He thought it was too early and that they weren't trained to fight villains like he and the others fight everyday, especially with Conner since he wasn't perfectly trained so he managed to convince Clark, with much manipulation and guilt tripping, to let Jason come with them if there was trouble.

He didn't know Stephanie would also be there, especially since he didn't talk about it in the batcave about the mission but he already guessed that Jason bragged about going so she also went to also see her idol, knowing about her obsession with Spider to which he didn't say anything but encourage it with his own obsession towards the arachnid vigilante.

Not that he minded, two of his kids were better than none and Spider needed all the protection necessary even if the mission was one of the easiest possible. Especially since he chose it as a way to make sure Spider wouldn't be in actual danger.

But the moment he got a message from Conner explaining that Spider was in danger because of Joker, someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, made his world crumble as he ran to where his jet was, needing to get there as soon as possible.

He couldn't let another person, no he couldn't let Spider get hurt or worse, killed, by the clown bastard.

He needed to save them, he needed to stop that fucking clown and he couldn't let Clark beat him to it. He knew that if he was the first one to save them, to help them then they would trust him more.

He couldn't lose that huge advantage to Clark or it would be impossible to even be able to get Spider to trust him or any of his kids. Which was already difficult but he saw them being more comfortable with Duke and Jason.

He arrived almost 3 seconds before Clark did, even though the kryptonian made his presence known since he made a crater at his landing and looked extremely infuriated as he walked towards Conner.

Bruce was already next to the boy and listening to his explanation on what happened, his usual frown that always made him seem annoyed with everything since he didn't want to show that he was scared.

He listened to superboy as he explained what happened in detail as they walked in the lair, a small smile appearing on his face whenever he saw henchmen and cultists knocked out and all tied up in Spider's web.

As they walked he noticed Conner and Clark weren't flying even if the space was big enough for them to even float, so he approached the boy, knowing it couldn't be Clark since the kryptonian was flying just two seconds ago, to see if he had anything on him and saw a familiar glowing green stuck to the boy's shirt.

He quickly grabbed it and put it in a container to block its effect since he knew it was kryptonite, the result showing on both kryptonians because they now could fly again.

He showed the container containing the kryptonite when both Supers looked at him "it was on Superboy's shirt, not sure who put it on him" he explained, now confused but especially enraged to who dared to interfere with the mission and put Spider in danger.

When they arrived at the door he saw something that made him frown more but also worried. He saw Stephanie continuing to tangle her hands in the wires of the panel next to the door, probably trying to open it but he saw her shaking and sobbing, making him understand that the girl was too focused on trying to save the vigilante inside the room that she couldn't focus on the task she was doing.

He then turned to Jason and saw him kicking the door and punching it, small dents on it to show how much strength he was putting in it and his bloody knuckles showing for how long he was doing that.

Bruce quickly checked on Stephanie and Jason before telling Superman to get rid of the door, the silence around them being too suspicious and dangerous since almost 2 minutes before they arrived both Stephanie, Conner and Jason could hear screaming from inside the room.

Dividers were made by @cafekitsune so please check them out because they do amazing stuff.

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callsigns-haze · 2 months ago

Text

Silence

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

According to everyone your rule was stupid. You refused to talk to them in the morning before certain hours, but in your eyes during the whole revolution you were sleep deprived. They thought this would pass but even years later your son catches onto your habit.

Warning: This story contains fluff, cursing, drinking, throwing up, pregnancy, birth and suggestive topics.

The first rays of morning light trickled through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls as the sun began to rise over Tyrrendor. Outside, the world was quiet, as it always was in the early hours of the day. But inside your shared chambers, the calm was anything but.

Xaden sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers idly running through his dark hair as he stared at you. You were curled up under the blankets, your form partially obscured, only your wild hair visible as you grumbled into your pillow. The peace of the morning should’ve been a welcome thing after the chaos of the rebellion, the victory, and now the finality of peace settling in the kingdom.

And yet, nothing about the mornings with you was ever quite what he expected.

He cleared his throat, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. “Good morning, love,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you too much, but still, trying to reach you. He was used to mornings filled with laughter, soft talks, and quiet moments, but with everything that had happened, you’d changed. Or rather, you were adjusting. And so was he.

You groaned, twisting your head just enough to peek at him with one eye, the other firmly buried in the pillow. The sunlight danced across your face, catching in your messy hair and drawing an amused smirk from Xaden, but before he could even speak again, you made a shushing motion with your hand, your finger pressing to your lips dramatically.

He blinked, thrown off for a moment. “Uh—what?”

You didn’t answer, only waved your hand as if to shoo him away. “Shh.”

Xaden's brows furrowed slightly. “You know, I thought you’d be… well, a little more awake at this hour. We have to get up soon.”

The sheets rustled as you threw one arm out, causing the blanket to fall to the floor. “Nine o'clock,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow. “No one talks to me before 9 am. Rule number one.”

Xaden let out a quiet chuckle, but he was genuinely perplexed. "Rule number one? Since when?"

You didn't bother responding, just shoved your face further into the pillow, making a noise of frustration. He could tell you weren’t angry, just desperately in need of rest. It made sense—after all the sleepless nights during the revolution, the constant tension, and everything that had come with it, your body needed time to adjust to peace. But, Xaden had never expected this—a quiet, sleepy rebellion against the world’s usual routine.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “I’m your husband, and you’re shushing me?”

You peeked one eye at him again, the other eye still pressed into the pillow, giving him a look that was somehow both sassy and tired. “You’re lucky I’m even acknowledging your existence before nine,” you said in a grumbling, barely coherent voice. “You, and the rest of the squad—” You paused to yawn, your hand stretching out above you like a cat, “—you all deprived me of sleep during the revolution. Now I’m catching up.”

Xaden didn’t know whether to laugh or protest. “You’re blaming us for your inability to sleep?”

You shot him another sleepy, half-hearted glare. “It’s not my fault you all decided to throw constant war meetings at ungodly hours.”

He couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, shaking his head at the sight of you. He knew how you were—how chaotic and unpredictable you could be. But he hadn’t expected this new rule to be the result of everything. Still, his heart softened at the sight of you like this—your messy hair, the pillow creases still etched into your skin, the way your voice held the hint of exhaustion. You were his wife, the marked child of legend, his lifelong friend, and now, the queen beside him. You had always been everything he wanted in a partner.

And he’d always known life with you would be far from normal.

Xaden leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed. “Alright, fine,” he said with mock defeat. “I’ll be quiet, but only because I love you.” He paused, giving you a playful grin. “But I’ll remind you that you promised me mornings where we would—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. As if it was second nature, your hand shot up and you made a shushing motion again, a very distinct finger pressed to your lips. The movement was so dramatic it almost made him forget he was supposed to be upset about not getting a proper conversation.

“Shush,” you repeated, your tone thick with sleep. “No words. Just… peace… for now. Please.”

Xaden chuckled again, not able to resist. “How about coffee? I’ll get you some.”

You squinted at him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is it made by the kitchen staff or by you?”

“Kitchen staff,” he replied quickly. “I’m not risking it.”

You hummed in satisfaction and finally—finally—slipped out from under the blanket. You rolled over onto your back, stretching your arms overhead. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you speak now. You’re off the hook… until 9 am. You better hope I’m still in a good mood when it hits.”

Xaden raised an eyebrow at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a force of nature, you know that?”

You flashed a grin, and then, with a dramatic sigh, dropped your head back onto the pillow. “Just let me be a peaceful force of nature for a few more hours.”

He couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you be.”

Xaden watched you for a long moment, the morning light filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow over your still-sleepy features. He’d seen you in battle, seen you drenched in blood and fire, seen you command dragons with nothing but your willpower and sharp mind. But this version of you—the one buried beneath a mountain of blankets, fighting off the early hours with pure stubbornness—was equally dangerous.

Because he couldn’t resist you like this.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he pushed off the bed and made his way toward the door. He knew better than to push his luck. If he so much as tried to engage in conversation again, you’d just shush him until you fell back asleep, and if there was one thing Xaden Riorson didn’t do, it was argue with a woman who had the patience of a wyvern.

Instead, he decided to get your coffee, if only as a peace offering.

The moment he stepped into the hall, his shadows curled around his wrists, brushing against his skin as if reminding him they were still there, still watching. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he made his way toward the kitchens, nodding briefly at a few passing guards who straightened immediately at his presence. It was still a strange thing, being King of Tyrrendor. He hadn’t wanted the title, hadn’t asked for it. But with the rebellion over and leadership needed, he’d taken it, just as he always had with every impossible responsibility thrown his way.

And then there was you.

His queen—his wife—his chaos.

If he had been born to rule, then you had been born to keep him on his toes.

By the time he reached the kitchens, the morning staff was already busy preparing breakfast for the fortress. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meats filled the air, but Xaden ignored it, his focus on the pot of coffee steaming by the counter.

“Morning, Your Majesty,” one of the older kitchen attendants greeted, bowing slightly before grabbing a mug. “Coffee?”

Xaden inclined his head. “For my wife.”

The woman hummed in understanding, a knowing smile on her face as she poured the dark liquid into a mug. “Ah, yes. The queen’s new decree.”

He sighed. “She told you about the no speaking before nine rule?”

The attendant chuckled. “Told us? She made us write it down.”

Xaden closed his eyes briefly, a slow, exasperated smirk pulling at his lips. Of course, you had.

By the time he returned to your chambers, the sun had risen higher, the golden light painting the walls in soft warmth. You were still curled up in bed, though now you were on your side, one arm tucked under your pillow, the other stretched lazily across where he had been lying earlier.

Xaden leaned against the doorframe for a second, just watching you. He wasn’t sure if you were awake or still half-asleep, but the way your fingers flexed slightly, as if reaching for him, made something in his chest tighten.

He made his way over to your side of the bed, setting the coffee on the bedside table before kneeling beside the mattress. He reached out, brushing his fingers over your forehead, pushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

Your lips parted slightly, and for a second, he thought you were going to say something. But then—

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to meet his gaze, and in an instant, your hand shot up between you, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

Xaden blinked. Then scowled. “I brought you coffee.”

You let out a sleepy hum of approval, but your finger didn’t move from his lips. “Doesn’t mean you can talk yet.”

Xaden groaned, dragging a hand down his face before standing to grab the coffee. “You are insufferable,” he muttered as he held the mug out to you.

You grinned as you sat up, finally removing your hand from his mouth to take the cup. “And yet, you married me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, settling beside you on the edge of the bed. “Clearly, a lapse in judgment.”

You took a long sip of coffee, sighing dramatically at the taste. Then, with a slow, smug smile, you turned to him and whispered, “Love you, too.”

Xaden shook his head, draping an arm across the back of the bedframe. “This rule of yours—”

“Hmm?”

“The no talking before nine rule.”

You took another sip, feigning innocence. “What about it?”

His eyes darkened slightly as he tilted his head at you. “I will find a way to get around it.”

You smirked, leaning into his side. “Good luck, Your Majesty.”

Xaden narrowed his eyes, the challenge clear between you. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew one thing for certain:

He had won battles. He had fought wars.

But this?

This was a fight he was never going to win.

Three Months Later – The Dining Room

The dining hall of the Tyrrendor palace was buzzing with early morning energy, the long, polished wooden table lined with plates of fresh fruit, buttered toast, eggs, and meats. The air was thick with the rich scent of brewed coffee, mingling with the sharper notes of spiced tea and the occasional waft of warm honey from the pastries stacked near the centre. Sunlight streamed in through the towering arched windows, casting golden beams across the stone walls and illuminating the banners that hung from the ceiling—symbols of a rebellion-turned-kingdom.

The palace had settled into its newfound peace, and with it, so had its people.

But, as always, the morning meal was missing one key figure.

And today, the others had noticed.

Xaden was seated at the head of the table, a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand, the other drumming against the wood as he listened to the usual morning chatter—Sawyer and Ridoc were bickering over who had actually won their sparring match yesterday, Rhiannon was reading over a report Mira had handed her, and Cat and Maren were deep in conversation about something that involved a lot of eye-rolling.

Then, finally—

"Okay, seriously," Garrick set his fork down, levelling a look at Xaden. "Where the hell is your wife?"

That was all it took.

As if everyone had been waiting for someone else to bring it up, all eyes suddenly snapped to Xaden, their previous conversations instantly abandoned.

"Yeah," Imogen agreed, raising an eyebrow. "She hasn't been at breakfast for months."

"I thought maybe she was just sleeping in," Sloane added, tilting her head. "But at this point, is she even alive?"

"Or maybe she's just avoiding us?" Drake mused, his golden-brown skin practically glowing in the sunlight, an easy smirk tugging at his lips. "Should we be offended?"

"She wouldn't miss breakfast just to avoid us," Violet interjected, shaking her head. "She loves food too much."

"Maybe Xaden did something to piss her off," Ridoc suggested, elbowing Sawyer with a grin. "Like leaving his boots in the middle of the damn room—"

"I don’t leave my boots in the middle of the room," Xaden cut in flatly.

"Anymore," Bodhi murmured under his breath, earning a chuckle from Mira.

Xaden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd known this conversation was coming. He’d felt it looming for weeks.

And yet—

He still wasn’t sure how to explain the sheer stupidity of what had been going on in his own damn marriage for the past three months.

So, instead of easing them into it, he just—said it.

