#and. well. we got through the first two days but. there are still five more.

[em1989ts]

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞

five hargreeves x reader smut

word count: 1.9k

warnings: enemies to lovers smut 18+, five and reader are 20, kinda switch! five? idek, choking, fingering, unprotected piv

summary: you and five return to elliot's after a failed attempt at reaching reginald at the mexican consulate, leading to a fight that leads to a little more...

author's note: i need to come up with some new stuff cause pretty much every single fic has the same dynamics but i just love it so much i can't stop lol, also i'm still working on a request but it made me think of this so i got a little distracted lol

not proofread

“It’s your fault he got away in the first place.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You and Five, your bothersome partner at the time traveling agency known as The Commision, were making your way up the stairs back up to Elliot’s place. 

After failing to save the world back in 2019, Five managed to muster up enough energy to time travel with you and his siblings to get you all out of danger. He ended up dropping you and his family off at different points in time between 1960 and 1963 in Dallas, Texas. 

You had only gotten here two days before he did, staying in Elliot’s giant home and sifting through his enormous collection of conspiracies. It was you who accidentally planted that alien idea in his head when he watched you use your power. Whoops. 

“You were the one who got all soft on seeing your daddy again that you gave up our hiding spot and made him run off,” you retorted. 

You made your way over to the door before Five blinked inside without you. Hearing his footsteps walk away, you sighed and pulled the key you had borrowed out of your pocket and opened the door. Five blinked the two of you a majority of the way here, as far as his energy could take you, leaving Diego and Lila behind to walk all the way here. 

“And we could’ve caught up with him if you would just hold your own,” he scoffed, already having poured himself a cup of coffee and heading into Elliot’s living room. 

“You think I can’t hold my own? How many goddamn times have I saved your ass while you were getting beat down, Five?”

You were getting even more pissed, raising your voice now as you walked over to him angrily. 

“Not to mention you only had to deal with one of those assholes while I had to fight two! In heels! And even after you tossed your guy out the window, you just blinked off! Some partner you are.” 

You pushed him a little as you emphasized your words. Of course, he was a good partner when it mattered, he did save your life after Vanya blew up the moon after all. But it sure seemed like he didn’t care about you at all in moments like this. 

He almost lost your balance when you put your hands on him, spilling his coffee over the side of the mug. Setting it down, he turned to you with an angry glare and shoved you back. 

“Well don’t go thinking you can fight me now, Y/N,” he said, almost daring, “Because trust me, you won’t win-” 

As he was finishing his sentence you took a fast swing to the side of his face, before he caught it and blinked you both into the small guest room that Elliot lended you both. 

He twisted your arm back and threw you forward onto the wooden floor. The room was dim except for a warm tiffany lamp on the bedside table. The air was clear and warm due to the open window, letting in the sounds of Dallas nightlife. 

You landed rough on your hands and knees. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked another fight considering you were still sore from earlier, but you weren’t going to back down now. 

After looking up at him for a moment, all smug yet still awaiting your next move, you quickly got up and tackled him, thinking it’d be easier on you to take this fight down to the ground. 

Five braced himself from your impact and blinked, not wanting to hit the hard floor, and you both landed onto the guest bed. The anger in your eyes never left as you landed a punch right on his cheek, your might distracting you from your new position. 

Before you could pull your arm back to hit him a second time, he wrapped his fingers around your forearm and used his other hand to grab you by the throat. 

A whimper left you as he tightened his grip, cutting off your airway. Bringing up your other hand, you tried to peel his fingers off your neck. Yet he didn’t let up, his fingers getting tighter and tighter, waiting for you to tap out. 

You inevitably did, your muscles way too tired to fight this stupid battle, as you tapped your hand on his wrist to get him to release you. 

When he let go, you brought your hand to your neck, massaging where his harsh grip once was as you caught your breath quickly. 

You hadn’t fully taken in your position, but Five sure had. 

He watched you as you laid on top of him, crading him, sitting just where he wanted you to. 

You looked dazed, all red in the face, hair a little messed up, chest raising as you panted heavily, his hormones had been driving him insane ever since the two of you traveled back and landed in your 20 year old bodies. 

It took you another moment to get the blood flowing through your brain again, but once it did, it acknowledged how you were sitting on top of him, pressing against a growing bulge in the front of his dress pants. 

Your breathing slowed more as you looked down to where your crotch met his before meeting his eyes. He stared at you with nothing more than lust darkening his irises and a flush on his cheeks. 

A smile crept on your face as you looked at him beneath you, eyeing his lips slightly before leaning forward, lowering yourself and meeting them with yours. 

His lips moved with yours perfectly as he pushed further into the kiss. He was about to move his hands to entangle them in your hair, but you had taken them in your hand and brought them up over his head.  

The kiss was definitely messy. Tongues clashing and lip biting, you were surprised neither of you drew a little blood. 

You felt him trying to assert dominance in your mouth as you fought right back, his hands remained held together until suddenly he blinked free. 

You landed on the bed, confused for a moment until you saw a blue flash in the corner of your eye. His hands landed on your shoulders, strongly flipping you onto your back, maneuvering himself to be in between your open legs, and immediately latching onto your neck, causing you to let out a gasp at the sensation. 

Instead of holding them above your head, he grasped both your hands in one of his and held them to your chest, reaching down under your pleated sixties skirt, feeling you through your underwear. 

“A little fight gets you this wet?” he teased softly as he nipped at your neck. 

You bit your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting any more noises out of you. The fact that you were this wet for him was already bruising your ego.

He peeked up to see the look on your face, admiring the struggle he was putting you through as he slowly rubbed your slit through your panties while sucking harsh marks into your neck. 

He moved the damp fabric to the side, coating his fingers in your slick, before stuffing them into you. The little gasp you let out satisfied him but not to the extent to which he would’ve liked, so he kept at it, moving his fingers through you, reaching that deep spot that made your eyes roll back in pleasure. 

Once he picked up the pace, he could tell it was getting harder for you to keep quiet, with the tiniest of whimpers leaving your lips. The palm of his hand met your clit as the pressure became too much. You turned your head into the soft pillow which your head laid upon to stifle your noises. 

He didn’t like this however, as he let go of your hands in front of your chest and grasped your chin instead, squeezing your cheeks slightly to keep your mouth open. 

At this point it was no use. The pressure built up inside you as he planted kisses on your neck, with little teases of encouragement, telling you you let go, which you did. 

Moans, pleading, and chants of curses spilled from your open mouth as the growing pleasure finally gave in, letting you come hard all over his fingers. 

He let you ride out your high slightly as he admired your face. The usual stern and angry look you usually addressed to him was long gone, now replaced with a dazy, flushed look with dilated pupils as wide as saucers. 

He removed his fingers slowly, before flipping up your skirt and pulling your underwear off entirely, before unzipping his pants and pausing before he lowered his own underwear. 

Leaning back down to kiss you softly, he made sure you were okay with continuing. Once he received your quick, eager nod, he finally released himself after being restrained against his tightening boxers for so long. 

As he leaned over you, you observed him closely. His dark hair now messy, his usually cold green eyes now softened, you’ve never seen Five look so not put together but you loved it. 

Him sliding inside you broke you out of your thoughts. He fell into the crook of your neck once again as he groaned at the feeling of your walls surrounding him, your warmth was too much. Your head dipped back, almost hitting the headboard as you didn’t even bother stopping yourself from letting out whimpers every time he hit that spot. He quickly rutted into you as you both didn’t want to waste any time before getting to that high that your hormonal bodies have been craving ever since your consciousnesses had been thrown into them in 2019. 

Although the two of you weren’t that rough, you could still hear the headboard knocking into the wall every time he thrusted into you, but your mind felt mushy with the pleasure and couldn’t come up with the words to say anything. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were panting each other's names and you felt the pressure built up again. You came loudly, squeezing him before he came too, pumping himself into you at a slowing pace before he stilled. 

The two of you were wrapped up in each other, panting into each other's faces, gasping as he pulled out slowly. 

You both quickly cleaned up and fixed your disheveled clothing, not making eye contact just yet, not knowing what this meant between you. 

Five ventured outside the room first, you were worried that maybe Diego or Lila overheard and were going to endlessly tease you both over the fact that the tension between you finally snapped. 

