#and then this morning I get a dm from another friend asking if I knew if my bff was mad at her or smth bc she’s been leaving her on read

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[victory-cookies]

nothing like a little friend drama to spice up the morning. lord

[222col]

sugardaddy!art is completely devoted to you, as are you to him, until a dm from patrick lights up your phone late one night | 18+

it was tashi who introduced you two, at some adidas party. she'd met with you the day before, pitching the idea of forming some kind of relationship with her husband. she admitted that she knew he needed more than her, he needed intimacy, attention, devotion. things she wasn't capable of giving, her focus was on his tennis and recovery. art was attractive, and successful, you were considering. tashi explained that in return for your devotion to her husband, the two of you would supply you with anything you wanted. "so, i'd be his sugarbaby?" you questioned her. she simply shook her head. "you'd look after his needs, while we looked after yours."

she introduced you to her husband, "this is the girl we talked about." he had followed you on instagram the night before, so you imagined tashi had shown it to him after your conversation. she leaves the two of you alone. you're younger than him, much smaller in frame, you can feel the power he has over you. but he strokes your arm lightly, telling you he can't wait to get to know you better.

art falls head over heels for you, you see him nearly every day. always giving him every ounce of attention he craves. it's not hard, he's beautiful, funny, always doting on you, complimenting everything about you. he fucks you like the world stops moving once he's inside you. you're like oxygen to him, he can't really breath until he's with you. art and tashi sleep in separate rooms, as months go by, you start staying over. occasionally bumping into tashi the next morning, she always greets you with a smile and thanks you for looking after her husband. the dynamic is strange, but it works.

art kept you very private, away from his fast paced life in tennis. he followed your instagram, sure, but you were a sportswear model. who's to suspect anything strange about a professional tennis player following a sportswear model. it's a year into you and art's relationship that patrick follows you on instagram. you knew he and patrick had patched up their friendship, since they played each other in a challenger somewhere in new york, some nine months ago. but still, you can't imagine art ever mentioning you to anyone other than his wife. one, for the sake of his public image, but two, he'd never want to share you. he always asks you if you go on dates in your time away from him, but always reassuring him that you don't. "i'm yours art, i don't want anyone else."

stalking patrick's instagram, alone in your apartment, payed for by art, you see how much he's turned his life around since playing in that new york challenger. art had mentioned that patrick wasn't reaching his full potential while they weren't on speaking terms. but now he's playing in big tournaments, winning them and earning his reputation back. that's obvious by his instagram, he's travelling the world, in style. you see the notification of him liking one of your posts, as you swipe through his. no, this is bad, you think. another notification, a message this time. shit. you have to tell art. does he already know? has he told patrick about the relationship you share? it's late, you know art has a match tomorrow, you decide not to call him.

patrick's messages are flirty, you can't work out what he knows, if he knows. you flirt back. you know it's wrong, but you do it. you think about art's pout as you tell him you're flirting with his best friend when you're sworn to him. you wipe that thought from your brain, reading the messages patrick is sending you. he's in your city for a tournament, you question how he knows what city you live in, it's in your bio, he responds. oh, yeah.

what are you doing right now?

fuck. fuck. shit. it's 10pm, you're still dolled up from the dinner art took you to. you look back at your phone.

wanna meet me for a drink? there's a nice bar at my hotel.

he sends you the address, it's only two blocks from your apartment. your feet are moving you off the couch, discarding of your robe, the dress art instructed you to wear to dinner still gowns your body.

be there in 15.

why the fuck did you do that, you think, reapplying your lipstick. your mind is running a mile a minute. you slip your heels back on, grabbing your handbag and locking your apartment door behind you. art. patrick. art. fuck, you can't stop thinking about art. you still don't know if patrick knows, but you can't ask because then he'll definitely know. you haven't been with anyone else since the day you met art, it would break him knowing you're going for drinks with another man. let alone with patrick. you collect yourself as you arrive outside the hotel, you'd been here with art. you didn't recognise the name, art always books the rooms. you stayed here with him the night before he signed the lease to your apartment.

walking towards the bar, you remember the way, patrick is perched on the end of the bar. he smirks when he sees you, you smile and walk over to him. standing to greet you, he kisses your cheek, "glad you could join me, i was getting lonely." he's in a white button down and jeans. "glad i could be of service then." you flirt, sitting on the stool next to his. your knees touching his as he orders you a glass of wine. "there's no way you got this dolled up in 15 minutes, sweetheart," the bartender places your wine down next to you. taking a sip and giggling. "no, of course, i'd only been home an hour when you messaged me, i went out to dinner and hadn't gotten changed yet." patrick is leaning towards you, like he's trying to read you.

"you're telling me, you went on a date, came home, then came to meet me? that's hot." patrick laughs into his beer. "no, no, it wasn't a date," you lie, art would cry if he heard you say that. "it was just dinner with a friend." patrick doesn't really believe you, but he doesn't push. "so, you're in town for the tennis tournament?" you question, sipping your wine. "yeah, i play my first game the day after tomorrow." you know it's the same tournament art is playing in. "i was actually going to stay at a friends place who lives near by, but boy am i glad i didn't now." his hand lands on your exposed thigh. fuck, he must mean art. you don't even realise you're leaning in closer to patrick. "me too," he just smiles at you, drawing circles on your skin.

you come to the conclusion that he doesn't know a thing about your relationship with art, the most he could know was that art followed your instagram, he will have seen when he followed you himself. you don't know how it happens, but after a few more glasses of wine and flirting, patrick's lips crash onto yours. they're not as soft as art's, he doesn't have the same respect for you to wait for you to open your mouth to push his tongue in. his hand is moving further up your thigh, pulling away from the kiss. "what'd say? wanna fuck a famous tennis star?" he whispers in your ear, he's so fucking arrogant. another famous tennis star, you think. you can't resist him, he's so different to art. art cares so deeply for you, touches you so softly, asks if you're okay. patrick is cocky, only sees you as a girl to add to his list. you can't say no, you know you should but you can't. all you can do is look up at him through your lashes and nod.

he fucks you from behind, ripping your dress off your body as he pounds into you. you'll feel guilty about that tomorrow, art loved that dress. he spanks you repeatedly, he doesn't care that it hurts, he just cares about getting himself off. he flips you over, holding your ankles and pushing your legs close to your head as he keeps fucking you. your fresh set of nails dig into the skin of his thighs, nails moving to his back once he drops your legs down. you scratch the length of his spine, he winces with a smile on his face when he realises you've drawn blood. he spits in your mouth, slaps your face, its animalistic. he pulls out and finishes all over your stomach, he doesn't care that you didn't finish. he collapses beside you, instinctively you start kissing and caressing the marks you left on his body. kissing every bite mark and scratch you gave him. he softens, breathing gently as he strokes you hair. "no one's ever looked after me like this," he states, sitting up to drink the water your holding for him. you simply kiss his forehead in response, his heart is nearly beating out his chest at the sweet way you're looking after him, after just fucking the life out of you without giving a single fuck. you pull the blanket up over his naked body, getting out of bed to gather your belongings. "stay with me?" he pleads, you can't resist.

you wake up in patrick's arms, shit. shit. shit. it's 9am, you check your phone, a text from art, two hours ago.

good morning, baby. hope you slept well, off to my morning training session before the match later today. call you when i can xx

you turn around and look at patrick, fast asleep. you reply quickly to art.

good morning, my love. have a good session, already can't wait to hear ur voice <3

you're not lying. you hear his voice everyday, it's part of your routine. you put your phone on the nightstand as you start getting out of bed. "please don't leave just yet," patrick mumbles in his morning voice, holding out a hand for you. "let me just use the bathroom real quick." you respond. you smooth out your hair in the mirror, attempting to clean up your make up with only your finger, slipping into a robe on the back of the bathroom door. you return to patrick, sitting on the edge of the bed as he sits up now, leaning against the headboard. "i have a proposition for you," you tilt your head at his words. "i need you in my life, i need your body, your kindness," he begins. oh no. "i was thinking, if you were to look after me and my needs, i could do the same for you." you know exactly what he means, you've heard it before. your phone lights up, your ringtone playing. 'A.D' flashes across the screen. fuck.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Tequila

Summary: Tequila has a lot to answer for when Y/N wakes up naked in Dean’s bed, but once the shock wears off, she realises that maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, feelings, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Another December Drabble for you all to enjoy!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

The sun streams through the motel’s threadbare curtains, rudely awakening you from a deep, drunken sleep. Your head is pounding, and there’s a ringing in your ears that comes with the vague memory of the loud music playing at the bar last night.

It’d been a hard hunt to stomach: Lamia, a child-eating demon, had decided to take up residence in Grangeville, Idaho, and once you’d blasted her ass back to hell, you and Dean really, really needed to let off a lot of steam.

Luckily, there was a dive bar next door to the motel, so neither of you had to stay sober enough to drive home, and you’d both been well and truly shit-faced. You’d hustled a small fortune playing pool; he’d sung karaoke, and there were tequila shots… lots and lots of tequila shots.

A snore from behind you made you freeze. It sounded like Dean, but that couldn’t be right. Why would you and Dean be in the same bed? Whoever it was rolled over and slid their arm over your waist, pulling you into their body. You could feel something hard poke the back of your thigh… at least he’s packing, you thought before the mystery man spoke.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Suddenly, the whole night’s events come flooding back to you at once.

One tequila shot turned into two. Two turned to four. Four turned to six, and before you knew it, you were stumbling through the door to Dean’s room, lips attached to his, nails raking through his hair and over his scalp and neck, tongues dancing a passionate tango while your clothes flew in every direction.

Dean made love to you so deliciously good. He was sweet and gentle at times. Rough and hard when you needed it. In all the years you’d known him, this was the first time you’d ended up in his bed, yet he knew your body better than you did. 

The green-eyed hunter had known how to pleasure you better than anyone had before him. Touching places no one had ever touched before. Taking you higher than you’d ever been, making you scream his name so loud the occupant next door had banged the wall.

It’s overwhelming, and you can feel last night’s alcohol swirl dangerously in your stomach, threatening to make an appearance. You lifted the covers and glanced down. Yep, definitely naked.

Pulling the sheet tighter to your body, you cautiously turn around, your worst fear confirmed as Dean’s twinkling green orbs and cocky smirk greet you.

“Well, this changes things!” he grins, and you can’t decide if you want to punch his painfully beautiful face or kiss him.

“Oh, God!” you gasp, covering your face with your hands. “This can’t be happening.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, concern evident in his voice. “You okay?”

“I can’t believe I did you—I mean that. I can’t believe I did that,” you mumble.

“Come on, don’t be like that! We had a great time. I got you off six times, sweetheart! That’s a personal record for me!”

Dean’s words are meant to be comforting, but they do the opposite and only embarrass you more. The urge to kiss him is gone, leaving you wanting to punch his painfully beautiful, smug face.

“Seriously, Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you in any way? Did you not want that to happen? Because I gotta say, you were all over me at the bar, and I get that we had a lot of tequila and were drunk, but I thought you wanted me, too?”

Now that Dean had put his cocky persona aside and the real Dean was in the room, you’d changed your mind again and wanted to kiss him.

“No, Dean. I wanted it to happen. I have for an embarrassingly long time. What I don’t want is to be just another notch on your bedpost. It’s why I’ve never given in to your very persuasive charms over the years. Because I want to be more than just one night to you. And I know that’s not what you want—”

“Woah, Y/N, slow down!” Dean shot up on the bed and turned you to face him. “Did you not hear me when I said this changes things? Do you honestly think I’d risk what we have for one night? I’ve wanted you since the day we met, and last night was the first time since we met that you’ve shown any interest in me. And sweetheart, I haven’t been shy in pulling out my best moves for you.” His words and body language are so expressive and genuine, and you know he’s not feeding you a line. He likes you and he’s wanted you for a long time. All of his flirting and come-ons were real.

“And I thought ‘this is it. I finally get to call her my girl’. Maybe I shouldn’t have followed through with it when we were drunk, but I don’t regret taking my chance with you. Please tell me you don’t regret what happened.” Dean cups your cheeks to keep your gaze on his. The pain crossing his features breaks your heart. You want to tell him you feel the same way, but it’s risky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much from last night, just bits and pieces, but I know enough to know that if that happened, I wanted it to happen,” you say, trying to ignore the look of Dean’s disappointment at your lack of memory from the night before.

“Do you really want me?” you ask, terrified this was a tequila-induced dream.

“Since the day I met you. And if you’re interested, I’d like to see where we’d go. Together. As a couple.” For once, Dean looks incredibly shy and vulnerable, making your heart swell.

“I’d like that too, De,” you smile, giggling when he grins boyishly.

“Yeah?” he checks, and you nod.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“Then, I think you should lay back and let me refresh your memory of last night,” Dean grins as he gently pushes you back down on the mattress and pulls your legs apart.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[bad268]

Hii can I request a Paul Aron x reader? Maybe like they went to school together and she was known to keep to herself but he finds out she drifts cars as a passion outside of school. Maybe a cute interaction after he watches her and he's with a couple friends too?