“She has a rule.”

A beat of silence. Then:

"A rule?" Aaric repeated, frowning. "What the hell does that mean?"

Xaden took a slow sip of his coffee, as if somehow, the caffeine would fortify him for what was about to come. “She refuses to acknowledge anyone before nine in the morning.”

Another pause.

Then—

"What."

Ridoc nearly choked on his eggs. “Wait—wait. You’re telling me she has refused to speak to anyone for three entire months before nine a.m.?”

“Yes.” Xaden took another sip. “Including me.”

Imogen let out a sharp bark of laughter, while Mira, sitting beside her, just sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "Gods, that is so on brand for her."

Cat tilted her head, considering. "That explains why every time I pass your rooms in the morning, I hear absolutely nothing."

“Oh, there’s plenty of noise,” Xaden muttered, shaking his head. “It’s just her shushing me the entire time.”

"You’re kidding," Sawyer said, eyes wide with amusement.

“I wish I was.”

Violet was just staring at Xaden now, her fork frozen mid-air. “That’s why she’s been skipping breakfast?”

"Apparently," he deadpanned.

Maren burst out laughing. “That is absurd.”

“Tell me about it,” Xaden muttered. “The first time she did it, I thought she was joking.”

Garrick arched an eyebrow. “And now?”

Xaden huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Now I fear for my life if I say anything before nine."

That sent everyone into a fit of laughter, even Sloane, who had been trying to remain unimpressed.

“So, let me get this straight,” Ridoc said, wiping at his eyes. “Your wife, your literal queen, the most chaotic person in this entire damn kingdom—has implemented a law—"

"—not a law," Xaden corrected. "A rule."

"—has implemented a rule," Ridoc continued, grinning, "banning verbal interaction before nine in the morning—"

"—because she claims we all deprived her of sleep during the war," Mira finished, shaking her head.

“Correct.”

Sawyer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And you’ve just been letting this happen?”

Xaden gave him a flat look. "Do you want to go up against her before she’s had caffeine?"

Sawyer considered. Then nodded slowly. "Good point."

“I just—” Rhiannon gestured vaguely. “You’ve been married to her this entire time. You can’t talk to her in the morning either?”

“Oh no, I try,” Xaden said, exhaling heavily. “And every time, she just shushes me.”

"Every time?" Aaric asked, sceptical.

"Every. Time."

There was a moment of silence before Drake, voice entirely too amused, said, “That is hysterical.”

“I know.” Xaden groaned, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “She wrote it down. Told the staff. Enforced it."

Bodhi looked like he was trying so hard not to laugh. “You’re whipped.”

Xaden shot him a glare. “I’d like to see you win against her.”

Bodhi immediately shut up.

“So what you’re saying,” Violet mused, sitting back in her chair, “is that we all have to wait until nine before we can see her?”

"Unless you want to be shushed into submission," Xaden muttered, taking another slow sip of coffee.

There was another beat of silence before Ridoc—because of course it was Ridoc—grinned. Xaden tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before running a hand through his hair. “She’s decided—and I quote—that breakfast is an optional social event that does not require her attendance if she is still in bed.”

Silence.

Then—

“You’re joking,” Ridoc said, blinking.

Xaden shook his head. “Nope.”

“She’s just… not coming?” Imogen asked, half-laughing, half-incredulous.

“Oh, she would come,” Xaden said, picking up his coffee again. “But apparently, I was the one that encouraged bad habits by bringing her coffee to bed every morning, and now, she refuses to leave until she’s had at least one cup.” He exhaled sharply. “So, if I don’t bring it to her, she stays in bed.”

A beat of silence followed his words.

And then—laughter.

It started with Ridoc, then Sawyer, then Imogen, until the whole damn table was either chuckling or grinning at Xaden’s predicament.

Mira, shaking her head, smiled. “That is impressively stubborn.”

“More like impressively brilliant,” Maren corrected, smirking.

Brennan let out a low whistle. “So, let me get this straight—you spoiled her by bringing her coffee, and now she won’t leave the bed until you continue to do so?”

Xaden gave his friend a withering look. “Apparently.”

Violet snorted. “You really should’ve seen that coming.”

“I didn’t think it would become a rule,” Xaden muttered, shaking his head. “I thought I was being nice.”

“That was your first mistake,” Rhiannon teased, smirking.

Xaden groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear, the next time she comes down here, I’m going to—”

But he didn’t get to finish that sentence.

Because at that moment, the dining hall doors creaked open, and there you were.

Hair slightly tousled from sleep, wrapped in one of Xaden’s oversized tunics, a steaming coffee mug in hand. You were still barefoot, walking like someone who had only just dragged themselves out of bed.

And the second you saw everyone staring at you?

You blinked. Then frowned.

Then, slowly, lifted the coffee mug to your lips and took a sip.

The room was silent.

Then Ridoc—because of course it was Ridoc—burst out laughing.

“WELL, WELL, WELL,” he drawled dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence!”

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning your glare to Xaden. “You told them, didn’t you?” Xaden, utterly unapologetic, simply leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Oh, absolutely.”

You groaned, rubbing your free hand over your face. “I hate you.”

Xaden smirked. “Love you, too.”

And as the table erupted into laughter once more, you took another long sip of coffee, rolled your eyes, and muttered,

“I should’ve stayed in bed.”

Xaden leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with barely concealed amusement as you stood there, barefoot, clutching your coffee mug like it was the only thing tethering you to life.

Then he checked the clock mounted on the wall behind you.

And laughed.

A deep, knowing, utterly infuriating laugh that had everyone at the table looking between the two of you in pure amusement. “Nine o’clock on the dot,” he said, shaking his head, grinning like a damn idiot. “You really weren’t kidding about that rule, huh?”

You scowled, lifting your coffee mug in warning. “I will throw this at you.”

That only made him laugh harder.

And that was when Ridoc, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, leaned over to Sawyer and whispered, “She probably sat outside the door with a timer.”

You snapped your gaze to him. “I heard that.”

Ridoc grinned. “Oh, I know.”

Xaden, still smirking, grabbed his own coffee and took a slow sip, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he met your glare. “So, now that it’s officially past nine, are we finally allowed to have a full conversation with Her Highness?”

You exhaled heavily, dramatically rolling your shoulders like the weight of an invisible burden had just been lifted.

Then you took another sip of coffee, sighed, and—without even looking at him—muttered,

“…I suppose.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for the entire table to lose it.

Ridoc nearly choked on his coffee, slamming a fist against his chest as he wheezed out, “I suppose—oh gods, she’s actually serious.” Sawyer grinned, shaking his head. “Three months and you still won’t let it go.” Imogen smirked, eyes flicking toward Xaden. “And yet, you still bring her coffee every morning.”

Xaden, utterly unbothered, took another slow sip from his mug before shrugging. “I’m not an idiot.”

That sent Ridoc into another fit of laughter. “No, but you are whipped.” Xaden didn’t even flinch. Just leaned forward, elbows braced against the table, and smirked. “And you’re single.” Ridoc, still laughing, immediately scowled. “Low blow, Riorson.”

You, despite still being half-asleep, beamed at that. “I taught him that.”

“Of course, you did,” Aaric muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

Violet, clearly enjoying the spectacle, just shook her head, silver hair catching in the morning light. “I don’t know how he puts up with you.”

You turned, leveling her with a deadpan look. “You married Aaric.” Aaric scoffed, pressing a hand over his heart. “That’s offensive.” Violet, however, merely smirked. “Yeah, but I didn’t make a ‘no talking before nine’ rule.”

Brennan, still lounging in his chair, lifted a brow at you. “Yeah, about that—are we ever going to get an explanation?”

You, utterly unrepentant, took another slow sip of coffee before setting your mug down on the table with a click.

Then, you exhaled, stretched your arms over your head, and leaned forward slightly, voice low and deadly serious as you said,

“You deprived me of sleep during the revolution. All of you.” Your gaze swept over the entire table, accusations clear in your eyes. “I am catching up.”

Silence.

Then—

Sawyer burst out laughing. “You’re holding a grudge?”

You raised a brow. “Absolutely.”

Brennan, shaking his head, turned to Xaden. “And you’re okay with this?”

Xaden, still smirking, just shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Ridoc groaned. “Gods, you really are whipped.”

Xaden simply leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and smirked.

“Yeah.” His dark eyes flicked to you, amusement dancing across his features.

“And I don’t mind one bit.”

The laughter slowly died down as you exhaled sharply, setting your coffee mug down with a click. Then, pushing your chair back slightly, you leaned forward, levelling the entire table with a pointed look.

“You all think this is funny,” you started, voice calm—too calm. “Like I’m just being dramatic.”

Ridoc, still grinning, shrugged. “You are a little dramatic.”

You shot him a glare before continuing, “You do realize that during the revolution, you all made me a Major, right?”

The table went silent.

Xaden, to his credit, didn’t look surprised—he’d been there when it happened. But the rest of them?

Yeah, some of them definitely hadn’t considered that before.

“I was in charge of a whole damn division,” you continued, voice sharp now. “Which meant that every time something went wrong, every time one of you needed something, every time an order needed to be given, I was the one making the calls.” You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. “Which meant I was in bed at eleven—if I was lucky—because I was dealing with all of you. And then? I was back up at four in the morning because I was the one handling logistics with the rest of the continent.”

Sawyer winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you muttered.

Rhiannon frowned. “I mean, I knew you were handling a lot, but I didn’t realize…” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not even the worst of it.” You flicked your gaze toward Xaden, who was watching you intently, his jaw tight. “Then came the cure for the Venin.”

Imogen frowned. “Right. We were all looking for—”

“No,” you cut in. “You were fighting. I was trying to locate things. I was the one chasing every lead, digging through archives, listening for rumours. And that meant I was getting woken up at any hour of the night whenever something came up that might help.”

Ridoc, who had finally stopped grinning, just stared at you. “Shit.”

You let out a slow breath, leaning back in your chair. “So yeah. Maybe I am being dramatic. But you know what? I earned it.”

Silence.

Then—

Xaden, still watching you carefully, leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“You’re tired,” he said simply.

You met his gaze, the exhaustion creeping into your voice now.

“I’m so tired.”

Violet, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke.

“You should’ve said something sooner.”

You gave her a look. “When? During the war? When everything was still falling apart?”

Violet frowned. “You still should’ve—”

“No.” Xaden’s voice cut in, sharp and unwavering.

You blinked, turning to look at him.

He was serious now, his dark eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable in his expression.

“She did what she had to do,” he said simply. “And now? She’s doing what she needs to do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, something heavy passing between you.

Then he leaned back in his chair, smirk creeping back onto his face.

“And if that means enforcing some stupid rule about not talking to her before nine?” He shrugged. “Then we all just have to deal with it.”

The table was silent.

Then—

Ridoc groaned.

You snorted, shaking your head as you took another sip of coffee. “At least one of you is finally catching up.” Xaden just smirked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t see the problem.”

Sawyer scoffed. “That’s because you’re the one benefiting from it.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

Rhiannon exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Okay, so let me get this straight—because we put you in charge during the war, and then you had to run around finding the cure, and then deal with logistics, and then deal with us, and then handle the entire continent—”

“—while also dating him,” Ridoc added, pointing at Xaden.

Rhiannon nodded. “—while dating him, now you’ve decided that you get to make arbitrary rules about how and when we’re allowed to talk to you?”

You grinned. “See? You do get it.”

She groaned, dropping her head onto the table. Imogen, who had been listening carefully, finally spoke. “Honestly?” She shrugged. “Sounds fair to me.” You pointed at her. “See? Thank you.”

Maren frowned. “So how long is this rule going to last?”

You blinked. “What?”

Maren gestured vaguely. “Like, are you going to keep this up for another three months? A year? Forever?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

The table erupted. Ridoc threw his head back with a groan, Sawyer muttered something about revolutionary nightmares, and Cat just shook her head with an amused smirk. Xaden? He just kept looking at you, his smirk deepening.

And then, before anyone else could get a word in—

Mira, who had been watching the chaos unfold with far too much amusement, leaned forward slightly, tilting her head. “Alright, I have to ask,” she said. “What happens if someone does try to talk to you before nine?”

The table stilled.

Then, slowly, all eyes turned to you.

You took another sip of coffee.

Set your mug down.

Tilted your head slightly.

And smiled.

“That,” you said, voice light and just a little too sweet, “is something you don’t want to find out.”

Silence.

And then—

Xaden laughed.

Long and deep and genuinely amused, shaking his head as he looked at you like you were the most ridiculous thing in the world.

The others?

Yeah, they definitely believed you.

It was far too early for this.

You stood outside the council chamber doors, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, seething. The ornate wooden doors loomed in front of you, the deep red banners of Tyrrendor hanging beside them, flickering slightly from the draft in the hallway.

Inside, you could already hear the low murmur of voices—serious, composed, and utterly unaware of the wrath they had just summoned. Beside you, Xaden stood with his hands behind his back, expression far too neutral. But you knew him—knew the slight twitch of his mouth, the amusement flickering behind those dark eyes.

The traitor.

“They requested you,” he reminded, tone maddeningly calm. “They requested me before nine,” you snapped. Xaden exhaled, shaking his head. “You do realize they’re a council, right?”

You turned to glare at him. “And do they realize that I made a rule?”

Xaden grinned. “I don’t think they care.”