But instead, you heard your new acquaintance/host awkwardly question Five about alien procreation. 

~~~

[socialitesleuth]

:COMMS BEGIN:

Lady P,

Sorry for the early morning comms, hope this doesn’t wake you too early - I make it just after 5 your time.

We’re just finishing up a mission in the Persian Gulf - a luxury hotel collapsed overnight, on an island just offshore Doha. Only built two years ago, whole place is pretty new and shiny.

Been a rough night, Pen - fifteen we were too late to help, including two kids. Just families on vacation...

Anyway, victims are saying they felt tremors, it certainly looks like a quake from the debris now the sun is up and J is absolutely confident it came from beneath the sea bed (absolutely being a rather irritated direct quote, so I’m not asking again).

But… this isn’t a quake hot zone. It doesn’t make any sense, and there haven’t been any aftershocks either while we’ve been working. Five can’t get a good read because of the debris and mineral interference underground. The whole place is on top of the enormous old oil fields, and it sends the scanners haywire.

The company that owns the hotel has set my squid sense off though. Name’s Fulcra, I’ve sent you the profile on them. Ran by a guy named Randall Price. He’s a venture capitalist from Houston originally, but the company’s HQ is a London address. That’s as far as I’ve managed to get.

They own a couple of the small artificial islands around here that are being used as tourist hotspots. Think luxury waterfront villas on stilts kinda stuff, the hotel that’s collapsed was the biggest. Nice place, high end, lots of good dive spots.

This area’s all under a World Heritage protected marine environment permit for a biosphere reserve. They’ve spent decades trying to replenish the mangroves and coastal vegetation after what the oil fields and production did to the waters here, the aquatic populations are only just starting to rise comfortably. I didn’t understand how they even got permission for this sort of work but…

They’ve got a giant platform further out in the Gulf that’s supposedly ‘cleaning the sea’ and helping to replenish the sea bed. Seems to be some sort of agreement that they can build these resorts, in exchange for what appears to be green work. I tried to get a proper look at the platform in Four, out of interest, but they’ve got laser nets up. I got an autoturret my way for trying to go any further in the exosuit…

I’d like to think they’re just really protecting that biosphere, but I don’t get a nice eco-friend impression.

My gut says I’m getting Hydrexler vibes, and you were right about that oily CEO last time. I’m not sure I want to be right, but I do want to know what’s going on here… and I thought you might too, as our resident top agent with a passion for all things Earth-saving.

So, I thought I’d hand it over to you, and let you do what you do best - cosying up to the billionaires and getting them to spill the tea.

Lemme know if you know or find anything on them. We’re going to be here another couple of hours, finishing up stabilising the debris field and having another run through, and then heading back. S managed to get the Price guy on comms briefly, but he wasn’t much for talking. Maybe you’ll have more luck.

G 🦑

:COMMS END:

FIRST DATE?

The flickering light and the soft buzz from her compact device caught her off-guard. Penelope, who had positioned herself in an armchair beside her tall windows after giving up on sleep half an hour earlier, sat herself up a little straighter. The blanket which she’d wrapped around herself was pulled tighter to her frame as her eyes read the message.

The hour might have been earlier and, on any other day, Penelope might very well have still been sleeping, but today was different. She rubbed her tired eyes as they scanned Gordon’s words. At first, she’d hoped it had been something akin to a social call. She rather enjoyed those, especially when they came from Gordon, but the more she read, the more Penelope realised it was anything but that.

Her interest peaked as she reached Gordon’s conspiracy.

Her mouth grew dry when she reached Gordon’s information.

The blanket was thrown off her body and Penelope stood. With her comms device still in hand, her eyes still darting from left to right as she continued her reading, she crossed her bedroom and gently tugged on the bell. 

Minutes passed before a very sleepy Parker knocked on her bedroom door. Penelope, having only just finished Gordon’s message, opened it.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Parker, but it seems we have a situation. I need you to cancel my schedule for today and then get me all we have on the company known as Fulcra. CEO is a man named Randall Price.”

“But, m’lady, that’s—”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, Parker. See if you can arrange a meeting of some kind, if that’s at all possible.”

Parker nodded, still more asleep than he was awake, before he trundled off down the hallway to make good of his ladyship’s requests.

Penelope returned to chair by the window and curled herself back up. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as she typed out her reply.

COMMS BEGIN

@squidsinashirt, Thank you for your concern — I shall look into this and get back to you when I

Penelope ceased her typing and sighed. She knew it wasn’t fair to lie to him, not after her sent her looking. A moment or two passed before Penelope deleted her previous sentence and began to re-type it. 

COMMS BEGIN

Gordon,

This company?

I shall look into this as you requested but, I must warn you, you may not like what I find. Randall Price is… let us say a man I am already familiar with, or rather his business is. What I can tell you is that, for the most part, Fulcra is celebrated as a rather clean company, but that doesn’t always mean much — you were right to mention Hydrexler. The Persian Gulf was supposed to remain a protected marine environment, at least that was how I understood it. I’ll ask some of my World Heritage connections what they know too, see if I can get a bigger picture for you.

Give me a couple of days. I’ll try and, what was it you said? Cosy up to the billionaire? Get him to spill the tea? Parker is going to try and get me an appointment but, if that fails, I do have an alternative plan.

Do try and get some rest once you’ve finished up. The mission in Doha sounds like it’s been a terribly distressing situation for all involved. You know I am always here if you need to talk about it. Any of it.

I’ll be in touch once I hear something.

Stay safe, 

Penny x

COMMS END

-------------------------------------

Once upon a time, names held weight. Penelope had thought that Scott’s name had simply been too tied up with International Rescue for Randall Price to give him the time of day… until she too was ushered away once the more difficult questions were asked. From her other sources, Penelope had heard only rave reviews of the company. Yet something felt… off.

It was just after dinner when Penelope began her second message to Gordon.

COMMS BEGIN

It's too clean. Not sure what’s going on but I definitely sense something. Plan B is in operation. Randall Price might not have wanted to speak to me today, but he did invite me to his Charity Ball this weekend — I’ll see if I can find out more then.

I’m hoping you returned home safe and sound and that you managed to have a good rest. I suppose it’s my turn to apologise if this message wakes you. 

Penny x

COMMS END

[musical-chick-13]

:/

[sidras-tak]

Accessibility takes too goddamn fucking long.

My brother was paralyzed in October 2023. We got him home from the hospital (in Texas, when we live in Iowa) in a clunky old hospital chair. He hated it. He was scared and angry and in pain and his life had just changed forever and he couldn’t do anything for himself in that wheelchair. His first goal (aside from learning how to transfer) was to get a wheelchair. My family was lucky enough to afford one so we thought it would be easy enough. Nope.

We couldn’t buy him a wheelchair. He needed a prescription. For a wheelchair. A doctor had to examine him and declare him in need of a wheelchair. It wasn’t good enough that he had scans and tests showing tumors cutting off his spinal cord. He needed his primary care doctor to examine him during a physical and write a prescription. He was making 2-4 transfers a day, tops. He had no energy to get to a doctor. Home health was in and out every day. He had no time to get to a doctor. He didn’t get a prescription for almost a month. Then it had to go through insurance.

We asked if we could skip insurance and just buy a wheelchair for him. Nope. They wouldn’t sell us one, not even at full sticker price. It needed to be approved by Medicare. We ordered a wheelchair, a nice one, a good shade of green, sporty, small. It would let him move around the house. He would be able to cook, to reach drawers and get stuff from the fridge and brush his teeth and put his contacts in at a sink. We were told it would take awhile, maybe two months. Silently we all hoped he would be around to see two more months.

He went on hospice care on a Saturday in March. On Monday, I was calling his friends to come see him before he died. I got a call on his phone. It was the wheelchair company. They were about to order his wheelchair, she said, but there was an issue with insurance— had he stopped being covered by Medicare? Well, yes. When he started hospice care, he got kicked off Medicare. The very nice woman I talked to told me to call her if he resumed Medicare coverage so she could order his wheelchair. He died less than 12 hours later.

We ordered that chair for him in early December. Medicare didn’t approve the order until March. He was dead before they got around to it. He wanted that fucking wheelchair so badly. The only reason he had any semblance of independence and any quality of life for the last five months of his life was because the wheelchair company lent him an old beater chair, a very used model of the chair he ordered. If I could go back and change one thing about his end-of-life, I would get him his dream wheelchair. He told me again and again he couldn’t wait to get it, so that he could feel like a person again. He made the best of what he had with that old beater chair, but it still makes me mad to this day. He was paralyzed. He needed a chair that afforded him dignity. We had the money for it. And yet, we were left waiting for five months, for a chair that wouldn’t even get ordered until the day he died.

[orangeblossomsintheair]

LIONHEART (3/3) — LN4

summary : leo grows up and starts to resemble his dad more and more

wc : 6k

an : the end of the lionheart series! super happy i got this done before ‘25! will probably focus more on smau’s (which i don’t know how to make still) and smut fics! send in ur requests if any :p

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, just bright enough to make the room feel warm and cozy.

You were lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, but the muffled sounds of little feet padding around the house gave away the fact that Leo and Lando were up to something.

The occasional giggle and the faint sound of a door creaking were enough to make you smile.

Then, suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, and in came Leo, his tiny arms struggling to hold onto a bouquet of flowers that were nearly bigger than him.

He was trying to be sneaky, but the excitement in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t succeeding.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama!” he shouted in his sweetest little voice, his face lighting up with pride as he approached the bed. He climbed up, his movements a bit clumsy as he tried to balance the flowers.

You opened one eye, pretending to wake up. “What’s this? A surprise?”

“Yup! I got you flowers!” Leo said, holding them up with the utmost seriousness.

The bouquet was a haphazard mix of roses, daisies, and a couple of wilting tulips that Leo had clearly picked with the help of his dad.

You sat up slowly, smiling warmly. “You did, huh?”

Just then, Lando appeared in the doorway, holding a slightly more organized bouquet.

He gave you a playful wink before stepping inside. “Alright, Leo. Let’s not overwhelm your mom with too many flowers,” he teased, making his way over to the bedside table and carefully setting his own bouquet down.

Leo puffed out his chest proudly. “I told Daddy we needed all the flowers for you, Mama!”

Lando raised a brow. “And I’m sure our garden looks... great now,” he said with a grin, clearly not regretting the decision at all.

Leo gasped in mock outrage. “But you said more flowers means more love, Daddy!”

“And I stand by that,” Lando said, ruffling Leo’s hair. “But maybe we should leave a few for the bees next time, yeah?”

You chuckled, hugging Leo to your chest. “These are perfect, you two. Thank you, my little flower thieves.”

Leo’s eyes lit up at your praise. “You like them, Mama?”

“I love them.” You kissed the top of his head, then glanced at Lando, who was clearly trying not to look too proud of himself. “And I love you, too. You both are the best.”

Lando leaned against the bed frame, crossing his arms. “Well, we did have to outdo ourselves this year. Last year’s breakfast was a disaster.”

You laughed, remembering the chaos of pancakes that ended up on the ceiling and jam everywhere. “I think it was memorable,” you teased. “But I appreciate the effort this year.”

Leo nodded vigorously. “Yeah! We worked so hard!” He held up a sticky hand for a high five. “I helped, Mama!”

You high-fived him, giggling. “I can see that. You’ve got flower arranging down to a party, baby.”

Lando sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at the two of you. “I’d say this is a good start to the day. But don’t get too comfortable, love. I’ve got even bigger plans for you.”

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s next? More flowers?”

“Nope,” Lando said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Something better.” He glanced at Leo. “But that’s a secret for later, buddy.”

Leo furrowed his brows in confusion but nodded seriously, as if he was in on the plan. “We’re gonna make Mama happy!”

You smiled, your heart full as you hugged Leo a little tighter. “You already have.”

After a moment, Leo squirmed out of your arms and clumsily hopped off the bed. He looked up at Lando, eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s next, Daddy? Do we get her more flowers?”

Lando laughed. “Not this time, buddy. Now we get to spoil her a little more. But first, let’s go make sure we don’t burn the kitchen down with breakfast.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as Leo’s face lit up again. “Breakfast!” he exclaimed, already running out the door.

You turned to Lando, still half-laughing, and shook your head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky you love me,” he replied, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “And that’s why I’m going all out today.”

The day unfolded in a series of sweet, chaotic moments.

Leo heavily insisted on helping Lando make you breakfast, which resulted in a kitchen that looked like a tornado had passed through (you made sure to call the cleaner afterwards and ask if she could make a quick stop to your place.)

You were treated to toast with an absurd amount of jam and slightly lopsided scones, served with an enthusiastic “Ta-da!” from Leo.

By late afternoon, you thought the day couldn’t get any better- until Lando gave you a sly smile and told you to go get dressed.

“Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” Lando said, giving you a soft kiss as he grabbed his jacket. “Just trust me. Oh, and wear something fancy tonight.”

“Fancy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

He smirked but didn’t answer, calling over his shoulder, “Leo, remember, do not tell Mama!”

Leo, who had been sitting on the couch swinging his legs, immediately turned to you with wide, excited eyes. “It’s a secret! But you’re gonna look so pretty, Mama!”

You smiled, ruffling his curls. “Oh, am I now?”

Lando groaned from the doorway. “Leo, mate, you’ve gotta stop giving her hints.”

Leo looked confused. “But I didn’t say anything, Daddy!”

By the time you emerged from the bedroom later that evening, Lando and Leo were waiting for you, and the sight made you pause.

Lando was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look stupidly handsome, but what really melted your heart was Leo, standing beside him in a matching tiny version.

His bow tie was slightly askew, and his shiny shoes looked about one step away from being scuffed, but he was absolutely beaming.

“Ta-da!” Lando said, gesturing to Leo with a proud grin. “Look at this little charmer.”

Leo threw his arms in the air. “We’re taking you to dinner, Mama! Daddy said it’s a special night!”

You crouched down to adjust Leo’s bow tie, fighting a smile. “Well, you look very handsome. Both of you.”

“What about me?” Lando asked, tilting his head dramatically. “Do I not get any extra credit for coordinating this masterpiece?”

“You did okay,” you teased, stepping closer to straighten his tie.

“Okay?” he repeated, pretending to look wounded. “Wow. Alright, Leo, looks like I’ll be splitting dessert with you tonight.”

Leo gasped, wide-eyed. “But dessert is for Mama!”

You laughed, scooping Leo up into your arms. “See? Someone knows how to treat me right.”

The car ride to the restaurant was filled with Leo’s chatter, his excitement bubbling over. “What kind of food will they have? Do I have to eat vegetables? Do fancy places have spaghetti?”

“They definitely have spaghetti,” Lando assured him. “But you’ve gotta promise to sit like a proper gentleman, alright?”

Leo nodded seriously, then immediately asked, “Can I have dessert first?”

“No,” you and Lando said in unison, and Leo giggled.

When you arrived, the restaurant was warm and elegant, with soft golden lights casting a cozy glow. The host smiled as he led you to a corner table, and Leo was wide-eyed as he took it all in.

“Wow,” he whispered loudly. “This place is so shiny!”

As soon as you sat down, Leo leaned over to look at the menu in your hands. “What’s that, Mama? And that? Can I eat that?”

“That’s the wine list,” you said, laughing.

“I’ll take a water for him,” Lando chimed in, winking at you. “And maybe something stronger for us?”

Dinner was a mix of clumsy attempts at etiquette and pure laughter. Leo tried his best to use the small fork, copying the way Lando cut his food, though he ultimately gave up and just grabbed his spaghetti with his hands.

“Leo, buddy, we talked about the fork,” Lando reminded him, trying not to laugh as Leo looked up with sauce smeared across his cheek.

“It’s faster this way,” Leo reasoned, shoving another noodle in his mouth.