Drift to Survive (Paul Aron X Drifter! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha I speedran this, but I learned a lot of shit about drifting <3) (Also, off-topic but LOOK AT HIS HAND)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1132

Summary: Drifter! reader decides it's time to share the infamous after-school activity.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

What had started as an after-school activity turned into a fully-fledged career after a while. You had started drifting back when you were younger. Your dad used to compete in Drift Masters (DM), and you had always been interested in it since he would take you to the rounds.

By the time you were 10, your dad was taking you out to open fields or empty tracks to drift, and when you reached 15, you started competing in lower levels. It was difficult managing a full-time career on top of finishing school, but it would be worth it in the end.

Somedays you wish you had told your school friends about your passion for drifting, but then you remember how critical people are of different interests. It was better to keep it on the down-low until you got better at least.

Well, to say you were getting better would be an understatement. You started competing in Formula Drift earlier this year, and you were dominating. You just found out that if you secured the championship, you would be offered a seat in DM. 

Since there was a race for you this weekend, you decided to bite the bullet and invite a couple of your closest friends. They were racing in Formula 2 or Formula 3, and you knew they did not have a race that weekend. Surely, they were free. 

You sent a quick text to the group chat that included Dino, Ollie, Jak, and your best friend, Paul. Maybe you wished Paul was more, but right now, your focus was on your career, especially since you just graduated and were moving up in the world. That was something you could pursue another day.  

They all accepted immediately, intrigued at the prospect. They did not really attend a race where placement did not matter, so they were interested to learn about it. Also, they did not think it was something you were interested in. You were just so quiet. They did not expect you to be interested in their type of racing, let alone a more dangerous branch of it. 

The day of the event came, and you were feeling more confident than ever. You had done a few practice runs with your dad again, and he was confident you would get that DM seat. Your friends arrived at your room early that morning since you all agreed to carpool together. 

You all loaded in the car. You drove. It was after much debate from the guys, saying they were the racing drivers, but you rebuttled with how Ollie could not pass his driver’s license test. Plus, it was your car that your dad drove over for you. You did not plan on letting any of them take your car.

Paul sat in the front, Jak and Ollie took the window seats, and Dino sat in the middle despite him saying he was too tall for it. Granted, he was the shortest of the three, so his argument was invalid. 

You let Dino have control over the music, so he would shut up. Thankfully, he did have good taste in music. You made it to the track in no time, and you drove around to the back where drivers and the teams would park. The boys looked at you funny as you showed the garage passes to security, but no one asked anything until you parked.

“You never told us,” Paul started as he climbed out of the car and followed you toward the boot. You were grabbing out a bag that had some of your essentials like team merch, hat, and snacks. All of your racing gear was already with the team. Paul closed the boot for you after you grabbed the bag out. “Where are we sitting?”

“You guys are sitting in the garage,” You answered as you locked the car after Ollie, Dino, and Jak clambered out of the car just in time to hear your answer. They all gaped at you before Dino made a connection.

“Wait, where will you be?’

“In the car,” You said simply as you handed them the badges and walked down toward the entrance. They all stood in shock for a minute before running to catch up. You led them around before parting off to your garage. Ollie, Dino, and Jak decided they wanted to explore a bit more, but Paul said he wanted to stick with you. Plus, he really wanted to look at your car.

Call him a nerd, but all cars are interesting to him. 

You did just that. It did not take him long to realize that you were the “amazing”, “talented”, and “once-in-a-generation” driver that everyone talked about. You used an alias while driving, so he never made the connection before. You showed him your car, let him sit in it, and showed him your special helmet. Since this event was so special, you did a specialty helmet based on your dad’s helmet. If you could secure your DM seat with your dad’s helmet, it would have come full circle since he was the one to help you get there.

“Wow, this is incredible! I never knew you did this,” Paul said in awe as you explained a few more things in your driver's room while getting ready to get in the car. “It suits you though.”

“Thanks, Paul,” You laughed at that. “No one ever asks what I do outside of school, so I never said anything.”

“Well, now I’m gonna make it my mission to learn everything about you,” Paul said in a soft tone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into his body. He used one of his hands to do up the zipper and velcro of your race suit before resting his hand against the side of your neck, “If you’ll let me, that is?”

“I’d always let you in, Paul,” You whispered back as you slowly leaned in to press your lips against his. It did not last long as one of your managers knocked on the door, telling you it was time to get in the car. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him as you pulled your balaclava on and grabbed your helmet. “That’s my cue. Time to drift to survive. You better be watching from the garage. I need all of the energy I can get.”

“I manifesting that win for you,” Paul laughed as he followed you out to the car. As soon as you were situated in your seat, he leaned in one last time to give you a last piece of motivation, “You’ve got all of us behind you, just breathe, and you’ll do great as always. I’ll be waiting for you at the finish line to take you out for victory drinks.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

hmmm before taylor x player get together mayeb taylro gets asked about her in an interview?

Jimmy Fallon and a DM

taylor swift x fem!NHL!reader

note: not that good lol, sorry i loved the idea just got busy and i wanted to put it out sooner than later <3

Between the break for the USA and International leg of her tour, Taylor was set to appear on Jimmy Fallon. Waiting for her que, getting her hair fixed last second by the stylist, she hears the ‘Please welcome, Dr. Taylor Swift”  

The fans in the live audience cheered as Taylor stepped out onto the set, giving Jimmy a quick hug before sitting down. The cheering never stopped, “Thank you so much.” The woman said, addressing the crowd which only causes them to cheer more.

“We are just so happy you’re here! And I announced you as ‘Doctor’ this time. ""Yes. Thank you. But really I’m happy to be here.” “And we’re so excited to talk about the tour, so you’ve finished the USA leg. And you have announced The Eras Tour film, coming out worldwide October 13th! And it really is a record breaking tour!”

The crowd cheering again, an awkward smile on Taylor’s face, even after years it will always be weird to have people tell you all your accomplishments. 

“I mean, I've written some things down; the tour is already estimated to earn over $1 billion, your opening night in Glendale was the most-attended concert by a female artist ever in the U.S., and your tour has actually boosted the economy! I mean that’s amazing! That’s amazing.” “Thank you! That is so kind of you to say all that!” “Well it’s true!”

-

“And- y’know speaking of your athleticism in getting ready for the tour, a certain athlete in the NHL for the New Jersey Devils, said you were her celebrity crush. Did you see this?”

Of course Taylor had seen it. The clip was all over ‘SwiftTok’ a place she was very active in, with her secret account. And only her closest friends knew that she had in fact started to reciprocate the feelings. Growing a crush on the girl after watching clip after clip of her doing media, getting mic’d up, and answering the questions; and getting butterflies in her stomach whenever she hears Y/n mention her.

“Um, yes I did. I mean, Y/n L/n, she’s very talented and I really admire her, and how far she’s brought herself; and she is definitely far more athletic than me.”

A low chuckle coming from the crowd, Taylor thankful it was Jimmy interviewing her and not anyone else, who would want to press on the subject.

-

One thing about Y/n is she loves talk shows, reality TV, and award shows. So having a night off, Y/n decided to stay in and do her favourite activity, surfing the channels. And she happens to come across the Jimmy Fallon tonight show, with Taylor Swift in the seat adjacent to the host. And another thing about Y/n is whenever she sees Taylor Swift, she stops.

They were talking about her workout routine to get ready for the tour, which truly to Y/n sounded very impressive. Then they did something that at this time feels like the worst thing ever, yet will turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to her. 

Jimmy mentions a ‘certain athlete’. That’s what Y/n believed would end her life, hearing Taylor Swift talk about her confessing her brush on the woman. Hearing that your celebrity crush has heard what you’ve said about them, was probably her worst fear.

Before she could even hear what the woman was going to say, against her own will, Y/n turned off the TV, put on music and finally started to make dinner; something she was putting off before that became her alternative.

-

The early morning light of 5:30 am filtered through the curtains, Y/n getting out of bed and making her way into the bathroom, and getting ready; telling her google home to play her morning music, getting into her workout attire, before making her way into her kitchen and making a smoothie with her pre-workout. 

Only going on her phone in the elevator, the woman almost dropped her half-finished smoothie, and honestly she herself almost fell to the floor seeing the DM she had gotten.

Hey, Y/n

I’m sorry if talking about you on The Tonight Show in any way made you uncomfortable, but I really do admire you and I was wondering if you would ever want to go out sometime. It isn’t just you with the celebrity crush.

Lesson number one of how to kill Y/n, be Taylor Swift and ask her out.

~taglist~

@orange15quote

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 7 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Hi Friends! I have another chapter here! I hope y'all like it!

Again, every single like, comment, and reblog of my writing means soooo much to me. Thank you so much to all of you for even reading my stuff! It means the world!

Masterlist + Playlist

Content warning: death, discussion of dying and grief

Word Count: 2.2k+

Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive… You sang in your head as you gave chest compressions with all your strength. You felt the unmistakable sensation of your patient’s ribs cracking under your weight. Though it took less than a minute for your coworkers to arrive to assist you in the code, it felt like a lifetime. The other nurses worked around you like a well oiled machine, applying the defibrillator pads and starting rescue breaths. Every muscle in your body was burning as you continued pushing on this man’s chest.

“Tap out, Y/N. I have the next round.” Carly said from behind you.

During the pause for two breaths, Carly jumped into your place with ease and took over seamlessly.

The code team arrived shortly thereafter, you quickly gave the rundown of the situation to the physicians. They went to work quickly intubating, ordering meds to be pushed, and watching the flat line of asystole. Despite everyone’s best efforts, after 20 minutes of pushing medications, ventilating, and chest compressions… there was no heart rhythm to be shocked.

“Time of death: 4:26.” Kara, a young resident said flatly.

Everyone ceased their assigned activities and took a big deep breath then slowly dispersed from the room.

You spoke softly through the lump in your throat, “Carly, can you open the window to your left?”

You stayed later than you should have, not leaving the unit until 8:30AM. You had to debrief the code with the team, do post mortem care, and make sure the docs filled out a hell of a lot of paperwork. Carly stayed with you after handing off her patient to the day team, cutting the time in half. You two finished out your shift by taking the body down to the morgue… what a way to end your work day.

“Why did you ask me to open a window when they called it?” She asked, finally breaking a long stretch of silence as you walked to the parking garage.

“It’s something I do after a patient expires. I had a preceptor tell me that it’s a way of allowing the patient’s spirit to pass on to a better place.” You explained quietly, “It’s just become a part of my nursing practice. If there’s no window in the room, I make sure the door remains open for a little while.”

Carly sighed, “That’s really lovely, Y/N… you did right by him. Even though his family should’ve signed the DNR when given the opportunity… it’s just wrong that we had to do that to him.”

You nodded, “I think family members don’t realize just how violent resuscitation is. If they knew, they’d never have let his life end like that.”

“What are you doing when you get home?” She asked.

You stopped at your car, “Cry the whole way home, take a shower, and go to sleep.”

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Y/N never answered Rooster’s good morning text. He assumed it was busy at the hospital and that he’d see an answer when he finally got a chance to check his phone at lunch, however, there was radio silence. Weird. Luckily, he checked his instagram and saw he’d received a DM from Carly.

Carly_Pope: Hey Bradley, I wanted to let you know that Y/N had a really tough shift last night. Her patient ended up dying this morning and she seems pretty torn up about it. I just wanted to let you know so that you can check in on her if you want. I know you care about her a lot.

Rooster’s heart sank. It’s no wonder Y/N hadn’t answered his text, he was the least of her concerns at the moment. He remembered her telling him how hard it was on her to take care of patients who never get better; how it was burning her out. It was evident when she was his nurse that Y/N cared so deeply about her patients. He knew she must have been absolutely crushed. He answered Carly’s DM, thanking her for the info and then quickly texted Y/N.

Bradley: Hey Y/N, a little bird (Carly) told me you had a really tough shift last night. I hope you’re getting some decent rest and taking care of yourself. If you want, I can come over after work with some food and give you some company after I get off at 5. We can talk about it or not at all, whatever you want. 

He knew Y/N was probably still sleeping, this was her last night of three in a row. He didn’t expect an answer right away; she must have been exhausted. A couple hours later, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Y/N <3: I like pizza. 

A few hours later, Bradley pulled up to her apartment with two pizzas in hand. One pepperoni and one cheese, just in case Y/N was a secret vegetarian or hated pepperoni. After a soft knock on her door, the door swung open and she B-lined straight into his arms, almost making him drop the pizzas. He quickly shuffled them into the apartment, placed the boxes down, and then fully embraced her with both arms.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N…” he kissed the crown of her head and whispered softly.

Her face was buried in his chest, he could feel her tears saturate his cotton shirt. But she still remained quiet, no sobbing or shaking. Just silent tears.

“He should’ve been able to die in peace,” she sniffled, “not with me slamming my entire body weight into his chest. He was 93, he deserved peace.”

Bradley gently stroked your hair, “It must have been so awful.”