Your scowl deepened. “Well, they’re about to.”

And with that, you shoved open the heavy doors and strode inside, not even bothering to look at the gathered officials as you stormed toward the table.

The conversation cut off immediately.

Ten council members, all dressed in the deep reds and blacks of Tyrrendor, turned to look at you—some confused, some mildly annoyed, none of them aware that they were about to regret everything.

You slammed your hands down on the polished table.

The sound echoed loudly through the chamber.

One of the councillors, an older man with greying hair, frowned at you. “General, we—”

“Do you know what time it is?” you demanded.

Silence.

A few exchanged wary glances.

“…It’s a council meeting,” another councillor offered, confused.

You inhaled sharply, barely restraining yourself. “It is before nine.”

More silence.

Then—

“…And?”

Your eye twitched.

Xaden, still standing near the door, had zero intention of helping you. If anything, you could feel his smug amusement. You turned back to the council. “I have one rule,” you said, voice low and deadly. “And this—” you gestured broadly at them, at the entire room, “—this is violating it.”

One of the younger councilors, a woman with sharp features, raised a brow. “You can’t seriously be—”

“I am serious,” you cut in, eyes flashing.

She hesitated.

The older councillor exhaled heavily. “This is important—”

“So was my sleep during the war,” you snapped. “Did I get any of that? No.” You levelled them with a glare. “But this? This is not life or death. This is a council meeting that could have been scheduled an hour later.”

Silence.

Then—

One of the more cautious members cleared their throat.

“…Would you like us to reschedule?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.”

Another awkward beat of silence.

Then the older councillor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. The meeting will reconvene at nine.”

You beamed. “See? Now we’re learning.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and marched right back out of the chamber, passing Xaden without so much as a glance.

But as soon as the doors slammed shut behind you, you heard it—

Xaden’s quiet, infuriatingly amused voice as he muttered,

“Gods help us all.”

You were still fuming as you stormed down the hallway, your boots clicking against the stone floors in sharp, purposeful strides. Xaden, of course, was strolling beside you, hands in his pockets, not helping at all.

“You know,” he mused, voice laced with amusement, “you could have just sat through the meeting like a normal person.”

You whipped around so fast he had to stop short to avoid running into you.

“Normal?” you repeated, eyes blazing. “You think I went through years of war, got forced into a leadership position, spent months barely surviving, and then finally clawed my way into some semblance of peace just to sit through a meeting before nine in the morning like a normal person?”

Xaden just blinked at you, his lips twitching. “Well, when you put it that way—”

You threw your hands up. “Exactly!”

He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I fear for Tyrrendor.”

You scowled. “Tyrrendor is fine.”

“You’re literally refusing to lead before nine.”

“Exactly.”

Xaden snorted, finally breaking into a full grin.

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing. Just—” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his fingers down your jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

You huffed. “And you love it.”

His grin turned wicked. “That’s the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back around and marching toward your chambers.

But just as you reached the door, Xaden’s shadows coiled around your waist, tugging you back against his chest.

You gasped, hands automatically gripping his forearms as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “you storming into that meeting like that?” His fingers dragged down your sides, slow and deliberate. “Kind of hot.”

Your breath hitched.

Damn him.

Damn his shadows.

Damn his stupid, unfair ability to make you melt in seconds.

You swallowed hard, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze.

“Then maybe,” you murmured, “you should take me back to bed.”

His eyes darkened.

And before you could so much as blink, he was picking you up, shadows wrapping around you both as he carried you straight back inside.

Seven Months Later

It was six in the godsdamned morning, and you were miserable.

The sky was still a deep shade of navy, the sun barely beginning to touch the horizon, casting long shadows through the narrow corridors of the ancient archive. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and dust, the quiet shuffle of boots against stone the only sound accompanying your group as you all trudged forward, each burdened with heavy books pulled from the archive’s deepest vaults.

You carried yours easily, arms wrapped around the worn leather covers, but your patience? That was hanging by a thread.

And everyone knew it.

No one dared speak to you. Not yet.

Well—no one except Drake.

“You look like you’re ready to murder someone,” he mused, glancing at you as he adjusted the stack of books in his grip. You huffed, keeping your gaze forward as the two of you walked ahead of the group. “If this mission wasn’t essential, I’d still be in bed.”

Drake chuckled. “Not exactly a morning person, huh?”

You shot him a sharp look. “I have a rule.”

His lips twitched. “Right. No full conversations before nine. I’ve heard the horror stories.” Behind you, someone snorted—probably Ridoc—but you ignored it, focusing instead on Drake as he continued, “So, what makes me special?”

You shrugged, stepping over a broken piece of stone in the hallway. “You don’t test me.”

Drake smirked. “Good to know.”

The sound of shuffling boots behind you grew louder as the rest of the squad followed, everyone weighed down by their own stacks of books.

“I don’t get it,” Sawyer muttered somewhere behind you. “She’s literally speaking to him.”

“She likes him better than us,” Ridoc stage-whispered.

Xaden sighed heavily. “It’s six in the morning. Leave it.”

“I’m just saying,” Ridoc continued, voice full of obnoxious curiosity, “she’s actually stringing full sentences together. And meanwhile, if I even look at her—”

“Ridoc.” Xaden’s voice was sharp, carrying warning.

You smirked but didn’t look back.

Drake nudged you slightly with his shoulder, lowering his voice. “You do realize this only makes them more dramatic about it, right?”

You sighed. “Let them suffer.”

Drake chuckled again, shaking his head as the two of you kept walking.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, the dim torchlight flickering against the old stone walls. The weight of the books in your arms wasn’t unbearable, but the company behind you? That was another story.

You could feel the squad’s frustration, the burning curiosity radiating off them like a second sun. None of them understood why Drake was exempt from your before-nine-AM silence policy, and they were losing their minds over it.

Ridoc, naturally, was the most offended.

“I’m just saying,” he whispered—not quietly enough, “Drake doesn’t even talk that much. How did he become the chosen one?”

“Because he doesn’t run his mouth before dawn,” Imogen muttered.

“Neither do I!” Ridoc protested.

“You literally are right now,” Cat pointed out.

A huff of annoyance came from Xaden’s direction, but he still hadn’t intervened—probably because he was as curious as the rest of them.

You ignored them all, keeping pace beside Drake. He, at least, had the decency not to comment on the growing tension behind you. Instead, he shifted his books slightly, glancing sideways at you.

“So, what’s the deal with this archive, anyway?”

You exhaled slowly, more than happy to focus on something other than the squad’s ongoing mutiny. “It holds some of the oldest texts on continent history. Half of them were locked away by Navarre, the other half buried in misinformation.”

Drake nodded. “And we’re searching for…?”

“Anything useful.”

Behind you, there was an exaggerated gasp.

“She’s explaining things to him,” Ridoc whisper-yelled.

“Oh my gods, let it go,” Sloane muttered.

“I won’t let it go! We used to be special!”

“You were never special,” Mira shot back.

A quiet snort escaped before you could stop it.

Drake’s lips twitched, but he didn’t comment.

Xaden, however, finally reached the end of his patience. “Enough.”

Silence fell instantly.

You could practically hear Ridoc’s pout.

Xaden sighed, and then his voice cut through the heavy air. “It’s six in the morning. She will not entertain your bullshit until nine. Deal with it.”

A weighted pause.

Then, softly—

“…But Drake—”

“Ridoc.”

Another silence.

Then, a defeated sigh.

“Fine.”

You smirked, satisfied, as you and Drake reached the next doorway leading deeper into the archives.

Some battles just weren’t worth fighting.

But this one?

This one, you won.

Two Years Later – Morning Ruined

The sound of retching echoed in the bathroom, followed by a groan as you slumped against the cool porcelain of the sink. Your stomach hated you. Your entire existence felt like it was betraying you.

Morning sickness was vile.

A groggy shuffle of footsteps entered the room behind you, followed by the deep rumble of amusement.

“Oh, this is rich.”

You glared up at Xaden through the strands of hair stuck to your face. “Don’t.”

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe—infuriatingly shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was a mess, sticking up from sleep, but his eyes? Oh, they were full of mischief.

“I’m just saying,” he drawled, crossing his arms, “the baby is really committed to ruining your whole morning silence rule.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the sink. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you hate this.” He gestured vaguely at your current situation. “I just think it’s poetic justice.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Justice for what?”

Xaden hummed, tilting his head as if considering. “For all the times you’ve shushed me before nine. For all the years I’ve had to deal with your silent tyranny. Now, the universe—” he pointed at your stomach, “—has decided to humble you.”

You huffed, closing your eyes. “I hope this baby gets my attitude.”

Xaden scoffed. “You already have a mini version of you in there. I’d like to at least stand a chance in this household.”

Another wave of nausea hit, and you lurched forward, barely making it over the toilet before emptying what little remained in your stomach.

Xaden sighed, finally pushing off the doorframe. “Alright, alright. I’ve had my fun.”

You felt him kneel beside you, his warm hand sweeping your hair back from your face, fingers soothing against your scalp. Another hand rested on your lower back, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“You’re still an ass,” you muttered weakly.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah, but I’m your ass.”

You grumbled something incoherent, but as he helped you up, supporting your weight easily, you let yourself lean into him, exhaustion creeping in.

The baby was ruining your morning silence.

But if Xaden kept this up, you might just forgive them both. Xaden guided you out of the bathroom, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as you grumbled about your suffering. He was still smirking, of course. Thoroughly enjoying this.

The moment you hit the edge of the bed, you flopped down onto it, burying your face into the pillows. “I hate this.”

Xaden chuckled, sitting beside you. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.” You rolled onto your back, glaring up at him. “I don’t get it. I was fine yesterday.”

He raised a brow. “You threw up twice yesterday.”

You scowled. “That’s not the point.”

Xaden hummed, clearly not taking you seriously. “Well, maybe you should tell the baby that.”

You groaned, draping an arm over your face. “I would if they weren’t actively ruining my life.”

He leaned down, pressing a palm against your stomach. “Hear that, little one? You’re ruining your mother’s life.”

You peeked out from under your arm to glare at him. “You love this.”

He grinned. “A little, yeah.”

You huffed but didn’t stop him when he trailed his fingers along your stomach, his touch gentle. Even through your misery, there was something warm about the moment—something real.

Then, of course, he had to ruin it.

“You know,” he mused, stretching out beside you, “you’ll never get your silence back, right?”

You turned your head toward him slowly. “Excuse me?”

Xaden smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Once the baby’s here? Silence is over. You’re going to have a very vocal alarm clock at all hours.”

You groaned, shoving a pillow over your face. “Why are you like this?”

He laughed, tugging the pillow away so he could look at you. “I’m just preparing you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You get to wake up with them, then.”

His smirk wavered slightly. “We’ll see about that.” You rolled over, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re absolutely waking up with them.” Xaden sighed but wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Yeah, yeah.”

Silence settled over the room.

For a moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d get a little peace.

Then, Xaden pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “So, how long until you admit I was right?”

You smacked his chest.

The nausea struck hard.

One second, you were curled against Xaden’s chest, soaking in the rare moment of stillness. The next, your stomach flipped—a violent, churning sensation that had you gasping and clutching his arm.

Xaden stiffened immediately. “Shit—”

You barely had time to turn your head before your entire body rebelled. A horrible gag wrenched through you, your throat burning as you dry-heaved, your stomach twisting with the effort.

Xaden was already moving. One arm tightening around your back, the other reaching blindly toward the nightstand, where a metal basin sat just in case. He dragged it into your lap, his grip firm but careful as you hunched over it, heaving.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “Just breathe through it.”

You would’ve snapped at him if you weren’t so busy dying.

Tears burned your eyes as another wave of nausea ripped through you, but nothing came up. Just more gagging, more misery, more betrayal from the parasite growing inside you.

Xaden pressed his cheek against the top of your head, rubbing slow circles against your back. His touch was warm, grounding. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You slumped forward, chest heaving, utterly wrecked.

“I hate this,” you rasped.

“I know.” His lips pressed against your temple. “You’re doing so good.”

You groaned weakly, gripping his wrist. “I want to punch you.”

His chuckle was entirely too smug. “You can—once you’re done not dying.”

Another groan. Another shuddering breath. Your body finally relented, the nausea retreating just enough for you to collapse back against him, exhausted.

Xaden sighed, shifting you gently so he could tuck you against his chest. His fingers brushed against your clammy skin, soothing as he whispered, “You’re okay.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting him hold you.

After a long moment, he exhaled.

“…So does this mean you’re lifting the morning silence rule?”

You whimpered.

Six Months Later – A New Kind of Morning

The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You lay propped up in bed, pillows supporting your back, as you gazed down at the tiny, sleeping figure nestled against your chest. Your three-day-old son, Liam, named in honour of Liam Mairi, his delicate features relaxed in peaceful slumber.

Xaden sat beside you, his dark eyes fixed on the baby with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His hand rested gently on your arm, grounding you in this new, shared reality.

As you traced a fingertip along Liam's soft cheek, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. The months of morning sickness, the upheaval of your cherished routines—all of it faded into insignificance compared to the weight of your son in your arms.

With a soft chuckle, you murmured, "I don't mind him disturbing my peace."

Xaden's gaze met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "No," he agreed, his voice low and filled with emotion. "Neither do I."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle breaths of the sleeping infant. In this moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the three of you cocooned in the quiet intimacy of new parenthood.