“Can’t argue with efficiency,” you said, hiding a smile behind your glass.

When dessert arrived, a perfectly plated slice of cake, Leo’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“CAKE!” he shouted, earning a few amused glances from other diners.

“Inside voice, mate,” Lando reminded him, though his grin betrayed any seriousness.

Leo grinned up at you both, his face messy but full of joy. “This is the best day ever!”

Lando leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between you and Leo. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

By the time you left, Leo was fast asleep in Lando’s arms, his little suit slightly rumpled and his curls sticking up in every direction.

“You know,” Lando said softly as he looked down at your son, “I think he might’ve enjoyed tonight even more than you did.”

“Hard to say,” you replied, slipping your hand into his. “But I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

He smiled at you, his voice low and full of warmth. “Happy Mother’s Day, love.”

—

At three years old, Leo was already a miniature version of his dad. His unruly curls were always falling into his aquamarine eyes, and his energy was boundless, much to your amusement and occasional exhaustion.

But nothing captured his attention more than cars, thanks to Lando.

It started innocently enough, little toy cars zooming across the living room floor as Lando explained the basics of racing.

But soon, it escalated into full-blown lessons.

“Alright, mate,” Lando said one afternoon, crouching beside Leo on the carpet. “This is the apex. You’ve got to hit this corner just right, okay? That’s how you win.”

Leo, clutching a bright orange toy car, furrowed his tiny brows in concentration. “Apex?” he repeated, his voice high and curious.

“That’s right! Apex,” Lando nodded seriously, pointing at the curve he’d drawn on a piece of paper taped to the floor. “It’s the fastest way around the track.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying not to laugh as you watched the scene unfold.

“Lando, he’s three,” you reminded him, though there was no real criticism in your tone. “Maybe just let him play with the cars?”

Lando glanced at you with mock seriousness. “This is education. He’s got to start early if he’s going to beat Max’s kid one day.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your amusement. “Pretty sure Max’s kid isn’t doing apex drills.”

“That’s where we’ve got the edge,” Lando said, grinning as he turned back to Leo. “Alright, mate, show me how you take this corner.”

Leo made a concentrated “vroom-vroom��� sound as he rolled the car along the paper track, his little tongue poking out in determination.

He stopped abruptly at the apex, looking up at Lando expectantly.

“Did I win?” Leo asked, his wide eyes searching Lando’s face.

Lando gasped dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. “You nailed it! Perfect line, Leo! You’re a natural!”

Leo beamed, giggling as Lando scooped him up and spun him around. “I win! I win!”

“You sure did, buddy,” Lando said, setting him back down. “Now, let’s work on your pit stops.”

“Pit stops?” Leo’s eyes lit up as he repeated the phrase.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “Love, you’re going to scare off all his preschool friends with this level of detail.”

Lando shrugged, clearly unfazed. “They’ll thank me when he’s leading the championship.”

Leo clutched his toy car tightly, turning to you with a big, proud grin. “Mama, I go fast like Daddy!”

You walked over, crouching down to ruffle his curls. “You sure do, baby. Just remember, you’re not allowed to go faster than me.”

Leo giggled, throwing his arms around your neck. “Okay, Mama. I go slow for you.”

Lando smirked, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “See? He’s already better at strategy than half the grid.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately but couldn’t help the warmth blooming in your chest.

Watching Lando share his passion with Leo, even at such a young age, was something special. And as Leo zoomed off to “practice” more, you knew these moments would be the ones he’d carry with him forever, whether he ended up racing or not.

—

Lando wheeled the tiny, bright orange e-kart into the backyard, the sun glinting off its glossy finish. Leo stood frozen for a moment, his wide aquamarine eyes locked on the kart, before letting out a high-pitched squeal.

“IS THAT FOR ME?” he shouted, bouncing on his toes.

“All yours, buddy,” Lando said, crouching down to Leo’s level with a proud grin. “What do you think?”

“I THINK I’M GONNA DRIVE IT!” Leo yelled, already making a mad dash toward the kart.

“Whoa, hold up!” Lando intercepted him, scooping him up mid-sprint. “Not so fast, mate. Helmet first.”

Leo pouted dramatically, his little arms flailing. “Noooo, Daddy, I’m ready! I don’t need it!”

“You’re three, Leo. You also think ketchup is a vegetable,” Lando replied, grabbing the kid-sized helmet. “Safety first. It’s the rules.”

Leo groaned, reluctantly letting his dad plop the helmet on his head. “But I’m the driver!”

“And I’m the team principal,” Lando quipped, trying to fasten the strap while Leo squirmed.

From the patio, Carlos leaned against the railing, sipping a drink. “Struggling already? Maybe he’s not a McLaren driver after all.”

“Don’t start,” Lando shot back without looking up, finally managing to secure the strap. “We’re not painting it red, Carlos.”

Carlos smirked. “Give it time. The kid’s got Ferrari vibes.”

Lando froze, narrowing his eyes. “Carlos, I will physically fight you right now.”

Cisca clapped her hands together, her phone aimed squarely at the scene. “Oh, he looks so precious in that helmet!”

Leo, now equipped and ready, bolted back toward the kart. “I’m driving!”

“Wait!” Lando jogged after him, grabbing the kart’s handlebars before Leo could press the pedal. “You gotta listen to the rules first, mate. No crashing into the flowerbeds, no hitting Grandpa—”

“I’m fast, Daddy!” Leo interrupted, his little hands gripping the steering wheel. “I don’t need rules!”

Lando groaned, wrangling Leo, who was squirming like a very determined eel. “Hold still, buddy, or you’ll be driving with this thing on backwards.”

“Let him drive backwards,” Max chimed in from the grass, phone in hand. “Might still beat you on the track, mate.”

Lando shot him a mock glare. “Thanks, Max. Really helpful.”

Carlos leaned closer to Lando’s dad. “You know, we could train him young at Ferrari. Get him on the right team.”

Adam chuckled. “Careful, Carlos. He might grow up and beat you in a race.”

Lando smirked, finally letting go of the kart. “Alright, Leo, show us what you’ve got.”

Leo slammed his foot on the throttle, the kart buzzing to life as it lurched forward. His face lit up with pure joy. “I’M DRIVING!”

“You’re doing great, mate!” Lando called, jogging alongside him.

Carlos cupped his hands around his mouth. “Leo! When you’re ready to upgrade, call Uncle Carlos!”

Leo didn’t even glance back. “NO! MCLAREN!” he shouted, giggling as he made a wobbly circle around the yard.

Lando threw his arms up in triumph. “That’s my boy!”

Max wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Okay, okay, I admit it. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Leo slowed to a stop in front of you, grinning ear to ear. “Mama! Did I win?”

You bent down, smoothing his curls. “You always win, sweetheart.”

Carlos leaned closer to Max, feigning seriousness. “Ferrari mentality right there. Always thinking about the podium.”

Lando turned to them, pointing a finger. “I swear, one more Ferrari joke-”

Leo, oblivious to the banter, yawned loudly. “Can I drive more tomorrow, Daddy?”

Lando crouched down, ruffling his hair. “Of course, mate. But only if you promise me one thing.”

Leo’s eyes lit up. “What?”

“No letting Uncle Carlos paint anything red.”

Leo looked confused but nodded solemnly. “Okay, Daddy.”

Carlos raised his glass. “We’ll see.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands as everyone laughed. “This is my life now.”

—

It started innocently enough.

One morning, around 5:15 a.m., Leo padded into the bedroom, his tiny race car pajamas rustling as he climbed onto Lando’s side of the bed.

“Daddy,” he whispered, his voice as loud as only a four-year-old could manage while trying to be “quiet.”

Lando groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. “Leo, it’s still dark outside. Go back to bed.”

Leo shook his shoulder insistently. “But Daddy, I need to practice! You said practice makes perfect!”

“I meant during normal human hours,” Lando mumbled.

Leo, undeterred, climbed onto Lando’s back, bouncing slightly.

“C’mon, Daddy! I gotta beat Uncle Carlos! He said Ferrari’s faster, but you said McLaren’s the best!”

At that, Lando opened one eye, grumbling as he turned over to face his determined son. “Leo, you’re four. You’ve got, like, ten years before you have to prove anything to Uncle Carlos.”

“But if I wait, I won’t be fast enough!” Leo argued, crossing his arms.

From your side of the bed, you stifled a laugh, watching the two of them negotiate like seasoned diplomats. “He’s got a point,” you teased, peeking out from under the blanket.

“Not helping, love,” Lando muttered before sighing and sitting up. “Alright, alright. Give me five minutes to wake up, and we’ll practice.”

“YAY!” Leo cheered, scrambling off the bed and sprinting toward the backyard, still in his pajamas.

Lando groaned, rubbing his face before looking at you. “He’s relentless. Wonder where he gets that from,” he said pointedly.

You smirked. “No idea.”

By the time Lando shuffled outside in his hoodie and sweatpants, Leo was already sitting in his e-kart, revving it with dramatic “vroom vroom” noises.

“Alright, champ,” Lando said, grabbing a lawn chair and plopping down with a coffee in hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Leo took off, making wobbly loops around the yard, his helmet slightly askew. Lando watched for a few minutes, his dad instincts kicking in as he began shouting pointers.

“Keep your line tight, Leo! Hug the turn! No, no, not the flowerbeds again!”

After a particularly wide turn that nearly took out the garden gnome, Lando sighed, setting his coffee down. “Alright, buddy. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

He walked over and crouched by Leo’s kart, pointing at the imaginary track lines he’d drawn in the dirt. “See these? You need to stay as close to the inside as possible when you turn. And always look ahead- don’t just focus on where you are now. Got it?”

Leo nodded seriously, his tiny brows furrowed in concentration. “Like you do on TV?”

“Exactly,” Lando said with a proud grin. “Now try it again.”

For the next hour, Lando coached Leo like he was prepping for a tournament, shouting tips and celebrating every successful lap.

When Leo finally parked the kart and bounded over to him, Lando ruffled his curls. “You’re getting better, little man. Maybe one day, you’ll be even faster than me.”

Leo beamed. “Really?”

Lando smirked. “Maybe.”

As you stepped outside with breakfast in hand, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the two of them, Lando sitting cross-legged in the grass, explaining cornering techniques to a four-year-old who was listening like his life depended on it.

“You know,” you said, handing Lando his toast, “most dads teach their kids how to ride bikes at this age, not perfect their racing lines.”

Lando grinned up at you. “Hey, he’s got dreams. I’m just helping him get there.”

Leo, already climbing back into his kart, shouted, “Mama, watch this! I’m gonna be the fastest!”

You shook your head fondly. “With you two, I don’t doubt it.”

—

It had been a long day of shopping for go-kart gear– helmets, gloves, and a racing suit with a tiny McLaren logo on it– but now, as you stood by the track, you couldn't help but beam with pride at your son.

Leo was strapped into a small go-kart, the bright orange helmet on his head looking just a little too big for him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

At five years old, Leo had taken to go-karts like a duck to water, and Lando and you had quickly become his most supportive, if slightly nervous, parents.

The track was alive with activity, and as soon as Leo strapped himself in, you felt the weight of how surreal it all was.

“Are you sure he’s ready for this?” you asked Lando, watching Leo wriggle with excitement in his tiny race helmet, bouncing around in the kart.

Lando, arms crossed, gave you a reassuring smile. “He’s been practicing. Trust me, he’s got this. Look at him. He’s practically bouncing out of the seat.”

Leo waved both hands in the air, his little face lit up with sheer joy. “I’m gonna go fast, Mama! Look!” He revved the engine, and the sound made your heart skip a beat.

“You ready, mate?” Lando asked, crouching beside the tiny kart. He adjusted the straps on his son’s helmet, worried it'd fly off, his hands careful but steady.

Your son nodded enthusiastically. “I was born ready, Daddy!”

“Alright,” Lando said, laughing as he ruffled the boy’s curly hair. “Let’s see what you’ve got. But remember, it’s not about speed yet. It’s about control, okay?”

“Okay!” he chirped, gripping the wheel with determination.

You watched from the sidelines, your heart in your throat as Lando guided him onto the track.

There was something surreal about seeing the two of them out there, your husband, a Formula 1 star, and your son, so small but already so fearless.

As Leo took his first cautious lap, Lando jogged alongside him, shouting instructions. “That’s it, stay on the line! Gentle on the throttle, buddy!”

When Leo finally came to a stop, his face was glowing with pride. “Did you see that, Daddy? I was so fast!”

“You were brilliant,” Lando said, crouching to meet his gaze. “But we’ve got to work on your corners, alright? That’s where the magic happens.”

—

Over the next few months, karting became a regular part of your family’s routine.

Every time Lando could get away from his own duties, your husband would put on his coach hat, guiding your son through every step, every turn, and every challenge.

It was more than just a sport to Lando; it was a way to connect, to pass on his knowledge, and to bond with his mini-me in a way words couldn’t capture.

“You’ve got to feel the kart,” Lando said one afternoon, squatting beside your Leo's small kart, his tone serious yet kind. “It’s like dancing. You’ve got to move with it, not against it.”

“Dancing?” Your son raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical as he shifted in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel like it was his best friend. “Karts don’t dance, Daddy!”

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to eye level with him. “They do if you’re good enough. You’ve just got to listen to it. Feel it, like how you feel the rhythm of a song. It’s all in the flow. The kart’s like a partner, you’ve got to be in sync with it.”

Leo giggled, shaking his head. “But I’m not dancing! I’m driving!”

Lando smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a little of both, mate. When you get really good, it’ll feel just like that. Trust me.”

He looked up at his dad, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Really,” Lando said, his voice softening with a warmth that only a dad could have. “Now, let’s see you take that corner. Remember, don’t fight the kart. Let it flow.”

Leo hesitated for a moment, then grinned. “Okay! Like dancing!” he said, clearly embracing the idea with the boundless enthusiasm only a six-year-old could muster.

Lando watched as his son sped down the track, his tiny kart buzzing as he carefully navigated the first turn, just as his father had taught him.

Lando’s heart swelled with pride as he observed every small movement, how his son corrected himself when the kart started to drift, how he balanced speed and control.

“You’re doing great, mate!” Lando shouted, giving a thumbs-up as Leo zoomed past. “But remember, smooth on the throttle!”

“Like dancing, Daddy!” your son shouted back, grinning ear to ear, his confidence growing with each lap.

You stood off to the side, leaning against the fence, watching the two of them with a smile. There was something so perfect about seeing Lando in his element, not just as a racer but as a teacher, nurturing Leo's growing skills.

Your heart couldn’t help but swell with emotion as you saw how naturally it came to Lando. It wasn’t just the way he taught, it was the way he believed in Leo, how every lesson was laced with love, encouragement, and a touch of that signature Lando enthusiasm.

After a few more laps, your son came to a stop, his kart skidding to a halt just in front of Lando. He jumped out of the seat, eyes sparkling. “I did it, Daddy! I did the dance thing! I didn’t even crash!”

Lando grinned, clapping his hands together. “I’m impressed! You’ve got the moves, mate!” He pulled him into a hug, lifting him up off the ground. “I knew you had it in you. Now, let’s cool down and get ready to go again.”

Your son, still beaming, looked at you and shouted, “Mum, I’m dancing with the kart!”

—-

Leo was beaming as he climbed out of his tiny kart, still buzzing with excitement from the practice session.

His little helmet hair stuck out in all directions, and his cheeks were flushed pink. You watched from the sidelines, your heart swelling with pride as he excitedly waved at you and Lando.

But then, something, or someone, caught his attention.

A girl, about his age, was leaning against the fence, her arms crossed over her chest.

Her long dark ponytail swung slightly as she watched the other kids with an almost bored expression. Unlike the other kids who were laughing and chatting with their parents, she stood alone.

"Who's that?" Leo asked, tugging at Lando’s sleeve as he pointed toward her.

Lando crouched down to his level and followed his gaze. "I don’t know, buddy. Why don’t you go say hi?"

Leo hesitated, glancing at the girl and then back at his dad. "She looks kinda mad," he whispered.

Lando chuckled softly, ruffling Leo's hair. "She’s probably just nervous. Go on, introduce yourself. You might make a new friend."

Leo nodded, his natural confidence kicking in as he made his way over. You watched as your little boy approached the girl with his characteristic enthusiasm, clutching his helmet under his arm.

"Hi! I’m Leo!" he said brightly, stopping just a few feet away from her.

The girl glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "I know," she said flatly, her tone cool.

Leo blinked, caught off guard. "You do?"

She shrugged. "Your dad's Lando Norris. Everyone knows who you are."

Leo frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, yeah, but I mean, I’m not my dad. I’m just... me."