She looked up at him, resting her on his chest, “We tried to tell the family he was never going to get better. We told them the kind thing to do was to let him die comfortably and peacefully. But they refused to sign the paperwork, they were convinced we could save him… We couldn’t save him. Keeping him alive felt cruel… But my hands were tied.”

Bradley gently wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, “I can’t imagine, Sweetheart.”

“I’m just so tired, Bradley.” She whispered, “I’m so tired of watching people suffer… and sometimes even causing them to suffer.”

“Look at me,” he cradled her cheeks in his hands, “You do not cause suffering. You alleviate suffering. I can say that with 100% certainty because I’ve experienced your care. You stopped my suffering and made me want to get well.” 

A soft whimper escaped Y/N’s lips, which then turned into sobs. 

“When was the last time you ate something?” He asked, walking you to your living room couch.

“Around… midnight.” She sniveled through her sobs.

Bradley placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down on the couch, “I’m going to get you some pizza and you’re gonna sit your pretty little butt here and eat.”

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, “I’m taking care of you now.”

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You laid across your couch with your head in Bradley’s lap, he played with your hair gently as the TV hummed quietly in the background.

“I’m sorry for breaking down like that.” You whispered quietly.

Bradley shook his head, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Sweetheart. Your grief and frustration were completely justified… There’s nothing worse than watching someone suffer.”

“Especially when they don’t have to.” You added, “I think families don’t realize how keeping someone that sick and fragile alive does more harm than good… it’s a disservice to them.”

Bradley’s eyes got glassy, filling with tears, “You’re right.”

You sat up from his lap so you could look at him straight on, “Your mom was sick, wasn’t she?”

He nodded, “Pancreatic cancer, basically a death sentence. But she put up a good fight until she couldn’t anymore, until it was hurting her more than it helped.”

“Was she able to go peacefully?” You asked.

“Yeah…” his voice cracked, “She was on hospice at my aunt’s house in Virginia Beach. She asked us to take her out to see the ocean one last time and we did, even though it was cold as balls in November. We took her wheelchair to the shoreline and she got her feet wet one last time… then a couple hours later, as the sun was setting, she passed in bed with me, my aunt and the nurse by her side. The family grew very close to her, my mom’s nurse, Heather. She still sends me Christmas cards.”

You placed your hand on Bradley’s shoulder softly, “I’m so sorry you lost her. But I’m glad your mother got the peace she deserved and you made it happen for her.”

“C’mere sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, “You always know just what to say.”

With your thumb, you gently wiped his tears from his cheek, “Now, I’m not sure about that… I’m just calling it like I see it.”

He sighed and took a moment to look at you, “You’re so beautiful.”

“Are you sure about that?” You looked down at your outfit of a ratty t-shirt and gym shorts and gestured towards the messy top-knot on your head.

He smiled so widely, the corners of his eyes crinkled, “Just calling it like I see it.”

You and Bradley passed out on the couch around one in the morning. Still slightly nocturnal from 3 night shifts in a row, you woke up around five before the sun started to rise. You turned to look at Bradley as he slept peacefully beside you, his usually bright and animated face was completely relaxed. It took everything in you don’t to run your fingers gently along the scars on his beautiful face, you desperately wanted to know how they got there. You desperately wanted to know everything about him, honestly. Still nestled into his side, you grabbed your phone to see missed texts from your mom, best friend from college, and your group chat with Carly, Madi, and Sam. You pulled up your email to see a subject line, Request for Interview. Holy shit. Sharp Hospital for Women and Newborns wanted to interview you for your dream job?! You had to read it multiple times to believe it. You bit your lip to stay silent so that Bradley could continue to snooze beside you; it took everything in you not to gasp out loud. With all the excitement running through your veins, you were unfortunately unable to go back to sleep, despite your best efforts. You slipped off the couch slowly, so as to not disturb the sleeping man beside you and found some quiet chores to do around your apartment. You couldn’t help but smile so hard your cheeks hurt as you folded laundry quietly on the living room floor.

You didn’t realize it, but you were humming along to the music in your headphones as you cleaned up the kitchen. It was dirty not only from the night before, but from the string of night shifts before that. Bradley initially woke up to the sun beaming across his face from your living room window but once he heard your quiet humming, he didn’t want to fight it and go back to sleep. He sat up slowly, watching you as you danced around the kitchen with your back to him, swinging your hips and wiping down the counter. He needed to get his hands on you, now. You were pulled out of your own little world when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, making you let out a startled squeal.

“What’s got you dancing around like that, Sweetheart?” His mustache tickled your neck with every word he spoke.

You took out one of your headphones, “Queen Dolly Parton.”

“You love that country music.” He rolled his eyes.

You turned around to face him, confused, “I’ve never listened to country music with you.”

Bradley chuckled, “You don’t remember the day we met? In the hospital? When I had that damn tube down my throat and you were bathing me, you were playing Kenny Chesney.”

“Was I?” You asked, shocked that he remembered.”

He nodded, “I couldn’t even open my eyes because of the sedatives, but I just remember hearing the music and thinking to myself ‘Who the fuck listens to Kenny Chesney anymore?’”

You gasped and swatted him playfully, “Hey! When the Sun Goes Down is a classic! Don’t be a hater!”

“You and Hangman have more in common than I thought with your yeehaw music.” He rolled his eyes.

You broke free from his arms and grabbed your phone, “That’s it! Dolly’s going on the speaker. You’re gonna learn today, Bradshaw!”

The intro to Islands In the Stream started playing and a smile spread across Bradley’s face.

“I know this song,” He said, “My mom and dad used to dance to this…”

You took his hands in yours, “Well let's make like your folks and dance.”

“You are something else, Y/N.” He whispered in your ear, pulling you closer, and swaying to the music. 

You softly sang the lyrics in his ear as the two of you danced in the morning sunlight without a care in the world.

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

@shanimallina87

[amberluvsbugs]

My reaction to the news you just posted:

I saw your 'I lost someone' post a few days ago, and I have no clue what was going through that person's head for them to do that. Neither you, your co-workers, nor anyone in the fandom who may be suffering from illness deserved to be deceived like that.

My heart goes out to you, and I hope you're doing okay now. 💖

(If you're comfortable clarifying this for anyone who didn't see that post and may want to know the full context (no stress if you don't want to ofc), was Ari initially claiming to be dying of cancer or was it something else? Either way, it's still disgusting what they did.)

thank you it really means a lot. ;;;; In case anyone didnt see the post I made a while back, this is the full story for clarification: This all started on April 29th when I received a DM from my co-worker Toby, saying that a Poppy Playtime fan and friend we will call Ari, who he told me was 18 and has come to know for a solid year, was set to be sedated on May 6th due to having an incurable cancer. Because of this, he wanted me to create an illustration for her before she passed which I immediately took up the offer. Now, for clarification, I don't trust what anyone says in the PPT community. I am aware of how immature and dangerous the community can be. But when it's coming from someone I know and trust, I put my trust forward on that person. I don't mess around when it comes to someone nearing their death. So I got in contact with her, made sure she saw the illustration I made for her, and for the past week after work hours, I would talk with her in VCs and chill at every chance I got to make sure she was happy and having a good time. She acted very kind and sweet to me and so many others who would join the VC as they also soon came to know of her upcoming passing as well. On Saturday, May 4th we hosted a podcast for her as a subtle final farewell to the whole server. And on Sunday evening at 5 pm, me and Toby talked with her one last time in a private vc until she had to take her final leave from Discord. At 6 pm, me and Toby stayed on call listening to the Caretaker album fully (as we both had a big fascination for The Caretaker album, Everywhere At The End Of Time) as a sort of timer to let us know when she had passed, as we knew in 6 hours she would be sedated. At 1 am on Monday morning, The album finished. We both cried so hard it gave us headaches. I only got to really know her for a short time, but at that moment, she made such an impact on me and so many others in the PPT server and community. We had made art dedicated to her and I had even laid out a post for her. Everyone was mourning over Ari’s departure and for 4 days me and Toby were a MESS of emotions of grief. That was until I received a message from Toby on Thursday, May 9th, saying he needed to speak to me urgently in call. Toby told me that he had been watching Ari's activity and found something off with it as it had recently gone active a few times. I told him that maybe it was her friend having access to her account in her passing but Toby immediately showed me proof of the activity that's been going on in another server and on her Roblox account that she had. And that's when we needed proof or confirmation. For the past 4 hours, we did our research to find leads on her. We eventually found her school which apparently confirmed that she was 14, NOT 18, and we got in contact with her parents and asked them about Ari to which they were confused about this whole thing and told us that she was here. Which CONFIRMED that she was still ALIVE. We filled in on the parents for what Ari did and she is no longer going to have access to her electronics. We were both devastated at this point and absolutely furious. Everything we did for her, and the community, was all for nothing. She used and fooled us by a means to get attention and to specifically get in contact with Toby and be forward with him as a minor. We dedicated hours and days to her, mourned and cried for her, all for it to be crumbled down into a fake death. We were beyond disappointed, me especially as I don't take kindly to this sort of thing. I don't get mad. In fact, I try to be a kind person to everyone, but the fact someone would take advantage and play death like this to us for attention is disgusting and just wrong. I have moved on from this but please don't make this a big deal. They were 14 and this will not stop me from doing what I love for the PPT community or whatnot. It's just a life lesson I will take to heart and be careful to not put my full trust in someone unless I have clarification that they are indeed going through a death-like situation like this.

[dr3amlab]

wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 1631 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I tried a new format of writing, I kinda want to try narrating like a movie ? idk if you caught that. tell me what you think, I'd really love that. Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

I. YOU WILL BE DEALT WITH.

“Really handsome, blond, tall and a son of a bitch.” These are the words you would use to describe Draco Malfoy if somebody ever asked you. Of course, you are not worried of ever saying the first four words of that sentence to anyone because, well, nobody would ever ask you.

It’s not that your opinion of the blond boy doesn’t matter, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just that your judgement of Malfoy is well known all across Hogwarts : you hate Draco, with a passion. Matter fact, if you had a gun with two bullets and you were in a room with Voldemort, Umbridge , and Draco, you would shoot draco, twice.

You must be curious on why you both hate each other so much ; Well for starters, it all started on the first ever day of Hogwarts when⎯

“Draco fucking Malfoy.”you yelled at the top of your lungs as soon as you felt a translucent-gooey-textured liquid being poured on the top of your head, slowly making its way on your shoulders. For the matter that drenched your upper body was unknown, you closed your eyes instantly, preventing whatever-that-was from infecting your eyes.

(I guess we’ll tell that story another day)

You quickly wiped your eyes with your fingers, wanting to see the culprit so you could give them a piece of your mind. But, of course, you knew damn well who would dare to pull this type of pranks at eight am.

There he was, right in front of you, Draco Malfoy, with his stupid platinum blond hair, laughing stupidly with his stupider friends. Oh, how his laugh was aggravating to your ears.

“What the fuck did you just pour on me Malfoy?”You gritted your teeth, angry as ever. Who in their right state of mind would be this bored to pull a prank this early in the morning?  

A smirk grazed his lips as he looked down on you. “What I just poured on you is troll snot.” His response earned a roar of laughter from not only his little clique, but the entire hallway which was, conveniently for Draco, busy at this time of the day. “And you think it's bloody funny you fucking tosser?” You said, disgusted as you helplessly tried to clean your hands on your skirt.

“Geez, Gorgon.” He chuckled as if you said the silliest thing ever. “Who shat in your cereals?” This statement made Crabbe and Goyle slap their knees and grab their stomach as it hurt with laughter. “Stop laughing! What's so funny you idiots?” You glared at them which made them stop at once.

You took a step towards the blond boy while looking at him straight into his eyes. “You're satisfied of yourself right now, aren't you Malfoy?” He took a step back, not sure of what's going to be your next move. “Are you du—” You were interrupted by a stern voice that silenced the entire hallway in a matter of seconds.

“What in Merlin's name is going on over here?” You didn't even need to turn around to see whose voice it is as you know it too damn well. Plus, the look on Malfoy only confirmed your suspicion. “Fuck, it's Snape.” He muttered shakily under his breath. “You are little coward, aren't you Malfoy?” You giggled bitterly finding his reaction way too funny. “Everybody go to class.” The professor continued. “NOW.”He demanded making every student watching the scene scurry to their first class of the day.

“Y/N Gorgon. Draco Malfoy.” Snape said in a severe voice. “What did you two scheme this time?” You turned around to look at the professor's face filled of exasperation. Well, can you blame him? There's not a single person in the world that wouldn't be tired of giving the same two students detention almost every day for the past six years. Yes, every day for the past SIX years.

Snape's presence didn't even bother you at this point, the man has seen you in all the possible situations and emotional states since the day you stepped foot into Hogwarts. So, unbothered, you continued talking to Draco as if Snape wasn't even in the room. “You will not get away with this Malfoy”you said through gritted teeth. “Trust, you will be dealt with.” You poked your index finger at his chest. “You didn't win yet, you fucking twat." The last statement earned you a smack in the back of your head from Snape.

