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keerysfreckles · 13 hours ago

Text

from the start | QUINN HUGHES 43

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader & (kind of) jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after being in love with jack for forever, y/n comes to a realization he isn't the brother who's had her heart the whole time.

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, jack is kinda an asshole, mention of a panic attack, makeout session, not proofread, this is a long fic im sorry i got carried away 😔😔

a/n: lake house hughes brothers fics always make me FOLD (yes this was inspired by tsitp)

masterlist ! | requests are open

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y/n loved summer.

y/n loved going to the beach or on the lake every single day. she loved the smell of salt water when she drove to the hughes' lake house every summer. she loved her birthday being in the beginning of june, meaning she'd get cake and presents and time with her favorite people on her day. she loved going to fairs almost every weekend and getting sick with the youngest hughes brother after eating their weight in fried foods. she also loved jack hughes.

the day y/n stepped foot into the hughes' lake house at the ripe age of three years old, she knew she was going to love it there.

y/n sat impatiently in her mothers car as she drove to the lake house. this was the first summer y/n convinced her parents to let her go by herself. her father would be busy with work this summer anyway, and y/n thought her mom might want a house to herself for a while.

y/n sat in the passenger seat, legs tucked against her chest as she texted luke throughout the trip. even though her and jack were the same age, she was always closer to luke.

speaking of jack, he had texted the girl himself, asking if she was almost to the lake house, knowing it would just be her staying the summer.

her heart flipped when she saw his name come up at the top of her phone. she held in a giggle as she texted him back.

y/n couldn't help but love jack. she knew she was in love with him since she was ten years old. it was the day he comforted her after her bike got ruined by quinn, when he "accidentally" forgot to bring it inside. the kids soon found out the next morning that it got ran over by a car, making both wheels messed up and the plastic cracked.

ever since she can't help but be drawn to him, and it wasn't changing this summer.

sure they were all older, and this is the first summer in three years where all brothers would be in the lake house.

luke and jack would always be busy with hockey when quinn wasn't, and vice versa.

y/n practically jumped out of the car before her mom even put it into park.

"y/n!" her mom begins the scold her, but the girl is already getting her bags out of the trunk.

"sorry mom, just excited," she smiles.

"now you know all the rules right?" her mom asks as she stops next to the driver's side window.

"yes mom," y/n rolls her eyes.

her mom takes in a quick breath of air, "just mind your manners, and have fun, okay?"

y/n nods, "love you mom" she calls out as she runs up the driveway, hearing a response from her mom before she drives off.

she can't even get her hand up to knock on the door, when luke opens it eagerly.

"you're here!" he laughs before dragging her into a big hug.

"i'm here!" she laughs with him, before going into the house.

the two begin to catch up, considering they haven't seen each other in at least a year. their busy schedules just did not line up.

y/n pauses their conversation to run up the stairs to the bedroom that's been claimed as hers. jim and ellen hughes gifted her the room as a thirteenth birthday present, and not much has changed in the room.

the walls were still baby pink. they used to be filled with bright colored posters out of magazines, and now were filled with pictures filled of her and her friends, and the three brothers.

the glow in the dark star stickers were still on the ceiling, making her giggle slightly.

she didn't bother unpacking now, content with throwing her bags on her bed.

she walked down the hardwood in the hallway, stopping by jack's room. she peaked her head in the cracked door, but frowned when there was no sign of the middle child. she continued down the short hallway towards quinn's room.

she repeated the process from jack's room, and smiled once she saw the oldest brother.

she catches him off gaurd with her knock on his door, making him pause as he was in the middle of putting away clothes from his hamper.

"hey, you're here," he warmly smiles at her, letting her enter his room. "sorry, i didn't here you come in, or i would've been downstairs."

"you're all good," she smiles back as he opens his arms for a hug. "do you know where jack is?" she asks as they pull away from each other.

quinn knew she would ask sooner or later, so he was mad at himself for letting his smile falter.

"he's picking up a friend right now. she's supposed to stay the next week," he explains.

once he sees y/n's smile falter as well, he's quick to change the subject. "are you excited for your birthday?"

y/n's smile is quick to return as she nods, "it feels like i've been twenty-two forever," she drags out the last word, making both of them laugh.

"oh by the way, when jack gets back we're all going on the boat," quinn exclaims, telling her to change into her swimsuit.

the two bid goodbye as y/n practically skips back down the hallway towards her room. she loves nothing more than being on the lake with the brothers. it's her paradise away from paradise.

however her current bliss is lost as she remembers she packed her swimsuits at the very bottom of her bag. she groans, realizing she'll have to unpack anyway to retrieve them.

she does her best to unpack quickly, not wanting to make anyone wait to start their summer festivities.

finally after nearly ten minutes of unpacking, all of her shorts, t-shirts and dresses were in their designated drawers in her worn out dresser.

she kept her swimsuits laid haphazardly in her suitcase, considering she always mix-matches tops and bottoms anyway. no need to put them in a drawer.

she grabs two pieces; a pair of black bottoms with white polka dots, and a yellow top with thin straps connecting behind her neck and back.

as y/n was upstairs getting changed, the three brothers, along with jack's friend, gabriella, were waiting in the boat for y/n. jack and gabriella already had swimsuits on under their clothes, and luke and quinn were fast to change.

"can't we leave already? i'm like baking out here," gabriella groans, leaning her head back against jack's arm thats behind her, and fanning herself off.

luke shakes his head as quinn responds, "no, we're waiting for y/n."

gabriella simply groans again, as jack is unusually quiet, but stays connected at the hip with her.

speak of the devil, y/n is running out of the back door and down the wooden dock. she has a towel, sunglasses, and container of pineapple in one hand and her phone in the other.

quinn and luke both chuckle at her frazzled state, even though this is usually how she comes out to the boat.

"just in time," luke pats the seat next to him. y/n gladly sits down on the hot material, and quinn starts the boat.

"oh, jack you made it!" y/n smiles, until she notices how close him and his friend are. "hi, i'm y/n," she holds her hand out.

"gabriella," the girl simply replies, making y/n awkwardly put her hand back in her lap.

to avoid any upcoming awkwardness, luke questions, "whatcha got there?" pointing to a plastic container besides y/n's leg.

she holds it in front of her, making him chuckle.

"what is with you and pineapple?"

"what? it's good!" she defends, before putting it in the cooler filled with ice, water, seltzers and beers.

the five on the boat make small talk (really it's luke, quinn and y/n talking in the front, while jack and gabriella as whispering at the back), before quinn stops the boat in an empty clearing. y/n helps luke with the anchor until the metal can't go any farther down into the water.

"race you to the water," luke pokes y/n's side.

"not fair!" she responds, having to catch up to him at the back of the boat.

she jumps in right after him, and quinn is quick to follow, splashing both luke and y/n in the process.

"you guys coming in? or are you just gonna canoodle the whole time?" luke interrogates the two left on the boat.

"you did not just say canoodle," y/n cringes.

"i did," luke nods proudly, "and i'll say it again."

y/n and quinn both begin splashing luke before he can let any other nonsense slip from his lips.

fifteen minutes pass, and quinn and luke are having a backflip contest off the back of the boat, with y/n being the judge.

even with the amazing title of being the backclip contest judge, she couldn't help but advert her eyes towards jack.

the way his hair practically glowed from the sunset behind him. the way his eyes seemed to shine brighter with the blue waves reflecting off of the them. the way his eyes crinkled when he smiles at the story gabriella told him. the way he played with gabriella's blonde hair. the way he was rubbing his thumb over gabriella's thigh.

y/n now felt like she was going to throw up.

"okay," luke pops up from under the water, "who had the better backflip that time?"

"what?" that broke y/n out of her trance.

"the contest," luke reminds her, "who won that time?"

"uh, sorry i wasn't paying attention."

luke splashes her, "some judge you are."

quinn however noticed y/n's small change in demeanour, then looked in the direction she was just looking in, putting together what had made her gone sour.

of course the other hughes brothers knew about y/n's infatuation with jack. it hasn't lessened over the years, and the only one who hasn't noticed was jack.

"you guys wanna start heading back?" quinn asked the two in the water, "mom said they're doing a barbeque tonight."

luke and y/n nod, both excited about the traditional first night barbeque. ellen and jim always made too much food, but their hearts are always in the right place.

after luke gets on the boat, quinn leans down to help y/n. her skin is quick to fill with goosebumps, not yet prepared for the slight breeze and setting sun.

she wraps her towel around her before sitting, but the cloth only dries her from the lake, instead of keeping her warm.

"you cold?" quinn asks as he sits down in the drivers seat in front of y/n.

"yeah, and i forgot to grab a shirt," y/n admits, now realizing how excited she was to get on the boat to forget to grab one.

quinn silently hands her one of his vancouver canucks shirts that he was wearing earlier.

was it an excuse to see her wear one of his shirts again? maybe. and no, this wasn't the first time this scenario had happened.

she mutters a quick thank you, and slips the warm shirt over her body. it bunched up around her waist.

as quinn pulled away back in the direction of the lake house, y/n couldn't help but let her curiosity peak as she turned her head towards jack and gabriella.

gabriella was laying down, with her head in his lap while he ran his fingers through her hair. y/n could only wish she was in gabriella's position. she felt foolish sometimes when it comes to her feelings with jack. she felt as though he'd never feel the same, or she'd never be enough for him. but his green eyes and perfect smile, and beautifully warm personality pulled her back in every time.

y/n looks away, feeling foolish again as she wipes her eyes of the tears starting to form. she's twenty-to for gods sake. she shouldn't be feeling like this.

as luke and quinn continued talking near the front of the boat, y/n brought her knees up to her chest and leaned her head against quinn's back.

she let the sound of the waves, the lull of the boat, and the warmth radiating off of quinn help relax her. she wasn't going to let jack and some dumb blonde ruin her summer.

wait, she didn't say dumb out loud, did she?

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y/n woke up the next morning, now regretting her decision to go straight to bed after the barbeque, and not bothering to change out of her swimsuit or shower. she was still wearing quinn's canucks shirt.

no one could blame her though. watching the guy you've been in love with forever latch onto someone else the whole day made her have a low appetite, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

she picked out a simple outfit, consisting of black jean shorts and a baby pink tank top. she ran towards the upstairs bathroom, thankful to hog all the hot water before anyone else could.

with her shower completed and hair finally brushed out, she went back into her room, but was surprised to see quinn laying sideways on her bed.

"i didn't think anyone else was awake," she pulled quinn's gaze away from his phone.

"no one else is, just me," she nods at his response.

"what exactly are you doing in my room at eight in the morning?"

quinn sits up, "we're going to the bakery down the road and picking up bagels for everyone," he explains.

"and i have to go with you why?" she asks, however she starts putting on her shoes anyway.

he shrugs, "you just happened to be awake." 'i just want more time with you' he thought, but couldn't tell her the true reason.

"fine quinnifer, lead the way," she used the nickname she knows he hates, but he lets out a low chuckle before leaving her room.

y/n loves being in the car with quinn, simply because he lets her be in control of music. jack and luke never let her.

she picks her summer playlist before telling quinn all about her most hated class this past semester at umich. he listens intently, and even interjects with a few reactions.

as quinn parks in front of the small bakery, y/n decided to wait in the car, insisting she can't miss her favorite song.

y/n lets her eyes wander. they look over to the beach on her left, maybe she can convince the brothers to go there for her birthday tomorrow. she then watches a family walk into the bakery. the two parents and happily swinging a little girl between them. then her eyes switch to quinn at the counter. she watches his smile grow only slightly when he steps up to the counter to order. she looks over his dark brown hair, and how soft it seems this morning. her gaze shifts to the slight stubble starting to grow on his chin. she notices the viens in his hands she's never noticed before as he grabs the plastic bag from the worker.

she jumps out of her trance when quinn unlocks the car, making her realize she was just checking quinn out.

checking. quinn. out.

she must've been getting sick, or maybe she was just really hungry. she never thought of quinn romantically. it was always jack. the only time it had gotten remotely close to that with quinn was when he visited her at her dorm room 'just because'. he surprised her with concert tickets to her favorite artist, got her a new lego set, and a basket full of her favorite snacks.

"you okay over there?"

y/n jumps slightly, but nods, "yeah, why?"