The girl raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. "You drive like him," she said finally, her voice a little softer now.

Leo perked up at that. "You think so?!"

She shrugged again, but this time there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Maybe. I’m Lily," she said, holding out her hand like a mini-professional.

Leo grinned, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you, Lily! Do you kart too?"

"Obviously," she said with a hint of sass, gesturing to the helmet resting on the ground beside her.

"Cool! Maybe we can race sometime," Leo said eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

Lily smirked, finally loosening up a bit. "If you can keep up."

"Oh, I can keep up!" Leo declared, puffing out his chest.

Lily rolled her eyes but laughed a little, and just like that, the ice was broken.

From a distance, you and Lando exchanged a look, both of you grinning. "Well, that’s our kid," Lando said, crossing his arms.

"Definitely your kid," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

"Think he’s got a chance with her?" Lando joked.

You laughed. "Let’s just hope they stick to racing for now."

As the two kids started chatting animatedly, comparing their karts and favorite drivers, it was clear that Leo had made his first friend in karting.

—-

It was a bright, bustling day at the karting track, with parents and kids mingling while mechanics tuned up their karts.

You and Lando were by the paddock, chatting with a few familiar faces when you spotted Leo in the distance, his hand wrapped firmly around a reluctant-looking girl’s wrist as he practically dragged her across the pit area.

“Mom! Dad!” Leo called, his voice carrying over the noise. His eyes were wide with excitement, his signature gap-toothed grin plastered across his face.

Lando nudged you, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Looks like our little social butterfly is on a mission.”

As they got closer, you recognized Lily, the girl Leo had mentioned a few times since their first meeting. Her helmet dangled from her other hand, her expression teetering somewhere between annoyed and nervous as Leo pulled her along.

“C’mon, Lily, they’re nice!” Leo said, encouraging her as if she was about to meet royalty.

“I never said they weren’t nice,” Lily mumbled, casting a quick glance your way before looking at the ground.

Behind her, a couple followed hesitantly, her parents, you guessed. They looked slightly out of place among the karting crowd, standing close together and exchanging quiet words.

Leo finally came to a stop in front of you and Lando, releasing Lily’s wrist. “Mom, Dad, this is Lily! She’s my best friend,” he announced proudly, then turned to Lily and gestured dramatically toward you.

“And these are my parents. That’s my mom, and that’s my dad.”

You waved at the little girl, smiling warmly. “We’re so happy to meet you, Lily.”

“Hi, Lily,” Lando added, crouching slightly to be at her level. “Leo’s told us a lot about you. He says you’re a great driver.”

Lily shuffled her feet, clearly flustered, but managed a small smile. “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Mom, Dad,” Lily muttered, turning to the couple behind her. “These are Leo’s parents.”

Her parents stepped forward cautiously, clearly unsure how to navigate meeting a famous F1 driver. The woman smiled shyly, extending her hand to you first. “Hi, I’m Sarah, and this is my husband, James. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you said warmly, shaking her hand before turning to James. “We’ve heard wonderful things about Lily. She and Leo seem to get along really well.”

“They do,” James said, his tone polite but a little hesitant. “Leo’s all she talks about when she comes home from practice.”

Lando grinned, shaking both their hands. “Well, that’s great to hear. Leo’s pretty smitten with her too, he’s been calling her his best friend since the day they met.”

Lily groaned quietly, burying her face in her hands. “Leo, stop,” she mumbled.

Leo, oblivious to her embarrassment, grinned even wider. “But it’s true!”

Sarah chuckled, glancing at her daughter. “She talks about him a lot too. It’s nice to see her so excited about karting and making friends.”

As the conversation unfolded, you noticed Lando’s natural charm putting Lily’s parents at ease. He asked about their background, how Lily got into karting, and even cracked a few jokes that made them laugh. Meanwhile, Lily and Leo whispered to each other off to the side, Leo clearly trying to get her to open up more.

“You see?” Leo whispered loudly enough for you to hear. “I told you they’re nice. And my dad’s funny too.”

“Funny-looking, maybe,” Lily shot back, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smirk.

Lando caught her comment and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to fit right in, Lily. Welcome to the team.”

—-

It was a big day, and everyone could feel the excitement in the air. Leo and Lily’s first real karting competition, where they’d race against kids their own age for the very first time.

The track was buzzing with energy as the young drivers in their helmets and race suits lined up, ready to face off.

You stood on the sidelines with Lando, your eyes following Leo and Lily as they climbed into their karts. The kids were practically vibrating with excitement, especially Leo, whose energy could rival any race car engine.

“Think Lily’s going to give him a run for his money?” you asked Lando, trying to hide the grin tugging at your lips. Lando, arms crossed and eyes glued to the track, was already fully invested in the race.

“She better,” Lando replied, a sly smile creeping up. “Keeps him sharp. But let’s be honest, I’m rooting for Leo. No one beats my boy in his first big race.”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him. “You’re supposed to be impartial.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Impartial? Nah. He’s got the Norris drive. You can see it, right?”

You gave him a knowing look. “Uh-huh.”

As the engines roared to life, the excitement intensified. Leo and Lily lined up side by side, helmets on and determination in their eyes. Even though their visors were down, you could practically feel the playful tension between them as they exchanged last-minute words.

“Ready, champ?” Lando asked Leo, giving him a quick thumbs-up.

“Born ready, Dad!” Leo called back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly pumped.

The flag dropped, and with a deafening roar, the kids shot off the line. The track was filled with the sound of tiny engines and the rubber burning against the asphalt. Leo and Lily were already making moves, weaving through the pack, their little karts moving with surprising precision.

Lando was shouting instructions at Leo, even though it was clear there was no way Leo could hear him over the roar of the engines. “Stay tight on that turn, Leo!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Come on, you’ve got this, son!”

The laps blurred by in a flash. Both Leo and Lily were putting on an impressive display, but you could tell they were both determined to take home the win. As the final lap neared, it was clear it was going to come down to the two of them- Leo and Lily, neck and neck.

On the final stretch, Leo pushed forward with everything he had. You could see the fire in his eyes as he zoomed ahead. “Come on, Leo!” you cheered, pumping your fists in the air.

Lily wasn’t far behind, giving it her all, but Leo crossed the finish line first. The crowd erupted in cheers, and you couldn’t help but join in, clapping and laughing as Leo brought his kart to a stop and practically leapt out of it.

His helmet was off before his feet hit the ground, and his face was flushed with a mix of excitement and pride.

“I won!” he shouted, giggling uncontrollably as he ran toward you. “Mom! Dad! I won!”

Lando, a proud grin plastered on his face, leaned over and whispered to you, “That’s my boy.”

Leo reached you, practically bouncing with energy. “Did you see? Did you see? I beat Lily!” he shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Lily, who had come over with her helmet off, shot Leo an amused look. “Barely,” she said, crossing her arms. “Next time, I’m going to smoke you.”

Leo stuck his tongue out at her. “Yeah, right! You can try,” he teased, giving her a playful shove.

Before Lily could respond, a group of reporters rushed in, cameras flashing like crazy. “Leo Norris, the next Lando Norris!” one reporter called, practically tripping over themselves. “How does it feel to win your first big race?”

Leo’s eyes widened at the attention, but instead of getting shy, he bounced on his toes, giggling uncontrollably. “It feels amazing!” he exclaimed, his grin impossibly wide. “And my dad helped me! He’s the best coach ever!”

Lando leaned down and ruffled Leo’s hair, looking at him with obvious pride. “It’s all him,” Lando said, a smug grin creeping onto his face. “But yeah, I taught him a thing or two.”

Leo’s eyes darted to you, his excitement palpable. “Mom, did you hear? They called me the next Dad! That’s so cool!”

You crouched down to his level, cupping his face in your hands. “I heard, baby,” you said, laughing. “But remember, you’re going to be amazing in your own way, okay?”

Leo nodded eagerly, giggling again as Lando scooped him up before setting him down as Leo protested.. “Alright, champ,” Lando said, spinning him around in a playful circle. “First win, but it won’t be the last. Let’s go to the podium!”

As you made your way back to the pits, Leo couldn’t stop talking, bouncing around between you and Lando like a pinball. “Did you see the way I passed that guy on the corner? I was like- vroom! Zoom!” He made exaggerated car noises, clearly reliving every moment of his victory.

Lily, on the other hand, was quieter, watching Leo with a knowing smirk. Every so often, she shot him a playful side-eye, clearly already planning her next move to beat him next time.

As you were packing up, Lily’s parents approached, looking a bit shy but beaming with pride. They had always kept a respectful distance, never letting your fame affect how they treated you.

“Uh, hi,” Lily’s dad said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “We just wanted to say congratulations to Leo. That was one heck of a race.”

“Thanks!” Leo beamed back, his face lighting up. “But Lily was really fast, too! She almost got me!”

Lily, standing next to her parents, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Next time, I’m taking you down,” she said, smirking.

Her dad laughed and nudged her. “That’s the spirit.”

Then he turned to you and Lando, looking a little more nervous. “Actually, we were wondering… Since it’s both their first big race, we thought it might be nice to celebrate. Maybe grab dinner somewhere? Our treat.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Lando, who was grinning from ear to ear. “That sounds great,” Lando said, his voice warm. “We’d love to.”

Lily’s mom smiled brightly, her relief evident. “Really? That’s wonderful! We know a nice little place nearby. Nothing fancy, but the kids will love it.”

You gave Leo a playful look. “What do you think, champ? Dinner with Lily?”

Leo grinned, bouncing up and down. “As long as she doesn’t get mad when I tell everyone I won,” he teased.

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m not mad. I’ll just tell them you cheated,” she shot back.

“You’re on!” Leo laughed, already racing toward the car with Lily close behind, her competitive spirit no longer just playful but full of determination.

Lando shook his head with a chuckle. “Looks like they’ve got it all figured out.”

Lily’s mom laughed softly as she watched them chase each other. “It’s funny. We’ve never seen Lily so competitive before. She’s usually a bit… reserved.”

“Well,” you said, glancing at Lando with a smirk, “Leo has a way of bringing that out in people. Wonder where he gets it from?”

Lando gave you a playful shrug. “No idea. Must be you.”

[macfrog]

homesick

a cowboy like me one shot

oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“This is Joel Miller. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.”

You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machines’ drumming deafening. It’s eighty-something degrees out, and it’s only six o’clock.

“Pick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know you’re there. Can’t come to the –” you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, “– Can’t come to the ph-owww-ne right n–”

The line clicks as he picks the handset up.

“Did you call just to make fun of me, kid?”

You halt, spinning on your heel. “So you were screening me?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t notice the time. I’ve been out back with Tommy.”

“Oh,” you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, “We don’t have to call right now, you know. I’m just doing laundry.”

“It is six there, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.”

Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. “Keep me. He knows you were calling tonight. He’s probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Won’t even notice I’m gone. Laundry, huh?”

“Mhm.” You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. “It’s a beautiful night, and I’m stuck being force-fed Mötley Crüe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Enough, cowboy.”

“I like Mötley Crüe,” he chuckles. “They got some hits under their belt.”

“Name five.”

“Five,” he says. “You’re asking a lot there, darlin’.”

“Of Mötley Crüe or of your memory, old man?”

Joel hums. “Should’ve seen that one coming, baby.”

You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, you’d care to hide your fluster – but you’re here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.

“Tell me about your day,” you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.

“Well,” Joel says, “weather’s fine, work’s fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.”

You gasp. “The old couple with the cats?”

He grumbles. “That’s them. They still hate me, by the way.”

“The couple, or the cats?”

“…Jury’s out.”

You snicker.

“Then, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkin’ to you.”

“Hm. I’m your favorite part, right? I’m your favorite part of today?”

Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.

It’s been three months since you were last home. Technically, it’s been seven weeks since you were in Austin – but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dad’s gutter and watching westerns.

It’s been three months since you were last in Joel’s arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels you’ve stolen from him.

Three long, tough months.

And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. You’re not together, you’re not committed. You’ve been seeing other people, so has Joel – even if he’s only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.

Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. It’s easier this way, right? It’s cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.

Only – your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summer’s worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.

It didn’t take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.

It only binds sorer.

“Anyway,” Joel says, “your turn. How was your day?”

You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, you’ll break, and if you break, you’ll sob.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yep,” you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. “I – uh…Yeah, my day was fine.”

The line quietens.

“You sure? Everything okay at work?”

Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, “All good.”

He can read you even three states apart. “Let me call you back. Hold on.”

The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.

She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.

When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.

Joel’s pixelated living room stretches across your screen.

“Joel,” you sniff, “Joel, it’s –”

“Can you see me?”

“No, you gotta flip your –”

“…never know why the damn thing don’t –”

“The button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, it’s –”

His coffee table flips, and in place – straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.

The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, expression softening. “Look at you.”

You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. “Oh, my God, I miss you today.”

Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. “I miss you every day.”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I…” you sigh, “…That’s what I meant. It’s just – some days, you feel a little further away.”

“Today one of those days?”

You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. “It’s just…been a day. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it, if you want. You’re hell of a lot smarter than me, darlin’, but I’ve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.”

He smiles. It breaks your heart.

He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.

And still – he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.

The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God – the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.

“Bullshit,” he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. “I asked, didn’t I? Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You groan. “I just…I wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when I’m home for the weekend.”

He laughs. “He rope you into that one too, huh?”

“Sure did.” You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.

“I got nothing to complain about,” you tell Joel, “I know that. This job is…it’s right where I want to be. Just – sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. It’s like life was simpler then.”

Joel chokes. “I guarantee you,” he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, “life was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.”

He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.

You sure as hell miss it more than your own.

“Lemme see…” Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. “What’s next weekend look like for you?”

You shrug. “My weekend off.”

“Nothing planned?”

“Nothing yet.”

He nods. “I’m meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, then…”

His eyebrows lift.

So do yours. “Then…?”

“I can look at flights,” Joel says, “get you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe – or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, it’s both at once.

He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friend’s back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.

He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.

You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. “I ever tell you how much I love you?”