“10 points out for Slytherin for your foolishness.” he said, disappointed. “I think you two already know the drill by now.” He sighed looking at the two of you in front of him. “Potions classroom. Cauldrons.” He said lifelessly, as usual.

“I think you are mistaken professor, we cleaned the cauldrons yesterday.” Draco said hurriedly. You quickly nudged Draco with your elbow. “Shut up Malfoy.” you mouthed.

“Would you rather help Filch on his cleaning duties?” Snape said already knowing your reaction. “No, sir.” You said quickly.

“Good.”He said before turning his back and leaving to Merlin knows where, but, then, he stopped his motions before turning back towards you and Draco. “Oh and Y/N.” You gulped. “Clean yourself before going to detention.” He brought his hand to his nose, waving it up and down as if to eliminate a bad odour. “The stench of troll snot isn't really pleasant for my nose. I think I speak for all of us” He turned back and disappeared quickly from the hallways which were empty by now, leaving only you and Draco who was currently laughing uncontrollably.

Of course, you didn't hesitate to kick him where the sun doesn't shine to make him shut up. And it did work.

                   ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

"And he got me fucked up if he thinks that he'll get away with this easily." You stormed into your room, muttering like a mad woman. "He really thinks" you sat yourself on your desk, slamming a piece of paper on it. "that I'm going to let this slide, huh?" you picked up your quill and started writing on the paper. "Malfoy, you don't know what's coming for your right now." you chuckled maniacally.

"What the fuck Y/N?" Athena, your roommate, said as she got out of your shared bathroom, looking like she just got out of the shower. "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" she questioned while looking at you curiously and leaning her body on the door frame of the bathroom. "By the way⎯ What in Merlin's beard is this horrid smell?" she scrunched her nose "And it's definitely not me cause I just hopped out of the shower." You glared at her. "Well, what about you?" you said, "aren't you supposed to be in transfiguration right now?" you looked back at your paper. "If you are wondering about the smell," you stopped writing your sentence and met her eyes, "Draco Malfoy poured troll snot on me this morning." you explained.

A look of horror displayed on Athena's face "Troll snot?" you nodded. "Yes troll snot." for a moment she looked like she was suppressing a laugh, but then she couldn't control it anymore and had a fit of laughter. "What are you laughing for you git?" You were utterly offended, why would your dearest friend laugh of your misery?

"I'm sorry love, it's just that it's kind of a good come back for your last prank." she put her hand in front of her mouth as an attempt to hide her smile. "I didn't think that he could top you putting green hair dye in his shampoo." she continued. "Sure." you said smiling as Athena reminded you of your last accomplishment. "So I suppose that you are planning your next prank, aren't you?" she pointed at the piece of paper you were writing. "You know, I think you guys should just kiss at this point." you pretended to gag at her last statement. "Don’t ever say that again Athena. It’s never going to happen." she leaned back from her previous position and started to walk towards you.

"And, yeah, I am." a huge smirk displayed on your face. "And what is it?" she said as she stood next to you. "Nothing." you said simply. "Nothing?" Athena confusedly said as she picked up your piece of paper. "Yeah, I'm just gonna take a step back and watch things unfold." You said while leaning back in your chair, your arms behind your head.

You watched Athena's reaction at your next prank with amusement. "Y/N! You are insane." she exclaimed with her eyes as wide as saucers. "I truly don't know how to feel about this one, it's really risky." she waved the paper in front of your face. "Don't worry about it, it's all fun." you snatched the paper out of her hand. "Besides, that's the adequate payback for what he did today." you smiled mischievously while reading at the words written in the piece of parchment."

Dear Draco,

You filled up my heart for the past years, and I can not thank you enough for bringing me so much joy.

You see, I'm always looking at you secretly and it's creepy, I know, but I can't stop my eyes for prying for every trace of you. You are the highlight of my every day, hour and second.

I feel butterflies in my stomach every time our eyes meet by accident, I feel happy when you laugh but sadness when I see a frown on your face. Oh, how I'm infatuated by you.

But see, pretty boy, a wave of sadness can't help but to wash all over me when I wonder if you even know my existence.

Darling, do you even know my name? do you know I exist?

yours truly,

your secret admirer.

"This is perfect." you folded the letter and put it in a pink envelope. "I don't know about this Y/N." Athena sounded genuinely worried. "It's all he deserves for ruining my day by pouring troll snot on me." you said nonchalantly.

"Yeah, speaking of troll snot." Athena scrunched her nose in disgust. "you should really take a shower."

[multifandomfanfic]

could you do something where ronaldo is your ex and you broke up because he cheated but he saw you with another man at a party and he got really jealous??

Cold Air

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Sorry this took so long and sorry if any descriptions of Qatar are inaccurate. Just suspend reality for a bit :)) (also, I proof-read this, but it hasn’t had a second pair of eyes look at it)

The city lights passed by your car as you made your way to the club. The World Cup was in full swing and, today, Portugal had beaten Switzerland by five goals. You wrinkled your nose. Portugal. As good of a team they were, any mention of their team, and especially a certain player, left a foul taste on your tongue. 

It wasn't like you didn't love Ronaldo. You did.., well, you had loved him at one point. Months ago you had been positive your relationship was going to last forever; you were living together, you went with him to his events, and you were even certain you had spied an engagement ring in his bag once. All of that was squashed within seconds thanks to Ronaldo’s unlocked phone and a few Instagram DMs. 

Within days, you had moved out of your shared house and into an apartment far away from Manchester. Ronaldo agreed to pay the first year of your rent in return for you not going public about his infidelity, but you took the high road. You did not need his help and, after what he did to you, you decided that you did not want to have any connection to him any longer. Enough was enough.

But here you were, in Qatar, the day his team beat the Swiss.

Your phone vibrated and you dug it out of your purse. 

I'll have to leave a little early tonight, Emi texted you.

What? Why?

Coach wants us to get at least eight hours of sleep before some extra practice in the morning. He explained, I'm free to do whatever you want tomorrow night.

You groaned and slumped back into the car seat. Great. Just great. The only reason you were going to this club was to celebrate Emi’s friend’s birthday, whom you had never met. In fact, you hardly knew anybody on his team. You had spent so much time with Portugal and Manchester United that you hadn’t become acquainted with any of the other teams. Besides, you had only been seeing Emi for a couple of months. 

“Is this it?” your driver asked. 

“Yes, this is it,” you sighed. The cold night air raised goosebumps on your skin as soon as you pushed open the door. It was refreshing and briefly distracted your mind from the awkwardness awaiting you inside.

The bouncer opened the rope as you approached. The club’s exterior was lit by LED lights, beckoning people to venture inside. Quite a crowd had amounted outside, drawn by the possibility of seeing a world-class futball player in person. They watched you as you entered the building. Who were you? And why were you here?

The interior of the bar was as exuberant and bright as the exterior. The only difference was the number of people crammed within its walls. Bodies were pressed against each other, moving to the music blaring from the speakers. Two bartenders were hurriedly making drinks for the growing crowd. They had been instructed to prioritize the futball players and serve them first, but they were struggling to keep up with that demand.

You scanned the throngs of people. One or two of the men close to you looked familiar, but the lights were set just dim enough that you couldn’t distinguish people from a distance. Their forms blended into one, swaying mass.

Person after person bumped and shoved you (whether on accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell) as you forged your way to the bar. Surely, there were too many people in the club to be safe, but nobody paid attention. They were all having fun. You were the walking embodiment of dread.

You tugged on the end of your dress. It wasn’t yours–one of the players’ girlfriends had lent it to you–and it wasn’t exactly your taste either. The color was off and it fell awkwardly on your thighs. Anyone who knew you would know the dress was not your first choice. 

“Excuse me?” you asked the bartender closest to you, “Can I get one of those?”

The mixture of alcohol he was making was taking all of his attention, and he made no effort to respond. You groaned, leaned against the bartop, and began people-watching. There was no sight of Ronaldo or Emi. You weren’t expecting Ronaldo to be there, but you could never be too sure. 

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned around and smiled, “Emi!” 

He pushed his way through the crowd, nodding and grinning at his friends. You recognized none of them, despite going to many of Emi’s games. Maybe you were too stuck in the past.

Once he reached you, Emi grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, leaning over slightly and began kissing your neck. Several people’s eyes landed on the two of you. 

“Babe, please,” you whispered, “Not in public.”

He stepped back, “Why not?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it, ok?” you replied. To be honest, you had no idea why it made you so uneasy. People looking at you was one thing, but something else was off.

Emi smirked and loosened his grip on your waist, “Fine. But I will be seeing you tomorrow night.”

“It’s a date,” you chuckled. He left you one more kiss on your lips as he started to back away. He smiled and nodded his head goodbye. Before you knew it, Emi had disappeared into the mass of people.

The bartender continued to pay attention to other patrons, leaving you drinkless and bored. There was a full-length mirror behind the back of the bar. You examined yourself in it, rubbing off the lipstick that had made its way off of your lips and adjusting your hair so it fell just right on your face. A figure began to form behind you. Someone was making their way to the spot to your left. The way the lights were positioned and flashing, you could not tell who it was.. that is, until they spoke.

He ordered two of your favorite drink and, like clockwork, the bartender had them finished within seconds.

“You look good,” he almost mumbled as he took the first sip from his drink. His eyes scanned your figure, soaking in every aspect of how the dress fell on your body. You could have slapped him, “Although, I wouldn’t peg you as the type of girl to wear something like that.”

“What do you want, Ronaldo?” you spat. His face changed for a moment at the use of his last name instead of Cristiano–what you used to call him–but, within seconds, it was back to his usual, sly look. On the other hand, you could feel your face turning red. Months of pent-up rage and regret flooded back into your head. Why had you come here? Why did he have to be here?

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said as you picked up your drink. You slammed it back down on the counter. A little sloshed over the edge and the bartender immediately wiped it with his towel. He scowled at you but smiled at Ronaldo. You pushed the glass to the farthest point on the bar that you could reach. You refused to drink it. That would make it seem like you were diving in.

“I asked you what you wanted,” you seethed, arms crossed across your chest, “Can you answer my question?”

He rolled his eyes and looked around as if you were the only person in the room who did not know what he was going to say. He then leaned closer, “You could do much better than an Argentinian. That’s all I wanted to say.”

You froze. Your mouth hung agape, your mind was apparently empty of any good comebacks. After a moment you managed a “Are you kidding me?” and a small, all-too-exaggerated laugh. The audacity this man had. He cheated on you, not the other way around. 

“Do you think I’m joking? I’m just stating the obvious, darling,” Ronaldo smirked. He leaned against the bar, drink in hand. Triumph was written all over his face. 

You pulled out twenty dollars from your purse and slammed it onto the bar to cover your drink. You stood up straight, staring your adversary in the eyes. 

“I’m done with your bullshit, Ronaldo. Do I need to remind you whose fault it was that we broke up? It wasn’t me!,” you shouted just loud enough so the people closest to you could hear, “Have a good life.”

You stormed past him, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way to the back. Your feet carried you past the mob of bodies. Instead of annoying you, they acted to your benefit, creating an almost impenetrable sea for Ronaldo to cross to get to you. You made it to the back exit swiftly and, without hesitating, escaped the room.

The chilly air greeted you like an old friend. Your dress was hardly enough to keep you warm, but it didn’t matter. Compared to the inside of the bar and its patrons, it felt more friendly and calm in the frigid night.

You pulled out your phone and started searching for an Uber to take you home. You began walking down the alleyway, enveloped in the screen in front of you rather than paying attention to your surroundings. That was why you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a cold hand grab a hold of your arm.

You whipped around and tried to strike the attacker with your bag but, after a moment, you saw that it was none other than Ronaldo. Despite recognizing him, you still managed to hit him with your purse. You ripped your arm from his grasp and backed up. You weren’t truly scared of him, not at all, but he repulsed you so much that you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as you possibly could.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/N, listen to m–”

“No, tell me what you think you’re doing!”

“I don’t know what I–” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and shifting his weight.

“You don’t know what you’re do–”

“Y/N, would you just listen to me, please?!” Ronaldo finally begged. He stood with his arms extended to you, silently pleading with you to let him speak, “Please?”

You checked your phone and then crossed your arms, “You have two minutes, Ronaldo, then I never want to see you again.”

“That’s fine, that’s perfect,” he took a step back. He looked at the sky as he took a deep breath. The stars were shining down on the two of you, illuminating the alleyway just enough that you could see Ronaldo’s breath and the sweat dripping down his face. What was bothering him so much?

He sighed, exasperated with his own thoughts, “Y/N, I.. you know I love you right?”

You did not reply, nod, or shake your head. You kept your eyes glued on him but, on the inside, your stomach was turning. This conversation could lead nowhere good. In the months since your break-up, you had thought about getting back together plenty of times. Yet, in reality, you could never let yourself do that. He cheated on you once. He had broken your trust. That could not happen again.

“I know you do. And I know, I hope, that deep down you still love me,” Ronaldo continued, trying to get any reaction out of you, but none came, “I will never love another woman as much as I love you. You were the light of my life, the thing that made me smile every single day without fail. You enchant me, Y/N,  and I went and screwed everything up. Will you forgive me?”