You leaned your head against Xaden's shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. Together, you watched over your son, the embodiment of your love and the beginning of a new chapter—one where morning silences were a thing of the past, but the promise of shared moments like this made every disturbance worthwhile.

Liam stirred against your chest, his tiny face scrunching up as he let out a soft, sleepy whimper. You instinctively tightened your arms around him, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. His dark curls—so much like Xaden’s—tickled your lips.

Xaden watched the two of you with quiet intensity. He’d been doing that a lot—just staring, like he still couldn’t believe Liam was real.

You smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “You know he’s not going to disappear, right?”

Xaden huffed a soft laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “I know.” A pause. “I just—”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered to Liam, still curled against your chest. His expression softened.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched.

Reaching for his hand, you laced your fingers through his and gave a small squeeze. “Well, you do.” You nudged your nose against Liam’s downy-soft hair. “And he’s perfect.”

Xaden exhaled, his thumb brushing absently over the back of your hand. “Yeah.” His lips quirked. “He is.”

Liam let out another soft noise, shifting slightly. His tiny fingers flexed against your skin before settling again.

You hummed, swaying slightly even though you were still lying down. “I don’t even mind him waking me up.”

Xaden snorted. “Bold statement. Let’s see if you still feel that way in a few weeks.”

You shot him a look. “Are you implying that I don’t have patience?”

He grinned. “I’m implying that you’ve threatened people for waking you up early.”

You gasped in mock offense. “That was before I had a baby.”

Xaden chuckled, leaning down until his face was level with yours. His voice dipped lower. “So, if I wake you up before nine now, you won’t kill me?”

You squinted at him. “...That depends.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

Liam stirred again, this time with a tiny, contented sigh.

And just like that, everything else faded.

Xaden sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “We’re never getting silence again, are we?”

You smiled, tucking Liam even closer. “Not a chance.”

Three Years Later – The Next Generation of Chaos

The smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen as you stood at the far counter, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. It was early—too early for anyone in your household to be this lively—but here you were, surrounded by a squad that didn’t seem to understand the concept of quiet mornings.

Liam, perched comfortably on the kitchen counter, kicked his little feet against the cabinets. His dark curls were a mess, his cheeks still flushed with sleep, but his sharp eyes were wide and alert, just like his father’s.

Xaden stood beside him, sipping his coffee, while Garrick and Violet leaned against the island. Ridoc, who never knew how to shut up, had taken it upon himself to be Liam’s personal entertainment for the morning.

“Alright, little shadowling,” Ridoc grinned, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “I have excellent jokes. Want to hear one?”

Liam didn’t even hesitate. He lifted one tiny hand, pressed a single finger to his lips, and went, “Shhh.”

The room froze.

Violet choked on her coffee, Garrick went rigid, and Xaden—who had been mid-sip—just stared at his son in stunned silence.

Ridoc blinked. “Uh—”

Liam, completely unfazed, turned his head slowly to face Ridoc. His little brows furrowed in something almost like disapproval.

“Too early,” he declared.

Silence.

Then—

Violet wheezed, setting her coffee down before she dropped it, while Garrick made an unholy noise of laughter. Xaden sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched at the edges. Ridoc, looking personally offended, gestured wildly at the toddler. “Are you kidding me? He’s you!” He whirled on you. “You corrupted him!”

You smirked, taking a slow sip of your coffee before raising a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Xaden finally broke, shaking his head as he ruffled Liam’s curls. “Can’t even be mad.”

Liam, clearly sensing that he’d won, turned back to his father and held out his arms expectantly. Xaden picked him up with ease, resting him against his hip while pressing a kiss to the side of his little head.

Ridoc crossed his arms. “You’re both terrible.”

Violet wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing. “This is perfect.”

Garrick clapped a hand on Ridoc’s shoulder. “Better get used to it, man.”

Ridoc groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “This kid is three. What’s he gonna be like at eighteen?”

Xaden met your gaze across the kitchen, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

You grinned.

“An absolute menace.”

Liam, still nestled comfortably on Xaden’s hip, let out a very deliberate sigh. Then—slowly, carefully—he lifted one tiny hand again, pressed his little finger to his lips, and gave a sharp, pointed…

"Shhh."

The entire kitchen went dead silent.

Ridoc, who had just opened his mouth to protest, snapped it shut. Violet pressed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Garrick looked personally offended. And Xaden? Xaden just stood there, stone-faced, watching as his own three-year-old son silenced a roomful of trained warriors.

You, of course, were thrilled.

Hands on your hips, you grinned at your son. “Oh, that was beautiful.” Liam, still with his tiny finger pressed to his lips, nodded sagely. Ridoc threw his hands in the air. “Oh, come on! He can’t just—”

"Shhh."

Liam doubled down.

Eyes narrowed, expression severe.

Ridoc froze mid-rant. His mouth snapped shut so fast you swore you heard his teeth click together. You lost it, biting back laughter as Violet wheezed into her coffee. Garrick muttered, “I think we just got commanded.”

Xaden exhaled deeply, rubbing at his temples. Then, as if just accepting defeat, he looked down at Liam. “You do know you’re not in charge of the room, right?”

Liam turned his little head. Blink blink.

Then—

"Shhh."

Silence.

Complete. Utter. Silence.

Violet collapsed against the counter, shaking. Ridoc looked like he was about to combust. Garrick covered his face.

You, still completely delighted, crossed your arms. “I don’t know, babe. Seems like he’s very in charge.”

Xaden groaned, looking up at the ceiling as if begging for patience.

Liam, completely unaware that he’d just won the war, settled back against his father’s shoulder with a self-satisfied little hum.

And in that moment—watching every single person in this kitchen forced into silence by a three-year-old—you realized something.

Your son?

Was an absolute menace.

And you couldn’t be prouder. The room stayed eerily quiet for a full five seconds. Five. Whole. Seconds.

It was glorious.

You sipped your coffee, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Ridoc looking like he was going to explode. Violet was still wheezing, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face, while Garrick just stared at Liam like he was a newly discovered breed of predator.

And Xaden? Xaden was doing that thing where he rubbed a hand over his jaw, like he was trying very hard not to let amusement slip through the cracks of his carefully controlled expression.

Liam, nestled comfortably against his father’s shoulder, nodded to himself. As if pleased that order had finally been restored.

Then, as if summoned by the pure chaos that had unfolded, more footsteps echoed from the hall.

Imogen was the first to walk in, hair tied in a loose braid, her sharp gaze immediately flicking over all of you. She slowed mid-step, brows furrowing. “…Why is it so quiet?”

Bodhi followed right after her, hands stuffed in his pockets. “That’s what I wanna know.”

Then, just as Ridoc opened his mouth to finally tell them what had happened—

Liam, with the calm authority of someone twice his size, lifted his hand and pressed that tiny little finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

Ridoc made a sound so strangled it was almost inhuman.

Imogen froze.

Bodhi blinked. Looked at Ridoc. Then looked at Liam. Then back to Ridoc.

And grinned. “Oh, this is good.” Ridoc whipped around to face him. “This is not good! I’m being silenced by a three-year-old!”Liam turned his head.

"Shhh."

Ridoc collapsed against the island, dragging his hands down his face. “I hate this kid.” Violet was dying at this point, bent over with laughter as Xaden simply sighed and adjusted Liam on his hip.

Imogen, to her credit, looked impressed. “I mean, that’s kinda terrifying.” Bodhi crossed his arms, still smirking. “Oh, absolutely. A menace in the making.”

“Don’t encourage him!” Ridoc threw his hands in the air. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” He pointed directly at you. “You created this. You.”

You raised an eyebrow, still entirely unbothered. “And?” Ridoc made a strangled noise. “And now I have to live with it!” Liam, clearly thrilled by all the attention, rested his chin on Xaden’s shoulder and grinned, looking far too proud of himself.

And then—just to really rub salt in the wound—he turned to you, little hand outstretched.

You immediately high-fived him. “That’s my boy.”

Ridoc groaned so dramatically it echoed through the whole kitchen.

And Xaden, looking between his equally chaotic wife and son, simply shook his head.

“My life,” he muttered, “is never going to be normal.”

Xaden had been through war. He had been through a revolution. He had battled Venin, trained reckless cadets, and had been crowned a king. And yet—somehow—the greatest challenge of his life…

Was this.

His three-year-old son was running the entire room. With one word.

"Shhh."

Liam had effectively silenced Ridoc, baffled Imogen, made Bodhi laugh, and had Violet on the verge of tears from how hard she was laughing. Meanwhile, you—his wife, the only person he had ever willingly let disrupt his life—were thriving.

You stood there, arms crossed, smirking in that infuriating way that told him you were far too pleased with the chaos you had created.

Xaden sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “So this is my life now.”

Violet, still grinning, wiped at her eyes. “You did marry her.”

“And had a child with her,” Imogen added, looking at Liam with something close to admiration.

Bodhi chuckled, elbowing Xaden. “Bet you thought ruling Tyrrendor was gonna be your hardest job.”

Ridoc, still sulking, muttered, “Should’ve thought harder.”

Xaden just stared at all of them, then down at Liam—who was currently leaning his head against his father’s shoulder, entirely unbothered by the chaos he had caused.

And that was when it hit him.

This wasn’t just some random habit Liam had picked up.

No.

This was you.

Liam had inherited your morning rule.

Your absolute refusal to engage in any conversation before you deemed it acceptable.

You had passed it down.

Xaden exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for half a second.

Then he turned his head and looked directly at you.

“…This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Your smirk widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Xaden groaned, resting his forehead against Liam’s tiny one. “I am so outnumbered.”

Liam, not understanding but clearly agreeing, hummed and patted his father’s cheek in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. But when he turned his head again and caught Ridoc trying to open his mouth—

"Shhh."

Ridoc gave up entirely, throwing his head back and groaning to the ceiling.

And Xaden?

Xaden just accepted it.

His son was a menace. His wife was worse.

And his life was never going to be peaceful again.

Xaden had barely recovered from the realization that his wife and son had conspired—whether intentionally or not—to bring him to his knees with sheer silent tyranny when you spoke up again.

Casually. Too casually.

“So… do you think the second one is gonna be like this too?”

Silence.

Not because of Liam this time.

But because every single person in the room just stopped moving.

Xaden felt it immediately—the way everyone around him tensed, the sharp inhale from Violet, the way Ridoc’s jaw dropped. He could physically hear the way Bodhi snapped his neck to look at you.

Xaden’s grip on Liam instinctively tightened.

“…What?”

You, utterly unbothered as always, sipped your coffee. “You heard me.”

Ridoc, voice pitched an octave higher than normal, choked. “Second?” Violet gasped. “You’re pregnant?”

Xaden’s brain short-circuited. Because, no, you had not told him that. His wife—the mother of his already tiny tyrant—had just casually dropped this monumental piece of information in the middle of their morning routine.

Imogen wheeled around to face you, her sharp eyes wide. “You’re serious?” Bodhi looked offended. “And you didn’t tell us?” Sawyer laughed outright, running a hand through his hair. “I love her. I love how she just says things like it’s not a big deal.”

Rhiannon gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth before immediately smacking your arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just grinned, far too pleased with yourself. “I just did.”

Xaden finally snapped himself out of it, his grip on Liam tightening as he turned to stare at you.

His wife.

His chaotic, insufferable, too-clever-for-her-own-good wife.

The mother of his children.

Children.

Plural.

“Oh,” he muttered, voice flat. “So that’s how I find out.”

You sipped your coffee again, completely unapologetic.

Ridoc, still looking betrayed, crossed his arms. “Unreal. Unreal.”

Bodhi snorted, clapping Xaden on the back. “Well, congrats, Dad.”

Xaden just exhaled deeply, looking down at the little menace still sitting in his arms. Liam, ever the stoic observer, blinked up at his father, clearly unconcerned with the absolute chaos unfolding around him.

Then, as if just now registering what had been said, Liam reached one tiny hand out—

And patted Xaden’s stomach.

As if confirming that there was, in fact, another one on the way.

Xaden groaned, running a hand down his face. “I am so outnumbered.”

And then—just to really cement how doomed he was—Liam turned to you.

“Mommy.”

His voice was sweet. Curious.

But then he lifted one tiny hand.

And pressed his finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

The room erupted.