He smiles. “Not half as much as I love you.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”

The laundromat door flings open.

Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. “Are you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?”

She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you whisper, heaving to your feet. “Better go get my panties.”

“Why?” Joel’s making his way back outside. “Ain’t like you’re gonna need ‘em.”

You scoff. “Talk later, cowboy.”

Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.

The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.

When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

And nearer, until he’s reaching out. He’s close enough that his hands land on your waist, and it’s the first time in three months that you’ve felt this weight – his weight, the way only he feels – all around you.

Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.

“Hi, honey.”

You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. “Hi,” you exhale.

Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Good.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect, now.”

“You look perfect,” Joel grins, “Look like the sun.”

And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesn’t look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dad’s best friend’s arm.

But that’s not what he’s saying, is it?

You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden – just like the sun.

These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, you’ve spent the better part of a year polishing off – electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.

And the other – slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.

There’s a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joel’s arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind – even just for this weekend.

“Come on,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. “Let’s get you home.”

And there never seemed like a better idea than that.

He keeps your things in his shower caddy.

Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until it’s just right.

“The strawberry stuff…?” Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.

You gasp. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head. “Like it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.”

“Makes a change from wood trimmings,” you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.

Joel glares over his shoulder. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, and step into the cubicle.

The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joel’s ensuite.

He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.

“Soap, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping it in your palm.

You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. “Easy, darlin’. Dancing with the devil here.”

It burns low in your stomach.

You pass him the bar back. “Maybe I want to dance,” you murmur. “Maybe he does, too.”

His eyebrows lift. “Maybe he does,” he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.

The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.

His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.

Hungry. Starved, even.

Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.

And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.

You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.

“Dance with me,” you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.

Joel’s gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, “I told someone we’d be somewhere.”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “We’re running late. Something’s come up.”

His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. He’s the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.

He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.

Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. He’s hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.

He’s addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse –

You break him open. You make him weak.

Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.

“Missed you,” he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. “Ain’t gonna last long, are you?”

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. “We got all weekend. Just – just fuck me.”

He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.

Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, whimpering into his chest.

“’s alright,” he kisses your neck, “Just take it nice ‘n slow. Get her used to me again, baby.”

He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.

He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.

Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts – but you don’t want to let him go.

“Stay,” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. “Stay inside me.”

He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here.”

His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.

And then he’s moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear – how good you’re taking him, how tight she is. How much he’s missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.

“Made for me, huh?” Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.

The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.

Him.

Because none of them are him.

They don’t make you laugh and they don’t make you come. They don’t see you, don’t hang on your every word. They don’t – they can’t break your world apart and paint it something new. They don’t know your every move, don’t understand the most fleeting glances.

You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until you’re quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.

He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.

“I’m close, baby,” he grits, “’m so close.”

You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.

Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.

Joel laughs. “Dangerous little game, darlin’.”

But he’s fading. He’s falling under, same as you are.

You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him – that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.

“Stay – inside,” you plead. “I want you to – want it so bad.”

“Keep begging, honey. Sound so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Joel,” it’s getting harder to hold, “Just wanna feel you in me –”

“I know, I know,” he shushes.

You tense in his arms, gasping. “I’m gonna – come –”

“So,” Joel smirks, “come.”

And it snaps.

You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.

He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.

You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.

He hears you, though.

He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. “Shh, shh,” lips to your temple, “’s my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.”

You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.

He kisses the tips of your fingers. “I love you,” he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. “Love you more ‘n anything.”

You giggle. “You’re tickling me.”

Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. “Can’t get enough of you,” his tongue swipes across your hot skin, “Swear to God, baby, you’re killing me.”

“Joel,” your head falls back with a clap of laughter, “Joel, stop – oh, my God, you have to stop, please – Joel!”

He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldn’t be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.

“Here,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.

You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. “Missed you,” you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.

He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. “Missed you more,” he says.

His semen drips between your legs. He’s softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets that’ll need changed before you sleep tonight. You’re tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him – and it’s all so perfect.

Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.

It’s fucking perfect.

“What are we running late for?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.

“You said we had somewhere to be,” you clarify.

“Oh,” he winces, “Uh, your dad’s. He’s havin’ us for dinner.”

“Oh,” you echo. “When is he expecting –?”

He glances at the clock. “Half hour ago.”

“Nice.” You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. “Well, this is about to be awkward.”

Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesn’t scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.

When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.

“You said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.”

The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.

You’re horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joel’s lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it weren’t for your dad’s riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, you’d probably be asleep.

“Ride-on,” he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. “Whole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says he’s half a mind to make an investment himself.”

Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. “Sounds like a good buy,” he placates.

Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then – with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.

“How’s work, kiddo? Still rockin’ ‘n rollin’?”

Your eyes flash across Joel’s. The hell does that even mean?

The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.

“Yep,” you lie. “Living the dream, Dad.”

Joel says nothing. He hasn’t told your dad why you came home – hasn’t even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.

He hasn’t even brought it up with you yet. Granted, you’ve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place – but he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

This weekend doesn’t have to be about work. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadn’t seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.

It’s what you’ve always loved so much about Joel. It’s what reeled you into him in the first place.

He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows you’ll figure it out – you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.

Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “What’s on the cards this weekend, then?”

“Joel’s down San Antonio way tomorrow,” you yawn, “Some supplier meeting.”

“You don’t feel like a road trip?”

Your eyes roll to Joel. He’s already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.

His shoulder rolls in a shrug. “Your call, chief,” he says, tipping his drink to you.

The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew you’d be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.

That – and you’ve missed Joel’s front-seat singing.

It doesn’t matter what you planned on doing – rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dad’s trees and cleaning his guttering.

As long as you’re doing it with Joel, it’s enough.

It’s what you came home for in the first place.

The drive passes quickly enough. Joel’s truck doesn’t have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLean’s American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.

He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.

“Listen, listen to this,” Joel says, slotting it in the tray. “Found it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when I’m drivin’ to work.”

Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. “Welcome to my presentation –” she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. “Huh?” Sarah asks.

“You’re holdin’ the mic too close,” Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. “Farther. Farther,” he says, and then – “Alright. Go.”

“Welcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,” she resumes, clearing her throat. “She…Oh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell ‘em my name.”

Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. “Tommy said he’s gonna make her a copy for her birthday,” he says.

“Oh, my God. She’s gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?”

He nods. “I’m countin’ on it.”

Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.

You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.

He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. “You okay over there?”

“I’m more tired than I was when I landed,” you reply, and he laughs.

You haven’t had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joel’s bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.

He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.

Fuck it, right? You’ll miss him when you’re gone. When all that’s left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.

An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all that’s waiting for you when you make it back to Joel’s tonight.

A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, you’re pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out – a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.

Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. “You comin’?”

You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. “Maybe I’ll stay out here and wait. It’s a nice night, and you ain’t gonna be too long, right?”

He shakes his head. “Be as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?”

You shuffle into his embrace. “Promise.”

He kisses your head and steps back. “Here,” he slips the flannel from his shoulders, “If you’re sittin’ out. Got my phone if you need me.”

He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailer’s side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joel’s shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.

The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. She’s still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.

The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. There’s always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Sal’s store, more than Rita’s cross stitch.

You chased that more halfway across the country – only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.

Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.

He’s all the more you could ever need.

You’re still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.

He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.

“Hi,” he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.

“Hi.”

He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. “Home time, sweet girl.”

You glance over your shoulder.

This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joel’s flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. You’ll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.

You’ll miss it the way you’ll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Can we go watch the sunset somewhere?”

Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.

“Get in,” he pulls you down, “I know just the spot.”

It’s almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.

A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarah’s CD.

The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the day’s blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though you’re the only two in the world.

Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. “How you feelin’?” he asks, looking out to the skyline.

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter. “This has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t.”

“No?” you suckle on the sweet fruit, “I think you’d fit right in.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He shakes his head, pinching your chin. “Naw, LA is yours. It’s something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really do…”

He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. He’s hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, there’s a glimmer along his waterline.

“…But the way I feel any time you call, and I know…I know you’re out there doin’ something you actually give a shit about. You ain’t stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.”

He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.

It’s infuriating, how right he always is. You’re working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price you’re both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream you’ve ever had.

But –

“What if it keeps getting harder?” you sniff, “What if I need you more?”

Joel clicks his teeth. “’s always gonna get harder. That’s life, darlin’. But the hard times won’t last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you can’t do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.”

You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about –”

“Baby.” He sighs. “I’m old. I’ve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know you’re gonna be callin’ at eight o’clock – it’s all I can think about. I’m at work checking my watch every five minutes.”

You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.

“It’s true,” Joel snickers, “I’m like a goddamn teenager. That’s what you do to me.”

He catches you and pulls you against his chest.

“What I’m saying is – there ain’t nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean – you?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.

“You call,” he says, resolute, “and I’ll be there.”

“I’m calling,” you whisper. “I’m always calling.”

“Then I’m always here.”

You sit back, bracing yourself on Joel’s thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know, one day,” you tell him, “you’re gonna get a call, and it’s not just gonna be for the weekend.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“One day, I’m gonna come home forever, Joel.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I’ll be on the front porch waitin’.”

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?

[asapstarkey]

It's Complicated — Rafe Cameron

Chapter One: Here we go again

Introduction

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader

Summary: Rafe can’t resist you and tensions boil over at a party on the beach.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied smut, swearing, death of parents

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Here we go! Chapter One. I can’t say I’m super pleased with this but I wanted to set the tone. Please please please let me know what you think! The series title is an A Day To Remember song for all my emos. And the title of this chapter is the first words of the song. Lmao. Just a fun fact for you.

“Y’all have a good one! Be safe out there!” you called as you waved off the boat you just gassed up. 

You put the nozzle back in its place and wiped your hands on your shorts as you stood upright. You stared out at the coastline where the sun was setting and sighed softly. 

“Yo!” A voice called from above and you turned to find your brother standing at the door of the surf shop. “That’s it for the day. Let’s wrap it up.” 