You scoffed, your arms only crossing tighter in front of your chest, “Don’t give me this ‘I love you most ardently’-esque crap. You cheated on me, Ronaldo. I have proof!”

“And I regret it every day! Y/N, you don’t understand how much I’ve beat myself up over this. I love you! You make me happy!”

“Ronaldo, if I really made you happy, frankly, we would not be in this situation right now,” you said, pursing your lips. You shrugged, “I am sorry, but I can’t forgive you.”

With that, a grey sedan drove to the end of the alleyway behind you. You checked the description on your phone–it was your ride.

“That’s me,” you said. The amount of water vapor in front of Ronaldo’s mouth only increased as he grew angrier and more confused. His mind was running, trying to find some solution to have you back, or to get you to at least forgive him, but he could not find one.

“Can you at least call me Cristiano?” he finally called out as you started to walk away.

You turned around. After a moment, you nodded, and made eye contact with him once more, “Alright, Cristiano. As I said earlier, I hope you have a good life.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Ten.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,738

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh, look at this!” Greta announced from her seat upon the rear porch, Emily’s foot in her lap as she and her friend both jointly painted one another’s toenails their usual shade of red. “The menfolk have returned triumphant with a big ole’ corpse!”  

“And I see you’re livin’ it up true to long weekend form, sittin’ over there all fried on gin rickeys!” Angelo called back, Greta and Emily snorting with laughter. They were a little merry, feeling that they could shrug off any responsibility they felt bound by morality to uphold, returning to a relieving sight of Filomena listening to records in the lounge while drinking tea, Guiseppe off fishing in the middle distance, and Milania keeping Alessio entertained.  

“I’ll get it cut and gutted, fellas.” Robert spoke as they carried it around to the side of the house, where a small outbuilding was located. While he went about dealing with the carcass, the women guessing that the probability of a fresh venison dinner was very high that night, their men went upstairs to wash and change, joining them afterwards with a large whiskey a piece.  

“You two had a good day?” Luca asked, jerking his head in the direction of the lounge as he quietened, “and has there been any issues from her in there?” 

“Hungover this morning,” Emily mouthed, leaning a little closer to him, “Alessio came and woke me at eight, and she finally got up about forty-five minutes later. She hasn’t been unpleasant or anything, though. Just keeping herself to herself.” 

His eyebrows twitched, reaching to rest his hand on her thigh. “Good. I ain’t got no more patience for her shit.” She could understand that, knowing Luca as well as she did. His threshold for nonsense was virtually zero, and she knew too that it had planted a seed of concern, should Filomena be wandering around drunk while she was solely in charge of the kids, since the nanny he paid didn’t live in with them.  

Later that evening, once again the woman in question sat at the end of the table only engaging with her children over dinner, knocking back glass after glass of wine, Milania repeatedly looking over at her father with wide eyes. 

“Fil, you need to slow it down,” he spoke eventually once the plates had been cleared, leaning forward in his seat. “You put away a bottle to yourself. You want a pickled liver?” 

“Says he with a cognac in his hand,” she muttered into her glass, gulping on the Cabernet Sauvignon like she was drawing strength from the deep red liquid.  

His mouth tightened, muttering something under his breath that made Emily place a discreet, supportive hand to his thigh beneath the table. “I ain’t the one knockin’ ‘em back like water. You’re making our kids worry, and that ain’t gonna happen on my watch.” 

“Fine.” Standing up, she grabbed the almost full second bottle she’d just begun working her way into, a smile of gritted teeth cracking her unimpressed face. “Allow me to move so it’s not on your watch.”  

Her sneer had her daughter sighing, Emily wishing she could reach across the table to offer comfort, but knowing she’d likely make things worse if she tried. At least the kid let Greta wrap her up in a hug, advising that maybe it was time for her and her brothers to head up to bed and escorting them. 

Her own sons went to go listen to jazz in the front lounge, the guys going to play cards, Greta joining Emily outside once more once she’d got the little ones settled.  

They sat enjoying the last of the wine, neither mentioning the black cloud that was Filomena hanging over them and their long weekend away, both separately hoping she actually find a little dignity and knock her behaviour on the head. Instead, they spoke of happier things, like Greta detailing an embarrassing event from a vacation she and her family had taken to Spain a few years back. 

“So, I was there, queuing up with the boys again to send ‘em down the water slide, and this woman is behind me. She taps me on the shoulder, and I don’t know much Spanish at all save a few words to get me by, but she said something I recognised about swimsuit. I thought she being complimentary over mine, so thanked her and turned around. This broad taps me again, saying the same thing so I’m like “si señorita, gracias”, and I turn around again. She taps me a third time with these wide eyes, pointing at my ass, which I turned to see was sticking out through a gigantic rip in my swimsuit!” 

Emily was in hysterics. “Oh my god!” she cried, “and you’d been walking around like that with your cheeks on show for how long?” 

“Couldda been all damned day, dolly! Nobody told me! What in the good god is that, huh? Letting a woman walk around bare assed!” 

“I flashed most of fifth avenue last year, when we had that terrible, windy weather just before Christmas. My dress almost went over my head, I was screaming, and Luca? Did my guy help me? Did he hell. He was walking along, shoulders shaking, and I swear I have never heard him laugh like that when he finally turned to me and my beetroot face. He roared!”  

“Strange, ain’t it? When the taciturn guys really cut loose with the laughter. He don’t take enough time to see the fun side of life sometimes, your guy, but when he does, hoo, boy!” 

“Tell me about it!” she enthused, “we went to go and see that Harold Lloyd movie at the flicks a while back, Safety Last, it was. He couldn’t stop laughing, all the way home, too, and then I thought he was over it. Nope. We were in the middle of having sex and he just snorts and starts up again! I slapped him so damned hard for thinking of a movie when he should have been concentrating on me, and he’s just there, carrying on, apologising, but still laughing!” 

“Oh my god! I wouldda made him sleep on the couch!” Greta gasped through her giggles. 

“I nearly did! I was furious!”  

They continued their laughter, Emily pouring out the last of the wine, hearing the doors open softly, lighting herself a cigarette that Greta had offered. She was hoping to turn around and see Luca, so she could speak the name Harold Lloyd and watch him fall apart, but instead saw the one face she didn’t particularly relish in seeing.  

“So,” Filomena spoke, taking a seat at the top of the table, her wine glass replaced for gin, it looked. And smelled. “How many times’a day ar-you layin’ my husband, hmm?”  

Oh, god. She was steaming. 

“He ain’t your husband anymore, Fil. And it’s rude of you to be asking Emily that,” Greta spoke, drawing her shoulders up as she turned to Emily, giving her a look of support. 

“M’just sayin’, it bhetta be ha-lot, y’know. ‘Cuz if ya don’t, he’ll h-only gho lookin’ elsewhere.” She smirked, chuckling into her glass. “He does like the whores, ahfter all.” 

Emily could feel her cheeks starting to burn, Greta fixing her with a look, mouthing “stand up for yourself!” before drawing fiercely upon her cigarette.  

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Filomena,” she sighed, calming her breathing, knowing that truly, she was the one with the upper hand. She had what the woman wanted, after all. She had him. “Listen, I’d really like us to get along, for the sake of the children. I’m going to be in Luca’s life for the foreseeable. It’s important we at least act civilly towards one another.” 

Her words were fair and delivered with quiet cool, Greta smiling proudly. Filomena was only furtherly thunderous. 

“You smug lil’ cunt,” she spat, eyeing her with displeasure as she rose to her feet, wobbling, knocking back the rest of her drink. “You ain’t shpecial, y’know. Garbage! That’s s’what y’are!” 

Emily raised her eyebrows, smiling. “And yet I’m special enough for your ex-husband to be faithful to. With how vile that mouth of yours is, I can see why he looked anywhere except you for so long.”  

Greta winced, unable to stop her nervous giggles at her friend’s sudden swell of bravery, her little show of confidence, those acidic words burning right to Filomena’s core.  

It was not taken well.  

Her grip tightened upon the empty gin glass, hurling it right at Emily’s face, who ducked with impressive speed, the vessel smashing against the side of the house. “Vile fuckin’ cunt bitch! Gimme m’husband back or I’ll fuckin’ have y’killed!”  

She lunged, stumbling, the only thing stopping her being Greta reaching to push her away, Angelo and Luca appearing.  

“The fuck is goin’ on?” the latter asked, brows knitting.  

“She’s just thrown a glass at Emily, and a barrage of abuse,” Greta spoke, pushing Filomena, her hand retreating when the feral woman scratched her with a yell.  

That was it. Now she’d fucked up. 

Luca strode for her, grabbing a handful of her dress and hauling her away from the table, turning her around as he pushed her back against the house, a pressed hand to her chest keeping her there. 

“Listen to me, and fuckin’ listen good,” he hissed, grasping her jaw and forcing her to give him eye contact. “Sort yourself out, you fuckin’ tragic mess of a woman. Either you get your act together, or those kids, they come and live with me full time. I ain’t trusting a messy fuckin’ drunk to take care of ‘em, and believe me, you ever, ever threaten Emily again, and your ass is out on the streets and your alimony stops dead. You understand me?”  

He could do that easily, too. The payments he gave to Filomena were not court ordered, a huge chunk coming out of his illegitimate earnings, so there was truly nothing she could do to stop him from ceasing the four hundred a week she got to take care of herself, the children, or the house still in his name. He knew that the dissolution of his marriage was mostly his fault, but this, this drunken lashing out, it was all her.  

“Fuck off.” she slurred, pulling herself free of his grasp as she waved her hand around “Fuck all’a youse!” Off she staggered into the house, Greta saying she’d go fetch a broom to deal with the glass, Emily walking to Luca and pulling him into a hug.  

“I'm sorry, honey. That was mostly my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten sassy with her but in my defence, I was pissed off with her mouth,” she spoke, sighing, feeling his arms tighten around her before he let go. 

“Ain’t nothin’ you could have said that warranted her throwin’ a fuckin’ glass at your face, EJ. She’s the one in the wrong, not you.”  

“I know,” she lamented, rubbing his arms before moving to shift the table back, seeing Greta with a broom and newspaper in her hands emerging from the house. “I could have been a little more mature than taunting the woman that I’m the one you stuck faithful to.” 

“That ain’t immature,” he spoke, moving the chair for her, “that’s plain fact, doll.” 

“And you did start being very cordial and adultlike in the face of her childishness, my sweet,” Greta spoke, shifting past to begin sweeping the glass, Emily taking the paper from under her arm and bending to carefully begin placing the larger shards onto it. “Telling her that you really wanted for you both to be cordial at the very least for the sake of the children. That’s probably what lit her fuse, to be honest. She knows you’re the bigger woman, as well as the one her husband is doing more damned laying with than a lino company.”  

Luca couldn’t help but laugh at that, and when it was just them again back in their bedroom, he made sure to lay her very, very thoroughly.  

“When you said you’d take the kids off of her, if she didn’t get herself sorted, how would that happen?” Emily asked, lying with her leg rested over his hips, Luca’s hand drawing idle swirls across her soft skin. “We don’t have the room in the apartment. It’d be difficult with school as well, since Manhattan is an almost an hour’s drive away.” 

“Not if we moved to the city,” he replied, turning to look at her. “We need a proper place to live instead of an apartment above a gin joint. I want the kids to spend more time with me, you too, and then there’s the matter of our own kids as well.” He reached for her stomach, stroking it with a smile. “Can’t wait to see this belly all rounded with my baby.” 

Her eyes widened a little. He wanted her to have his babies? “Really? You want kids with me?” 

Chuckling softly, he leaned to kiss her. “I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened already, cara mia. We ain’t exactly been careful.”  

True, they hadn’t. Emily had considered wearing a cap to prevent such, but never gotten around to it, and for Luca, wearing a French Letter was a completely unheard of concept, unless he was with a whore who insisted. There was nobody more surprised than him that he hadn’t contracted a rampant case of the syph because of it, either. “Sounds like you’ve been giving it some serious thought, my man.” 

“I have,” he confessed, his smile broadening. “Saw a six-bedroom apartment listed on Fifth Avenue. It’s huge, and exactly what we need. Especially if my current kids come and live with us, too.” He looked a little pensive then, mouth down turning, forehead creasing. “I hope that don’t happen. Not ‘cuz I don’t want my kids with me if that’s the best for ‘em, but because it’d mean their mother turned out to be a no-good drunk. No child should have to suffer what you did.” 

Suffer she had because of Bertha, cleaning up her puke, fixing the house up, making sure she ate, checking her in the night to ensure she was still breathing. It had been a huge burden upon Emily in her tender years, and of course, she’d revealed all of it to Luca.  

“I hope it doesn’t either, for their sake, and Filomena’s.” She certainly had more charity in her heart there than Luca did, who didn’t much give a damn for his ex-wife's welfare, providing it didn’t end up hurting his children. It was nothing short of rapid, just how much he could freeze towards somebody who had tipped his temper. “But back to the apartment. An apartment on Fifth,” she spoke, her eyes widening. “Wow!” 