"you like zoned out pretty hard."

y/n nods again, "i'm fine."

quinn doesn't question it, and starts driving back to the house. he takes notice of the way y/n fidgets with the plastic bag now in her lap, but doesn't bring it up.

the two finish the drive in silence, the only noise being the pop songs playing from y/n's playlist.

quinn and y/n enter the house, and hear shuffling in the kitchen. they expect it to be luke, or ellen or jim, but it's jack and gabriella.

jack and gabriella kissing.

jack has her pushed up against the kitchen island, lifting her shirt slightly while she's grabbing onto his hair like her life depended on it.

y/n feels her insides flip and she just looks down at the floor as she lets out a shuddered breath. was it selfish she thought she'd never see jack with anybody besides herself? yes, but she knew that.

"hey," quinn catches their attention, "are you done shoving your tongue down your friends' throat?" he eyes jack. "we got breakfast."

y/n can't look at the sight of jack and gabriella. she feels like an idiot. a hopelessly in love, idiot.

"i'm not hungry," she mumbles while walking behind quinn before jogging upstairs and walks towards her room.

she groans on frustration as she feels tears pool at her eyes. she can't believe she's crying over this. she can't believe she's been in love with jack for so long, for it to go no where between them.

she thought he was distant yesterday, but she thought that might've been jet lag, or first day tiredness. she didn't think it was her fault.

she didn't think she did anything wrong towards jack, so why had he been off towards her?

was it only towards her? has he been like this with luke and quinn before they arrived to the lake house?

a knocking takes y/n out of her own head, however that's when she realizes she's started struggling to breathe. her flowing tears aren't helping the situation either.

"y/n? are you okay?" quinn's voice is calm outside. a complete three-sixty to how y/n is feeling on the inside.

she tries to answer, but nothing comes out but a strangled whine.

quinn comes inside. his eyes widen slightly at the girl in front of him.

"woah, woah, woah," he immediately walks over to her and wipes under her eyes. "you're okay," his voice is soft, but her heartbeat over powers it.

"c'mere," he brings her closer, so close that her head is pressing against the bottom of his collar bone. he rocks her slowly back and forth, glad when he feels her arms reach around his torso.

she shudders against him as her body keeps shaking, something she didn't notice was happening before.

"i feel so stupid," she admits. her voice is muffled and shaking against quinn's body.

quinn shakes his head, "you're not stupid y/n."

y/n nods in disagreement, "but i am quinn," she sniffles, "i've been in love with jack for years and he's only hurt me more than he's cared about me. i've practically thrown myself at him, and he just doesn't see me. he'll always see me as a little sister, or luke's best friend."

"that's not true y/n," quinn argues again.

y/n pulls back, her breathing slightly better than it was before.

"but it is true quinn. he was the only one that didn't come to my high school graduation. you and luke did, hell even your parents did. he was the one to forget to pick me up at the airport, so i had to wait for an uber to go to his game. and at another game when they won, he hugged all of you guys, except for me. he couldn't even look in my direction when him and luke met us after the game. i don't know what i've done wrong to him, i just don't quinn."

y/n doesn't realize her breathing has only picked up again, making her last few words slur together and come out fast and breathy. quinn simply pulls her back against him.

"i'm sorry," y/n cries into his chest, now all of her emotions colliding with one another, making her cry again. "i'm sorry quinn."

quinn is quick to shush her apologies, muttering comforting words, in between placing kisses over her hair.

the two stayed like that for about five minutes, before quinn noticed y/n's breathing even out again, and her sniffles stopped. he didn't mind how tear stained his shirt was right now, he only cared if y/n was okay.

"would a bagel cheer you up? i can go get one and bring it up here for you," quinn offers, "we can even watch a movie if you want. just hide up here."

y/n nods and whispers, "yes please."

quinn kisses her one last time on the top of her head, and rubs her back once more before exiting her room. she figures she'll get comfortable, so she changes into sweatpants and gets under the covers, waiting for quinn to come back.

minutes later, quinn returns with two paper plates. he hands y/n the everything bagel.

"an everything bagel. one side with cream cheese and the other side with butter," quinn watches a smile show up on her face.

"did you-"

"yes i toasted it."

"thanks quinn."

for the rest of the day, quinn does his best to get y/n's mind off of jack. if he was being honest, he knew this day would come eventually. the day y/n stopped having feelings for jack.

he knew it would happen when he got a call from y/n at two in the morning. jack had dragged her to a party, but then left her there, claiming he found the hottest girl to go home with.

y/n embarrassingly called quinn to come and pick her up.

if she called him any time, anywhere, he'd pick her up in a heartbeat.

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quinn and y/n weren't sure when they fell asleep, or how long they'd been asleep, but both were startled awake with luke's consistent knocking on her door.

"we're making a fire if you wanna join!" he calls out, before they hear his heavy footsteps walking downstairs.

"so glad to know he's not worried about where i am," quinn jokes while stretching.

y/n turns and laughs with him, and feels a blush creeping up her neck as her eyes lock onto quinn's shirt riding up slightly. letting her eyes get a peak at his boxers peaking out from his shorts. she quickly averts her gaze before she gets caught.

"do you want to change into something warmer? i can just meet you outside by the firepit."

y/n nods, "jeez it's already getting dark? how long did we sleep?"

quinn finally checks his phone, "six hours," he shows his phone to y/n, making her see a bright '4:00 pm'.

she only chuckles, "i'll meet you out back q."

he decides to ignore the flutter in his heart at the use of his nickname. he closes her door behind him and makes his way downstairs.

when y/n arrives outside, now adorning one of luke's devils hoodies, she takes the only open camping chair left opposite of quinn. him and jim are standing and talking, while every one else is sat around the fire.

"hey sleeping beauty," luke jokes as y/n sits down beside him.

"yeah, yeah," she ignores with a smile on her face.

however her face drops involuntarily at the sight of jack and gabriella. they're sitting in one camping chair, gabriella on jack's lap, as he's whispering god knows what in her ear to make her laugh like a hyena.

y/n simply turns and starts a conversation with luke.

"are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?" luke asks.

y/n nods eagerly, "yeah, i've always loved having my birthday at the lake house."

"well i just know you're going to love my gift," luke smiles.

"i love your gifts every year luke."

the two chuckle before luke excuses himself to use the bathroom. this leaves y/n alone with her thoughts.

her interesting thoughts. her very recently quinn obsessed thoughts.

she tries justifying it though. how can she not? he helped her get over a panic attack earlier in the day, and honestly has been nothing but sweet to her since she's gotten here. something jack hasn't even thought about doing.

y/n took her time by herself to truly think about where she stood with jack. sure, he probably didn't know about her insane feelings towards him, and maybe that was for the better. just like before, she feels like such an idiot for now wasting years of her life on a boy who would never even fathom dating someone like her.

maybe it's better this way, she thinks, as he eyes now look over towards quinn. he's still talking with jim.

y/n is enthralled by the way the orange hues of the fire light his face. he's wearing a backwards baseball cap, that y/n simply wants to take off to see his soft long hair underneath.

her eyes roam over his face. over his relaxed eyebrows, and the way his eyes move from listening to jim to watching the fire crack and spark. over his perfect nose. the nose she's only recently thought about kissing. over his cheeks and the way his stubble is growing, making him look more manly (and more hot in y/n's opinion). over his curved lips, as y/n wonders what it would feel like to k-

quinn's eyes meet hers.

she got caught like a deer in headlights.

but she can't look away.

and neither can he.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"happy birthday to you!"

a chorus of off key singing comes to an end as y/n blows out the candles of her personal red velvet cake. all three brothers would always make fun of her for red velvet being her favorite. she simply just thought it was prettier than every other cake flavor. plus it tasted amazing with cream cheese frosting.

however all three brother's weren't present. only two were. luke and quinn. one on each side of y/n on the large couch, as ellen and jim sat on the loveseat besides them.

y/n didn't want to admit it bothered her, but he always there with with her on her birthday. but when she realized gabriella wasn't in the house either, she had a good feeling neither of them would be showing up any time soon.

ellen and jim gave their present first, loving how excited y/n got when she opened the box to find even more pairs of mix-matchable swimsuits. they knew her a little too well.

luke got her two lego sets. one new marvel one of groot, and a set of sunflowers to put with the other lego flowers both him and quinn have gotten her over the past few years.

quinn was next, and to say y/n was shocked would be an understatement. the bag was small, and she pulled out a tiny white box. inside was a silver necklace, how quinn knew she wore silver and not gold, she'll never know. there were two dainty charms on the chain, and she held it closer to get a better look.

the one on the left was a hockey stick, which made her giggle since it just felt fitting for her. even though she's never played a game of hockey, it's surrounded her her entire life.

the second charm is the letter if her first initial, with the tiniest sparkling gems inside.

"q, i love it," she's quick to wrap her arms around him, before hugging luke, as well as jim and ellen.

just as she clasps the necklace around her neck and adjusts it, the front door opens.

jack and gabriella walked in hand and hand, surprised to see everyone sitting in the living room, staring at them as they arrived.

jack looks around, and notices the cake and opened gifts scattered on the coffee table.

"oh, um, happy birthday y/n," jack sends her a smile, as well as gabriella, but she knows neither of them mean it.

"thanks jack," she immediately begins playing with the new necklace, a habit she didn't know she'd have.

"why don't you go get your gift for her jack?" ellen suggests.

jack awkwardly looks between his mom and y/n.

"i forgot to get her something, sorry."

his voice was low, and talked as if she wasn't in the room with them.

y/n shakes her head, "it's fine, really."

jack nods, before grabbing gabriella's hand and leading her upstairs, until they hear a door close.

"i swear we have to go talk some sense into that boy," ellen exclaims.

jim agrees, and the two get up and go towards their own room, honestly not feeling like dealing with their middle son's raging hormones.

the rest of the day practically revolved around y/n. she got to pick whether they hang out in the pool or go on the lake (obviously she picked the lake). she picked which movie to watch while the group ate leftover barbeque. then she got to pick where to go out for dinner. she sat in between quinn and luke (quinn pulled her chair closer to him before she sat down, not that she'd notice) and ate the most amazing lobster roll she thinks she's ever had.

as the night started winding down, everyone went into their bedrooms. however y/n wasn't tired yet, even after showering and finally letting the birthday excitement leave her body.

for probably the thirtieth time this week, her mind can't help but be drawn to quinn. but also to jack.

she was certain she was over jack. her hopeless little crush on him over the years has finallt fizzled out like a sad firework. and honestly, she feels like a weight has been lifted off her.

years of trying to impress him, and look good for him, and try to make him laugh, all down the drain.

but she wasn't sad about it.

her mind then drifted back to quinn. her hand subconsciously reaches for the necklace, moving the charms back and forth on the chain.

was she falling for the wrong hughes brother this whole time? she thought.

quinn has always been nice to her. always cared about her, physically and emotionally. she remembers when she was eight, him being ten, and him worrying about her when she got heartbroken when she lost her favorite stuffed animal on the way to the lake house.

that whole first week he tried cheering her up by bringing her stuffed animals from his own room, to try and find one she loved.

she giggled at the thought.

she wondered what quinn was doing. was he asleep already? or watching one of his favorite tv shows? maybe he's downstairs getting a midnight snack. it'd probably be leftovers from dinner.

she wondered how he was doing right now. was he upset at jack for forgetting her birthday earlier? or was he happy y/n had a good birthday regardless of the middle hughes mishaps.

the more y/n sat and pondered over the oldest hughes brother, the more she realized she's falling.

this wasn't exactly an over night sensation however.

don't get her wrong, she did have an insanely long crush on jack. but something about quinn managed to captivate her and draw her in closer to him over time.

"shit," y/n whispers.

she's fallen for quinn hughes.

she decides it's just her delirious and tired state doing all the thinking right now. she gets out from under her warm covers. maybe a splash of cold water on her face will help. she's seen it in movies, so it must work.

what she didn't know, was that the boy on her mind was standing right outside her closed bedroom door. he's been there for no longer than three minutes. his hand was in his pocket, a third charm encased in a little mesh bag. one he didn't think she'd want. but one he knows he needs her to wear.

he's made up his mind. screw jack for messing up his chances in the past. quinn knew he was in deep when it comes to y/n. he was just an idiot for not doing anything about it before. all because he knew how y/n felt towards jack. he didn't want to be in the middle of anything. but in reality, it was jack being in the middle of quinn and y/n.

quinn debated on turning back around and just going to his room. he didn't even think of the possibility of y/n being alseep.

he still knocked.

well, he would've knocked. if there was a door there.

y/n and quinn were now inches apart from each other.

"hi," she whispers.

"hey," he whispers back.

"i didn't think anyone was still awake," she voices.

quinn shakes his head, "just couldn't sleep."

a moment of silence passes as the two simply look into each others eyes. eyes that are saying a million words, yet their mouths aren't moving.

quinn takes a step towards y/n, and she doesn't move back.