You nodded, bending down to grab your water bottle and head up to help them count the money. 

“Chop, chop! We’re gonna miss them starting the bonfire!” 

“I’m coming John B!” You shouted back at him then muttered, “Jesus Christ.” You climbed the steps and entered your little bait and surf shop. 

Sarah was sitting on the stool counting the drawer while Kiara sat on the counter and counted the lock box. You busied yourself helping Pope put away products people decided not to buy and reorganize the shelves, two key members of your group clearly missing. 

“Where’d JJ and Cleo go?” you questioned, looking over your shoulder at your younger brother for answers. 

“To get the keg,” Sarah replied. She was counting the same stack of five dollar bills for the third time with a furrowed brow. 

“What? Why would they go get it? I’m the only one here of legal age,” you said with a laugh. 

You knew the Pogues had acquired fake ID’s over the years and never had trouble buying alcohol before. It just made more sense for you to be the one to go get it without the hassle. The clerks at the gas stations and liquor stores charged extra for knowing they had fakes but letting it slide. 

“New corner store just opened up a couple blocks away. You could show them an ID with a picture of Abraham Lincoln on it and they’ll still sell to you,” Pope answered. “Those guys are either dumb or don’t give a shit.” 

You hummed in response, hanging one last fishing lure on a hook then heading for the door. Sarah and Kiara were taking too long counting the money and you wanted to rinse off the sweat and oil from filling gas all day. John B could handle locking up for the night. 

You were exhausted. The beginning of Summer is always the busiest with the most tourists coming into the OBX to vacation. You almost considered heading straight for your bed and staying in for the night. But this was the first big party of the season, and you deserved to have some fun. So you hopped in the shower and relaxed under the warm water. 

There were dozens of people already on the beach by the time you arrived. Chatter and laughter filled the air as you slid the side door of the Twinkie open. Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeing Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons alike. They were still stacking wood in the rock circle where the bonfire would soon be lit, cutting the cool breeze coming off of the ocean despite the humid Summer’s night air. 

“Just in time,” Sarah sighed happily while climbing out of the passenger seat. 

Kiara handed you a couple of bags of red solo cups, her carrying a few more as well as the rig for the keg. 

“You boys got this right?” Cleo asked with a smirk as the four of you girls started towards the beach, leaving the men to lug the heavy keg through the sand. Grumbling could be heard from behind as you giggled and skipped towards the crowd. 

The beers started flowing quickly and flames soon illuminated the faces around you. You kept your red solo cup in hand as you weaved through the crowd and welcomed the warmth from the fire. The first few beers went down easily, your mind already fuzzy and buzzing from the alcohol. 

You caught up with old friends from school who were back from the Summer. A lot of them were fortunate enough to get off of Kildare Island and build a better life for themselves. Some were married, and some already had kids. The more you talked to them the worse you started to feel. 

You and John B weren’t so fortunate. Yes, the treasure hunting and gold helped you start a business, but you still struggled. It was the only source of income for you and six other mouths to feed. You rarely had much left over after paying the bills and buying supplies. Not enough to get you onto the mainland and into college. 

You made your way to the edge of the crowd, closer to the waves crashing on the shore. You stood alone and scanned the crowd that had grown much larger than when you first arrived. Your gaze landed on the Kooks, standing in their own group away from the rest. They looked at anyone who passed with their noses turned up, acting like they were better than everyone else like always. You couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed your face. 

That’s when your eyes locked with Rafe’s. He smirked as he raised his cup to his lips and took a drink, staring over the rim. Sophia hung off of his arm like a trophy, completely oblivious to the silent interaction you and the man beside her were having. His new flavor of the month you supposed, or year maybe. They’d been together since February, even though Rafe refused to call her his girlfriend. She was a Pogue yet hid it well. Somehow weaseling her way into the group of spoiled rich kids as if she belonged. Somehow gaining the attention of the King Kook himself and getting him to stick around. Well, kind of. 

You wandered off at some point. You needed to clear your head and rid yourself of thoughts of how much of a failure you felt. As well as the man who contributed to it. 

The voices from the party grew quieter and the waves grew louder. The beer in your hand was lukewarm now, but you fought through a sip anyway. You came to a stop, bare toes wiggling in the sand as you stared out at the reflection of the moon on the water. Just as your head started to clear and the silence settled in, a voice ruined it. 

“Done with the party already?” 

You sighed and your eyes fell closed for a moment before fluttering back open. 

“Just needed a breather,” you replied. The footsteps grew closer until you could see his board shorts in the corner of your eye and he stopped. “What do you want, Rafe?” 

You turned to look at him as he was lighting a joint pinched tightly between his lips. The smoke started floating off the end as he inhaled and his eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“Just came to check on my favorite Pogue,” he retorted stiffly with a sideways smile, holding the smoke in his lungs for another second before exhaling. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, looking back out at the water without saying anything in return. If you entertained him you knew what would happen. But Rafe seemed determined. 

“Want a hit?” He asked, slowly inching closer until he was standing beside you. The sleeve of his open button-up shirt brushed your bare shoulder, blowing in the wind around his toned abdomen. 

You ignored him. You shook your head and took another drink from your red solo cup. 

“Come on, (Y/N). You know you want to,” Rafe teased, moving to stand in front of you. He took the cup from your hand and took a drink, holding the joint out between you in your direction. 

You didn’t meet his eye, staring down at the rolled green that was slowly starting to go out in front of you. “Fine,” you sighed, going to take it from his fingers. But he pulled it away. You dropped your hand against your side and huffed. You knew what he wanted. He bit his bottom lip and brought the joint up to your mouth himself, watching your lips wrap around the end as you inhaled. 

“Atta girl,” he whispered with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes and snatched your cup back, swallowing down half of it in two gulps. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nervous around Rafe. One, because of his unpredictable attitude and behavior. Two, because of the undeniable tension between the two of you being in such close proximity. No matter how many times this happened, you were always nervous. 

Rafe’s hand came up, brushing your hair over your shoulder before toying with the bikini strap tied around your neck. Rafe placed the joint between his lips and held it there, around it he suggested, “Why don’t you and I go have a little fun?” 

You looked up at him incredulously. “What?!” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged, eyes flickering from your lips down to your bikini top. His fingers trailed the seam of the bikini, over your collarbone, and atop your breast. Goosebumps were left in the wake of his touch, your body betraying you even though you tried to fight it. “We always have so much fun at these parties.” 

“Rafe..” you breathed as he dropped the joint into the sand and he bent down, lips brushing your jaw causing your breath to hitch. Your voice trembled slightly, “What about Sophia?” 

Rafe hummed, no remorse at all for what you were about to do. He kissed your neck once below your ear. The sound of your cup being dropped was drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears. His breath was hot on your neck as he spoke softly, “She doesn’t make me feel the way you do. No one makes me feel the way you do.” 

Your hand came up to grip his biceps, eyes fluttering closed as his lips worked over your sensitive skin. His hands found your hips and pulled you closer until you were nearly chest to chest. You would never admit it out loud, but you felt the same way. No man had ever come close to making you feel the way that Rafe did. And you weren’t sure anyone ever could. 

Your hands slid over the muscles of his arms until your fingers found his hair. He raised his head, pupils blown as you finally met his eyes. Your bottom lip shook from the look of pure desire on his face. You glanced at his lips, unable to ignore how badly you wanted them on every inch of your body.

You caved. 

“Make it quick. I’ve already been away for too long.” 

Rafe smirked wide before he pulled you into a heated kiss. He pulled away only to say, “You won’t have to worry about that. I’ve been waiting all night to get you out of this damn bikini.” And then he was kissing you again, backing you into the trees to sneak you around to his Jeep. 

As you climbed out of the backseat of the black Jeep, it was clear that post-nut clarity hit Rafe, and the buzz from the beer and weed had worn off significantly. He wouldn’t even look at you as he fixed his swim trunks and ran his fingers through the hair your fingers had just been gripping like your life depended on it. You sheepishly fixed your bikini top in the reflection of the passenger window and swiped at the smudged mascara under your eyes. 

The sound of the back door slamming made you jump. Rafe didn’t say a word as he walked around the vehicle and back towards the party, leaving you behind to collect yourself and come up with some excuse as to why you disappeared. 

You scurried around the Jeep and towards the Twinkie, faking like you had been in the old van the whole time in case anyone saw you. As you rounded the front, you saw Rafe back with his group of friends acting as if nothing had just happened. His arm was back around Sophia’s shoulders and you uncomfortably witnessed the moment he lifted her chin for a sloppy kiss. 

I wonder if you know I just came from his mouth twice in the back of the car he brought you in, you thought to yourself. 

And that’s when the anger set in. How dare he use you like that and go back to her like you were nothing? How dare he treat either of you this way. As much as you couldn’t stand Sophia and how fake she was, she didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this. 

Your eyes pricked with hot tears of fury. You made a break for it from the Twinkie, beelining for JJ who was at the keg because he was the only person from your group you could see at the moment. But there was only one route to him. Too many people on the beach to weave through. And it led you right into a trap. 

“(Y/N)! Care for a beer?” Kelce offered as you tried to get past the group of Kooks, a smirk plastered across his smug face. 

“I’m good. Thanks,” you replied dryly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. 

The sniffle gave you away. And like vultures, they couldn’t wait to rip you apart.

“What’s got the Queen in such a rush?” Ruthie stepped in front of you to block your way. That stupid nickname made your blood boil even more. Queen Pogue. They called you that like everyone called Rafe the King Kook. As if there was some kind of hierarchy amongst the already divided groups on the island. “Stay awhile!”

You looked past her, praying that JJ would look up and see what was happening. He was too busy talking to younger Pogues. You could tell he was also already wasted by the squint of his eyes and the sway of his body. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Ruthie teased again, trying her hardest to get under your skin. 

“Fuck off and get out of my way,” you warned. Your hands were in white knuckle fists at your side. You were trying your hardest to keep your anger at bay. Anger with Rafe that everyone around was about to get the wrath of.

The Kooks laughed and gasped in feigned fear. Your jaw clenched and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. If Ruthie didn’t move you were going to move her yourself. Which she would be sure to press charges on you for and that’s the last thing you needed right now. 

“Just let her go, Ruth,” Rafe spoke up from behind you. For a second, you thought he was coming to your defense for once. Urging his group of ‘friends’ to just leave you alone. But then he opened his mouth again, “No point in wasting your breath on trash like her. She’s not worth the trouble.”

White hot rage spread through your veins and for a second, you blacked out. You ripped the full cup of beer out of Kelce’s hands and threw the whole thing in Rafe’s face. Commotion. Suddenly there were bodies and shouting all around you. You lunged at him as he stood there in shock but someone grabbed you. You were screaming obscenities and flailing in Topper’s arms, swinging at Rafe despite knowing you wouldn’t land a single punch. 

“Fuck you, Rafe! Are you fucking kidding me?!” you wailed. “Let me go!”

JJ was there in an instant, grabbing your arms so you didn’t hit him. “Hey. Hey!” he tried to calm you down. “Topper let her go, man!” 

“(Y/N), what happened?” John B was there now too, grabbing the sides of your head and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Calm down. What did they do?” 

“We didn’t do shit man, just offered her a beer.” 

“Bullshit!” JJ snarled, knowing you wouldn’t get so worked up over nothing.

Your bottom lip trembled, eyes flickeirng to Rafe who was soaking wet and looking at you in disbelief. Sophia was using her own tank top to wipe the beer off of his cheek and neck. He scoffed and snatched the shirt from her, storming off down the beach and towards the ocean to rinse himself off. She trailed after him like a lost puppy. 

“Just take me home, please. I want to go home.” 

A/N: Add yourself to my tag list for this series if you’d like! As always, feedback is appreciated and I’ll see you soon with Chapter 2!

Tag list: @itsmattiesworld @escapismlourve @mattyskies @persiar9 @bellstwd @f4ll-for-you @oatmealisweird @FAMEFUCKERS @famefuckers @enthusiastms @lilleesthings @koibleufish @ravenroyale @reidshearts @probablyreadingsmutlol @rafelovergirl @angvl3tears @bilssturns @babygirlwilly

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Ok.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?  

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.  

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

[andavs]

The Cars of 911

All of this talk of Buck’s jeep and whether or not he now has a truck got me curious about how consistent any of the vehicles are in this show. And as of 8x08, here are my results.

ATHENA They don't show her personal vehicle in season one, but from the second season onward, Athena’s driven a red GMC Acadia Denali. It was presumably destroyed in the house fire in 7x10. She hasn't been shown driving a personal vehicle in season eight so far.

(2x13, 2x18)

(4x12, 6x06)

BOBBY Chronologically, Bobby's first car is this pickup in St. Paul. It’s older and more beat up, a little boxier.

(1x05)

When he moves to LA, he drives a dark blue Ford F-150, initially with Minnesota plates.

(2x16)

In season six, he has a dark blue Chevy Silverado.

(6x09)

And then in season seven when he goes after Amir, he has a different dark blue Chevy Silverado, this time a High Country. I assume he got it back from the middle of the desert, but then their house burned down, so it was probably destroyed with Athena’s SUV. He hasn't been shown driving a personal vehicle in season eight so far.

(7x08)

BUCK Chronologically, the first car we see Buck drive is the blue Jeep Wrangler that Maddie gives him in 2012. He drives it around the country and still has it on his first day at the 118 in 2017. 

(4x05)

But in the first season, which takes place in late 2017/early 2018, he has this gray/gray-green Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. This is the only season where he has this car. (It’s not Abby’s as in 1x09, she drives a silver Chevy Volt.)

(1x05, 1x10)

In season two he has a dark gray Rubicon, and seems to keep this car until it dies on the road in 6x07. It very well could’ve been different years that all look very similar; I don’t know enough about cars to spot minor differences from year to year.

(2x08, 3x16)

(4x11, 6x05)

In season seven, he has a new silver Rubicon, though it's only shown in 7x04.

(7x04)

CHIMNEY In 1x03, Chimney’s driving a blue Subaru Impreza when he gets in the rebar accident, and that’s the first and last time we see that car.

(1x03)

In 4x12 he’s driving a silver Subaru hatchback. It looks like it might be the same one Maddie was driving in season three.

(4x12)

Throughout season five, he’s driving a dark blue-gray Jeep Grand Cherokee.

(5x04)

I think he’s still driving the same Jeep in season seven when it gets stolen in 7x06. Its fate remains unknown.

(7x06)

EDDIE The first car we see of Eddie’s is an older gray Toyota Tundra from the early 2000s. It's also visible in 3x15 in El Paso.

(2x04, 2x17)

In 3x08 he buys a black GMC Sierra Denali and seems to still be driving it.

(3x08, 7x04)

HEN In seasons one and two, Hen drives a blue Toyota RAV4. Apparently only at night.

(1x07, 2x05)

After that, she's seen driving a dark gray Volvo that seems to be the same car Karen was driving in 1x10. It looked like Hen was driving it in 6x06 in flashbacks to their first date.

(1x10, 6x02)

MADDIE Chronologically, Maddie’s first car we see is the blue Jeep Wrangler. She had it in 2004 and gave it to Buck in 2012.

(4x05)

If she has a car in season two, it isn't shown, but in season three she’s driving a silver Subaru Crosstrek. It looks like it could be the same Subaru Chimney’s driving in 4x12, so they seem to have started sharing it.

(3x06, 3x09)

In conclusion, some characters are really consistent when it comes to their cars, while others are not. Bobby and Buck have changed their cars the most.

But whether it is or isn't Buck's, the truck from the cemetery in 8x05 and in the bts video looks like a Nissan Frontier.

(8x05, bts)