A/N: SO like my finals are in 8 weeks so I wont be posting much BUT I am taking blurb requests for our fourth wing men Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden rirorson x you #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden riorson fanfic

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hamilando · 10 months ago

Text

ੈ✩ he is …. drunk? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x fem reader

summary : the chaotic process of Lando getting a wife

fc: Olivia Culpo

a/n : This is a series, and this is THE FINALE , THANK YOU FOR BEING PART OF THIS ! it was requested anonymously, thank you for requesting it 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4 and 838,297 others

f1wags THE PROPOSAL WAS OF LANDO NORRIS AND HIS GIRLFRIEND OF 4 YEARS, Y/N CULPO

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user1 EXCUSE ME WHAT-

user2 miss rabbit has fainted 🫷🏻

user3 the plot twist no one expected 🗿

user4 I KNEW IT

user5 max posting the best man duties makes more sense now

user6 after all that fight, max is still lando's best man !?

user7 MRS. Y/N NORRIS

user8 lando, got tamed

user9 I will miss his fratboy party era 😔

user10 his party era started cuz of yn-

user11 both of them are party animals 😂

user12 THEIR KIDS WOULD END THE WORLD

user13 talk about talent and looks

user14 but lando's talent is damaged 🙃

user15 can you stop hating on him ?

user13 it's a f1 meme 🗿

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, fransisca.kgnomes and 1,849,389 others

ynnorris since 24'

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user1 THE USERNAME

user2 OH MY GAWDD

user3 he did good on that ring

user4 I HAVE THE SAME RING FHFHFHF

user5 SPILL THE DEETS

user4 it's a darry ring, you can only buy it once in a lifetime 🥹

user6 lando 🥹

landonorris from 24 to forever 🌅

liked by ynnorris

maxverstappen1 now he can finally stop eating our brains

alex.albon FINALLY AND YES , WELL SAID MAX

pierre.gasly he did good mate

charles.leclerc thank God he didn't stumble

carlossainz55 or fall in the ocean

ynnorris it's my engagement..? can yall congratulate?

maxverstappen1 oh, Congrats to the norris couple!!

alex.albon congrats 👏🏻

lewishamilton Congrats Y/N and Lando !! 👏🏻

liked by ynnorris

alex.albon HEY, EVEN I SAID CONGRATS, I DON'T GET LIKE !?

ynnorris no.

fransisca.kgnomes lots of love my wife

ynnorris he is just a side quest, dw 😘

liked by ynnorris, maxvertsappen, mclaren, pierre.gasly and 1,472,937 others

landonorris to forever saying yes to my queen 🌟🌅🧡

comments on this post have been switched off

liked by ynnorris, landonorris, kellypiquet, alex.albon and 1,987,478 others

maxverstappen1 d1 best man ( Y/N, we just gave him a few shots to calm down and stop revising his vows )

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user1 MAX KNOWS WHAT WE NEED

user2 MAXMILIAN YOU ARE PLAYING A DANGEROUS GAME

user3 THOSE PICTURES OF LANDO !?

user4 MARRIED LANDO HITS DIFFERENT

user5 HITS HARDER THAN MY BELT

user6 HITS HARDER THAN A HANGOVER BEFORE MATH

user7 HITS HARDER THAN DRAKE

user8 ayo wtf-

ynnorris if he drops down or shows up drunk, max your ability to produce heirs is gone

maxverstappen1 Kelly will fight you on that

ynnorris will she now ?

maxverstappen KELLY!? say something !?

ynnorris that’s what I thought

landonorris you just had to post the middle picture didn’t you

maxvertsappen1 yes, that’s what you get for crashing into me

landonorris and the way you crashed into my heart ?

alex.albon THATS MAX NOT Y/N

george.russell HE IS DRUNK

alex.albon WAY TO GO MAX

lewishamilton get the chap to sober up, if he doesn’t, I will snap his neck

ynnorris I love you Lewis 😭🧡

lewishamilton anything for you 🫶🏻

landonorris can you guys like not ?

landonorris it’s my wedding day and let me get married ?

landonorris we can see to yours and Y/N’s engagement later

landonorris wait.. Y/N?

landonorris ISN’T SHE THE ONE MARRYING ME !?

landonorris Thank you lewis for telling me about her cheating

maxverstappen1 THATS IT HE IS WAY TOO DRUNK

ynnorris y’all have 1 hour.

liked by landonorris, user1, user2 and 3,389,334 others

mclaren and it's signed now as Mr. And Mrs. Norris !!

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user1 AHAHAAHAH

user2 THEY LOOK SO PRETTY

user3 LANDO SIGNING OUR MARRIAGE PAPERS

user4 mate, get over the delulul

user5 HER GOWN IS EVERYTHING

user6 BEST WISHES

user7 NOW HURRY UP AND HAVE KIDS

user8 NEXT PROJECT VERSTAPPEN

user9 NEXT PROJECT MCLAREN

user10 let the kid breathe

user11 he isn’t even born -

user12 LET IT BE A GIRL AND THE GRID AS UNCLES 🥹🐻

user13 IS LANDO HUNGOVER ?

user14 Lando keeping up the name of his frat boy era

user15 Landon being drunk for his wedding is iconic 😭

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, and 329,482 others

f1news After party pics from the Norris-Culpo Wedding !

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user1 fernando looks like a godfather

user2 GEORGE THAT YOU !?

user3 CHARLES THE GLOBAL FUCK BOY

user4 HE IS LITERALLY A GOLDEN RETRIEVER

user3 I AM TALKING ABOUT THE PICTURE!

user4 YOU CANNOT INSULT HIM LIKE THAT

user5 CAN YOU BOTH STOP FIGHTING!?

user6 lando and and his never ending saga of getting drunk

user7 NOT THEM DANCING ONE NIGHT AND NEXT DAY CRASHING INTO EACH OTHER

user8 max, darling you need to stop drinking and getting that man next to you to drink 😭

user9 I can just tell that Kelly and YN are both done with them 😂

user10 the George and fernando pic is so going as my wallpaper

f1news ours too !

tg: @lydia-demarek @mel164 @h34rts4maisey @poppyflower-22 @dolphlinda

@ilivbullyingjeongin @fangirlforever2000 @magnusi-97 @clo5406 @yesmanbabe

@wosof1 @luvsforme @nikfigueiredo @evie-119 @clarenciago

@raynetargaryan2 @brekkers-whore @lifesass @formula1-motogpfan @yawn-zi

@barcelonaloverf1life @jxnellat @gigicisneros @yukimaniac @l-sofiamia-l

@s0phiad @shiftermeance @coriyaps @formulaal

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @landotd @fulla02 @orlafitz1664

@abq654 @mastermindbaby @awritingtree @nichmeddar @emz2092

@mysteriesincorporated @dramallama9 @emxlando @ahnneyong @burkylover

@czennieszn @weekendlusting @charli123456789 @mamako23

@mxdi0 @claudiajacobs @harrysdimple05 @luvsforme @haleyjs86 @ale-522

@hoeforlifee @ravisinghs-wife @aerii-a @mastermindbaby

@plotpal @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @blooismahboo

@deafeningunknowntyrant @mondflo @jule239 @ririyulife @lucktales

@ellitheflower @wonderfulkawaii

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saffusthings · 3 months ago

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second chances

mob boss!lando norris x reader

part one: wrong place, wrong time

word count: 1.3k

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, shock, murder, blood, fear, shooting

one | two | three

The alley was a narrow pathway carved between two aged apartment buildings, the flickering neon light of a broken liquor store sign barely illuminating the space, casting long shadows on the ground. The stench of damp asphalt and stale trash clung to the air, mingling with something coppery and sharp — something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She had been walking home, keeping her head down with a single headphone plugged in—never two. With a canvas tote bag pulled up to her shoulder, she held the bulk of its weight closer to her body, eager to speed up the process of getting home. She knew better than to linger in this part of town. The rent was cheap for a reason.

But then—the slightest scuffling sound had made her pause, just for a moment.

Was someone there?

Turning her head sharply in the direction of the sound, she spotted the shifting shadows spilling from the end of an upcoming alleyway. Probably just the homeless guy or something, she brushed off.

Content to continue on her way, she resumed walking when she heard a sharp thwack! coming from the same direction.

What the fuck?

Carefully, her silent footsteps began to approach the mouth of the alleyway, careful not to crunch loose gravel beneath the rubber of her sneakers. Inching closer to the edge of the wall, she pressed herself flat against the side of it, straining to make out what was going on from her limited vantage point.

In the dim embers of the blue neon lighting on the other side of the alleyway, she could roughly make out a few silhouettes—two? Three?

With the way they stood against the source of the light, it was hard to make out much in the way of details—the glint of a watch here, the glare on a polished dress shoe there. They men were on the taller side, that much she could tell from the shadows alone. Then there was their clothing —which seemed intentional from what she could tell— suits and leather jackets, all in complementary shades of obsidian.

Squinting to see better, she almost gasped when she realized there was a fourth as well—a balding man swaying as he fell to his knees in front of them. Scooting just a bit closer so she could actually try to figure out what the hell was going on, she was just about to inch close enough to make out some of the details of their faces when she was startled by a sound.

A voice.

Muffled, desperate. “Please, please—Look, you’ve made your point, okay? I—I got a lady at home, a- a kid too! You wouldn’t do this to them, would ya?”

Another thwack resounded as one of the shadows swung and landed a punch, nearly knocking the pleading man’s face clean off his shoulders. He seemed a bit older, maybe in his forties or early fifties. This time, when the man spoke, however, his voice was a lot more nasally, thick globs of blood dripping from his nostrils.

“It wasn’t my fault, okay?” he cried out, voice ragged with desperation. “You can’t blame me, I’m not the only one who—”

And then—a gunshot.

It cracked through the night like a lightning strike, so loud her ears rang, the vibrations rattling through her chest. She froze where she stood, her breath caught in her throat like a piece of debris. There was barely enough time for her subconscious to register what had just happened when—

Another shot. And another. Each one punctuated by a harrowing crack, the man’s body jerking violently before slumping onto the wet ground with a single thud.

Instantly, her hand came to her face, clamping over her mouth to stop herself from gasping in shock for fear of releasing even the slightest sound. Everything felt numb, barely registering the ringing in her ears as her knees threatened to give out.

She shouldn’t have looked. She should have turned and walked the other way, but her body had betrayed her, leaving her unable to tear her eyes from the sight in front of her.

For a moment, the most unnatural silence settled over the place. There was no faint honking in the distance, no soft pattering of the light drizzle—or maybe she just couldn’t hear anything. The moment existed in a vacuum of sound, the echoes of the gunshots lingering in the surrounding brick like ghosts.

The man lay sprawled on the pavement, his limbs twisted unnaturally. His chest was torn open with bullet wounds, his mouth parted, interrupted in the midst of a sentence he’d never finish. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, trailing in tiny rivulets along the uneven ridges of the worn pavement. The smell permeated the air — warm, metallic, and fresh.

Frozen in place, she barely registered the singular shadow standing over the body, a figure dressed in black, breathing slow and measured. The gun in his hand still smoked, a thin wisp curling into the chilly night air. He tilted his head slightly, as if analyzing his handiwork for nonexistent flaws. And then, with practiced efficiency, he tucked the weapon away and stepped back into the darkness, his figure melding into the rest of the shadows as he disappeared into the night.

Her stomach lurched. Her fingers clenched around her bag strap so hard she couldn’t feel her nails digging into her own palm. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move.

Then—her mistake.

A sharp inhale. A quick, horrified gasp.

She flinched back, pressing herself even tighter against the wall as if she could somehow fuse herself to it to avoid being seen.

You’re next. You’re next. They heard you, they'll come back, you’re next, she thought, her heart hammering against her ribcage as a shiver of pure fear raced down her spine. Some voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to run, to get away, to get out!

But her legs refused to cooperate. She was trapped, rooted to the ground by the sickening weight of her own terror.

And then, from the darkness, a voice—calm, smooth, with a hint of concern.

“Are you okay?”

She jerked at the sound, her head snapping toward the man emerging from her other side. Her gaze instantly flitted to his hands, her mind already conjuring the image of the barrel of a gun staring her dead on.

But the stranger’s hands were empty, his posture loose, though there was something in his stance—something deliberate.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“I heard gunshots,” he panted, his expression just the right amount of tense.

At least she wasn't alone.

“What happened?” C’mon, let’s get this over with.

She blinked at him, her brain sluggish, lost in shock. He looked like any other pedestrian—tall, reasonably dressed, the collar of his coat pulled up against the cold. His dark curls were slightly tousled, like he had just been running his hands through them, just walking by when the violence must have erupted. Like he had nothing to do with it.

“I-I don’t…” She swallowed thickly, trying to force the words out. “I just—I didn’t see—”

Perfect.

His sharp eyes flicked over her, assessing, searching. A single drop of blood had splattered onto the toe of his boot, but he shifted his weight slightly, hiding it from view.

“Holy shit. Was... Was anyone hurt?” he asked gently, as if speaking to a frightened animal.

She nodded shakily.

“Did you see who did it?”

She hesitated. He held her gaze, expression the pinnacle of concern.

Another nod.

His lips curled at the corners—not quite a smile, but something close to satisfaction.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Come on. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

He stepped closer, and she flinched instinctively.

He laughed lightly, soft and reassuring. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A lie. A perfect, seamless lie.

Because the sloppy idiots he worked with had left a potential witness behind. And now, she was his problem to deal with.

#formula 1 fic #formula 1 #saffu's works #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando #lando norris imagine #lando norric fanfic #lando norris fanfiction #mob boss!lando norris x reader #mob boss! lando x reader #mafia au #mob boss au #lando x you #lando x reader #lando x y/n #lando imagine #ln4

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Special Delivery (Spencer Reid x F!Reader)

Description: Something's different about Reid and no-one knows what. However, a surprise delivery to the BAU may just have the answer...

Warnings: Food references, mentions of mental health, mentions of medical procedures, references to smutty behaviour, Spencer being adorable

Masterlist

“Ok. Am I the only one who’s noticed something’s different with Reid lately?” Morgan remarked, watching as the said boy-genuis made his way across the bullpen and over to his desk.

“Yeah,” Emily hummed, watching the young agent over the rim of coffee cup. She had to admit it - as much as it annoyed her - Morgan was right; Spencer has definitely been acting different. If anything, she was surprised it had taken them all this long to say anything.