"can i ask you a question?" he asks.

she nods, "yeah, anything."

quinn takes a deep breath, "please tell me you're over jack."

"what?" the question catches y/n off gaurd, before she can truly respond.

"before i do this, just," he pauses, "please tell me you're over jack."

y/n nods, but her eyebrows are still scrunched in confusion.

"i need to hear it," quinn responds.

"i'm over jack."

after those three words leave y/n's lips, quinn takes ahold of y/n's jaw, bringing his lips to hers.

just as y/n was about to move her hands to hold onto quinn's waist, he pulls away, still leaving only inches between them.

their mingled breaths linger between them, but not for long as y/n pulls quinn towards her, kissing him again. it's more emotional than the last kiss, filled with longing and desire.

y/n pulls on his black long sleeve shirt, pulling him into her room. without disconnecting their lips, he closes the door behind him. quinn's mouth moves to her neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the skin, as her hands roam to his front, reaching underneath his shirt.

"wait," quinn pulls away, both of them now panting. "i have one last gift for you."

y/n watches him reach into his pajama pants pocket, seeing something silver peeking out of a mesh bag.

"quinn, what is-"

"this might be really stupid, but it was a good idea at the time. um," he pauses, dropping the contents on the bag into his palm. y/n gasps at the small 'Q' charm. "if you'll be mine, i figured you might want my initial. y'know, like that one taylor swift song you love."

"quinn, oh my gosh," y/n's at a loss for words.

"can you put it on the necklace for me?" she asks him, making him nod and comply instantly.

he's quick to clasp it around the chain, falling in line with the other two charms. quinn's finger and thumb rub over the newly added charm.

"does this mean you'll be mine?"

y/n nods, and before she can get a real response out, quinn pulls gently on the necklace, drawing her towards him to push their lips together once again.

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hyperfixiation-station · 1 day ago

Text

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him.

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face.

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room.

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you.

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.”

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable” and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you.

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments.

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around.

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge?

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies.

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in.

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound.

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening.

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out.

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies.

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again.

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #angst #no beta we die like men #Behind enemy lines

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p1astr81 · 22 hours ago

Text

what are we? - mv33

in which: Max gets romantically involved with Red Bull’s new hire, changing his life for better and worse.

pairing: Max Verstappen x co-worker!reader

warnings: smut 18+, Christian Horner, cursing, time jumps, angst, not proof read, a little longer

an: ib this fic

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ * ‧₊˚ ‧

The conversation came in late September. The air outside his Monaco apartment was cool. It drifted in gusts through the open window. His grip around your waist tightened when a particularly cold breeze creeped it’s way over his naked figure. His limbs, intertwined with yours, sought the warmth radiating off your skin. Legs mindlessly brushed against yours.

“If you’re cold, you could always put your clothes back on.” He chuckled lowly at your suggestion. The sound traveled smooth and slow through the air, like molasses. A verbal response never graced your ears. He settled for a small shake of his head, his face hid in the curve of your neck.

The scene, while grossly domestic, had your stomach curling into knots of guilt and despair. A feeling of inevitable calamity. The exact timing of it, you were uncertain. But it was sure to come, if not now then soon. Tomorrow morning, maybe. You knew putting it off would make it harder. Executing it was just as difficult, though.

It’s why you were both devastated and relieved when Max’s voice filled the air with the question. It forced you to have the conversation here and now.

“What are we?”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The first day on a job was never easy, especially when you’d been promoted from a simple marketing position at a small company to the manager of the marketing department at Red Bull Racing.

It was mid-January. Freezing cold outside. Your breath converted to a visible fog while you entered your new place of work.

The tour of the building was being given to you by a secretary. He was quiet. Only spoke when he needed to or to answer a question of yours. He led you to an empty office, nothing in the room except for a desk and a chair. Your first and last name engraved on a plaque glued to the door. Your fingertips ran over the lettering, feeling the ridges. Head of Media and Marketing engraved right above your name.

The secretary informed you that someone would be with you shortly, his voice mere mutters. You thanked him and he was on his way.

The room was spacious enough. Plenty to not feel claustrophobic but not enough to not feel vast. A small couch could be a nice edition. Floor to ceiling windows allowed for natural sunlight to illuminate the area. The view was okay. The street and parking lot to the left and a small patch of grass—currently coated by a thin layer of snow—right ahead of you.

A question of your name was called from behind you. You turned with a smile. “Yes, hello.”

Christian Horner. The team principal at Red Bull Racing. Of course, you’d heard what he’d done, read the leaked messages. You nearly didn’t take the job because of it. But it was your dream job, formula one. So a few morals had to be broken.

He smiled. “Good to finally meet you face to face.” He held his hand out to you. You shook it to be polite. “Christian Horner, team principal.” He formally introduced himself.

You remained polite as you followed him through the halls once more. His footsteps stopped outside another office space. A laugh was muffled through the wall. A man’s laugh.

Christian opened the door, allowing you to walk in first. Upon entering, the two boys in the room stopped their conversation, eyes boring into you. You knew who they both were. Liam Lawson and Max Verstappen.

Liam stood first, teeth shining as he smiled. He held a hand out to you and introduced himself. Polite. Max stood, but hovered behind Liam. He studied your form, your face, the way you nervously fiddled with the ends of your hair and tucked a strand behind your ear.

Only when your conversation with Liam ran dry did Max step in to introduce himself.

“Will you be traveling with us to races, then?” His voice was level, unreadable. His gaze jumping between Christian and yourself. Christian answered for you. “No. She won’t be needed. Most of her work will be done here.”

Max’s brow twitched, a faint line appearing between his two brows for less than a second. “Shame.” Was all he said, eyes drifting from your own to analyze the other details of your face. You tried your best to ignore it.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The following weeks consisted of introduction and the drafting of ideas. Your colleagues would filter in and out of your office, presenting vague ideas and handing you long winded proposals. Working in formula one was not nearly as thrilling as you expected it to be.

Your routine shifted one day. Your fingers were dashing across the keyboard, responding to an email sent from another in the marketing department. The door had opened, but assuming it was one of your colleagues you didn’t acknowledge them right away. You were too focused on finishing the email to even realize your visiter had made himself comfy on the small sofa.

Only after you hit send did you look up, slightly-irritated smile embellished on your lips. “Hi, sorry I was-“ the face registered in your mind, though it made the synapses in your brain backfire momentarily, your speech inhibited. Your expression bordered on confusion. When your brain finally caught up, the words that came out of your mouth were, “do you need something?”

You cringed when your own voice hit your ears, your tone suggesting he was bothering you. You fell into quick apologies. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that just… I didn’t know if you came in here for something from me or… yeah.”

There it was again. The anxious action of playing with your hair. His own face shifted. Amusement. He shook his head. “Just came to ask you how you’re settling in.”

The nod that came to you was like a foreign action. Delayed and not quite a smooth gesture. The prospect of Max Verstappen coming to casually check in on you was a little inconceivable, so forgive you if your motions weren’t quite fluid. “Yeah.” You blinked, then realizing that wasn’t really an adequate response, you continued, “It’s nice. People are nice.” You nodded. You found it difficult to keep your eyes on his. Perhaps it was the intensity of it. The way it felt like he was trying to dissect your every thought.

Max hummed. “Well if that changes…” the rest of his sentence hung in the air, but you could finish it yourself.

You nodded again, swallowing the lump of nerves in your throat. “Okay.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Max continued to pop in your office every now and then, at least once a week. You’d gotten more and more comfortable with each encounter. Conversation flowed easily now.

It was the end of February, the beginning of the season drawing close. Papers collected in a small stack on your deck, ones you had to look over before the media team left in two weeks.

“Come in,” you responded to the knock on your door, focus still on the paper in front of you. The paper was torn from your desk, your focus traveling with it. Your eyes caught Max’s blue ones and you scoffed. “Max! I need to finish that,” you complained loudly, reaching for the paper but Max pulled away.

You stood, rounding the desk. Max put his hand out to stop you while he read from the proposal. “…to improve engagement—hey!—and increase—im helping here!” Max laughed, arm extended with the paper out of your reach. “That’s not funny, I need to have that read and responded to by the end of the day!”

Your sides were flush against each other, your hand inching its way up his arm. Subconsciously, he pressed a hand to the small of your back to stabilize you while you stood on your tip toes. Max chuckled. “They’re all the same anyway. Boring for you to read and torture for me to do.”

Your eyes fell from the paper to meet his own. You became aware of the proximity then. Far too close for a couple of colleagues. You stepped back, cleared your throat. Max silently held the paper out to you. Graceful fingers pulled it from his hold.

As you sat back at your desk, Max remained standing in front of it. “I don’t think it’s fair.” He commented out of the blue. Your eyes found his once more, brows knit together. “What’s not fair?”

“Well, you do all of this for the team, and you don’t ever get to see the track.”

Your expression loosened, a breath falling past your lips, sounding like a laugh. “‘Cause my job is here.” You shook your head, finding his judgement a little silly.

A raised brow of his. “So you don’t want to go to the races?”

You dropped your pen, leaning back in your chair. “It sounds fun and all, but that’s not where I’m needed.”

“But if you had the choice, would you want to go to the races?”

You didn’t even need to think about it. “Yes.”

The next morning, as you set foot inside your office your whole body froze. On your desk sat a jar of chocolates. Passed for the weekend in Australia hung from the shoulders of the jar. You analyzed them, just to make sure they were real.

“Of course.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Max won that first race in Australia. A hard fought victory against Charles Leclerc. After the race you settled in the hospitality. People were packing up around you but you were stationary, answering emails upon emails.

You jumped when your shoulders were squeezed from behind. The sight of Max had you relaxing on instinct. He maneuvered his way around the table, taking the chair across from where you sat. “You should go out with me tonight.” He proposed.

Brows shot up, you choked on air. “Sorry, what?” Your laughter was out of control. Continuous breathy, nervous chuckles.

Max seemed to have caught his mistake, laughing to himself. “I meant— I’m going out to celebrate with some of the team. You should come with.”

“Oh, oh yeah.” You laughed. “Maybe not, though. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, yknow?”

All it took was one little teasing “come on,” and a dazzling smile to convince you.

Party was certainly Maxs thing. One too many gin and tonics and he was drunk out of his mind. He clutched onto your shoulder, yelled something close to your ear. “That’s great, Max!” You responded, a tap of your hand to his chest, though the topic of conversation was completely lost on you.

“Great?! No ‘thank you, Max! You’ve got a beautiful face too!’? Wow ego much!” Drunk max was a hassle, and drove you to drink with every teenage-girl-esc sentence that spilled from his drunk, scrambled mind. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear you! I’m gonna get a drink!” Max wiggled his brows, remembering how you swore you wouldn’t drink tonight. “Looks like someone’s going back on her word!” He laughed. You shook your head, turning your back on him to make your way to the bar. Max clutched desperately onto your arm.

In hindsight, drinking wasn’t your smartest idea. Because one drink led to two, and two led to even more.

The very next morning you woke up with a raging headache. The curtains of the hotel room weren’t pulled closed. The morning light invaded the room, and you pulled a pillow over your head to block the rays that desperately tried to bypass your thin eyelids.

The smell of the pillow filled your nose. But it wasn’t your own perfume, or the fresh scent of a five star hotel. It was cologne. Still smelling fresh. But undoubtedly cologne. The scent strangely familiar, but you couldn’t place it.

Your heart raced. You could feel as the thrumming of it pulsated up to the surface of your skin. The headache was fought off as you opened you opened your eyes, slowly and anxiously.

Eyes meeting the figure, a small gasp left your lips. You’d never identified a person so quickly in your life.

You began to panic when you spotted your shirt from last night, thrown messily over the back of a chair. A quiet chant of no, no, no fell from your lips as you scanned the room with a frantic, unfocused gaze. And the shirt you wore wasn’t yours. Red Bull branded. But not yours. “Fuck” you whispered, tears springing to your waterline.

Careful not to wake Max, you slid from between the sheets, gathering your clothes from around the room. While you slid your pants on, Max stirred. One leg in and one leg out, you froze in place. Thankfully, he went back to sleep, his breath returning in a shallow, even rate. You placed Max’s—now neatly folded—shirt of the television stand.

On the tips of your toes and as quietly as you could, you slipped into the hallway. You could only hope that his memory was lacking as much as your own.

Once back in the security of your own room, you fell onto the bed, closing your eyes with a sigh.

The next time your eyes opened was because of a harsh series of knocks on the door. The sun was brighter now. You’d fallen asleep again.