Disclaimer: I don't know shit about cars. Everything identified here was either done with Google Lens or through IMCDB.

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got there, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[moonstruckme]

hello mae! you said that you’re tentatively thinking about doing poly! jily? how about them x shy!reader who is used to spending holidays alone but now that she’s in a relationship, James and Lily wanna give her experiences of like carving pumpkins, baking cookies, or something like that.

just cute and domestic fall activities!! I hope that’s enough.

Thank you for requesting lovely!

poly!Jily x shy!reader ♡ 845 words

You smile, and James plants his lips on your cheek just before the flash. 

“Perfect,” Lily says while the camera whirs. She takes the photo it spits out, going to stow it in a shady corner of the porch. 

“Now one with you,” James urges. 

“No.” Lily waves him off as you second James’ request. “How would we get all of us and our pumpkins in it?” 

“James has long arms,” you say.

"Yeah, Evans." James grabs you roughly around the shoulders, making your face heat even as you smile. "I have long arms. Give it here."

After some debate Lily hands over the camera. James holds it out as far as he can, waiting until you’re all holding up your jack-o-lanterns before pressing the button. 

It goes beside the other photo, waiting for the film to develop. You know as soon as it does, both photos will be clustered in with the others on James and Lily’s fridge, held up by magnets beginning to lose their strength under the weight of so many. Lily has always liked to take pictures, and ever since you got together she’s been cramming ones of you into every empty space. This relationship is relatively new for you, and most days you’re still trying to figure out where you fit, but Lily and James do everything to make you feel welcome. In a million tiny ways, they show you all the time that they care just as much for you as they do for each other. 

James looks between your pumpkins pridefully. “Whose do we think turned out the best?” 

“Lily’s,” you say at the same time as Lily says, “Mine.” 

James’ mouth falls open. “Mine was good too!”

“Sorry, Jamie.” You give his shoulder a consoling pat. “Hers is just better.” 

The fact of the matter is, your girlfriend was simply patient where you and James were not. She outlined her jack-o-lantern’s face beforehand in marker, used a small knife to achieve the curvatures of one heart-shaped eye and one winking one, and took the time to make the edges of her cuts look nice and clean. James and you, however, tried to freehand things with much larger knives; it had not gone quite so well. 

“I think there should be points for creativity,” says James, frowning at his botched pumpkin. He’d tried to give it round eyes, and in the process accidentally cut more than he meant to. The result is jagged and vaguely upsetting, so eventually he decided it was an ill pumpkin and trailed its entrails out of its mouth so it looks like it’s vomiting pumpkin guts. 

“It was a very creative solution,” Lily tells James. And to you, “You did really well for your first time, too, sweetheart.” 

You snort. Yours is nearly as bad as James’. Both of your partners had to show you how to saw through the pumpkin flesh more than once to keep you from yanking the knife out and stabbing yourself. After many tutorials, you’d managed two triangle-shaped eyes, but the teeth you’d tried to put in your jack-o-lantern’s mouth had fallen out, so now it just looks like a rather simplistic, very upbeat face. 

“You did,” Lily insists, but she’s repressing a laugh too as she looks down at your pumpkin. “It’s cute.” 

“It looks like something a five-year-old could have done,” you acknowledge. 

“You and a five-year-old have about the same amount of experience carving pumpkins, so that’s not really so bad,” says James. He reaches for the polaroids Lily took. “Let’s see how these turned out.” 

“James Potter,” Lily’s voice goes sharp, “don’t you dare touch those with your slimy hands.” 

“Okay, alright.” James holds his hands up in the air. He stands instead, backing away slowly like Lily has him at gunpoint. “C’mon, lovie, let’s go fish the seeds out in the sink.” 

“What for?” you ask, following him as he carries your large bowl of pumpkin entrails inside. 

“If you separate the seeds and roast them, you can eat them.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had pumpkin seeds before.” 

“Nope.” 

“Ugh. You poor, deprived girl.” James takes your face in his hands, and you smile despite the slick feeling of his pumpkin-y fingers on your cheeks. His eyebrows scrunch pityingly as he kisses above your nose. “We’ll right that wrong today, sweetheart, don’t you worry.” 

“You haven’t been missing out on much,” Lily says, slipping past the two of you with your photos. She wedges them underneath a magnet on the fridge. “It’s a lot of effort for a snack.” 

“She only says that because she can’t stand the guts,” James tells you conspiratorially. 

“Really?” You mash your hands into the stringy pumpkin bits. “I kind of like them.” 

Lily makes a face. “They’re all slimy and weird. And sticky.” 

“Wimp,” James teases. 

“You’ve just called them guts, James. In what world does that sound appealing?” 

“Angel,” James says in a quiet voice, “you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 

You frown at him. “Why?” 

He picks up a small mass of pumpkin guts and lobs it at your girlfriend. 

“James!”

[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[rizzkisworld]

exes to lovers

pairing: ex!enhypen x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst if you squint

word count: 2.6k (each member is 300-400)

warnings: mention of princess treatment in Jay's(I don't feel like it implies a female reader, but understand if gendered terms make you uncomfy), Sunghoon's is a little depressing, lmk if there's anything else

Ty to my bae Milan ( @kairoot ) for the help💋

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

Heeseung

Guess I never got over you

There's never a moment in time where he's not thinking of you. Everything reminds him of you. Whenever he's scrolling through pictures on his phone, he always comes across yours. He could never bring himself to delete them. You were just.....his whole world. You were his everything and even though you broke up he could still feel a piece of you somewhere in his heart.

He doesn't even try to get with anyone else. He might go on dates here and there, but nothing goes anywhere. Not because the date was bad, but none of them are you. He only wants you. He doesn't admit it to anyone else, but you're always on his mind every second.

A year without you felt like hell. It was the biggest surprise to see you out while he was running errands. He wanted to be normal, didn't want to approach you and make you feel awkward. But most importantly, he didn't want to expose that he still had heavy feelings for you. He assumed you got over him, probably dating someone else now. He wouldn't be surprised cause you're so amazing. 

He's in total shock when you approach him. There's a smile stuck on his face the entire time. Talking to you felt as if the gloom in his cloudy brain was overtaken by sunshine. You were his sunshine. You'd invite him to get something to eat after figuring out you both hadn't eaten. Was this for real? Is he dreaming?

You never realized how much you missed him until now. The others never satisfied your needs. Never gave you the proper attention he had, stared at you with loving eyes like he had, going out of their way to make you smile on your worst days like he had. You realized then that Heeseung was made for you. Being together may not have been right a year ago, but now, you knew it was the perfect time.

Jay

Never a moment you're not on my mind

Breakups were difficult, we all know this. But your breakup with Jay broke you. You felt as if a part of you left. You felt as if you were drowning in an ocean and he was the only one who could save you. But he wasn't there. At this point you believed life was unfair. Your first valentine's day without him really reminded you how in love you were.

The sweet gestures he would do, the dates he would plan, the gifts he would get, the princess treatment you received. You felt like you mattered to him. You felt like you were special. And you were. He saw you as more than just his partner. The breakup did a lot of damage to his heart as well. Though he wasn't as broken for long like you were, the impact you left on his life was visible. Especially now that you are gone. 

You miss him everyday. There were times you believed you were over him. Times when you believed you were okay. Suddenly everything would come crashing down again. You just knew he was with someone new. Knew he didn't think about you the way you thought about him. Though not to the same extent as you, he did think about you.

Fate. That's how you'd both describe it when you bumped into each other. It was at a concert for a band you both loved. You'd spend so much time gushing over them together when you were dating. Things were extremely awkward. Actually that's an understatement for the tension between you two. It was as simple as a "hi" and a "how are you" before you had parted ways that day.

Little did you guys know that one occurrence was one of many. Suddenly you guys saw each other five times a month. At that point you knew it had to mean something right? The short conversations turned into long ones. All of a sudden you guys were texting? Then calling? Oh this totally meant something. Let's just say a rekindle of the relationship was the next step and it came faster than you could ever imagine. 

Jake

Are we even exes?

The breakup was unexpected....kind of. Jake couldn't handle seeing you hurt, you couldn't handle seeing him that way either. With that being said, you both agreed to be friends. Friends, that was totally all you were. He was totally your ex. It was normal to still talk everyday, cuddle in bed, watch movies together, say "I love you" to each other, and make out. You know, things exes don't do. 

You both swear up and down that you didn't realize you two were still acting like you guys were together. It took your friend to ask you if you got back with him for you to realize the situation. That's when the real breakup happened. You cried for days after cutting things off. Some days you felt fine and then the next you would feel as if a pile of garbage fell on you. 

This sucked. Everything sucked. Everyone sucked. It took months to finally get over him. You had started going on dates again and let Jake completely leave your mind. Life without him was strange at first, but then it became normal. Even when you first saw him again at your mutual friend's party, you weren't fazed. He didn't seem fazed either. In fact, you saw him dancing around with another girl. That had to be his girlfriend right? 

Didn't matter to you though. Strangely enough, that wasn't a one time thing. You started seeing him everywhere. Like legitimately everywhere. Was this a sign? Nah, it can't be. Things changed fast however. At another one of your friends party's you saw him again.

 This time he was alone. He came up to you first. You guys talked for a bit...maybe one hour... actually for the rest of the party. One thing led to another and you both started talking consistently again. You found out that the other girl wasn't his girlfriend and she was just someone he met at that party. Safe to say you two weren't opposed to the idea of trying to work things out.

Sunghoon

Seems like we both can't move on

You always wondered if he still thought about you. You for sure thought about him. Every single day. There was no proper way to describe the hole you felt in your heart without him around. It made you feel as if you didn't cherish the relationship while it lasted.  Little did you know that Sunghoon had thoughts about you. They were never ending. Whenever he tried to focus on other things, you popped back into his mind. 

Something he's embarrassed to admit is that he has dreams about you. He didn't even realize that he stopped going outside much. He spent most of his time in his bed doing nothing, but thinking about you. You were no better. You were someone he could rely on and be raw and honest to. He was someone you could be your most authentic self with.

When you went on dates with other people, that was the one thing you noticed. None of them made you feel safe the way he did. None of them made you laugh the way he did. Were you ever going to find another like him? The first time you had seen him again, you chose to not speak. You wanted to get over him, talking to him wouldn't help. 

Funny enough, Hoon shared that same thought process. He noticed you, but feared speaking with you would make it harder to get over you. He knew it would. The both of you hated to admit, but you both hoped to see each other again. Unexpectedly, it happened again. This time, you couldn't pretend you didn't see him. He couldn't pretend he didn't see you. Because you both locked eyes the moment you saw each other.

He was about to approach you, but his friend called for him before he could reach you. Feeling somewhat hurt, you went home hoping another occurrence like that would happen. You didn't need to hope, though. Your phone buzzed, and when you checked your notifications, he texted you. 'Wanna talk in person...alone?' That was the message. You couldn't leave him hanging. Better yet, you weren't going to. Maybe, just maybe, this time things would go right.

Sunoo

The words friend and ex don't mix

You never imagined that you could still be friends with your ex, but Sunoo was different....or at least you thought. Everything was mutual, so you guys promised there would be no bad blood. What was meant to be something as simple as being cordial, you found yourself still texting and calling him. 

It's not like he was much better either. He picked up all of your calls and called back when he missed them. He responded to all your text messages and eventually found himself going out of his way to message you. 

One thing led to another, and you guys began to hang out again. Realizing how much you missed him, how much he missed you, all of this became a regular thing. Still at that, you told yourself that you were just friends and nothing more. That was until your friend asked you directly if you still had feelings for him. 

Of course you said no, it was impossible for you to catch feelings for your ex again right? Actually no, not at all. What if he didn't feel that way about you? Wondering if you should cut things once and for all, you then receive a message. From him. He wanted to meet with you. Anxious was somehow an understatement for how you felt. 

You knew just as good that you would regret this. You knew he was going to cut things off, so you were preparing yourself. This last time you would spend together felt so bittersweet. You'd be in for a surprise when Sunoo spoke words you didn't know you desperately wanted to hear. "Wanna try us again?" That sweet smile you missed seeing. His delicate voice you missed hearing. Nothing in the world could compare to this moment. "Of course."

Jungwon

Can't escape you

You hadn't seen him since the breakup. It had been about 2 years since it all happened. It took you some time, but eventually you were able to move on from everything.  You weren't necessarily trying to get back in the dating pool. Everytime your friends tried to set you up on a date you told them you weren't ready. The time just didn't feel right.

But has timing ever been on your side? Six months ago you started a new job at a café. It was mainly so you could build your bank up to help pay for your studies. Your coworker had told you the other day that someone new would be working. You did not expect it to be Jungwon. While you were wiping down the counter, you heard his voice. There was no mistaking his voice. "Hey, I'm Ju- oh.." He paused the moment he noticed who you were.

"Hi." You avoided all eye contact with him. Opening hours were coming up in 15 minutes, so you needed to make sure everything was set up. However, you couldn't take your attention away from him. He couldn't take his eyes away from you. You both failed to notice that neither of you moved. That was until the door opened and customers started coming in. From that day on you realized you'd be seeing him a lot.

For the first 3 months of working together you didn't dare speak to him and neither did he dare speak to you. The only words you'd exchange were work related. One day however, oddly enough, Jungwon approached you. Why? You still don't know, but the conversation was pleasant. You got the chance to catch up on each other's lives and share a few laughs. That's all. At least you thought so.

More months passed, and whenever you saw Jungwon you got that feeling. You know, the one where you can't think straight when your crush is around and your heart feels like it's 3 steps away from a heart attack? But you didn't have a crush on your ex right? Caught up in your thoughts, you never noticed how his eyes shined whenever they landed on you. How he was so eager to see you and hear your voice. He already accepted defeat. He'd fallen for you all over again. Now, all he needed was for you to admit you wanted him too.

Ni-ki

I'm here now

One of the more..."normal" breakups. Things just didn't work out at the time. He was traveling a lot while you were busy studying. You guys barely had time for each other and the relationship turned into a long distance one. You both decided things weren't working out and ultimately decided to break up. It broke your heart, of course it did. No breakup was easy.

You often found yourself reminiscing on the time you had spent together. He did too. Riki found it hard to sleep some nights knowing you weren't in his arms. I mean technically towards the end of the relationship you weren't there often, but being broken up felt different. Slowly but surely you built yourself up again. You weren't crying anymore and you were able to sleep peacefully now. However, you did still think about him from time to time.

It had only been a few months after all. You were still healing and that journey is never finishing quickly. Once you were in a better state your grades had improved, your skin was clear, you really took time to look after yourself. Riki on the other hand was healing slowly too. A few people had approached him, but he wasn't interested. Though he was getting over you, there were times you were on his mind. When a year and 6 months of your breakup passed, the both of you were in better shape. You both felt better and looked better.