Normally, they were all over each other the moment they noticed anything even remotely different about each other. Hell, she’d barely taken a step off the elevator, after getting an extra few inches cut off at her latest haircut, before the team were quizzing her about possible life changes and whether or not they needed to be worried about her.

It was a hazard of working with profilers for a living; it was almost impossible to keep anything a secret. No wonder they were all intrigued and slightly confused by the fact that none of them had been able to pinpoint what was going on with their friend.

The most notable difference was the gradual disappearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Reid also seemed happier in general, less quiet and reserved when talking to others, and it was starting to make agents talk.

Morgan and Emily stood up straighter as JJ walked over to join the unofficial gossip session. She took one look at the pair and knew immediately what they were whispering about.

“Are you talking about Reid?”

“Oh yeah,” Morgan grinned, “my money’s on him having finally found someone.”

Emily choked, seemingly as a result of inhaling her coffee at the grand statement. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Miss ‘super spy’. Just look at him,” he teased. “He’s been distracted. He’s all goo-goo eyed and he’s been leaving this place at a normal hour. Like… tell me that doesn’t scream ‘I got a date’.”

“What? It could be loads of things. It doesn’t have to be a date, right JJ?”

“He’s probably just happy. We’ve all been getting more sleep lately and our paperwork is non-existent at the moment,” JJ murmured, reaching past the pair of them to grab for the coffee pot. She was clearly doing her best to try and put this line of questioning to rest. She’d always been the first to protect the younger agent she now saw as a little brother. “Besides, we all know he’s not interested in dating, he hasn’t been since…. Well, you know.”

Morgan groaned. “But what about the secret texts, JJ!” he protested, ignoring the look Emily shot him in return. “He’s been glued to that phone of his and keeps giggling like a school kid. Then there’s the lunches! I know he’s always been organised and likes things a certain way, but damn. His lunches have been like next level - and actually healthy? And I swear he’s had jello like every day.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “You’re basing your profile on jello? Is that it?”

“Well, no I mean… did you not hear the part about the texting and the taking secret calls and the fact he didn’t come out for drinks last night-”

“-Can’t we just be glad for him? Whatever is going on, it’s good for him. Let’s just drop it, ok? He’ll tell us when he’s ready if there’s anything to share.”

“JJ’s right,” Emily echoed. “Reid’s just … happy. End of.”

By the way Morgan frowned it looked like it definitely was not the end of this conversation, but he never got the chance to argue. In fact, he was interrupted as the main doors opened next to them and a rather lost looking receptionist hurried through.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been worth noticing but all three of them spun around at the sound of him calling out the name, “Agent Reid? uh… Is Agent Reid here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Spencer shouted, soundly vaguely like he was taking roll call. It didn’t help that he shot his arm up in the air too, almost falling off his desk chair as he lurched to his feet and hurried over. “That’s… that’s me - and it’s Dr Reid, but it doesn’t matter. How can I help?”

“Oh, uh, there’s a Y/N at reception for you,” the unfortunate messenger managed, gesturing back the way they’d came. “I told them to wait whilst I came to check with you as they’re not on your visitor list-”

Spencer didn’t even let the poor man finish. He was already racing for the door before the man had even made it to the end of the sentence. Needless to say, the others were quick to follow, with Morgan smugly boasting “told you soooo” as he went.

There was no way on earth they were missing this and considering Hotch and Rossi hadn’t arrived yet it wasn’t like they were about to get their asses handed to them for missing their briefing either.

Despite the amount Spencer had told you about the BAU, you were still surprised by how different the FBI offices were to what you’d imagined.

The offices were larger and the sheer number of people walking about in suits and carrying a side arm made you feel even more nervous, and that was already a problem considering you were stood there wearing neon blue scrubs, embroidered with jungle animals on the pocket.

You were like a walking, flashing sign, screaming ‘outsider - does not work here’. Thankfully, you weren’t going to be there long. You were only swinging by on your way to work, hoping to catch your utterly perfect - and utterly forgetful - boyfriend, before the start of your shift.

Speaking of Spencer, you had only been standing there for possibly five minutes when you saw him barreling through the doors towards you.

“Hey, Spence-“

“Y/N? Honey? What’s going on?” he gushed, hurrying over and taking your face in his hands. You could see his wide eyes frantically scanning every inch of you, looking for some kind of problem or sign that you were not ok. “Is everything alright? What are you doing here?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the sudden display of concern, very much aware of the scene your wonderful boyfriend was making. Spencer wasn’t normally the most affectionate in public, preferring to save those rare moments for when the two of you were alone. The fact he was so worried about what might have brought you to the FBI on a Tuesday morning was touching and made your heart swell.

“I’m fine, Spence. Don’t worry-”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You forgot something,” you soothed, pulling back and reaching into your satchel. It was impossible to miss the way his face reddened as you pulled out a neatly labeled Dr Who Tupperware by way of explanation. “I’m here because you were in such a rush this morning that you forgot your lunch.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’,” you teased. “I couldn’t exactly let you go hungry so I thought I’d drop it off on my way to work. I don’t start till later as I’m covering Amelia’s shift as she’s visiting her sister in Boston, so I thought I’d swing by.”

Sure, Spencer was an adult and you could have let him just buy something from the cafeteria or order something in for lunch, but considering how much effort he had gone to to cook with you the day before you felt bad letting it go to waste.

He’d been so proud of the way the recipe had turned out, following the instructions and your guidance with extreme precision and care. The result had been a rather tasty looking dish - and it had the added benefit of being healthy too. You were always worried that Spencer seemed to think fast food, like Pizza, was a food group. Then again, he had been forced to be an adult pretty fast and had been in college so young that it wasn’t a surprise that no-one had been there to teach him about cooking and eating right. He had been too focused on his studies to even think about anything else.

It was something he had been working on since you’d got together and now cooking had become one of your favourite date night activities. It didn’t hurt that you often ended up spilling food all over yourselves and needing to shower together - it was just a lovely bonus. In fact, your screensaver was now a picture of you and Spencer, covered in flour, and beaming ear to ear.

“Thank you, that… that’s so nice,” Spencer stammered, “but I feel bad. You didn’t need to go out of your way and bring it to me.”

“As I say, it’s on my way to work. It’s no trouble.”

“Well, still-“

“Hey, pretty boy!”

Spencer froze.

“You gonna introduce us to your friend, or what?”

Spencer opened his mouth but instantly closed it again. You knew by the way he rolled his eyes and began muttering under his breath that whoever had shouted that had definitely been talking to him.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Pretty boy, huh?”

“Don’t ask,” he whined, taking a deep breath as you looked over his shoulder and saw a small group of people now making their way towards you. “I should probably mention that I wasn’t sure how comfortable you were with me mentioning you, so I haven’t told anyone about us yet and those idiots are some of my team and I would say ‘run’ but they’re all faster than me.”

“Ah… I see. So I’m guessing that one is Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“Well, no time like the present,” you cheered, turning and waving at the approaching trio. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N - Spencer’s girlfriend.”

“Wow. A girlfriend?” cooed Morgan, reaching over to pull you into a hug before the other two could stop him. To their credit, they looked slightly embarrassed by the display but they were clearly too interested in your identity to care. “And a doctor to boot? Didn’t know he had it in him. I’m Derek Morgan.”

“Oh, I worked that out. It’s good to finally meet you all.”

The others were quick to echo the sentiment, with JJ and Emily quickly introducing themselves in tandem. They were also quick to invite you inside the office for some coffee, but thankfully you weren’t lying when you said you had to get to work.

“You know how it is. People to take care of, medical cases to solve, lives to save - same old, same old. All I’m missing is a snazzy badge and I could be an FBI agent.”

“Ha ha.” Spencer’s smile was genuine as you stole a kiss before making a dash for your car. However, you could see the nerves in his eyes at being left alone to face the great inquisition that now awaited him following the discovery of your existence. You were pretty sure the entire BAU would know about you before it even hit lunchtime. “I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Of course. Just let me know if you’re coming home or if you’re off saving the world in another state - otherwise I can’t promise I won’t eat all the leftovers before you get back.”

He chuckled. “Will do.”

With that, you bid the others goodbye, making sure to agree when they asked (more like insisted) that you came to their family dinner on Friday night at none other than Rossi’s house. The rest of the team were going to be begging to meet you after this, and they were all bringing their families along too.

If Spencer wasn’t comfortable with you going you were pretty sure the team would believe it if you said you’d got called into a last minute surgery, but you’d check later when you both returned to the apartment you now called your home. Either way, you were going to have to make something to take with you, just in case.

As your grandpa had always said, there was no quicker way to someone’s heart than through their stomach. Or, as in Spencer's case, with an unlimited supply of Jello...

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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sc0tters · 4 months ago

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A Helping Hand | Jack Hughes & Trevor Zegras

summary: when the boys learn that you've never finished, it's only right that they change that for you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, oral (f & m receiving!), unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 7.02k

authors note: is it really a trevor and jack threesome from me, without @sweetestdesire's help? no, no it is not... all jokes aside though this may be the dirtiest piece that I have ever written? like i embraced my inner slut, whore and everything inbetween while writing this so I do hope that you enjoy it! I know I did so we may end up with the first series of the year with this one!

Nobody truly remembered how you all got there.

Sat around the camp fire with a blanket thrown over your legs and a beer in your hand.

It was these little moments at the lake house that you adored so much. Luke was in the chair next to you, allowing you to send him the occasional whisper after the boys did something stupid.

Tonight was one of those nights as Cole managed to convince the group to play never have I ever, after Quinn’s suggestion of truth or dare was quickly shot down by Jack reminder of how he had to go skinny dipping in the lake. When the boys stole his clothes and locked him outside, it was the first and last time truth or dare made an appearance at the lake house.

You sighed thinking to yourself of a question“never have I ever done the walk of shame.” It was a good one to get most of the guys to drop a finger as Luke had told you about many of their escapades throughout their careers.

A while left Trevor’s lips “that one isn’t fair!” He grumbled dropping another finger leaving him with only two up.

Alex looked at the group of girls that had joined you guys as he had found one he wanted to make a move on “never have I ever faked an orgasm.” The boy swore he was going to do a dance of happiness when he saw the blonde one he had been talking to, keep her finger up whilst the first around her thought about their answers.

Your finger went down hoping that someone else would have a much more interesting story to share than you “are you seriously telling me that your little football player boyfriend was shit in bed?” Trevor asked as he let out a laugh seeing your cheeks turn a shade of red.

Jack turned to you, matching his friend’s curious expression “who is to say it was even with him?” It was something he had never even wondered about before, but now everyone’s eyes were on you as most of the people around that fire knew of your entire love life “she does not need to answer if she doesn’t want to.” Quinn sent you a friendly smile, Luke nodded in agreement with this being something that he didn’t even know about.

You let out a sigh of relief “yeah why don’t we move on?” There was a pleading sense in your voice that made everyone accept your request.

Well almost everyone, as the night went on and people went home or to bed. You were left with Trevor, Jack and Luke “you want another beer?” Luke asked as he got up with his empty beer bottle “please.” You nodded, the older two boys giving the same response.

This was the first opportunity that they got to truthfully ask the question that plagued their minds all night “so was it Jake?” Trevor blurted out as he turned his attention to you “what about the theatre kid before him?” Jack truthfully never liked that one, thankfully he only lasted one summer.

You toyed with your bracelet “if I tell you do you promise to keep it to yourselves?” If it got out you knew half of the people there would never look at you the same.

Hell you weren’t even sure if Trevor and Jack would see you the same way again “we will not tell a soul.” They both nodded at the same time, practically sat on the edges of their seats.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your lips together “it was all of them.” Those words made them freeze “you faked it with every single guy you’ve been with?” Jack let out a shocked laugh when you nodded.

Trevor felt confused “I didn’t realise you were with such shit guys.” Some of the guys had notable reputations too “it wasn’t their faults-” you tried to give them some grace within the situation.

But Jack was having none of it “if you have to fake it then it is on him.” Of course that’s what he’d say, the man prided himself on how good he was in bed after all. You had been privy to hearing the mutters through the wall when you stayed over to see Luke.

The Ducks player nodded in agreement “we won’t tell them if you think they were shit.” He added wanting so desperately to hear more of this “it’s me okay!” Your words suddenly made them both go quiet.

Their eyes went wide “I can’t cum so when I have sex I have to fake it.” Your voice was quieter as you didn’t know where Luke was “and before you ask yes I know my body is clearly broken-” you were cut off by the sound of the sliding door opening from the house.

Luke walked out with the four beers in his hands “what is broken?” The three of you looked like kids caught with your hands in the cookie jar in that very moment “oh just the door of my closet in the apartment.” You quickly recovered, it wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was actually something you needed to fix.

He stared at you for a moment before he nodded “wait until I visit and I can help you.” Luke offered making you nod “sounds like a plan.” You sent him a smile, ignoring the conversation that you had just had with the boys.

It seemed that even if you were able to sleep soundly amongst all of Luke’s snoring, Jack and Trevor were plagued with thoughts. Neither one could fall asleep as they sat there thinking about what you had said.

How was it that a girl like you could have a problem that seemed so unbreakable?

“Just so we’re both on the same page, she clearly has a shit taste in guys right?” Trevor blurted out as he stared at the ceiling “I mean it has to be that right?” He added not even sure if Jack was listening.