Tired legs carried you to the door, which once opened, had you frozen in place.

A claw clip was held out to you. “I think you forgot this.” Max grinned, letting himself into the room.

“That’s not mine.” You dismissed, though it was definitely yours. Max chuckled. “You left.” He stated the obvious, eyes drilling into yours. You leaned against the door. He stood across the room.

Your head shook. A mindless movement. “I didn’t think you’d remember either.” You muttered, facing your crossed feet below you. He blinked. Brows furrowing just slightly, complementing his small frown. “Are you saying you don’t remember anything?”

You stood up straighter, back still supported by the door. “Well… bits and pieces.” Your voice was small and you forced yourself to face him. His mouth fell open, gasping out a breath, his hand falling over his face.

Seeing his reaction, you quickly tried to ease him. “I’m not going to tell HR if that’s what your worried about.”

Max froze. “You think I’m worried about HR? No I’m worried about you.” He took a few steps in your direction before stopping himself.

Your eyes widened. Shock. You laughed. “Why would you be worried about me?” You were nervous now. Max seemed to be more confused than ever. “You… because we had sex, and you don’t remember it.” He started to pace. “I though you weren’t that drunk. You swore you weren’t that drunk. I’m an idiot, obviously you were that drunk.” He rambled to himself, feet pacing back and forth along the length of the hotel room.

“Max,” you called. He froze, face meeting yours. Concern etched on every feature. “Did I consent?” He blinked before nodding. “Then it’s fine. You have nothing to worry about” You shook your head

He became confused. “Nothing to- I practically took advantage of you, and you’re saying that’s ‘fine’?”

“Yes because I trust you and I know you and I know that’s not you.” You sighed. “It’s like you want me to be mad at you.”

Max turned away from you, silent. He ventured over to the open window, a distant view of the ocean. Perhaps he did want you to be mad at him. Perhaps then the inner turmoil would be easier to face. Perhaps then he wouldn’t feel so conflicted about you.

“I just think you should value yourself more.”

You looked up from your hands, gaze only finding his backside. “What, you think I don’t value myself just because I won’t be mad at you? We made a stupid mistake, that’s all.” You bit back.

A brow of his lifted, body halfway turned to face you. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He chuckled nervously.

The nod that followed was subconscious as you stared down at your hands once more. “You should go. I need to pack.”

He called your name, a tone that suggested protest. A look from you silently told him off, and he left without another word.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The following week you were back in your office. Max was meant to be away at a race. He placed second in China. You didn’t care. Sure it was a tiny spat, but it was easier to ignore him than face the repercussions of what you’d done. Max hadn’t reached out since that morning. So neither had you.

The day had droned on. Another Monday spent sitting in your office for hours on end. The tenth knock of the day interrupted your flow of work. “Come in,” you muttered, head rested in the palm of your hand while you read over your presentation for the thousandth time.

You hit the arrow button once again when a cough took you from your focus. You glanced up at the person, body straightening when you saw his blue eyes.

“Is there something I can help you with?” You remained polite and professional. You mentally questioned why he was not still in China, or why he was here at all. He wasn’t needed at the factory today. The question never surfaced, though.

Max let out a small sigh, standing across the room. “Look, I’m sorry.” He started sincerely.

“It’s alright.” You brushed it off, turning your attention back the the screen and hoping he’d fuck off.

“No, it’s not. I don’t think you deserve to just be a hit and run.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hardly remember it.” Your eyes refused to meet his.

“That’s exactly my point.”

You sighed deeply. “And what do you want to do about it? It’s in the past.”

The room was silent for a minute. Max thought it over, his proposal on the tip of his tongue, but he struggled to find the courage to say it. You studied him, eyes narrowed, trying to pick his brain apart.

“What about a date?” He managed to ask.

And you laughed at him. Right to his face. “You’ve lost your mind, Verstappen.”

“That’s not a no.” He grinned.

You huffed. “That is a no.” You shook your head, your words holding some finality to them. You returned to your work, thinking he’d leave after that.

But Max Verstappen is nothing if not persistent. “Why no?”

You looked up once more. The third time during this conversation. “Because it’s an HR nightmare. The second anyone gets wind that I went on a date with you, I’m fired. And I just got this job so I’d really like to keep it.” The eye roll that followed was a natural instinct.

“Then no one has to know.” He negotiated quickly.

“Why are you so persistent about this? I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

Max swayed on his feet. He didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one that he was willing to share with you.

“I’ll make a reservation at that stake house, cove’s, for 7. You can choose to show up or not.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It may have bothered you a little. Knowing that Max may have been sitting at the restaurant all by himself. The clock reads ten past the nineteenth hour. You’d been staring at the blank wall for fifteen minutes.

The two halves of your brain were at odds. Arguing for and against joining Max at the restaurant.

He’s all alone.

That’s his own fault.

Yeah but he might be upset.

His emotions aren’t my problem.

But it’s a nice restaurant, and he’s paying. A good meal won’t hurt.

You groaned, throwing the blanket from off your lap and making your way over to the closet. You picked a simple dress. Nothing too showy or extravagant. Attention wasn’t what you desired.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you grumbled, looking yourself over in the mirror. The small imperfections were screaming at you, a small frown adorning your lips. You closed your eyes. A deep breath and a sigh. A shake of your head. “It’s not even a real date.”

You got there forty-five minutes late. Max could be clearly seen from across the restaurant. A glass of water sat in front of him, only half full. Fingers tapped the glass in a rhythmic manner, intense eye contact with the contained liquid.

It’s not too late to turn around, you told yourself. And you actually considered it. But the thought of getting ready just to turn back outweighed any other thoughts.

When you approached the table, Max glanced at you, an uninterested look. Then as if the image registered late in his mind, he stood. The chair was pulled out for you before you had the chance to do it yourself. “I didn’t think you’d come.” He spoke in a hushed voice, almost like he was embarrassed by the fact.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

And that’s how it started.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

April passed quickly. Max tried taking you out on regular dates, though you argued. “It would be too suspicious. Everyone knows you like in Monaco.” He worked his way around your fears. He drove your car, which was not nearly as flashy. He covered his face as best he could to blend into the background. He stopped trying to convince you to go with him to races with his guest passes. “People will catch on, Max. Your fans are smart.”

So Max convinced Horner that you would be much more of use at the weekends. “It’s a much quicker flow of information, and she can be there to make changes on the spot. It only makes sense!” And somehow, Horner listened.

The first race of May, in Miami, you were there. Not just as a guest of Max Verstappen, but as a critical part of the team.

You never found out it was Max’s doing. He let you believe the promotion was for your hard work. You deserved that.

The Red Bull car, adorned with a big red number 1 on the wing of the car, was out in front. It would be his first win since the season opener if he could hold onto the lead. You were stressed, fingers twisting up in the ends of your hair. The strands moved like liquid between the gaps of your fingers.

Later that night, you happened to end up in a club, Max’s hands glued to your hips while you twirled around on the dance floor. “You won again!” You shouted over the music, arms tightening around his neck. “I think you’re my good luck charm!” He grinned. You shook your head, laughing. A sound he wished he could keep on file in his brain so he could listen to it on a bad day. “No, I think you’re just that amazing!”

“Fuck, you’re so amazing.” Max groaned, his entire cock sheathed inside of you. Of course you found yourselves back in his hotel room, making a mess of the sheets.

“Ah, Max,” You whined. His thrusts perfectly measured, hitting the deepest parts inside of you. “Faster, oh please Max, faster!” Words were a struggle to get past your panting. Your nails dug into his bare shoulders. He hissed, but the pain quickly morphed with the pleasure and spurred him on.

His teeth scraped along the curve of your neck as he sucked marks into the skin, trying to quiet his noises. “So good. Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, a hand guiding your thighs to wrap around his waist. The noises you released at the feeling of the new, deeper angle had Max thrusting his hips into yours harder than before. Thank god the headboard was bolted to the wall. Any consideration for the next door neighbor—probably a team member—flew out the window.

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m so close!” Your hips started meeting his, searching for a release. “Please,” the word fell from your lips on instinct.

“So good. So perfect. So perfect for me.” Max continued to mutter praises, his hot breath fanning over the marks he’d just made. His hand ventured down your body to land harsh circles on your clit. “Come on, come for me.”

A high pitch moan added to the sinful noises already infiltrating the room, your back arched up from the bed, pushing your body into Max’s. “That’s it, come on.” He encouraged.

You came with your name on your lips, repeated over and over again like it was the only word you knew. “Fuck,” he grunted, you squeezing him, pulling him right to the edge. “Inside me, fuck, I’m on the pill.” That’s all it took for him to be spilling everything he had inside of you.

You whimpered when he pulled out, still sensitive. He apologized. Noting your closed eyes and your blissed out state, he carried you off to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet.

“You know, I’m noticing a trend here.” You joked after you’d recovered, back in the bed and lying against his chest. Your fingers idly played with his, fingertips running along his knuckles. Max frowned, though you couldn’t see it. “This is more than just physical for me. I really do like you.” His lips met the top of your head. It brought a small smile to your lips. “I know,”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Things were going well for you and Max. You kept it on the low. No one in HR had caught on. Of course, the fans speculated, but they had no real proof.

It was the end of June now. All day, Max had been praying to anyone who would listen, begging for a good result. It was Austria. Red Bull’s home race. He couldn’t let the team down.

Prior to the race, you stood in his driver’s room with him. He was all suited up already, you were only there to wish him luck.

Your hands ran down the front of his suit, palms settling on his stomach. “Have I ever told you that you look so good in this suit?”

Max chuckled, the sound a low rumble. “Only about every time I wear it.” His eyes, reflecting such deep admiration, worked their way over your own figure. The tips of his fingers dug into your hips, bottom lip scraping between his teeth while he drew you impossibly close. “And speaking of outfits, you look like a dream.”

You scoffed a laugh. “Really? In my business casual?”

He looked at you like you were crazy for second guessing him. “Oh, Absolutely.” He grinned, his hands coming up to move the hair from your face.

Just as his lips were about to collect yours, a knock interrupted the moment. Max jumped back, creating space on instinct. He looked at you with wide eyes, but you held up a single finger, your mind working fast to make up an excuse.

“Max? Can I come in?” His trainer spoke through the door.

You scrambled through your camera roll. You were sure there was some stupid media video you could use and pretend you were searching for his approval.

“Yeah come in,” Max answered, just as you were shoving your phone in his face. The video was just a stupid tiktok, one saved for future reference.

“So what do you think?” You asked as Rupert stepped into the room. The trainer looked surprised to see you, gaze flitting between the two of you. “Oh, hey. Wasn’t expecting you in here.”

“Last minute media duties. You know how it is.” You laughed innocently, causing Max to have to bite back a smirk. Rupert didn’t know how it was, but he nodded anyway, laughing with you.

“I wouldn’t mind it. Definitely better than some of the other ideas.” Max finally answered your question, a bit of a bite to his response. “Great, I’ll run it by the media team.”

Later that night, after the race—which Max wanted to forget all about, having gotten a puncture due to debris—you recalled the interaction. “You were jealous!” You insisted, laughing while he shook his head adamantly. “You didn’t see how he looked at you!” He insisted.

“Oh come on, that’s in your head.”

“Is it really? Because I’m almost certain he watched your ass as you left.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “You’re quite cute when you’re possessive.” Max cocked his head, trying to figure out if it was a compliment or an insult. “Thank you?” He said hesitantly.

“You’re welcome” you hummed, pecking his lips.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Summer break. It was much needed for the both of you. Somehow, you managed to take two weeks off of work. The time was spent with Max, somewhere remote and private where eyes wouldn’t be able to pry.

The air smelled of salt water, the strands of your hair soaked in the same water. The white boat floated not far from you, Max standing on the end of it, hands rested on his hips. He observed you with a fond gaze while you swam around, head dipped under the water and a snorkel peaking up out of the water.

You resurfaced, eyes alight with excitement. You pushed the goggles to your hairline. It made your hair look like a mess, but Max found it cute. You waved him over. “Come join me!” And then noticing his hesitation you added, “there’s so many fish! And some are so pretty!”

A smile creeped up on him seeing your enthusiasm. He grabbed his own snorkel from the cushioned seats and joined you. Who was he do deny your request when you were so animated about it?

You’d already ducked back under the water, too impatient to wait for him to join you. He understood your enthusiasm quickly. While it was no coral reef beneath you, fish still swam by, scampering along when one of you made the slightest movement.

A punch was landed on Max’s arm, your movements languid due to the water. He followed your pointed finger to find a turtle at the end of it.