Seeing that excited face truly was what he lived for. “Like the sound of that, huh?” 

“Yes!” she squeaked, biting her lip. “But you’re turning me into such a spoiled princess!” 

He tightened his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “You don’t act like one. Plus, you deserve it. Your life was all kinds of hell before you literally fell into mine.” Another kiss was pressed to her head, Luca saying a silent prayer of gratitude to god for sending him the young woman lying in his arms. Simple, uncomplicated, unpretentious and with the kindest heart he’d ever met. “Manhattan will suit ya, too. I get that you’ll probably miss your loud-mouthed buddy, but the plus side is Greta is literally just around the corner. It’s a ten-minute walk from East seventy-third.” 

She hadn’t considered that. Indeed, she would miss seeing Maggie with quite the regularity that she did, but having Greta ten minutes away would definitely make up for that. How on earth was this her life? Thankful was simply not the word. As it happened, she had much more to be thankful for, too, awaking the following morning to a Filomena-free house.  

“She left in the early hours with the children, sir,” Catherine explained, looking a little fidgety, like Luca might blaze at her for allowing her departure. “Said that we should come back in our own time when the rest of you return.”  

Emily couldn’t stop the laughter that came at seeing Greta begin to gently run a circle behind the housekeeper, arms held aloft in triumph. “The beast retreats!” she exclaimed, looking relieved that they’d get to spend their last day there with a modicum of peace restored.  

Once they did arrive back in Brooklyn, things very much shifted up a gear, Luca arranging for a viewing of the apartment on Fifth within days of their return, enjoying every second of seeing Emily walking around it with her mouth hanging open.  

“I think your wife is quite impressed, Mr. Changretta,” the realtor noted, nodding his head towards a completely spellbound Emily.  

He smiled widely, entertained by her cry of “it goes all the way back here!” at opening a door and continuing through on her wide-eyed tour. “Yeah, I think she is, too.” Wife. Hmm. He didn’t bother to correct Mr. Abraham there, but he did make a mental note about doing something to change that. “We’ll take it. Cash okay?”  

Yes. It most definitely was.  

With the owners very much invested in a quick sale, it was a mere eight weeks until the former Brooklyn residents made their way to Manhattan, a fleet of trucks parking up outside the building, new furniture being brought in, Luca only staying a short while to pay the men before he kissed his beloved goodbye and headed out to attend to business, Angelo, Donny and Enzo waiting for him downstairs in the Rolls.  

That left Emily with the very capable help of Greta and Maggie, who thrived in assisting in telling the moving guys just where to put everything.  

“Good job the last folks had taste, dolly,” the former chimed, looking all around at the mostly white painted walls. “Ours was vile when we moved. Pistachio green, I tell ya!”  

Emily laughed at her gagging, advising the guys to place her desk down by the window in the next room over, which would become her office to get her bookkeeping endeavours done in. “Well, it wasn’t in some rooms, but we had them redecorated prior to us moving. Let me show you our bedroom, it’s gorgeous!”  

Her friends followed her through the excitement, heading all the way to the other end of the hall, Maggie remarking they’d get there quicker on roller skates and to perhaps look into it as Emily swung the double doors open. All of the furniture had been brought in prior to their arrival, everything set up apart from the packing cases containing their clothes and shoes. “Ta-da!” 

“Emily! Holy shit, this is swanky!” Maggie chimed, her mouth falling open. Swanky, in truth, was putting it mildly, the women viewing it in wonder as they carefully negotiated their way around. Deep red walls contrasted with beige, and panels of wallpaper depicting floral motifs on black. Well, until they looked closer to see that they had actually been painted on.  

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she sighed, her hand finding the velvet canopy of the four-poster bed, smoothing the tied back burgundy fabric around the huge, ornate bed. “It’s half art deco chic, half vampire lair. We kind of met in the middle there.” 

“No prizes for guessing whose half is whose,” Greta chirped, loving the feeling of the sudden contrast of the beige, soft fur rug upon her feet after stepping to it from the dark stained floorboards. “I want to live on this rug! Angelo can up his game, I want this, too!” 

“Darling, you talk like your place isn’t just as opulent,” Emily spoke, picturing Greta’s beautiful abode.  

“Can one of you gals just go ahead an adopt me?” Maggie then chirped, pointing up to the gold mouldings upon the ceiling with an open mouth. They shared laughter, moving to the other rooms, the boy’s furnished in various shades of blue, and peach for Milania, as per her request. To her father, not Emily.  

“So, the kid still hates you, then?” Maggie asked as they headed to the kitchen, ready to unpack the next most important room.  

She paused before taking a screwdriver to the case screws, shaking her head. “She’s so heavily under the influence of her mother, still. I exist in her father’s life, ergo I’m the reason why her parents haven’t gotten back together. At least Filomena seems to be keeping her drinking under control, though. That or she’s hiding it better, but Milania has been keeping her dad abreast and apparently, there’s been no day drinking since they got back from the Catskills.”  

Maggie reached for her, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “The not bein’ outta her head thing is somethin’ at least, darl. Milania’ll come round eventually, too.”  

Emily could only hope, but in the meantime had much more pressing matters to deal with than her boyfriend’s daughter showing her continued contempt. Once her friends had left, she continued with the unpacking, not having much left to do at all. With a chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven, she poured herself a glass of white wine, walking through her beautiful new home to go and look out at the breathtaking view of Central Park from the lounge windows.  

“How the hell did I get this lucky?” she pondered, shaking her head as she unclipped the pearls from her ears, giving the slightly aching lobes a little rub.  

“Ya fell over in front of the right wiseguy.” 

She all but jumped out of her skin. “Oh god, Luca! I didn’t hear you come in!”  

He laughed, unfastening his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. “Can’t believe you got all of this done in a day, and I smell dinner cooking, too.” He slid his arms around her from behind, moving her hair to kiss the side of her neck. “Should be me askin’ how the hell I got so lucky.”  

“I think we should call it a draw.”  

He kissed her neck again, the floral bouquet upon her skin making his senses tingle. “Best deal I’ve agreed on all day, doll.”  

Well, there was another one that probably topped it, but it could remain in his pocket for that moment. 

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 01 table of contents masterlist

summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

a/n: i wrote this fic in 2018 on ao3 and wattpad, but im putting it here for archival reasons ♡

They had used a burner phone to talk to the girl, not wanting to risk her tracing the number back to one of them. It had been Jungkook's idea; he found the girl's Instagram page, where she frequently posted pictures of herself, her dogs, and her friends. A quick DM and an hour later, Jungkook got her phone number and the two were texting daily.

He found out so much about the girl: her name was Ophelia, she lived in a small town in America, her dogs were named Gengi and Jingob, she had a younger brother named Henry and a 6-month-old sister named Rose, her father was Korean and her mother was Israeli. She had naturally dark, curly hair, but she frequently bleached and straightened it (right now it was an adorable baby pink). When she was born, her mother wasn't together with her father, so she was named Ophelia Felicite Potter, but her father forced her mother to change her name to Ophelia Lynn Park once they had officially started dating three months later. Henry, her little brother, was in Junior High, and Ophelia always drove him to school, since their town was so small that their Middle School, High School, and Community College were all in one building. 

Eventually, the rest of the boys began talking to her. All seven of them were pretending to be one person, a 19-year-old named Ian. Of course, Ophelia believed everything 'Ian' said. She had told them that she never had a boyfriend before, and absolutely loved the attention she was receiving for the first time. Even though she was still young, naive, and too trusting, she was still smart- both academically and morally. Whenever 'Ian' asked for nudes, she refused, which both pissed off and pleased the boys.

It was important that Ophelia never found out who they truly were. At least, not yet. The boys were heirs of one of the biggest mafia rings in South Korea, and they all knew that if the girl found out, the fake number would be blocked immediately. Even though the seven of them weren't important members in the business- their fathers and older brothers were more active than them, they were more of the poster kids- they were still expected to keep certain things private in order to keep them safe and their fathers in power. 

They decided that Ophelia would be one of the things they kept private.

'i have a surprise for you in an hour!! :D'

God, the kid was so cute. Seokjin looked down at the phone as the text alert caused the coffee table to gently vibrate. He smiled as he sent his reply.

'Why can't I have the surprise now?'

A moment later Ophelia's reply pinged.

'i'm in class right now and im fairly certain you dont want calculus as your surprise'

'Alright, I'll wait. Do your schoolwork.'

'dont tell me what to do love u xxx'

Seokjin smiled again and put the phone in his pocket. It was currently three in the morning in Seoul, so two in the afternoon Ophelia's time. She gets out of school at 2:25, so it wouldn't be long before Jin received the 'surprise' Ophelia was talking about. 

Jin idly played on his own phone, waiting for another text from the girl, when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned his head towards the noise to find Namjoon approaching him.

"Hyung, what are you doing up?" Namjoon asked, voice deep and rough with sleep. In the back of his mind, he knew he was texting Ophelia, but if something important had happened he wanted to know. 

"Ophelia's getting out of school soon and she has a surprise for us." Namjoon hummed in response. He never was as obsessed with Ophelia as the other boys, but he had talked to her quite a few times. 

Jin grabbed Namjoon's hand and guided him to lay on the couch with him. Namjoon immediately curled into his boyfriend, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. One of Jin's hands began stroking the younger's hair while the other continued aimlessly scrolling through his emails. 

Namjoon quickly fell asleep again, and the burner phone pinged soon after that. Jin carefully took the phone out of his back pocket, trying not to wake his sleeping beauty, and became excited as he saw Ophelia had sent a picture message. He quickly opened the messaging app and cooed at what the girl had sent. 

She had sent a mirror picture of her in a dress. The dress was a flowing red ball gown with gold accents on the waist. Ophelia looked absolutely beautiful in it, and Jin quickly saved the picture to send to his real phone. 

'prom is in a month and i really wish i could go with you. what do you think of this dress? someone told me this shade of red suits me but idk'

Prom. Ophelia would be going to prom with someone other than Jin or one of the other boys. While one of them taking her was unrealistic and impossible, it still pained him to think that it wouldn't be him. 

'You look stunning. I wish I could see it in person.'

'&lt;;3 :)'

Jin put the phone back on the table, smiled, and closed his eyes. He was absolutely whipped.

Once the rest of the boys woke up, the dress was the main discussion at breakfast.

"I think she looks adorable in it," Taehyung said, "Just look at her face in the picture- it's obvious she's in love with it, too."

"But its too mature for her! It shows off too much!" Jimin said, his voice distressed. 

"Jimin, she's not our baby yet. Once we have her then you can decide what is and isn't too big for her," said Namjoon. 

For the past month, they had been preparing a plan to bring Ophelia to Korea with them. They wanted her to be their Little, and them be her Daddies. Some of them were more excited than others (Jin and Jimin were both ecstatic about this), but all of them had warmed up to the idea. Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung had gone crazy over putting together a nursery and clothes shopping. It had been easy to find childlike clothes in Ophelia's size, including a car seat, since Ophelia was rather small for her age. 

They had decided what they would be called almost as soon as they got the idea of Ophelia being a Little. Namjoon and Jin would be the main caregivers, with Namjoon being Appa and Jin being Eomma. Yoongi and Jimin would also be her caretakers, Yoongi being Daddy and Jimin being Mommy. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook would be less of caretakers and more of playmates, but they still wanted to spend time with Ophelia. 

Luckily, they had a business meeting in America in two weeks, which would be relatively close to where Ophelia lives (thanks to careful mapping done by Jungkook), so they could take her and bring her home with them with ease. The boys knew Ophelia would have a much better life with them.

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Eleven

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: cyber bullying, threats

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Friday

From the start, Friday was horrible. You woke up hungover, the wine from last night mixed with minimal amount you ate due to Lance’s distraction, was a bad combination.

Replaying the night over and over in your mind just made everything worse. Lance’s reaction, your ruined dress, having to leave the event early, blowing off one of the only other drivers you knew, and the overly aggressive fans and paparazzi.

SHIT. The fans and paparazzi.

All thoughts of your hangover left your mind, tumbling out of bed to find your phone. Opening your Instagram and praying you would luck out failed you. Sure enough you had been tagged in dozens of photos from last night.

Photos of you and Lando leaving the hotel, of the two of you arriving at the venue, of you walking in, of him smiling at you, etc. The comments were brutal, ripping apart your appearance, commenting on your dress, how he deserves better, etc.

It wasn’t until you opened your messages that you realized how much worse it could get. Hundreds of dms stared back at you, filled with vile things. Talking about how you’re a gold digger, threats, truly saying the absolute worse things they could come up with. You wanted to stop, to ignore the things people said, but you couldn’t look away.

A call came through from Y/N Best Friend. Declining it you continued reading. And then another came through, declining it again the cycle repeated. Over and over declining calls from Y/N Best Friend until she finally stopped.

It took only a few minutes before you heard the pounding on your hotel door.