Jack let out a harsh sigh “but how is she going got accept that?” He rolled over knowing that he shared the same thoughts “well I mean there is one way we could do it.” Trevor trailed off figuring, that it was the should have been obvious.

The Hughes boy let out a laugh “yeah like she’s ever gonna go for that.” He shook his head rolling over to look out the window as he tried to force himself to go to sleep.

A party echoed out in the yard, music blared through the speakers as you made your way upstairs “I’m telling you that she’s not going to go for it.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he chugged back the remainder of his beer “why not?” Trevor whined crossing his arms.

He took in a large amount of air in when he sighed “it’s not like she exactly has any other better options than sticking to never coming.” Those words made you freeze in front of their door. Why were they talking about you, and what was their potential option to help you?

Your cheeks grew warm when your mind began to travel “because you think little miss perfect is gonna fuck the two of us to prove that she just has a shit taste in boys?” Those words made you scoff, it was a response that was a little louder than you had hoped when the boys went quiet “shit.” Jack was quick to open the door.

Both of them were visibly relieved to see it was just you “care to join us?” Jack smirked at the sight of the irritated expression on your face “I am not little Miss Perfect.” You announced sticking your finger in his face.

It was the response he wanted, knowing you had taken the bait “so why don’t you give us a chance then?” Trevor spoke up from behind the younger boy who nodded in agreement.

Your fists clenched into balls “over my dead body.” You were embarrassed as you stormed off in the direction of your room “on a scale of one to ten how badly do you think we fucked up?” Trevor asked hearing the door slam behind you.

Jack sucked at his teeth “I would lean closer to ten.” He nodded thinking about what would happen if Luke were to find out about what was said.

The night had grown dark as you tried to push the boys comments back to the bottom of your mind. It was something that so negatively failed, especially when you began to picture those two.

You had ended up in the bathroom having a shower trying to calm yourself down at first “fuck!” You grumbled letting your fingers thrust into your cunt as the steam stuck to your skin.

Your body had started to shrivel like a prune due to how long you had been in there. Your body was hot as the image of Jack and Trevor lingered on your mind, picturing how they’d kiss you and morph your body in the ways they wanted to use you. You weren’t an idiot, if they were talking about you then it was clearly a competition in their minds.

The peaks of your nipples throbbed as this clearly wasn’t working. Defeat wasn’t something that you accept gracefully, and that’s why you muttered to yourself as you grabbed one of Luke’s shirts and threw it on. Bringing your panties up your legs as you sent Luke one last look, as if you were checking that he was indeed asleep.

You had to try to be quiet as you knew that everyone else was in there room, and with the minimal amounts of chatter that came from Quinn’s room when he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone. It was the timezones that caused him to be awake, but you knew you couldn’t be certain about the other rooms “shit.” You grumbled landing at Trevor and Jacks door to see that there room was empty. Their beds were made with their sandals missing, which only meant that they were downstairs.

It was a lightbulb moment as you practically raced down using the banister as support. Chatter could be heard from outside and that’s where they were “pass me the blunt.” Jack’s voice was soft, muffled by the glass.

Your feet brought you up to the door as you sighed knowing that beyond this moment if you wanted to turn back, you wouldn’t be able to “do my eyes deceive me or is little Miss Perfect stood in front of me?” Trevor teased, using the nickname that Jack had as his eyes drank in the sight of you.

Jack could sense you were nervous “why don’t you come take a hit?” He offered holding the blunt in your direction “don’t know how.” You shook your head, making him smirk.

Of course, weed was something you hadn’t dabbled in, how were they not surprised “I’ll teach ya.” Jack patted his thigh as he spread his legs open for you to sit there.

He held the joint between his ring and pointer fingers when you sat down “just suck the air in but don’t inhale it.” The middle Hughes boy knew that you weren’t exactly some chain smoker so he had to help you.

You nodded as you followed his instructions when he brought the blunt to your lips. Both boys watched on when Jack let his hand travel up the inside of her thigh “there we go.” He cooed until you let out a cough.

It made them softly laugh when you shook your head “never doing that again.” You announced assuming that it would have done something to calm the nerves that ran through your veins.

Jack brought the blunt to his lips “what brought you down here?” He asked looking at his watch, you were usually fast asleep “I couldn’t sleep.” You confessed wanting sigh when you felt the breeze brush past you.

Trevor smiled at your words “anything particular that brought the late shower on?” It was clear that your hair was still wet as it drenched the back of the shirt that you made into a dress “do you think you guys can really fix me?” The words made the two boys freeze.

It wasn’t something that they thought you would come around to “because if I have to spend another fucking unsatisfactory night with fingers between my thighs I’m going to shoot someone.” Jack let out a soft laugh hearing your confession.

He smiled bringing his lips to your cheek to kiss “you gonna be a good girl for us?” He quizzed you, circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh “let us break you?” He added which made you whimper in response.

Trevor almost felt jealous at how far away he was from you “why don’t we move this inside?” His proposal made your head snap in his direction. You seemed to sense where the boy came from “c’mon pretty girl.” Jack patted your thigh signalling to you to get up.

Jack had never been more grateful for the fact that he picked a room downstairs, which you at the moment seemed to so happily run into “c’mere.” Trevor shut the door behind him.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. A grin plastered on his face as your head tilted in his direction so that he could kiss you. There present taste of beer mixed with the weed on his tongue that he dragged over your lower lip. A moan escaped your lips as Jack placed his hands on your hips “didn’t forget about you too.” you confessed, turning your head so that you could kiss him too.

It was rougher when Trevor turned his attention to your neck. His kisses were hungry as he sucked at the skin “n-no marks.” You gasped not wanting to worry about covering more than your bikinis already did.

Jack finally took a step back as he looked at you “why don’t you show us how you normally try to get off?” Jack’s fingers danced over the hem of Luke’s shirt that hung over your knee.

Trevor nodded in agreement “doll, it ain’t like we don’t see those pathetic bikinis you wear.” His words were sharp, making you listen as you took a step back, “like you want us to know what is under ‘em.” He added, allowing his eyes to burn your skin.

The boys watched in awe as your fingers gripped at the ends of the shirt, you took in a deep breath in like it was meant to give you some newfound confidence. The room grew warmed as you pulled the white t-shirt off of your body, letting it fall onto the floor when you now stood in just a white thong. They both stood in silence, causing you to bite at your lip with your confidence immediately wavering.

You were quick to reach down wanting to grab the shirt, assuming that the boys thought this was a mistake or that you weren’t as pretty as they thought you’d be “let us get a good look at ya.” Trevor’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from leaning over any further.

A whistle left his lips when you stood up straight “never thought these tits could ever have looked better than when they were in those bikinis.” His voice was a low growl, letting his fingers cup at your breasts before he gave them a squeeze.

The feeling made a moan get caught in your throat “god imagine what she’s hiding under those panties?” Trevor turned to Jack, not letting his hands move from your boobs that his thumbs began to massage.

Possibilities felt endless “you wanna let us see?” Jack asked making you nod. Trevor kissed at your neck whilst you locked your fingers into the sides of your panties.

The fabric brushed against your skin when Trevor looked down to see your bare mound “don’t know how any of those boyfriends of yours used to let you leave them.” He sighed pressing a kiss against your cheek.

Jack nodded in agreement “if we had a say you’d always be around ready for us.” Those words made you squirm and force your thighs together.

Neither one of them were an idiot, easily sensing the effect they had on you “can you sit on the bed for me sweet girl?” Jack cooed tilting your jaw up to him so that he could kiss you.

That kiss helped settle some of your nerves as you nodded. You sat on the edge of Jacks bed “higher.” Trevor motioned to you to move higher up the bed.

You drove your hips up until you got sat in the middle of his bed “now why don’t you show us how you get off?” After all that was the entire reason that you were there so it made sense they watched you first.

When you lay down on the bed the boys looked at you like you were the sight for sore eyes “c’mon you can show us.” Trevor’s voice oozed this sense of cockiness as he motioned to you to start, brushing those waves of uncertainty aside.

Your heels pushed up to your ass as you spread your lefs open, seeing the boys stare back at you “need to make it wet.” You whimpered feeling Jack kneel into the bed.

He took two of his fingers to spread your folds open, saliva pooled in his mouth before he let his spit fall onto your cunt. It ran down your clit making you squirm “that enough?” Jack asked standing back up straight as you nodded.

You brought your fingers down your stomach and to your slit. The two fingers rubbed over your sensitive nub making the boy’s pants grow tight, your fingers travelled to your cunt as you let them thrust into the hole. The pace you used seemed to be a happy medium using Jack’s spit as some kind of lube that let your fingers create a squelching sound.

Jack felt his throat grow tight “you think that you add another finger?” He could see how your eyes stuck on his now-formed boner “you want some encouragement?” The boy smirked when you nodded.

Neither one hesitated to drop their pants as they pulled their cocks out of their boxers “can’t fit.” You shook your head watching as your mouth watered seeing them palm their members.

Trevor sucked at his teeth “know you can do it.” He encouraged but still that didn’t seem to be enough.

Your free hand went up to cup your boob, going tease your nipple that had been throbbing since it felt the cool air of Jack’s room “need help.” You pleaded, only ever having two fingers in your hole. Even the guys you dated seemed to stop at two, thinking that it was the perfect number.

Jack took his precum over the head of his cock as he rubbed it down his length “why don’t you pick who.” If he had it his way he wouldn’t have even given Trevor a chance to get you first.

When your eyes didn’t leave the Devils players it seemed your answer was written on the walls “no hard feels right?” He smirked tucking his cock back into boxers before he joined you on the bed.

You sat up letting your back rest against his headboard “gonna relax f’me okay?” Jack asked watching you pull your own fingers from your cunt “okay.” You nodded letting your eyes shut when his thumb circled your clit.

In the beginning he opted to start easy, with two fingers it was only slightly bigger than what you could fit in yourself “shit.” You whimpered letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

His fingers grazed the spongey area of your cunt “uh huh baby want to hear you.” Jack kissed at your neck wanting to hear you scream “feels good.” You confessed making him nod.

Jack pressed these opened-mouthed kisses on your jaw as he felt you clench around him “you see how hard you make him?” The Hughes boy turned his eyes to Trevor who palmed his cock at an even quicker pace “feel how hard you make me?” Jack brought your hand with his free one over his boxers.

You took the time to feel his hard appendage and with that, Jack slid a third finger into your cunt “fuck!” Your toes curled at the new sensation.

Jack lowered his head to your boob letting his lips wrap around your nipple “right there.” Your head rested against the cool wood behind you.

His fingers felt every inch of you, the way your cunt clenched around his digits that attacked your needy hole “think you should get her clit Z.” Jack’s words made you whimper as you saw the boy’s swollen red tip look desperate for more of your attention “such a pretty girl ain’t she?” Trevor nodded, joining you on the other side of the bed.

But he didn’t take the liberty of tucking himself away as he let his fingers tap on your lower lip “and a good listener too huh?” He teased watching your mouth suck at his fingers.

He was forced to pull them out, not wanting to get too carried away “don’t stop.” There was a feeling you had never felt as Jack curled his fingers in this come hither motion. Trevor added to it letting his fingers drop down between Jacks hand and your clit. His calloused fingers were rough “fuck!” You called out watching Trevor drop his face to your chest.

The boy clicked his tongue “look at this poor fucking tit all ignored.” He sighed not giving you a chance to respond as he too wrapped his lips around your other nipple.

Looking down it was a sight of dreams as each boy sucked at your nipples, working in tandem on your clit and your cunt “I feel funny.” You confessed making them both look at each other.

It was encouragement for them to increase the pace of their fingers as Trevor rubbed your clit faster and Jack increased the pace of his thrusts “I think I’m gonna.” You trailed off with wide eyes as your body began to shake not sure if the pleasure was coming from your nipples, clit or cunt, or even a mixture of all three.

Jack made a muffled grunt against your nipple that sent you over the edge, your face scrunched your face up letting your head jolt. Your cunt clenched around Jacks fingers as your body didn’t stop squirming. The boys didn’t stop there though as they brought you through your orgasm.

The Hughes boy let his fingers begin to slow as your release didn’t seem to grow any sloppier around his digits “shit baby.” Jack let your nipple drop from his mouth with a pop. Your chest heaved as you nodded enough.” You whimpered feeling them retract their fingers away from you as Trevor finally let your other breast go.

Trevor and Jack looked at the sight that you were in front of them “why don’t you taste yourself.” Jack offered his fingers bringing them into your mouth “so you can remember your first orgasm.” He added as Trevor had a devilish look in his eyes.

You went to turned your attention to the other boy whilst still sucking on Jacks fingers “I want a proper taste.” Trevor announced settling in between your legs.

Your body was still sensitive and Jack was able to pick upon that “hey pretty girl.” His voice was soft, his fingers gripped at your jaw turning your head in his direction.

His eyes caught yours “don’t worry about him right now?” Jack reassured you as Trevor kissed at your thigh “you want to still feel so good right?” Trevor asked wrapping his arm around your thigh when he blew against your cunt.

The sensation made you squirm “please.” You nodded switching your gaze between both boys “a guy ever eaten this pretty cunt before?” Trevor ran his finger down your slit when he pressed a kiss against your other thigh.