His eyes found yours, crinkled in the corners from how hard you were smiling.

The same smile found it’s way back on your face hours later back on the boat. Max lounged against the cushioned seats, your body right next to his, upper body rested against his.

“I told him, I said, ‘Max is not going to like that idea, you won’t get the result you think you will’ and he replied with, ‘well then maybe max shouldn’t be such a baby about everything.’” You laughed, shaking your head as you recited a conversation from a meeting last week.

Max scoffed, feigning offense. “A baby? I’m not a baby about media duties!” He defended himself.

“Oh you absolutely are. You’re a pain to do media with, to everyone except for me. But it’s okay ‘cause I still love you.” You turned your head to face him, leaning up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. But a sour taste infected your mouth as your brain caught up with the words your lips had just spewed.

The contact was broken abruptly by you, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. Max just looked at you, his own gaze flicking between focusing on each of your eyes, one at a time. His brows were raised in interest, mouth slightly parted.

You found it difficult to meet his eyes, so you focused on the blue-green color of the ocean, watching as the waves folded over one another. “I don’t know where that came from.” You shook your head, voice small. “Just-“

“From your heart, I hope.” Max joked. You turned to him, seeing a cheesy grin on his face to match the equally cheesy comment.

A small yelp slipped past your lips when Max pulled you down again, his face inches from yours. “I love you, too.” He whispered against your lips.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

You’d truly never been happier. It was like you were living in heaven on earth. The smile on your face was permanent, just like how Max was permanently on your mind.

It was early August, the air warm but not hot enough to be unbearable. Your vacation just ended. Despite the fact it was an early Monday morning, you were smiling to yourself while entering the factory.

The first person you saw upon entering was Christian himself, standing in the foyer, leaning against the receptionist desk. “Morning, Horner.” You greeted, walking past him.

“Ah, just a second.” He halted your movements, voice sounding stern. Your heart rate spiked. “Come to my office with me.” It wasn’t a suggestion. You had no choice.

“Have a seat.” He instructed, an outstretched hand. You swallowed hard, trying to level your breathing. Your smile was harder to maintain now.

He sat across from you, at his desk, and pulled out a laptop. “How was your break?” He made small talk, but there was too much tension in the air for you to be comfortable. Your gut told you something was wrong.

“Great, thanks.”

“And you traveled with Max, correct?”

Your heart stopped, breathing halted. His gaze was on yours. A borderline glare. You blinked. Lying was an option that turned over in your mind, but it was evident he already knew. It would put you deeper in shit.

“Yes.”

Christian smiled wickedly. “So you will be honest with me, then.” He said to himself. “And am I correct in saying that there’s something more than professional business going on between the two of you?”

It was easy to predict what would happen next. The very thing you feared prior to diving into this with Max. But he insisted everything would be fine. It was stupid to believe him.

“Yes.”

Christian nodded slowly. “I’ve worked out an agreement with Mercedes and Toto. At the end of the season, you’ll transfer to Mercedes as their head of Media and Marketing. That is, only if you put an end to whatever is going on between you and my driver. If not, then I’ll make sure you never get another job in formula one.” His voice was eerily calm, but the demanding undertones of it was what really put you off.

You nodded, a silent agreement to his terms. He waved his hand. “You may leave now.”

The door was as far as you got before he called your name. “And a bit of advice,” he started, a nasty grin on his face. “Don’t sleep with Wolff’s drivers, too.”

He thought he was being funny. A blatantly misogynistic comment, and he thought it was funny. You desperately wanted to chuck something at his head, but that surely would ruin your career. So you nodded once again.

You made quick work of getting to your office, hardly breathing to contain the tears. It felt like you were suffocating. The world was crashing down around you. You’d just achieved everything you wanted in life, and now it was being pulled out from underneath you like some tablecloth magic trick gone wrong.

Once in your office, you sat at your desk. Palms flat on the table while you took deep breaths. Trying to ground yourself wasn’t working. So you let it flow. You locked the door and cried into your hands. Your palms collected the droplets into salty little puddles.

And then there was Max. God, how were you going to tell Max? It would break his heart, maybe even more than it’s breaking yours.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

You pondered for weeks how to go about telling him. No way seemed good enough. No way seemed gentle enough. So you resorted to slowly pulling yourself away from from. The thought process was that perhaps you could ease him into your leave. That way, it wouldn’t be nearly as painful.

The constant distancing didn’t go unnoticed by Max. He questioned you about it multiple times, but you brushed it off every time. In the past weeks, you’d declined every date. You only talked to him when necessary. And even answered his messages with short responses.

Which is why he felt the need to drag you back to Monaco with him after Baku. You stayed in his flat for the week, so you couldn’t escape him even if you wanted to.

The very last night in Monaco, you allowed Max to have his way with you. Any position he liked, however he liked. You knew you’d end it the following morning. If anything, it was a farewell gift and he didn’t even know it.

The conversation came sooner than expected. His question had your heart jump to your throat.

“What are we?”

He wanted a label. Confirmation. You knew that. But you couldn’t give it to him, only to tear it from his grasp in a few hours time. That would be ten times more painful than what you answered with.

“We aren’t anything.”

Max sat up quickly, your head falling to the pillows. He scanned your face for any sign that would tell him you were joking.

But your face was cold, stoic. He became angry, face twisted in rage as he stood from the bed. “You don’t mean that.” While his face may have reflected anger, his voice broke like a small child’s.

Max thought you had something special going on. Something more than just a fling. But with the confirmation of your words, it seemed it was only that. A fling.

You felt vulnerable under his burning gaze, but you remained expressionless. “You don’t-“ he choked on his words. “you don’t tell someone you love them and then…” he shook his head. He couldn’t understand. “Tell me you don’t mean that.” He demanded, feeling totally defenseless, small, pathetic.

You blinked, finally an emotion coming to the surface of your face. Total despair. “I can’t.” Your voice broke, your head shaking on impulse. Tears began to bloom in your eyes.

Max turned his back on you, his shoulders heaving from the deep breaths he was taking. “You said you love me.” His voice was a near whisper, back still facing you. “Did you lie?”

You’d never stood faster, and you were in front of him in seconds. He stared ahead refusing to meet your eyes. You could see the collection of tears on his waterline. It broke your heart to know you were doing this to him.

Two hands reached out to him. He took a step back, avoiding your touch. “Max I swear to you, I do love you.”

Confusion and hurt filled his eyes when they met yours. “Then why are you doing this?”

“I-“ you stumbled over your words, struggling for an explanation. His brows furrowed. “You don’t even know, do you?” His tone was accusing, creating more distance between the both of you.

You turned the accusation down quickly with a shake of your head. “No. I just- promise me you won’t let it affect your work relations.” Red Bull was his home. You weren’t sure if you would be able to sleep at night if Max hated them after you explained everything to him.

His confusion didn’t lift. “What do they have to do with this?” Max hated feeling like he was in the dark, and right now, the world around him felt pitch black.

“Just promise me.” You begged him.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t know how, but Christian found out. He told me if I didn’t end things that he would make sure I never got another job working in F1.” You breathed a shaky breath. “I promise you Max, I do love you. So much. And you mean so much to me.” You sniffled. “But I just can’t give up my dream job.”

Max blinked, his expression softening. He understood you completely. If the roles were reversed, he suspected he would’ve done the same thing. Now the only thing that could be read on his face was great sorrow.

He sat on the end of the bed, the influx of information causing his legs to feel week. “How long ago was that?”

“Beginning of August.” You confessed.

“Christ.” His voice was a whisper, head in his hands. He put the pieces together on his own. It was the sole explanation for your distance, he concluded. “I don’t think I can function knowing you’re going to be there every weekend.”

The spot on the bed beside him was no longer available, having been occupied by you. When you put a comforting hand on his arm, didn’t move away this time. “Well, I’m moving to Mercedes next year.”

He looked up, mouth parted. “That’s… good- yeah I’m really happy for you.” He congratulated, and he meant it.

You laid your head on his shoulder. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left, yeah?” You suggested.

A warm sensation bloomed across Max’s shoulder. Your tears, he quickly realized. He let his own flow free now, and agreed with you, whispering out a, “yeah.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen angst #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #mv33 #mv1

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sinnabarmoth · 23 hours ago

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Taking Care

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes)

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Sylus) (Xavier) (Zayne)

You hadn’t heard from Rafayel in a couple days which was…concerning. For someone that got upset when you forgot to text him at least once a day his radio silence was baffling. You texted, you called, but nothing. You even tried asking Thomas but he just shrugged and said that sometimes when Rafayel was working on a new piece he went full hermit mode. No one but the food delivery driver was going to see him.

You decided that just wouldn’t do. You knew how Rafayel was and you would not put it past him to forget to eat or sleep because he was too in the zone while working. So you went to the store to buy some ingredients for a home cooked dinner and went to his place. You let yourself in using the spare key he had given you and wandered in. No signs of life in the living room or kitchen. You put the groceries away and went to the studio.

Sure enough, there he was. He was sat in the middle of the floor hunched over a canvas. There was some old half eaten food containers shoved off to the side and various sketches scattered around the floor.

“Raf,” you said, “Still alive over there?”

He sat up straight and you could hear his bones crack as he straightened. You could see him wince as he stretched and turned to look at you. “Oh hi,” he said, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone, I came to check on you.” you got closer and noticed that his entire person was covered in smudges of paint both fresh and dried. His hair was greasy and lank, and there were huge bags under his eyes. There was also an undeniable funk coming off of him that made your nose wrinkle. “Good thing I did too. What on earth are you doing?”

“Inspiration called and I had to answer.” he gestured to the painting. “She’s nearly done. I’ve been adding the finishing touches.”

“Okay. Glad to know you’ve been working hard but this is too much. You smell terrible and when was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t need sleep.”

“Yes, you very much do.” you held out your hand, “You can finish your painting tomorrow. You’re mine tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Not in that way. Come on.” you hauled him to his feet and pulled him into the bathroom.

“Cutie, this really isn’t necessary--”

“Raf, sweetie,” you cupped his face, “You don’t look well. I knew there was a chance you weren’t taking care of yourself but I didn’t realize it was this bad. Now come along, we’re gonna get you cleaned up, I’m making us dinner, and then you are going to bed. Got it?”

“I know better than to say no to you.” he smiled. “What do you want me to do first?”

“You can start by brushing your teeth and having a shave, you’re stubbly.” you turned him to the sink. “I’m gonna draw you a bath.”

After he had finished you ordered him to strip and get in the tub. There was a cheeky offer to join him but you shook your head and told him he wasn’t getting anything like that until after he had a full night’s sleep. You did however sit at the edge of the tub and reclined his head back so you could wash his hair and massage his scalp. A deep sigh of satisfaction left him as you gently lathered the grease out of his hair. You left him to dry himself off and went to the bedroom to grab a change of clothes and threw his dirty clothes in the wash.

He looked so much better. “There’s my clean soft boyfriend again.” Without having to worry about his bad breath you pulled him down and gave him a kiss, little droplets of water from his still wet hair dripped onto your hands. “Feeling any better?”

“Much.”

“Good. Now come along. I’m gonna get dinner started.”

“Want any help?”

“No. You’ll just slow me down. You can pick out a movie for us to watch though.” you pulled him into the living room and sat him down on the couch. “Stay.”

“Yes ma’am.” he gave a little salute and turned on the TV. You went into the kitchen and started cooking. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just some simple porridge that was filling and hearty.

As you were cooking you kept glancing over at Rafayel just to make sure he was still doing okay. It broke your heart seeing how little he was taking care of himself. Was this what he was like before? How many times had he done something like this? Did Thomas pull him out of his spirals or did he end up just crashing and took care of himself after he got some actual sleep? You didn’t want to know. He had you now and you weren’t going to let him keep up these kinds of bad habits. Inspiration be damned! His health mattered more to you.

Once the food was ready you handed a large serving over to him, threw a blanket over your laps, and settled down to watch the movie he had picked. “Thanks for doing all this. It wasn’t necessary though. I was fine.”

“You were most decidedly not fine, Raf.” you ran a hand through his hair. “You looked like death warmed over and smelled just as bad. It’s not just you anymore, you have to take better care of yourself, doesn’t matter about inspiration. I want you healthy. And if you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself then I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m glad to have such an attentive caretaker.” he leaned his head on your shoulder. “I might just fall asleep right here.”

“Not until after you eat.” you picked up a spoonful of porridge and brought it to his mouth. “Eat.”

“You’re also a very no nonsense kind of caretaker.” Rafayel sighed but happily opened his mouth to accept the porridge.