“Y/N let me in!”

Trying to ignore her, you curled in on yourself.

“Y/N if you don’t let me in I’m going to break down this fucking door!”

The banging continued, and inescapable noise reminding you of the hangover. As the door handle started to giggle, you rose from the bed and answered the door.

“What?” You asked, trying to steady your voice.

“Babe are you okay? I saw the comments on your Instagram posts. Those were so uncalled for. How are you doing?” She asked.

“Fine. I don’t know. It is what it is. I should have known better I guess.” You replied.

“How can I help?” She asked.

“Can you just give me some time to myself? Im hungover as fuck and I just want to go back to bed.”

She left you with the promise that she would call and check on you later, threatening that she would show back up at your door if you ignored her.

————

Free practice had gone okay. Lance was happy with car, and the engineers were excited for tomorrow’s qualifying. But his mind kept replaying last night. How she had yelled at him, how he had reacted to seeing her with Norris, what happened during dinner, etc.

He regretted letting her walk away last night, but the last thing he had expected was for her to yell at him like that. He owed her an apology, having overstepped massively last night. Walking through the paddock he made his way to the Alpine energy station. Y/N Best Friend sat outside alone, scrolling through her phone while she ate lunch.

“Hey Y/N Best Friend, where is Y/N at?”

She gave him a funny look.

“She’s at the hotel. Why?”

Unsure of how to explain himself to the girl sitting in front of him, he opted to give her a small nod and turn to head back to the Aston Martin energy station.

Last race she had come to every day, media, free practice, qualifying, and the race. It didn’t sit well with him that she had missed yesterday and today’s events.

————————————————————————

Saturday

Y/N Best Friend had shown up at your door early Saturday morning, refusing to let you skip the days events. She had no idea about what had happened with Lance, and wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. Putting on a fake smile, you joked with her as you got around for the day, focusing on the fact that you would get to spend time with her.

The day passed by in relative normalcy. Fans had taken photos when the three of you arrived at the track that morning, but you had been able to continue on through security. Lando had made small talk with you on his way to the Mclaren garage, asking if you were feeling better after Thursday night.

You gave Carlos a small wave as you passed by him and the Ferrari garage after Q1. The Spaniard pulled you aside, giving you a friendly hug and making small talk. You did your best to keep the fake smile on your face, ready to return to the hotel room. Carlos paused mid discussion, staring at you for a moment.

“Are you okay Y/N?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

His facial expression made it clear that he didn’t believe you. Pulling you in for another hug, he stated:

“I know we’re not friends or anything, but if you need anything let me or Lando know okay?”

You gave him a small smile, wishing him luck in Q2 before returning to the Alpine garage.

————

On the way back to the hotel you decided to brave social media again, and just like that the weekend got even worse. Your tagged photo notifications piled in as soon as you opene the Instagram app, but it was no longer just photos from Thursday night with Lando. A series of pictures of you and Carlos from earlier that day stared back at you, photos of your two hugs and him whispering into your ear. They definitely looked flirty, and the speculation from the various captions alluded to as much.

As you scrolled through more of them, it got worse. Looking back at you was a grainy photo of you and Lance from Thursday night. The photo showed him with his hand on your waist, huddled in the corner of the dinning room before dinner that night.

Multiple collages from the weekend contained the photo compared to Lando and Carlos. The previous dating rumors had suddenly turned to discussions of you cheating. You weren’t sure how what was an exciting weekend had suddenly turned so miserable.

You needed to get your mind off of everything. And while there were definitely better ways to do it, the idea of getting drunk and watching sappy movies sounded the most enjoyable way to spend the night.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweats, you tightened the strings from your hood and made your way out of the hotel’s back exit and to a nearby market. Bottle of wine in one hand and your purse in the other, you made the short walk back to the hotel. Reaching the side door you pulled, but the door remained closed. The door was a one way exit, letting you escape the hotel but not sneak back in. You turned, making your way to the main entrance.

Unsurprisingly the sidewalk was crowded with fans and paparazzi alike. Hanging your head down you pushed through the crowd to make your way to the entrance. The crowd was tightly packed, pushing you around as you fought through it. Your hood fell down, revealing your face. Within an instant the crowd noticed. Cameras turned and voices rang out as you clutched the bottle and tried to push through.

“Is that Y/N?”

“It’s Y/N!”

“Are you dating Lando?”

“I can’t believe you cheated on him with Carlos!”

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

The crowd of fans turned angry quickly. Hands reached out for you, pushing and pulling you. You felt a hang grip your hair, yanking your head backwards. Stumbling, you dropped the bottle of wine. Pushing to get through to the doors you felt someone kick you, another person grabbing at your arm. Elbows hit your sides, fans rushing at you from all sides. As you neared the front of the crowd, one of the security guards at the hotels door pulled you over the barriers and usher you into the hotel lobby.

Tears streamed down your face as you ran to the elevator, thanking your lucky stars that the doors opened as soon as you hit the button. Making it back to your room, you collapsed on the hotel room floor. Shaking and sobbing you pulled out your phone, thankful that you had managed to kept your grip on it.

Opening your airline app, you scrolled through flights, finding the soonest departure back to the Barcelona airport. You charged it to your card, ignoring the price as a concern for another day. Haphazardly throwing your clothes and toiletries back into your bag you called an Uber to the side door, escaping into it and making you way to the airport.

As you settled into you seat on the late night flight, you opened every social media app you had and deleted your accounts. And as the announcement came to power off your electronics, you thumbed through your contacts, blocking Lance, Lando, and Carlos, before deleting their numbers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could go back to life before Spa.

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A/N:

The first part of the Pierre X Y/N Best Friend story is live here

Please respond to the poll when you get a chance!

[j2h5b5]

... continued (Thanks for reading!)

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, you little shits, and I want an actual answer instead of just you two pointing fingers at each other like toddlers. Where’d you get the booze and whose brilliant idea was it to walk home in the middle of the night instead of, oh, I don’t know, CALLING ONE OF US TO PICK YOUR DUMB ASSES UP?”

There was a muffled scuffling sound coming from the backseat. Eddie glanced back to see Mike and Dustin grappling with each other, Dustin mouthing something and Mike shaking his head violently and trying to get a hand over Dustin’s mouth.

Eddie might have been amused if he didn’t know how pissed off his boyfriend was. These kids knew better than to put their lives at risk like that, and it wasn’t because of the drinking or the midnight walk. This was HAWKINS. Maybe the only place in the world where your odds of coming face to face with a monster made of dead people or tripping into a tear in the fabric of reality and winding up in actual Hell were just about as good as your odds of getting on the wrong side of a bored small-town cop who saw you stumbling along the side of the road in the dark.

Eddie turned fully in the passenger seat to fix the boys with the most intimidating glare in his repertoire. They froze, Mike’s hand hovering just above Dustin’s mouth. “I think your mom asked you a question, kiddos,” he said in a deceptively calm tone that was even scarier than if he’d been yelling. Eddie was a marshmallow, everyone knew that, but sometimes when he was in DM mode or when he was acting on behalf of Steve, he could be pretty terrifying.

Dustin shoved Mike out of his personal space. “We got invited to a party at Dave Peterson’s house and there was so much beer, but we stayed away from the beer, Steve, we weren’t gonna get super drunk and we just wanted to see what it was like. But there was this red stuff…”

“Dustin just handed me a cup of it and said it tasted like Kool-Aid…”

“And it didn’t taste like it had liquor in it, it was just really sweet and it went down smooth, ya know?”

“He drank like five cups of the shit!” Mike blurted, and Dustin swung an arm out, smacking his friend in the chest.

Mike retaliated by hitting back, and then the scuffling had resumed until Steve swerved over to the curb in a screech of tires. “KNOCK IT OFF!” he shouted, spinning around to pin them with a ferocious glare, and they froze for a second time. “I thought you guys were supposed to be geniuses. You trying to tell me you didn’t know there was alcohol in this stuff you were guzzling? And that’s not even REALLY the point. Whose brilliant idea was it to walk home? Do you know what could have happened? Have you FORGOTTEN?”

“…it’s over, though, right?” Mike asked after a beat of silence. Three pairs of eyes swung his way, showing varying degrees of disbelief.

“We don’t know that, Mike. We will NEVER know that,” Steve said, and he wasn’t yelling now but his tone was uncharacteristically hard. “And I don’t want any of you guys to live in fear all the time just waiting for the next thing that wants to kill all of us to come busting out of the ground, but the LEAST we can do? The absolute LEAST? Is to not be fucking stupid. What you did was fucking stupid, and I’m disappointed in both of you. You’re damn lucky I’m not taking you to your parents right now.”

Dustin perked up a bit, although when Steve said he was disappointed Dustin had looked every bit a kicked puppy, hanging head and all. “Thank you, Steve!”

“Yeah, thanks,” Mike said. “I’m not sure my parents would notice but Nancy would have my ass.”

Steve shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t say I’m not telling Nancy. Another party rule, Mike. The first one, remember?”

“Friends don’t lie,” Dustin said, elbowing Mike and shooting him an obnoxious smirk. “So we’re crashing at your place, Steve?”

“Yes, for tonight. I’ll call your moms and let them know. In the morning, we’re going to have a long talk.”

“We got it. Thanks Steve. Thanks Eddie,” Dustin repeated, ever eager to get back in his heroes’ good graces.

“You might wanna hold off on the thanks, little man,” Eddie said. “You’re not getting off as easy as you think. You owe us.”

“Um … owe you?”

“Yup. And I’m already thinking of all the ways you can start to pay your debt.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked, glancing nervously between the two in the front seat as they exchanged looks and Steve pulled back out on the road.

“My uncle Wayne believed hard labor was the most effective form of discipline, Little Wheeler. I’m of the same mindset. I mean, look how I turned out.” Eddie grinned and spread his arms wide. “I know my van could use a good washing, and I think Stevie’s car has seen better days. The lawn needs mowing, too.”

“Pool needs to be skimmed, whole house is way overdue for vacuuming.”

“Best part?” Eddie added, barely contained evil glee coloring his tone. “Getting it all started as early as possible. Sooner begun, sooner done, right Stevie?”

Steve smiled and reached over to squeeze Eddie’s knee. “Right. Piece of advice, though: Drink a lot of water tonight so the hangover doesn’t interfere with doing a good job. We’d hate for you to have to start over.”

Mike and Dustin groaned in tandem, their heads falling back against the seat of Steve’s car.

“This is all your fault,” Dustin grumbled at Mike.

“MY fault?” Mike returned, his voice cracking. “Right! Because I was the one who was all, ‘taste this, Mike, it’s like cherry Kool-Aid!’”

“And I was the one who said we were better off just walking home! That’s the part they’re pissed about, imbecile!”

…Up front, Steve and Eddie held hands and let the backseat bickering go on unchecked as they headed toward Steve’s house with two of their favorite juvenile delinquents.

[mavrellover91]

Babies with Seb: Part one

Hey, guys sorry I have been MIA for wow months but life literally turned to shit and I have had to find my creativity again. I hope you enjoy my new series.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female reader

Warning: Agnst, fluff.  Smut flashback:  P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys). Dirty talk.     

Word count: 3806 (I may have gotton carried away) 

A/N: I give no permission for my work to be copied, translated and or posted anywhere else online.

Oh God, why, oh why did he have to be running in the park this morning? All I wanted was to go for a quick walk in Central Park before it got too hot in the summer sun, but I should have known that with my luck that he would be here. I just stand there as his steel blue eyes move down my body and land on my stomach. Fucking Sebastian Stan is staring at my huge pregnant stomach, thanks to the twins I am currently carrying. After staring at my belly for what seems like forever his eyes flick up to mine with so many questions in them. Fuck why does he have to look so fucking good all sweaty from his run? It has been almost four and a half months since we last saw each other after a night of hot drunk sex that changed my life.                      

 “Y/n…Umm hi”

“Hi Sebastian”

“Is it….” He stops himself from asking the question that he really wants to know as his eyes flick around our surroundings remembering that we are in a public park.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” I offer as I can see that he is uncomfortable about talking about this in the park. “Umm yeah sure, give me a minute” he tells me before running off to a group guys standing off to the side watching us. Fuck, great Don Saladino and their friends are watching us. This just adds another level to this nightmare. I’m not sure why I am so embarrassed by this whole situation I mean I did try to contact Sebastian when I found out I was pregnant but my only opinion was to DM him on Instagram, which I knew wasn’t the best way of contacting him but he didn’t leave me with no other choice. I mean was a drunk one-night stand and I knew that going in. I was lost in my head I did not even notice that Sebastian had run back to me until he was in front of me “lead the way” he tells me as he sweeps his arm in front of me. We start walking back to the closest opening of the park.