Jack focused his lips against the hollow of your collarbone “none.” But that wasn’t to say that you never wanted it, the guys you were with just wanted it to be you who went down on them “can’t believe you fucking thought you were the problem.” Jack clicked his tongue watching your eyes stick on Trevor.

The boy mindlessly stared at your cunt, like he had never seen something so glorious “kiss?” You pleaded looking at Jack who couldn’t help but nod at you.

His fingers gripped at your jaw as he started kissing you slowly at first. Trevor felt his cock throb watching the scene unfold in front of him. Jacks tongue ended up in your mouth and the Ducks player decided he couldn’t be the only one not having any fun.

Trevor wrapped his other arm around your bare thigh, allowing your feet to settle on his shoulder blades “fucking hell.” His voice barely above a whisper before his head dropped against your cunt.

His mouth latched over your clit first making you moan into Jacks mouth “such a sweet cunt.” Trevor moaned sending shivers up your spine. The boy let his tongue travel to your weeping hole, his nose grazed your clit as he thrusted his tongue in against your walls.

Your head fell back as Jack looked down “be a good girl and look at how good Z his making you feel.” He sucked at your earlobe making you whimper.

Trevor’s eyes locked onto yours, his arms slightly loosened around your legs allowing you to drive your hips close to him “fuck z.” You moaned feeling Jack cup your tits once again “Jacky you’re missing out here.” Trevor confessed placing his thumb on your clit before he went back to fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt Jack softly laugh against your skin “don’t have to worry because we’ve got plenty more in ya.” He looked at you through his devilishly long lashes “don’t we baby?” Jack asked as he sucked at your jaw.

Silence swallowed you up when pleasure lulled in your ears. Trevor had been paying attention which made him scoff “he asked you a question doll.” The boy cupped his hand as he lay a smack against your cunt.

The movement made you jolt when your eyes burst open “ahh,” you whimpered almost folding your body over “‘m sorry.” You apologised letting your lips form a pout.

Trevor accepted the apology as he continued. He pressed a kiss against your clit “we just want you to be a good girl.” He sighed licking a stripe down your slit.

Your thighs tensed around his head “because we don’t have to punish you then.” Your cunt clenched around his tongue as it lolled back into your hole “just wanna make you feel so good tonight.” Jack confessed going back to kissing your lips as you quickly became like a drug to him.

There was the slightest scent of your perfume that was still on your skin that invaded his nostrils “please.” You nodded practically feeling like a brand new woman as the boys focused on you.

Jack nodded running his fingers over your collarbone “c’mon sweet girl.” Jack cooed as you bit at your lip “you let this house hear you or else we’re gonna stop.” He warned squeezing your cheeks in his hand.

Trevor pulled his tongue from your entrance before he let it lay flat running against your clit “seems like little miss perfect wants that.” Trevor taunted latching his lips around the sensitive nub.

Jack gasped toying with your nipple between his fingers “you want Lukey to see what we are doing to his best friend?” The image made your voice quiver “h-he can’t.” You whimpered shaking your head.

The boy between your thighs smirked “shame to keep this pretty pussy a secret.” Trevor sighed pressing a kiss against your clit “when she’s all soaked for us, it’s better to keep it our think no?” Jack asked pressing a wet kiss against your throat when you arched your back.

The Ducks player let his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub, creating a healthy rhythm that caused your thighs to squeeze against his head “all for you.” You nodded with your voice turning breathy, almost angelic to the duo.

Those words went straight to the boys cocks that they were still so desperate to just let burst out, letting it soak your skin “can’t believe you tried to act like you were too good for us.” Jack pinched at your side making you jolt “I’m sorry.” You cried, your throat feeling raw as your heels pushed against Trevor’s shoulder blades.

Jack smiled raking his fingers through your hair “‘s okay.” He mumbled pecking your lips “all that matters is that you’re here now.” Jack kissed you harder that time when your nails dug into his thigh.

Trevor let his lips go from your clit as you whimpered not aware of how that hurt him more to stop than you could have known “please she’s been wanting to be a dumb little slut for us.” Trevor’s words were rough as he thrusted his fingers into your cunt.

His were longer than Jacks but they weren’t as smooth either “please.” You begged clenching your walls around his digits “please what?” Trevor softly bit that the inside of your thigh.

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head while Jack kissed at your shoulder “make me cum.” You whined wanting nothing more than to feel the high you felt earlier on “how can I say no to that.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he went back to sucking at your clit.

His fingers did this scissoring motion stretching you out around him. The squelching noises echoed against the walls of the room, mixing with the sounds of your moans that slipped through Jacks kisses “such a spoilt girl ain’t ya.” Jack saw the sweat that formed on your stomach.

You nodded whimpering against him “want you to cum really good for him okay?” Those words made your toes curl as the coil tightened in your stomach “can I?” You nodded not knowing it was possible for you to do it again.

Trevor nodded refusing to slow down his thrusts as he grinded his hips into the bed beneath him. Words left your lips in a shaky chant “please fuck please.” You begged squirming as he didn’t relent running his tongue over your clit.

You huffed shaking your head “c’mon sweet girl you can let go.” Jack egged you on kissing your lips, swallowing the moans from your mouth.

Your legs shook when Trevor fingered you through your high, your release coating his fingers when the coil snapped in your stomach “shit, holy shit.” Your chest heaved letting your fingers tug at Trevor’s hair to pull him off of you.

His fingers dropped from your cunt went you kissed him. Your release shone on his chin “fuck.” Trevor moaned feeling your tongue brush against his, your walls clenched around nothing as you knew it was the taste of your pussy on his tongue.

Jack grunted from beside you as you turned back to look at him. There was a smile on your lips “you ready for one more?” He asked pushing your hair out of your face when you nodded.

It made Trevor laugh “of course she is.” He mumbled tugging at the hair on the nape of your neck so that he could kiss you again. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you with the amount of passion in it.

A moan escaped from your lips “wanna taste you.” Your confession made his cock throb “how can I say no when a little slut asks me so nicely?” He nodded cupping your jaw as he smiled.

Jack gripped at your sides “gonna let me fuck you while he does that?” Those words made you nod.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened but before you knew it Jack was on the end of the bed with his legs hanging over. You were hovering over his hips and of course Trevor stood over you, taking in the sight that you were through your thick eyelashes “remember when you thought you were too good to entertain us?” Trevor taunted you like those words hadn’t been spoken mere hours ago.

You nodded feeling Jack kiss your shoulder blade “well I think it’s time you give us an apology for being such a fucking brat.” His words were harsh as Jack dragged the head of his cock against your clit “I’m sorry Trevor.” Jacks hand held your hip stopping you from sinking into his cock.

Trevor laughed shaking his head “you gotta do a whole lot better than that.” His fingers brushed through your hair “and that’s gonna start with you getting on his dick okay?” You were eager to please them both.

Jack let out a grunt “condom?” He asked when your head leaned against his shoulder “on the pill.” Your words made him gasp finally letting your cunt sink down on his cock.

The ducks player smirked watching how your jaw went slack “shit this cunt is-wow.” Jack let his teeth gnaw at your shoulder blade.

Neither one of you moved, taking the chance let your walls stretch around his cock. Trevor palmed himself watching how your eyes screwed shut enjoying how the boy felt inside of you “gonna have to try it one day too.” He nodded as you finally started lifting yourself up against Jack “you ready f’me to fuck you huh?” Jack asked, your head bobbed with your one hand resting on his thigh your nails digging into his skin.

Jacks blue orbs burnt into the back of your head “this cunt is so perfect god.” He barked wrapping his one arm around your waist to keep your back flush against his chest “don’t stop.” The Devils player drunk in your whimpers while you squirmed.

He adjusted his legs so that you had spread yours around his. Letting the feelings of pleasure soak over you, not sure how much more of him you could actually take. A grunt came from in front of you, reminding you that it wasn’t just you and Jack in that room.

Trevor’s precum oozed out of his cock and you swore you could see a smirk on his face when your mouth watered “you wanna suck my cock?” He asked watching you nodded.

His breath grew short when you used your tongue to spread his liquid around his length “shit this mouth is-” Trevor cut himself off as you took more of his cock in your mouth.

His fingers messily tugged at your hair forming a loose pony at the back of your head, encouraging you to work his cock between your lips “you want more?” He asked seeing how you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Jack had settled into a rhythm he liked unintentionally knocking your hand off of him. This cause you to reach out at Trevor’s thighs “fuck.” Both boys spoke through gritted teeth as Trevor’s cock hit your throat causing tears to spill from your eyes when you clenched around Jacks cock.

The ducks player watched how you worked your tongue on the underside of his length “don’t stop pretty girl.” He nodded hearing the squelching of your cunt as Jack fucked you “yeah sweets we wanna use you proper.” Jack cooed gripping at your hip, pinching at the skin.

You moaned around Trevor almost toppling him over “think you like the idea of us using you.” His words were full of desire, fantasies forming in his mind wanting to go through with them in that moment.

Sweat stuck to your skin, turning you into a whimper mess “god you’re such a cock hungry slut.” Trevor muttered tugging at your hair eliciting another moan from your lips

The sensation made his eyes screw shut “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Trevor response was mangled, Jack started chasing his own high that was quickly approaching when he heard that message “you gonna let me make a mess in this pretty little mouth of yours?” He brought his one hand forward from your hair.

His thumb brushed against your cheek “mhm.” Tears streamed down your cheeks while your eyes darted up to his.

Trevor’s movements increased fucking your face as if you were his own hand. He took that moment before he became undone. His hand held you in place so his release hit the back of your throat all at once.

Your throat gagged at the new sensation causing his cock to twitch before he went lax letting go of your hair. You hollowed out your cheeks as you let your lips swallow every last drop of what had been on his skin cleaning him up in the process.

Gasps escaped from your lips causing droplets of his release to drip out of the side of your mouth “don’t go making a mess now.” Trevor clicked his tongue catching it with his thumb before he brought it into your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around his digit swirling your tongue around it like it was his cock all over again “fuck I’m gonna make a mess in this pussy.” Jack announced feeling that he was close.

His pace turned animalistic and if Trevor wasn’t in front of you, you swore you would have fallen over “such a tight cunt.” The boy moaned with his eyes glued to the way your folds swallowed his cock.

Trevor felt himself grow hard again “such a pretty little cock drunk slut ain’t ya?” He asked watching your eyes grow glassy “yeah.” You cried hearing how your thighs slapped against Jack with every thrust of his cock.

He almost felt as if he could feel your guts he was so deep, touch places you didn’t even know were in you “needed you both so bad.” You were surprised you were able to form a coherent sentence “knew you were always gonna be so desperate for us.” Trevor almost laughed watching your head bob as you nodded along.

Your mouth watered seeing how his cock still oozed while his hand ran along the underside of it “you wanna feel this too pretty girl?” It was almost the sweetest thing he had said that night.

It seemed to throw you off as you chewed at your lip sensing you were close “or maybe we should stop until this little slut remembers how to talk.” The threat held no weight as Jack was far too close with your walls squeezing his cock to let you off of him, but that wasn’t something that you considered “please Z.” Your moan sounded like you were a pornstar letting the whimpers of desperation escape from your throat.

Trevor crouched down pumping his cock once more before he let the head sit in your clit “shit doll you like that?” Jack asked feeling you clench around him “so good.” You nodded letting your head fall against his shoulder.

The sight was something Trevor swore should have been in the Louvre. His cock dragged over your clit matching the pace of Jacks thrusts. The Hughes boy was desperate to get you to cum first because he knew that the moment he finish he was a goner.

Trevor begun to kiss at your throat which he now had the perfect spot to do as such “go on.” Trevor mumbled sucking at your sweet skin “make a mess on Jacky boys cock.” Your breathy gasps filled the room as your eyes screwed shut.

Jack grunted from behind you “yeah baby make a mess for me.” Between Jacks cock fucking you senseless, Trevor’s cock against your clit and now both boys marking up your throat you were done.

You shuttered out a cry while your face contorted letting tears fall from your shut eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. Neither boy stopped what they were doing, wanting to guide you through your orgasm “shit shit so good!” Jack sputtered out feeling your cunt clench around him.

His eyes practically rolled back into his head as his cock shot warm sticky ropes of release into your cunt “fucking hell.” Trevor softly laughed against your throat when the younger boy lulled his thrusts before he kissed your shoulder.

Your chest heaved trying to catch your breath you lay against Jack slowly coming back to, before you softly clenched around him remembering that he was still there “you with us baby?” Jack asked brushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded gripping onto Trevor’s arm to help yourself up “damn.” Jack mumbled looking down at where you had been sat. A mix of your release and Jacks oozed out of your cunt and down the inside of your thigh as you used Trevor to support you.

Trevor’s eyes followed Jacks before he let out a soft gasp “you know you could do that?” His hand squeezed at your hip before he set you on the bed next to the devils player.

You shook your head “do what?” You asked growing confused “this broken girl just squirted.” Trevor scooped the release that had fallen before he thrusted his fingers into your cunt once more “we can’t have you forgetting about this now can we?” He asked watching your hand try to wrap around his wrist to stop him.

Jack smirked seeing how you dropped back onto the bed, allowing your face to contort as you felt with a mix of pleasure and overstimulation “silly girl this summer is only just getting started.” The devils player nipped at your ear knowing that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Because here is to the summer you’ll never forget.

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