“I don’t mess around when it comes to caring for what I love.” you kissed the top of his head. “Now keep eating, we’ll go to bed in a bit.”

After dinner was eaten and the movie finished Rafayel was really close to nodding off. He had started slipping about three quarters of the way through the film. When you asked him if he wanted to go to bed he shook his head and said he wanted to finish the movie first. You figured he was just too comfortable curled up next to you to want to move. But when the credits started rolling you dragged him off to the bedroom so he could have a sleep in a proper bed.

You snuggled in next to him, holding him close. “Good night, Raf. Sweet dreams.”

“So long as you are here, I know they will be.” he sighed, his eyes slipping closed. “I love you.”

You smiled and kissed his sleeping face. “Love you too.”

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #letterbox prompt

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that-one-anxious-mango · 2 days ago

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sweet negotiations

summary: terry finds himself in a series of negotiations and comforts with his wife after a key asset in their home is compromised.

pairing: terry richmond x black reader (Dallas)

content: fluff, allusions to nsfw acts, some mild crying (hormones)

a/n: hello there and welcome! after looking for some more fluffy terry fics and almost crashing out when I couldn't find them, I decided to just start writing some that will all take place in the same universe titled ' thunder and lightning', which will follow you, terry, and the antics of domestic and kinky married life. this is the first of many to come. so enjoy, like, comment, and reblog :)

" I said no." Terry, his voice soft and tired, sounded off the freshly painted sage green walls of nursery, “ Now, stop pouting and hand me the second screwdriver on the chair, please.”

But instead of moving to fulfil his request, you stay planted in your spot by the door, still pouting, possibly harder now as you looked down to inform your companion of the mistreatment.

“ You hear that, muffin? You hear how Daddy is being mean to us.” You playfully patted at your swollen stomach, while being sure to throw your husband an extra pouty expression—bottom lip puckered and all. “ Why won’t he be nice and feed us, huh?”

In this moment of time you were about five months pregnant with yours and Terry's third child. And while he absolutely adored seeing you like this, barefoot, in one of his old band shirts and low shorts, with a scarf on your head, and thick bifocals sitting neatly at the bridge of your nose as carried his baby. He could do without the sullen expression on your face as an accessory.

“ Baby, ain’t nobody being mean to you by telling you that you can’t have a half a pint of ice cream for breakfast.” Terry's eyes glance at you, before turning his attention back to the half done wooden crib he was working on. “ Now, if you want me to make you some eggs, toast, or oatmeal. I will. But you ain’t having that this early in the morning.”

“ If at all today. Need to watch what you’re eating more carefully, Mama.” He reminded you. “ Remember what Dr. Kaltura said about watching excess sugar and salt intake. This is serious.”

Quickly the words of your OB flashed through your brain after it had been found that your blood sugar had been a tad higher than she’d liked, a fate that had carried on from your previous pregnancy with your twins into this one.

And of course the minute your husband had caught wind of this, he had come out of retirement from the sugar task force as he now micromanaged and policed every and all things you consumed for the foreseeable future.

“ But Terryyyy.” You whined, “ That’s what both of us want, Poppa.”

Still despite your efforts, he wouldn’t budge.

“No. She doesn’t want that. You do’.” He pointed out, getting up to grab his needed tool,“ Besides, there isn’t anymore anyway.”

“ Yes, he absolutely does. “ You slyly corrected your husband’s wishful thinking, “ And what do you mean there isn’t anymore? Did you throw out my ice cream, Richmond?! Cause I would absolutely hope that’s not what you’re insinuating.”

He sighed, noting the way your eyes turned wild at the thought of your husband touching your beloved sweet treat.

He knew better.

Cause that would be too far and he knew it.

“ No, ma’am.” He simply said, moving back to his work, “ Not this Richmond.”

“ However, our dear Teensy Richmond may have eaten the rest of it last night after dinner for dessert when you went upstairs to take your bath.” He referred to one your soundly sleeping six year old daughters just down the hall.

Immediately a frown found a home on your face as you said, “ Wha—I thought I left out pieces of the pecan pie for ya’ll to have. Why were there cute tiny little grubby hands on my ice cream, Poppa?!!”

You huffed, recalling how you had distinctively cut and plated three different pieces of a pecan pie, one large and two small, for your little family to consume after a delicious dinner of lamb chops and smothered potatoes with smoked asparagus.

“ You did.” He confirmed your thoughts , “ But our baby requested to have her pie…a la mode. Which meant a scoop of some of your rocky road was needed as that was the only ice cream left in the freezer.”

“ And as you know, our Tiny Richmond isn’t too fond of rocky road. So she had hers plain jane with glass of milk.” He furthered his explanation.

And although you wanted to be mad at your baby’s little sweet tooth, you couldn’t be, because she got it honest. Still you couldn’t shake off this strange and sudden feeling of…well sadness…that coursed through your body at the thought of the empty ice cream container sitting downstairs in the garbage.

“ Yeah, but if you only gave Teensy a scoop of it. And Tiny didn’t have any, there should be some left.” You tried rationalizing in the same manner of if Johnny had two apples…

Until it came to you, “ Unless…”

You looked to him and as if he could really read your thoughts, he held a sheepish expression on his face, as he knew what was next to come, “Terrance seriously?!” You hadn’t meant to, but you stamped your feet lightly against the shiny hardwood floor. “ I can’t believe your big eared ass ate my ice cream.”

And just like that your brief moment of sadness has morphed into hormone filled rage.

To which your husband found oddly adorable doing his best to keep a smile off his face, remorse riddled in his tone when he said, “ I’m sorry, Precious. She didn’t wanna eat alone. And since Tiny wasn’t going to have any, I may have had a scoop…or two myself to help finish it off. But it’s okay. We can get more at the store later.” He reasoned, screwing in nut B to pole B.

By now he was expecting his thunderous woman of a wife to do what she does best, which is make noise about the fact that the rest of her brood ate the ‘ one damn thing the baby allows her to keep down’, but instead he was surprised to look over and see you standing there silent—with tears collecting just at the edge of your waterline. Frown deep. Shoulders slumped.

“ Baby….” He called out in a knowing tone, looking at the way your mouth had slightly turned down and your arms had wrapped around your body, “ C’mon now, Precious. It’s alright. ”

But almost as if it was the release words for your tears, you quickly found your fingertips becoming increasingly wet from wiping the streams away from your cheeks as you began to head toward the door. Slightly embarrassed at your lactose driven waterworks.

Getting up with a sigh, he wasted no time making his way over to you, big hands coming to cup your waist and guide you over to the creme rocking chair, moving all the tools on it to the floor.

It didn’t take long for him to sit and guide you on his lap, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while a calloused hand came to rub against the damp soft apple of your cheek.

“ C’mere, pretty baby.” He pecked your lips, tasting the salt of your tears, “ You know I don’t like it when my woman is unhappy. Especially when you’re crying.”

“ I just can’t help it.” You mutter, partially frustrated with your inability to get a hard grasp on your emotions. “ I just really wanted it. And I mean I know it’s not that serious enough for me to be crying over. And it may seem dramatic but- ”

“ But it made you upset and that’s okay. You don’t have to explain or try and justify you wanting to cry to me, Baby. It’s fine.” He affirmed, a hand coming to rub at your belly, “ I know this one has those emotions a tad high, and I’m sure Teensy and I blowing up your ice cream stash ain’t helping.”

A smile fainting at your lips, at the thought of your husband and daughters sitting at the dining room table, talking and laughing over their late night dessert.

“ So once the twins wake up and we have breakfast we can all take a family trip to the store and grab some more, alright?” He said.

“ Mmm. And some more Oreos? And Miss Vickie’s Jalapeño?” You rubbed your eyes before looking at him intently, a smirk playing on his face, “ Ya’ know for the pain and suffering caused.”

“ Hmm. I see.” A hand traveling to your thigh, “ Well for your pain and suffering I am willing to offer you a pint…not a a half baby…but a full pint of rocky road, with a bag of the chips.”

“ Mmm. But what about my Oreos.” You mused.

He shook his head, “ Nope. Not on the table, beloved. Too much sugar.”

“ Mmm. I dunno. Doesn’t sound fair. I mean I already was owed the ice cream. And while the chips are a good gesture of faith. I feel I deserve more for this indiscretion.”

He was silent, still smiling at the determination in your filled out cheeks when he said, “ Fine. Counter offer. Pint of the rocky road, bag of chips, and I’ll throw in a bubble bath and personal back massage from yours truly after dinner.” Your breath hitched, feeling a hand slip underneath your bottom to palm the bit of exposed skin you had peeking from under your night shorts.

“ Just for the record. What kind of massage would this be? ” You coyly inquired, knowing full well what kind he meant.

He moved his mouth to your ear, “ One with a guaranteed happy ending. For us both it seems.”

And how could you deny that?

“ Fine. I accept your counter offer with the added addition that oil will be used for my massage.”

“ Of course m’am. No other way I’d do it.” He assured, rubbing circles in your thighs.

“ Good.” You said.

“ Great.” He one upped, “ Now, how should we close this deal? I say with a kiss.”

“ Mmm. “ You hummed, “ I dunno. I think I may need more than a kiss to seal it. And I also think we may need to try out and see how sturdy this chair is. Ya’ know for safety reasons.”

“ And do you suggest we do that?” His voice low.

“ I dunno.” Your lips find his cheek then his ear, “ We’re already seeing how much weight it can hold, but I wonder how much…rocking or bouncing it can take.”

“ Right, safety reasons.” He mumbled across the skin of your neck, “ Well if that’s the case then—”

“ Poppa? Mommy? ” The little voice called out from the hallway.

“ WHERE ARE YOU?!” Another yelled, ceasing both yours and Terry’s movements completely , and instead invoked laughter amongst the two of you as he helped you climb off of him and shuffle to the door to collect your late night little ice cream bandit and morning hallway screamer.

#tal #terry richmond #Terry Richmond imagine #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre

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hopefullyyoursmcg · 2 days ago

Text

Routine

Motherhood.

Motherhood wasn't something you had planned in your life.

If you graduated university, a normal person’s life goal was to get a job, find a somewhat safe place to sleep under(if that even exists in Gotham City), and follow a reunion while, if you had any, keeping a close connection with your family.

Well, that last one wasn't an option in your case.

Yep, like most middle-class children, you were given the old tradition of losing your parents. In your case, it was your mom. She was a hard-working lady who used to work in big business but, after sleeping with her boss, got pregnant with you. She quit because she didn’t want the child to suffer the consequences of an unloved marriage or a possible hand-over situation.

Your parents had sex sure, but lust and love are two separate things.

Your childhood until your mother's death wasn't too bad. Your mother worked hard at a different business. You were dropped off at a nursery for most of the day, so you weren’t short on friends. At the end of the day, the two of you would eat and play together until it was time to sleep.

It was fine, not perfect but fine and most importanly you were happy.

When your mother died. It was a Friday. You were only 6, she was on a late-night shift and had left you with a trusted old lady that smelled like cat pee but was kind. She had promised you before you left that the two of you would go out to your favorite burger place after your first day of primary school.

That day never happened.

All that’s left of her is her pearl earring. Only one of them, as the burglar that murdered her snatched the other pearl off her ear before running off.

What happened afterward was a blur, the police picked you up, took you to the station, told you what happened, and gave you the hearing after it was processed. You didn’t cry until you saw the earrings. The earrings were a sign that she was dead, and she was never coming back.

How they found out about your father was very surprising. A policeman was told to grab the kid's things while waiting for child services.

While looking for some important documents, they found an envelope that had on its front:

“In case of my death”

The envelope contained a will. It was neat and tidy and straight to the point. Your mother was always two steps ahead and always wanted to be prepared for anything. So she created a trust fund the moment she gave birth to you, just in case something ever happened to you, you’d at least be fine financially. It wasn't a lot but there was an intrest plan included within the trust fund so as you grew so was the money.

That wasn't all, of course, your father was revealed within this letter as well, in the case where you were still underaged when she died, as she had no family of her own.

Bruce Wayne was your biological father.

So what happened after that, well like most neglected reader fics, yours wasn't any different.

Bruce did take you in but this was during the time of Jason's death so emotionally Bruce couldn’t be there for you. Dick was already out of the manor so all you had left was Alfred.

The old man did take care of you yes. He made sure you were full of healthy and delicious food and brought you to places you needed to be like your fancy new school. But Alfred couldn’t always be there which left you to be alone.

One thing you noticed while being alone after a few years is that it hurts. I mean sure your mom had to work late, but at least you had grandma pee (yes you called her that, she thought you were saying the letter p as her name is Penelope), and as soon as she came back all her attention was on you.