 I fight the urge to look around us, to see if anyone is watching us. As we reach the road my luck seems to change as a taxi pulls up and lets a couple out, Sebastian walks ahead and catches the driver's attention before he could pull away. Sebastian holds the door open as I slide in. After climbing in himself I give the driver my address and he takes off. We sit in uncomfortable silence as the driver weaves his way through traffic to get to my place. The driver tried to break the awkwardness by asking how far along I am and went I say four and a half months I feel Sebastian shift in his seat. The driver not understanding how awkward the two of us are being goes on about his wife’s pregnancy. I thank God went we put up to my apartment. Sebastian pulls out his wallet and pays the driver, before opening the door once he gets out, he holds out his hand to help me out. We walk into my building and the elevator. Once we are in my apartment, we just stand there looking at each other waiting for the other one to start talking. “Is it mine?” he asks.

 Wow, I want to get mad at him for asking, even though I knew the question was coming, did he really think that I was that big of a slut that I would jump from one guy to another in a short amount of time? God, I remember telling him that I do not normally do this type of thing. God, I hate one-night stands, just the thought of them leaves me feeling gross. “Yes, they are yours,” I tell him in a tight voice trying hard not to let my emotions get the best of me. “They?” he asks, “twins” I reply. I watch his face as he realises that he is not only going to have one baby with a stranger but two. As if his legs give out on him, he sits down on my couch, the same couch these babies could have been conceived on. God just thinking about it makes me wet stupid pregnancy hormones.

 Remembering how we could keep our hands off each other in the Uber back to mine from the bar, how after closing my front door he pushed me up against it attacking my lips as if he wanted to devour me. I remember how I placed my hands on his chest pushing him back until the back of his legs hit the couch, before giving him one last kiss and pushing him back so that he falls onto the couch. Then standing in between his legs I grabbed the bottom of my dress and pulled it up over my head, letting it fall to the ground leaving me in just my panties. His hands then move to my hips pulling me onto his lap. As I straddled his thighs, I start started rubbing my hot wet core against his hard cock through the layer of our clothes, as his mouth reclaimed mine. I then reached between our bodies, pulled his shirt off and ran my hands over his abs to his pants. Undo them and slide my hand between his body and the waistband of his boxers to wrap my hand around his thick length.

  I remember him moaning into my mouth as I pulled his cock out and started pumping my hand up and down the length of his cock. As his hands roamed over my body down my stomach to my pussy. Pushing my panties to one side he moved me closer to his body. Holding his cock in my hand I moved it up and down my slit collecting my juices before guiding it to my hole. We moaned into each other’s mouths as I slid down his cock until he filled and stretched my pussy. I remembered how I bounced up and down his length as he rubbed my clit. I remember him whispering in my ear how good my pussy felt around his cock, how I was his good girl, how I was his dirty little slut and how he was going to fuck me until I milked him dry. I remember him moaning that he was close and for me to be his good girl and cream on his cock and how as if I were waiting for his permission, I came so hard as he bucked up into me and painted my walls with his cum.

 Shaking my head to get rid of the memories of us together, I walked over to the fridge and grab the ultrasound I had done last week. While at the fridge I grab myself a bottle of water “would you like something to drink” I asked Sebastian. He brought his head up a looked at me for the first time since he sat down, making me wonder if he was also reliving what happened that night. Looking at the bottle of water in my hand he replied, “water would be lovely, thank you.” Grabbing another bottle, I walked back to the couch and sat down next to him placing both the water bottle and the ultrasound photos down in front of him. Sebastian reached for the ultrasound and picked it up looking at them. “How far along are you,” he asked quietly not taking his eyes off the pictures of our children. Swallowing the lump of emotions swelling up inside my chest as a watched staring at the photos “18 weeks and 4 days”. He then looks into my eyes and then down at my bump with longing in his eyes. I grab his hand and place it on my stomach where one of the babies was kicking. His eyes widened and then start to water as he feels the little feet press against my skin. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

 We stay like this for a good 10 minutes laughing and smiling at each other as I move his hand around my stomach as the babies kick. “I must ask...” he says shyly as if he doesn’t want to ruin the moment and risk me being mad “why didn’t you try and contact me?” Moving away from him trying hard not to get mad “I did, I DMed you through Instagram as you didn’t leave a number or anything” I reply. I watch his face as he works through all his emotions. “I do not go on Instagram often and I do not read any of the DMs. Fuck Y/n I am sorry I left the way I did. I should have given you my number I mean we had unprotected sex three times that night” “four” “what?” “We had unprotected sex four times. Once on the couch, twice in my bed and then in the shower,” I tell him. He stares at me and smiles as he remembers that night “your right four times” he starts to laugh. “God that was the best night of my life, I lost count of how many times I came inside you.” “The best night of your life?” I ask in a small shy voice “Yes, baby! The best night of my life and could not stop thinking about you. Hoping we would run into each other again. I even went back to the bar the following weekend hoping that you would be there. God, I wish I had gotten your number. I could have been there from the start instead of missing four months of your pregnancy” I just stare at him not sure what to say or do.

  Tears start rolling down my cheeks “oh baby, please don’t cry” he tells me as he wraps me in his arms bring a hand up to my face wiping the tears off my cheeks “if you will let me, I want to be part of your and our children’s lives. I want to hold your hand at your appointments, I want to help build and decorate the nursery. I want to watch our children come into this world. I want to hold you as you sleep, and most importantly I want to protect all three of you from the horrors of the world.” After he stops talking all I can do is stare at him not sure what to say. I want to jump into his lap, let him hold me and let him be there for me and our children but I am scared to let him in only for him to realise that we are more than he bargained for and then leave me to be a single parent. “Can we take it slow? I mean not too slow?” I say as a wave my hand around my stomach. “I need time and I need you to show me that will stick around and that you not just saying these things in the heat of the moment. You just found out that you are not only going to be a father but a father of twins. You need time to wrap your head around that” I can see in his eyes that he wants to argue but I stop him by saying “I have my 20-week scan in two weeks. Take these two weeks to think about what you want and if that is us come to my appointment and we can figure it out from there.”

  I slide my phone out of my pocket, unlock it, and place it in his hand “put your number in here and I will text you with the details of the appointment” I watch as he puts his number in my phone and then texts himself. “I know you think you want us now but please do take this time to think about what it is that you want. Having children is life-changing, I took time to think about if being a parent is what I wanted, and you also need time as well.” I get up and walk to the door, he also gets up and follows me “I will take the time you think I need and think about everything but know this I will be at that scan, and I will be by your side” he says as he pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead. As I close the door behind him, I really do hope he means what he said. I text him the appointment details and hope he will show up. He replies see you on the 10th beautiful. Sighing I cannot help but wonder if I just fucked up my only chance of having a family for my children. “I really hope daddy is going to show up,” I tell my children as I rub my hands over my bump.

 Two weeks later I am sitting in the waiting room at my doctor's clinic watching the door hoping Sebastian walks through those doors and is ready to be a father. We texted on and off the last couple of weeks with him checking up on me and the twins. We talked about work and how I was handling working as a PreK teacher. We talked about our families, and how I was handling being so far away from them. It seemed like he did care about me and did want to be part of my life. As the minute until my appointment ticked by, I became increasingly worried that he was not going to show up and that I would once again be doing this all by myself. As the nurse called my name and get up and walk over to her, the front doors burst open and Sebastian runs up to me “I am so sorry I am late, my meeting ran late and then I was stuck in traffic. Please tell me I did not miss it?”

  I stare at him with a big smile on my face pulling him into my arms, telling him “No Seb you are right on time.” The nurse looks a little shocked at who is standing in front of her rubbing his hands over my belly and arms. Pulling herself together she directs us to an exam room where she weights me, takes my blood, asks for a urine sample, and tells us to wait for the doctor. After peeing in the cup and leaving it on the little shelf in the bathroom. I sit down next to Sebastian and just look at him. He is here, he is here sitting next to me as we wait to see our babies. Tears start rolling down my face “Oh y/n baby please do not cry. I cannot stand to see you cry” he tells me as he wraps me up in his arms “their happy tears Seb, I am so happy that you are here. I thought that you decided that you did not want us when you were not here before the appointment” I cry into his shirt leaving tear strains on the front of it.

 “Oh, baby there is nowhere else I would rather be than here with you. I am sorry I could not be here earlier like I wanted to be, but this morning was a shit show meeting with my management team and a director for this new project that we have been trying off the ground” he starts rambling on nervously. “It’s ok you are here now and that is all that matters,” I tell him as I lean into him placing my hand on his cheek. Turning his face and pressing his lips into my palm “wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He places one of his hands on my neck and the other behind my head bringing his lips to mine as he kisses me lightly as if the check my reaction just as I open my lips to deepen the kiss the door opens as the doctor walks in “oh so sorry I did knock and through I heard you say yes” she says looking a little bit flustered. She did hear me say yes but not to her but to Sebastian’s lips being on mine.

 Pushing aside any embarrassment we were feeling Doctor St James introduced herself to Sebastian “Hi I am Doctor St James, and you must be the dad. Nice to meet you” looking proud Sebastian replies “Yes, I am dad, Sebastian Stan. Nice to meet you too” Doctor St James looked at me probably remembering how I told her that the father was not in the picture but being the professional that she is, she pushed that to the side and starts asking all the normal questions. “So, Y/n how have you been feeling? Do you still have any morning sickness? No pain or discomfort? No more bleeding?” At the bleeding comment, Sebastian looks at me worried. “No more bleeding since that time when I first found out I was having twins at 8 weeks,” I tell them reassuring Sebastian that everything is fine “I am still a little nauseous in the mornings but no vomiting for the last two weeks. Here is hoping it stays that way, I really hate vomiting. A little bit of discomfort in my hips and ribs but I am guessing that is because the babies are growing putting pressure on them.” As I answer all her questions I grab Sebastian’s hand and give it a little squeeze reassuring him that we are ok.

  “That is great to hear about the bleeding. If it does happen again, please do not hesitate to call me. I am sorry to say that with twins the vomiting and nausea does stay around a bit longer than a singleton pregnancy due to extra hormones but hopefully you are on the other side of the morning sickness. As for the discomfort in your hips and ribs, you are right about the babies putting pressure on them. The discomfort in your hips could also be from your pelvis starting to move getting ready for you to give birth.” She asks me some more questions and then asks if we had any questions. To which I look at Sebastian and then ask “I have a question about sex” Sebastian quickly turns and looks at me slightly embarrassed.

 Doctor St James smiles at me “what’s your question Y/n?” “Those are silly questions but is it safe to be having sex? Can sex hurt the babies? When having sex should we be using protection?” Doctor St James smiles at us “let me start off with there are no silly questions Y/n. Ok, it is safe for you to have sex as long as you are comfortable and have no pain however when you get into the later stages of your pregnancy there will come a time when I advise you to stop having sex to avoid going into preterm labour but as you get to that point I will let you know. Sex will not hurt the babies as the penis can not get passed the cervix. As protection, I recommend that my mother’s use it if they are having sex with more than one person or there is a chance of STIs. I hope that answers any of your questions. Please remember if have any more later do not hesitate to contact us. Ok, are we ready to see our babies? Are we finding out the sex of the babies today?” “Yes,” Sebastian and I answer at the same time.

 We look at each other and smile. Hopping up onto the exam table and lifting my top over my belly, the doctor quickly takes measurements and pushes on my stomach. “Ok let us get to the fun stuff and have a look at these babies of yours,” Doctor St James tells us as she moves the ultrasound machine closer to the table “all right Y/n you know the drill this might be cold,” she tells me as she pours the gel onto my stomach “yup that’s cold” I laugh. Hold out my hand for Sebastian who brings his chair closer to the table and takes my hand. “Ok, here’s baby A” Doctor St James tells us as she pushed buttons on the machine and the most magical sound in the world fills the room, the sound of one of our babies’ heartbeat. She moves the wand around taking measurements and pictures as we watch the screen. I turn my head and look at Sebastian who cannot take his eyes off the screen, watching the baby on the screen with tears pouring down his cheeks. After a couple of minutes, Doctor St James moves the wand around to find the second baby. “There you are” she exclaims when she finds baby B “baby B wanted to play hide and seek today” she laughed at her joke. Once again, the heartbeat fills the room making Sebastian and I give each other watery smiles.

 After she finished taking all the measurements and photos, she needs she then turns to us “are you guys ready to find out what you are having?”  “Yes” I exclaim “Ok baby A is a boy and baby B is a girl, congratulations you're going to have one of each” the doctor leaves us to have a moment to ourselves tell us that she will have pictures printed off for us when we are ready. As I wipe the gel off my belly and pull down my top, I have tears running down my face. Once my top is in place Sebastian helps me to sit up and pulls me into his arms and kisses me “God Y/n that was unbelievable hearing our babies’ heartbeats was magical. I can not thank you enough for this beautiful gift and I cannot wait to meet them. God a little girl who is going to look just like her mama” “and a little boy who is as handsome as his daddy” I finish for him. “Let’s get out of here and back to your place so we can talk and celebrate,” Sebastian tells me as he holds out his hand and opens the door.

 “Let’s go home,” I tell him I take his hand and let him lead me out to the front deck where we get our ultrasound photos and head out to his car. As I used Uber to get to the appointment I hop in the front seat of his car and we head back to my place, hopefully, soon we will have a place together to call home.