Due to this, you grew up and fast. You knew this family wasn't going to include you so why should you bother, I mean as Bruce's army of children grew and grew, it was obvious he could spend time with them. He just didn’t want to spend time with you.

The moment you finish high school, you turn 18, and that was when you can access your trust fund, and with the money you were entitled to you used it for University and studied your ass off.

You had a plan. You were going to graduate, you were going to get a job and then you would be the furthest highest penthouse and you were going to do well in life. Like your mother, you had a stubborn drive and you weren’t going to just lie around.

So after a few years, you did it, you weren’t valedictorian or anything like that, but all that mattered was you graduated Gotham State University with a nice job as a receptionist at this office that was owned by the new founder of a women-only company. The benefits were great, the pay was good and some of your female friends had gotten jobs at the same place at other departments.

You were doing fine. Your friends that you made along the way insisted on going out. To celebrate.

And I mean you earned it, you had just graduated from freaken university you deserved this big break before your boring work life started next month.

So you partied, you got drunk, and there were good-looking men everywhere.

What could possibly go wrong?

A positive Pregnancy test in front you would probably do it.

-----

This is my fist time writing something like this so please forgive me if this is bad. ill delete in a few days if it doesnt feel right.

#Neglegted reader #Singmother reader #Fanfic #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batfamily x reader

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gretagerwigsmuse · 3 days ago

Note

One thing I absolutely love about Bradley and Smart Aleck is how whenever she rides his thigh, he bounces her a little, and that just makes her lose it 🫠

Like, I can see Smart Aleck sitting on his lap while in front of his friends, and him just randomly bouncing his lap and she has to take a moment before saying or doing anything. She would be a mess by the end of the night.

Also, in your Christmas party fic, Bradley mentioned using the Theragun as a vibrator. Imagine him bringing it out and just surprising Smart Aleck with it (I've never used a Theragun, I have only seen it online so I'm not sure if this is completely correct)

this took me a minute to reply to because i wanted to actually write something for you! i was actually in a meeting at work when i first saw the message preview on my lock screen and i stg i was blushinggg so hard 🤭 because my god what a delicious thought!

yes! he’d bounce her just a little, like just enough to get a reaction out of her and get a little whimper out of her. to your point i could picture them in the hard deck and it’s a big deal that she came out with them? more below!

but also the theragun would actually hurt which is something bradley would realize the second he turned his on to even the lowest setting haha. though i do think that he’d randomly be like ‘gun me’ and have her do his back/shoulders 🤭

—————-

“well, look who decided to grace us with her presence this fine evening.”

jake looked even more smarmy than usual as you and bradley approached the group of pilots and partners holding court at a corner table. at the comment, bradley’s hands tightened where they were on your shoulders. it was a bit of a crush in the bar tonight, but he had guided you over without issue.

you completely ignored jake’s comment and his follow up about slumming it that night and greeted everyone - bob, callie, and natasha, as well as sarah costigan, whom jake had presumably dragged along. sarah even tossed you a kind smile in return. granted, she was still annoying and slightly condescending, but she wasn’t that bad. at least she didn’t head off to the jukebox and queue up hall & oates’ rich girl like jake did.

you let bradley slide into the circular booth before you and then sat on the end. being mr protective, bradley normally wouldn’t like having you sit at the end of the booth, but he knew you liked the space and ease of a quick getaway with a lot of people.

and it wasn’t that you didn’t like going to the hard deck. you just didn’t like how crowded and loud it could get on fridays and saturdays, which was when bradley’s friends tended to go. normally, the group would get together at the beach or go for a hike or even to another bar or someone’s house to hang out - and you always tried to attend - but their old standby was the hard deck and those were the nights you typically skipped.

you had been there about an hour when everything took a different turn. everyone was chatting and the music wasn’t too loud yet, and you were in a good mood, which was probably helped by the fact that you were on your third cosmo and bradley his fourth beer.

but then mickey and his girlfriend, cielo, showed up, which meant there were even more people crammed into the already crowded circular booth. you got up to give both cielo and mickey a hug and then the two of them sat down on the other side of the booth. which in turn meant everyone scooted down further towards your side.

scratch that - your side was gone.

all that was left was a sliver of space for maybe one of your bare thighs to find itself plastered against the warm vinyl upholstery. bradley quickly noticed your distress and pulled you half onto his lap. he barely broke his stride, so focused was he on his conversation with bob and callie. or so you thought.

the way he had manhandled you onto his lap was done with little consideration to your pink dress - the same pink dress from your first date some eighteen months ago - and it bunched up between your ass and bradley’s jeans. you sucked in a breath.

oh.

you were still covered, still safe from any risk of indecent exposure, but oh it felt nice having your bare skin brush against bradley’s jeans. the jeans that were stretched across his big, strong, broad thighs. did he realize? did he know?

it was nice sitting on his lap; you were content, happy, warm. safe. it wasn’t something you’d ever done in front of other people before; normally, neither of you were this bold, but you weren’t yourself, it was too loud, too warm, too overwhelming in the hard deck. and bradley knew that. he knew you were fussy. he always knew when you needed to get out of your head.

a few minutes went by and you tuned into various conversations and groups, but you eventually focused back on your little group at the end of the booth with bradley, bob, and callie. they were talking about one of the the college football games on earlier because bob was a big sec fan. at one point, the boys got so animated and bradley got so into gesturing with his hands that you slipped a little in his lap. and then -

and then bradley bounced you.

oh.

he bounced you on his thigh and tightened his arms around you to keep a better hold on you.

“sorry, kid,” he muttered in your ear and then went back to his conversation, completely unaware of the whimper you let out.

oh.

that felt nice. that felt good.

you loved when he bounced you on his thighs.

you loved when he let you ride his thighs.

see bradley liked when you’d have to work hard to get yourself off. sometimes, he made it a punishment. it was torture - he wouldn’t touch you and you’d have to work for your orgasm. you’d get so frustrated.

and once you’d finally reach your peak and your cum would streak across his thigh, he’d sink his fingers - his big, strong fingers - inside your cunt and you’d ride them for another round until you’d get rewarded with his cock.

this time the whimper you let out was a little louder, but still for bradley’s ears only.

“you okay, kid?” he bounced you again.

this time your legs spread a little wider under the table and you shifted in his lap. you were getting flustered, warm. surely the sweat was building at the back of your neck, between your thighs -

“mmhmm, just slipped.” you took a huge sip of your cosmo, hoping to cool yourself down. god, this was so embarrassing. why were you getting like this? it was just a bounce. he hadn’t even meant to do it.

please don’t let him find out.

“yeah?” bradley bounced you again and your breath caught. “can’t have that - here.”

his thumbs dug into the tender flesh by your hips, anchoring you to him. you tried to shift, tried to squirm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“th-thanks.”

you took another sip of your cosmo. it was almost done, that had to be why you were reacting this way. three drinks normally made you tipsy, but not drunk, so it had to explain your flustered state and your heightened sense of arousal.

he knew. he had to know. he had to know how wet you were. how your pussy was clenching on nothing. how you wanted him to take you out of here and let you ride him in the car. maybe he’d finger you against the bronco like he did that night all those months ago?

bradley turned back to the group. “hey, why don’t you tell bob and callie about that project you’re kicking off at work?”

“oh. it’s not - it’s not really that exciting -”

“she’s lying,” bradley squeezed your hip, “come on, tell them about the projecting you’re presenting in london.”

callie gasped. “london? again? oh, i’m so jealous! how long are you going to be gone?”

“just a - a couple days. they’re scaling this project i did in the US for the EMEA market. just a - a presentation.”

somehow, when bob asked where you were staying and if you were doing anything fun while you were there, you managed to give an almost coherent answer. almost coherent.

but then you turned the tables back on the two of them and asked if they were excited for their trip to see callie’s parents in bryn mawr. you didn’t know much about the area baring the fact that mary once went out there to interview for a teaching position, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyway since you could barely focus on the last minute details for callie’s sister’s wedding because of bradley’s stupid hands.

the first time he did it, you didn’t think much of it. okay so he took a sip of his beer and fiddled with the glass before he put his hand on your thigh. it was cold, no big deal.

but then he did it again when callie mentioned the gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses. and again when bob praised callie’s speech draft. and again when they mentioned the welcome party on thursday was scheduled around the eagles’ game.

it was cold and you could feel your nipples hardening and your breath coming in faster and god - could everyone tell? did they notice? you didn’t want them to notice, you just wanted bradley to notice.

feeling bold, you tried to trap his cold hands between your thighs, but when bradley yanked his hand away, you almost lost your balance. and what else was he supposed to do but bounce you and get you settled back on his lap. he growled a warning in your ear.

oh god. you wanted it louder, you wanted it just for you. you weren’t wearing a bra, could anyone tell? you hoped bradley could tell.

you hoped bradley bradley knew.

(you hoped daddy knew.)

the promise of what was to come was getting to be too much. you could have blamed it on the cosmos, the noise, the heat, the number of people, but it really was just one thing - bradley.

bob and callie were talking to natasha now, so it was just you and bradley at your end of the table.

“bubs?” you looked over your shoulder to meet bradley’s eyes and knew he was just as wrecked for you as you were him. “please?”

he cocked an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug. “aww sweetheart, why didn’t you just say you wanted to leave?” all the condescension did was make you want him more.

before you could respond, before you could try and say something clever, he cleared his throat and directed his next words to the entire table.

“‘think the kid and i are gonna head out.”

it only took a few moments to say your goodbyes - hugs from those who were easily able, waves to those who were not - and then you and bradley started meandering your way to the bar.

once again, after he paid your tab, bradley guided you out of the bar with a his hands on your shoulders and a broad presence at your back. you whimpered at the thought of him inside you, your big, broad, beautiful boyfriend inside you, telling you that you were a good girl for him. such a good slut for him. for daddy.

it had been a couple months since you’d first said it - said daddy - but it still made your pussy clench and your heart beat wildly.

the moment you were out in the cool parking lot, you sighed back against his chest. the pulsating music that once felt too loud was not a calming presence away from the chaos.

“atta girl, you did such a good job with my teasing.” his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close so you could feel how much he wanted you. “you ready for your reward?”

“yes, daddy.”

———————

half an hour later, on their way way out, bob, callie, and natasha didn’t even notice that bradley’s car was still in the parking lot even after the two of you supposedly left.

they also didn’t notice that the windows were fogged up. or that one of your sandals was on the ground by the driver’s seat door. 🤭

#bradley fic #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x reader

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justhereforsubsevika · 3 days ago

Note

tw, sorry if this is a little sensitive but can you do one where sevika deals with a suicidal reader? I've been going thru alot recently and it would be nice to have a fic abt it ^^

TW mentions of SH and suicidal thoughts/attempts

Yes ofc, sorry if this is inaccurate to anyone, I'm drawing from my own experience here

"Oh honey, I..." Sevika looks down at your wrist. You cringe and look away, look anywhere, a pit in your stomach that deepens, seems to hollow out and drain you of your insides. "It's nothing, I'm fine," you attempt, but tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. You can't retract your arm because Sevi's holding it there, her strength prevailing over yours. "It's not... baby did I do something?"

The question breaks you, has you crumpling to the ground. Of course she'd blame herself, everything's always her fault. She joins you on the floor, bundling you up in her arms. You feel tears fall onto the top of your head, her lips pressing kisses wherever she can manage. You can tell she's panicking, and it makes the hole in your stomach worsen.

"Can you tell me-"

"Can we not... can we not talk about it. Just this moment." You say weakly, your tears gathering on her shoulder. She huffs out a breath, tucking your head into her neck. "I'll make some tea. Go lay down baby."

*****

She flicks on the lights in the bedroom and sits at the foot of the bed, handing you a mug filled with your perfect brew. You smile at how well she knows you, the colour just right, the sweetness perfect.

"Tell me?" She tries, offering you a comforting smile.

"I just... I haven't been feeling right... again... and I'm... I just think, maybe.... you know... it'd be easier if I just... If I wasn't around." You say it so quietly, so slowly, you're unsure if you were even intelligible. She nods and sets your cups down onto the nightstand, gathering you up in her arms again like she has to prove to herself that you are, infact, still around. She stays like this for a while, swaying you gently, staring into space.

"Baby," she starts, her voice catching in her throat, "I can't lose you. Maybe that's the most selfish thing to say to someone who wants to... yeah, well, if my being selfish keeps you around then I'm going to be selfish. I need to hear that stupid laugh when I tell a dad joke that doesn't land with anyone but you. I need to smell burning in the morning of every valentines because you've attempted to cook. I need to feel obligated to take a picture of every cat I see on my way to and from work." She sighs and turns to look at you.

"I have lost so much fucking family," tears start to roll down her cheeks, "you and Vi are all I have. I will do anything to keep you with me. I don't care if I have to stay up 24 hours a day to ensure you're not hurting yourself. I don't care if I have to follow you around like your shadow. Baby, you can't leave me. You're the most precious thing I know."

You sob into her chest, body wracked with guilt that you've put her through this. "I'm sorry, Sevi honey I'm so sorry,"

"Don't apologise, don't you fucking dare apologise. I'm so proud of you for telling me honey, now I know, now we can get help can't we?" You nod against her and hold her closer. You know she won't make it all better, make it all go away, but you feel slightly more whole knowing she'll be there to lift you up, there to hold your hand.

If you're in the UK you can contact Switchboard to talk about these thoughts, they're an lgbtq+ charity so will suit your needs if that's what's brought on your feelings.

There are tons of places to call. And I know you feel alone, G-d do I know that feeling, but you aren't. You have people who care about you. You have one in me. G-d bless and stay safe sweetheart.

#sevika #sevika arcane

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 days ago

Note

While I’m not actively reading it, I always want you to have the motivation to finish fics, so here’s some for Firelight!

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

- Sarah

Thank you so much!

135 or 1k for 🌲:

---

“But I didn’t want… I always wanted to come home…” Chris says.

“Course you did,” Buck exhales.

He feels relieved. Relieved that, if she’d never intervened, it would have never been this bad. Eddie screwed up. Yes. Badly. No denying that. Buck won’t try to make it sound better than it was. Even he felt frustrated with Eddie over the whole thing, even if he’d understood where it came from. But this? This means they were going to figure it out. They were going to work through it, if not for Helena and Ramon. Buck hopes they still can.

“When I told her I didn’t think I wanted to stay longer than the summer…” Chris takes a deep breath. “It got bad.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs and mumbles something.

“Chris, I… I can’t hear you.”

Christopher’s brows furrow.

Buck feels sort of guilty. It’s probably hard enough to talk about this without being told to speak more clearly.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I… I need you to speak a little bit louder. And, uh… Maybe more at me. Otherwise, I-I won’t-”

“Did something happen?” Chris asks. “To your hearing?”

Buck nods.

“Yeah, bud. It did. I, uh… I’m supposed to be wearing hearing aids now.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “That’s cool. Don’t they have Bluetooth ones now? You could, like, ignore people being boring and listen to an audiobook and pretend you’re paying attention.”

Buck snorts. “This is why your dad was nervous to let you take AirPods to school.”

Chris smirks. “Well, you can.”

“The point is,” Buck says. “I’m just going to need a little help from you there until I get my hearing aids back.”

“Where are they?” Chris asks.

“Your dad was holding onto them,” Buck says. “We found out that the brain control stuff your grandma was doing? Well, you have to hear her voice. More clearly than I can hear without my hearing aids, apparently.”

Chris nods. “Sometimes she sounded kind of like music. And then… Then I would start to forget things, and I’d have to do what she said, and I never knew how much time had passed.”

“She did that to you when you asked to go home?” Buck asks.

He nods. “It got really bad… I remember one time I was confused. I called Dad. She caught me. Made me say awful things I didn’t want to say. And then… I… I don’t know when that was.”

“A couple of weeks back,” Buck says.

“Dad told you?”

Buck nods.

“Was he really upset?” Chris asks.

Well… That’s a complicated question. Buck doesn’t want to lie. He also doesn’t want to overly upset him.

“Uh, yeah,” he settles on. “He didn’t know what she was doing. But he knows now, what she did.”

Chris sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not to blame,” Buck says firmly. “Can I ask… Why did she start hypnotizing your grandpa, too?”

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “I heard them arguing. He wanted me to do what I wanted to do.”

Buck nods. “Okay, that… That tracks.”

“Why?” Chris asks.

“She seems pretty, uh… Unhappy with him.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “Yeah.”

“Listen, Chris,” Buck says. “There’s something else we have to talk about.”

“What?” Chris asks nervously.

“Your dad asked asked me to get you away from there and keep you safe,” Buck says. “But I’m not leaving him. I’m not risking you, but I’m not leaving him.”

“I don’t want you to leave him,” Chris says. “I… I need him. I want to go home.”

“You will,” Buck says. “I promise. You know me, Chris. Would I ever leave him behind?”

Chris shakes his head. “No. You never give up.”

“I never give up,” Buck agrees. “So I’m going to find a way to get your dad back. But that means, I need you to be brave, too. Because I think it’s still… I think there are some scary things left before this is solved.”

“I can do it,” Chris nods. “For Dad, I can.”

Buck smiles. “You’re so brave, bud. Way more brave than I was at fourteen.”

Chris just shrugs. Like it’s not a good thing. It isn’t a good thing. He’s been brave too many times, for his short life.

“Okay, uh…” Buck struggles. “When we find your dad, there’s something important you have to know ahead of time. So that when you see him, you’re not scared.”

Chris narrows his eyes. “Why would I be scared of Dad?”

#daisies and briars writes #firelight fic

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cyb3rk1tt13g1rl · 23 hours ago

Text

If we’re gonna do anything, we might as well just fuck

Summary: You and Hamzah are best friends, but after a smoke sesh leads to a conversation about sex, feelings arise between the two of you.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, usage of weed, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, choking, dirty talk, toys, gagging

Author's note: This is my first time writing in YEARS. The last time I wrote a fic was in like middle school. Due to the lack of hamzah fanfiction (I’ve literally read all of them), I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands😈. I also made it fast paced cause I struggle with building up to the moment so forgive me💔. I also didn’t proofread so forgive me for that as well.

Word count: 1399

“I just think that sex is a beautiful thing. I mean, it's two people coming together with their only goal being pleasure” I say after taking a hit of the joint Hamzah rolled for me. He never lets me roll, in his defense I am pretty shit at it.

“I feel like everytime we’re high, all we seem to do is talk about sex” Hamzah replies, shortly after also taking a hit of his joint.

“Maybe we can do more than just talk about it?” I say with a slight smirk on my face.

Hamzah looks at me, smoke slightly blocking the view of his eyes. The truth is, I’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. I mean, how could someone not? He’s kind, funny, understanding, and has amazing biceps. Sometimes at night when I masterbate I imagine his bicep around my throat as he’s pounding into me relentlessly.

”Y/n… you’re high.”

”So? You’re telling me that you’ve never wanted to see naked? I mean come on, if we’re gonna do anything… we might as well just fuck.”

”God…” Hamzah says, blowing out a sigh.

“You have no idea what you do to me, y/n.”

In a flash, he’s on top of me. My back is pressed onto my living room floor, the spot we always sit at when we have our smoke sessions. His chest presses up against me, and I can feel his bulge start to grow. As his lips meet mine harshly, my hips start to grind on him, desperately searching for any form of friction.

”If you keep doing that, we won't make it to the bedroom.” He says as he places his hands on my waist, locking them in place.

Biting my lip, “That’s ok, the floor is comfy enough” I replied.

His lips meet mine again, even harsher this time somehow. My hands start to roam around his body, trying to memorize every muscle. My hands slowly make their way down to his cock. Teasingly, I slide two fingers slightly into the elastic of his underwear.

”Ok, that’s enough” he says as he lifts me up, and starts making his way to my bedroom.

Without remorse, he shoves me onto the bed, and rips off my pajama shorts, along with my lacy underwear.

“God, y/n. Even more perfect than what I imagined.”

”Please, do something” I beg him.

”So needy, aren’t you? What do you need from me? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

”Please, please, I need your tongue on my clit. So bad. Need it so bad, H.”

With that, he kneels down, kissing the inside of my thighs teasingly.

”Hamzah, I need you right now.”

His eyes meet mine while he’s still leaving wet kisses on my thighs.

”I see you don’t like it slow.” He says as his mouth finally makes contact with my needy clit.

”Oh my god, Hamzah, yes.” I moan out.

His mouth and tongue work relentlessly, and when he enters a finger inside me, I scream out his name.

”Yes, y/n. Scream out my name. Let the neighbors know who this pussy belongs to.”

”Yes, Hamzah. Like that, don’t change anything. Gonna cum.” I groan out as my hands find their way to his curls. My head falls back involuntarily, with my eyes closed.

”Keep your eyes on me. Want to see your face as you cum. Wouldn’t want to punish you, would we?” He tells me.

Oh, but we would.

Refusing to look back at him, he rips his finger out of me, along with removing his mouth from my nerves.

He slaps my pussy, making me moan out even louder.

“Oh, you like that? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”, he says, slapping it again.

His mouth finds its way back to where I need him most, and with a few more licks, and sucks, I cum.

”Fuck, Hamzah!” I scream out as he helps me ride through my orgasm.

”Please fuck me. I need your cock in me so bad. Want to be your slut.” I beg.

Without saying a word, he rips his pants off, then takes off my shirt, following with my bra.

”Fuck, y/n.” He says as he eyes me up and down.

”Get on the bed. Want to ride you.” I say.

As Hamzah gets on the bed next to me, I straddle him. Before I since I sit on him, I scoot myself down a bit so that my face is perpendicular to his hard cock.

“This is a sight I could get used to”, Hamzah tells me as his hands grab my hair, makeshiftting a hair tie.

Taking his length into my hand, I pump him a few times before my tongue makes contact with his tip.

Rolling my tongue around in circles for a bit, I finally but my mouth around his tip.

”Jesus fuck, y/n. That’s so good.”

Due to his praise, I move my mouth further down until it hits the back of my throat, making my eyes water. With a slight gag, I remove my mouth, pumping him with the saliva left over.

He looks so good. His eyes are red and glossed over. Hair a little messy from my hands.

Removing my hand, I finally straddle him.

Before he enters me, I reach over to my nightstand.

”Oh, I have a condom in my wallet.” He says as he tries to get up. My hands push him down, forcing him to lie back down.

”That's ok. I wasn’t looking for a condom” I reply, pulling out my vibrator.

”Are you on the pill?”

”Yes. And I haven’t had sex with anyone without a condom. I’m ok with not using a condom if you are.” I reply, as I fidget with the vibrator.

”Yes, absolutely yes I’m ok with that. I also haven’t had unprotected sex so I’m clean.”

“Perfect.” I smile at him.

FInally, I positioned his tip to my opening.

”Oh, god” I moan as I feel him stretching me out.

”Fuck y/n. You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Bouncing on him, I get more comfortable and turn on my vibrator.

Positioning it on my clit, my head falls back.

”Fuck y/n. I love being inside you. So fucking perfect. Like your pussy was made just for me.”

As I continue riding him, he notices that I start getting tired as my thrusts get slower.

He grabs my hips and flips us over so that my back is against my bed. He stands on his knees, grabbing my left ankle, and placing it on his right shoulder.

I’ve never had sex like this. It’s like he can read my mind about everything I want.

As he grabs my throat with his left hand, I’m convinced he’s actually a mind reader.

The feeling of him thrusting into me without mercy, the vibrator on my clit, and his hand on my throat makes the familiar unraveling euphoria build.

My hands grab his wrist that’s on my throat, and with that he strengthens his grip.

”You’re so pretty, y/n. Don’t know how I’ve held back for this long. Could cum just thinkin’ about you.”

“Please don’t don’t stop, gonna cum” I scream out.

”Hold on just a bit, I’m almost there.”

When his thrusts start to slow and he starts to groan more and more, i place my hands on his chest, slightly scratching him with my nails.

When he groans louder in response, I scratch harder.

”Fuck y/n. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He places a hand on my tit, with my nipple in between in pointer and middle as if it was the joint he was smoking earlier.

With the last few thrusts, I cum, and shortly after he does too.

”Fuck, could stay here forever.” Hamzah tells me.

”I’m fine with that.” I reply with a dazed smile.

When he tries to exit from me, i wrap my legs around his waist, pushing him back in, making him wince in pain and pleasure.

”Stay in me, please. Feels nice.” I ask

”Ok” he says with a toothy smile.

He bends down, kissing at my neck and tits interchangeably until his head meets my chest.

”I never want to move from here.” I told him.

”Let’s just sleep like this.” He replies, kissing my skin afterwards.

And sleep like that we do.

Another authors note: please be nice y’all this is my first time writing smut❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹.

#slushy noobz #hamzah #hamzahthefantastic #the 1975 #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzah fic #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzahsmut

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