Even better news, Riki was no longer traveling like crazy. He knew this was probably going too far, but he needed to see you. He at least wanted to see how you were doing. He claimed he wanted nothing more, but deep down, he wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you the words you wanted to hear before you guys broke up. 'I'm here to stay.' You were at the library looking for a book you needed for a class when you noticed a familiar figure in your peripheral entering. It was Riki. You couldn't lie and pretend like you weren't excited. Riki didn't even know why he was there.

Something in his body just told him to go to the library. Now he knew why. Upon seeing you, he couldn't resist the urge to let his arms fly open. You found your way into his embrace. His hug was tight. It made you feel secure. Without saying any words, mainly to avoid noise violations, his body did all the talking. The reassurance you wanted from that time, you finally got it. Riki wasn't letting you go anytime soon. He honestly forgot you guys were in public. To make the moment more perfect, he leaned into your ear and spoke those magical words. "I'm here, and I'm going to stay for you.”

[earthchica]

Sweetest Devotion

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: Your and Terry's son started preschool, and you and Terry continued discussing having another baby with you.

warnings: explicit smut 18+, oral (m & f ), unprotected sex, dirty talking, dilf! terry, daddy kink, breeding kink, baby fever, ovulating, fluff, five-year-old son, domestic life, angst, fainting, use of y/n, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, baby girl & more ] words: 7k

note: I really love writing for this story, it has to be my fav. Please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

sequel to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist one { everything I ever wanted } two { make it right } three { you are my joy }

The preschool orientation came around, and you still danced around this baby topic. Elijah happily chatted about his new friends and couldn’t wait to learn with them.

It was Elijah’s first day, and you and Terry took off work to share in the excitement. You took many pictures before heading out, once at the preschool.

You watched as Elijah walked confidently into his new class, waving goodbye and not even glancing back. You turned to Terry, chuckling nervously.

“Well, that was…weird,” you pouted. “Thought he’d at least cry a little or something.”

Terry smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “He’s got your confidence. Eli is a natural.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him. “Yeah, yeah. Still, I thought I’d at least get a dramatic goodbye. Maybe a tear or two. Guess I’m not as essential as I thought.”

“Oh, you’re essential, alright,” Terry said, squeezing your shoulder.

“But he’s just ready to take on the world. He’s a big boy.”

You lingered there momentarily, watching the classroom door as if expecting Elijah to burst out, realizing he’d forgotten something—or someone.

But the door remained closed, the faint sound of children laughing and teachers guiding them filtering through. You sighed, a mix of pride and wistfulness swirling in your chest.

Terry nudged you gently, his smirk softening into a smile. “Come on,” he said, tugging you down the hallway, but you heard a familiar voice calling out behind you.

“Daddy! Mama!”

You spun around to see Elijah running toward you, his little legs pumping furiously, his face full of excitement, his hazel eyes shining like twin suns.

You dropped to one knee instinctively, arms open wide, and he barreled into you with all the force of a tiny hurricane.

“Elijah!” you exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug, your heart swelling with relief and joy.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you forget something?” you asked changing to curious and worried.

Elijah shook his head, “No!” he said, pulling back just enough to look at you with a serious expression.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll miss you! And… and I’ll be brave!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you cupped his face. “Oh, Elijah,” you said, your voice trembling.

“You’re already so brave. We’re so proud of you.”

Terry knelt down beside you, caressing Elijah's head. “Yeah, little man,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re going to do great. And we’ll be here waiting for you when school ends.”

Elijah nodded solemnly, then leaned in to hug Terry quickly before returning to you.

“I Love you, Mama,” he said, kissing your cheek sloppy.

“I Love you too, my sweet baby,” you replied, giving him one last squeeze before standing up.

With a final wave, Elijah turned and ran back toward his classroom, where the teacher was waiting for him, his small frame disappearing through the door once more.

You stood there momentarily, watching the space where he had been, feeling the weight of his absence settle in your chest. Terry’s arm found its way around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

“He’s going to be fine,” Terry said softly, his voice reassuring. “And so are we.”

You nodded, leaning into him. “I know. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know? Our little boy is growing up.”

Terry chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, he is. But he’s still our little boy. Always will be.”

You sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess we’ve got some time to ourselves now,” you said, glancing up at him.

“What should we do?”

Terry’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could go get some coffee. Or… we could finally have that conversation about whether or not we’re ready for another little one.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the familiar mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside you.

“You really want to talk about it now?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Terry shrugged, his expression softening. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he said, his tone gentle.

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against your chest like a stone.

The thought of another child—another tiny heartbeat to care for, another soul to mold and guide—felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

You glanced at Terry, his eyes warm and patient, waiting for your response. His hand still rested on your shoulder, steadying you.

“I… I don’t know,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Elijah’s still so little, and there’s so much to consider. Can we enjoy this?”

Terry nodded, his thumb brushing against your arm in a soothing rhythm.

“I get it,” he said softly. “It’s a big decision. And you’re right—Elijah’s still our whole world. We don’t have to rush anything.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“I just want to make sure we’re doing it for the right reasons,” you admitted, looking up at him. "It has to feel… right.”

“Sure,” Terry said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

“And when it does feel right—whenever that is—we’ll know. ” He gave your shoulder a final squeeze before letting his hand drop.

“For now, let’s just enjoy this day. Coffee, maybe a walk, and then we’ll pick up our little man later. Sound good?” Terry added.

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Sounds perfect.”

-

As the weeks pass, you and Terry settle into a new routine. The days were filled with Elijah's laughter and stories about his friends at preschool, and the nights were spent in silent companionship.

You noticed the tiny distance between you and Terry - he was still the fantastic dad and husband he was, but there was a distance between you regarding intimacy.

The two of you haven't had sex in two weeks only because you haven't been in the mood, but a few days have gonna by. You were practically throwing yourself at Terry.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Elijah was at preschool, and Terry was off work.

Instead of spending time with you. “Hey, baby! Heading into the garage for a bit,” Terry said casually.

“Gotta keep up with this routine.”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat.

Something about how he said it—so nonchalant, so routine—made you wonder if there was more to it.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Can I join you this time?”

Terry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he nodded after a moment.

“Sure. If you want.”

You hurried upstairs to change, your mind racing.

You slipped into a form-fitting workout outfit, a tight sports bra that gave a good view of your breasts, and leggings that hugged your thick curves just enough to remind him of what he’d been missing.

The fabric clung to you in all the right places, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You bit your lip with a spark of determination in your eyes.

When you descended the stairs, Terry was waiting by the door, looking sexy. His eyes flickered over you, and briefly, you saw something flicker in his gaze—something warm, familiar.

But just as quickly, it was replaced by his usual demeanor. “Ready?” he asked, holding the door open for you. You nodded, following him out into the cool evening air.

The walk to the garage was short but filled with tension. You could feel the space between you, charged with heat and desire. Once inside.

Terry started setting up his weights while you lingered near the thick yoga mat, stretching casually but deliberately. As you bent forward, your box braids falling over your shoulders, you caught Terry glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You held the pose a little longer than necessary, feeling a thrill when he quickly looked away. You moved through a series of stretches, each designed to highlight your figure more.

You could feel his gaze flickering back to you occasionally, sending you a little satisfaction. You decided to take it further, letting your movements flow with a fluid grace that you knew would be hard for him to ignore.

You sank into a deep lunge, arching your back slightly so the curve of your ass became more pronounced.

"Terry," you called out softly, your voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Can you give me a hand with this pose? I think my form might be off."

He hesitated momentarily, clearly trying to stay focused on his routine, but eventually, he set down the dumbbell he was holding and walked over.

"Sure," he said, his tone neutral but his eyes lingering just a beat too long on your body. "What do you need?"

"Just guide my hips a little," you said innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. "I want to make sure I’m aligned properly."

Terry’s hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before settling on your hips.

His touch was tentative at first, but his grip tightened ever so slightly as he adjusted your stance. You could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin fabric of your leggings, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Like this?" Terry asked, his voice low and a little strained.

"Almost," you murmured, shifting your weight subtly so your ass brushed against his crotch. You felt him stiffen, but he didn’t pull away.

Instead, his hands lingered, fingers pressing into your hips with a barely restrained intensity. You arched your back just a little more, letting the curve of your spine draw his gaze downward.

“There,” you said softly, your voice like honey. “That feels perfect.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, electric, and undeniable. You could hear the faintest hitch in his breath, the way it caught in his throat as his eyes traced the line of your body.

Then, slowly, you rose from the lunge, turning to face him. Your breasts pressed against his chest, and you tilted your head up ever so slightly, your lips parted just enough to be inviting.

“Thanks, baby, you’re the best,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with meaning. You stepped back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“I think I’ve got it now.”

Terry’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as they met yours. He didn’t say anything, but how he looked at you—like he was teetering on the edge of something—was enough to make your heart race.

You knew you had him right where you wanted him, and the power of that knowledge sent a thrill coursing through your veins. You turned away from him with a sly smile, swaying your hips just enough to keep him hooked.

"Alright then," you said, your tone light but laced with intention. "Guess I’ll get back to it."

You moved away from him, putting just enough distance between you two to make him ache. Then, without warning, you dropped into a quick set of jumping jacks.

Your arms swung wide, and your breasts bounced rhythmically with each motion, drawing his gaze like a magnet. You could feel his eyes on you, hot and heavy, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you kept going, letting the rhythm of your movement amplify the tension in the room.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, low enough that he probably thought you couldn’t hear it. But you did, and it only fueled your fire.

"Somethin’ wrong, Terry?" you called out between breaths, your voice dripping with feigned innocence as you continued your exercise.

"You lookin’ a little… distracted over there."

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Nah," he said gruffly, his voice rough like gravel.

"Just makin’ sure you keeping that form tight. Can’t have you slacking now.” But the way his eyes stayed glued to your body betrayed him—his words were weak, and you both knew it.

You slowed, letting your arms fall to your sides as you turned to face him again. Sweat glistened on your skin, and you licked your lips slowly, deliberately, watching his gaze follow the movement.

“Oh, I ain’t slacking, baby,” you purred, stepping closer to him with a sway in your hips that made his breath hitch. “You the one lookin’ all kinds of tense over there. Maybe you need some… loosening up.”

His jaw clenched, and you could see the muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought to keep control. But you weren’t about to let him off that easy.

You closed the distance between you, standing so close that your breasts brushed against his chest again with every breath. Your hand reached up, fingers trailing lightly along the curve of his jaw before sliding down to rest on his chest.

You could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and it only made you smirk.

“You like what you see?” you whispered. Your voice was low and sultry, dripping with confidence, making Terry’s breath catch in his throat. "Do you want me right now?

His chest rose and fell faster now, his eyes locked on yours like he was trying to figure out if you were playing or serious. But you weren’t playing.

Not this time.

“You know I do,” he finally replied, his voice deep and low. His hand grabbed your wrist lightly but didn’t pull it away. Instead, he pressed your palm firmer against his chest, letting you feel the heat of him, the way his heart was pounding like a drumbeat just for you.

“You know I always want you.”

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a sly smile as you leaned in closer, your breath brushing against his ear.

“Then why you have been actin’ like you don’t?” you murmured, your voice honey-sweet but cutting straight to the point.

“Why have you been keeping your distance, Terry? You ain’t been touching me like you used to. Ain’t been lookin’ at me like you need me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction. His tone steady but laced with something raw, something unspoken.

“I have been respecting your wishes, baby. You said you haven't been in the mood, so I wasn't gonna push.” His voice dropped lower, a growl that sent shivers down your spine.

“But don’t for a second think I don’t want you every damn day.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers trailing down his chest, over the hard planes of his abs, until they rested just above the waistband of his shorts.

“Respecting my wishes, huh?” you teased, your voice dripping with a playful challenge.

“That’s cute, Terry. That's really sweet of you. I'm sorry…that's on me, but I am in the mood now, fuck me, please, I need you, Daddy” Your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the bulge in his shorts, and you felt him twitch beneath your touch.

“You have been holding back on me, and it’s been driving’ me crazy. I like it when you’re all over me, even if I say I’m not in the mood.”

Terry’s breath hitched, his hands moving to your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that made your knees weak.

“Fuck” he growled, his voice low, and his eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

“Let’s fix it,” he said, his voice firm. “Right now.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming you with a desperation that took your breath away. It wasn’t soft or gentle; it was raw and consuming like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d been distant.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

“I miss your touch, Daddy,” You moaned, taking his tank off, went to caress his erection through his shorts, and got on your knees while looking up at him.

Terry’s breath hitched as your fingers traced his outline through the fabric, his hands instinctively finding their way to your shoulders.

“Baby…” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers tightened slightly, grounding himself as you looked up at him with those big doe eyes that always seemed to see straight through him.

You didn’t waste any time, tugging at the waistband of his shorts until they slid down his hips, freeing him. The sight of him—hard and ready for you—sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip before letting your tongue trace a slow, deliberate path along his length. His hips jerked involuntarily, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought to keep himself still.

“Damn, girl,” he groaned, his voice rough and strained. His hands moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your braids as you took him deeper into your mouth.

Your rhythm was slow and deliberate, each movement designed to drive him wild. He let out a low growl, his grip tightening just enough to let you know he was barely holding it together.

But you weren’t done yet.

You pulled back slightly, teasing him with the tip of your tongue before taking him in again, this time deeper, your lips wrapping around him with practiced ease.

Terry’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to maintain control. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice shaking with need.

Your hands moved to his hips, anchoring him as you continued to work him with your mouth, each stroke drawing out more of those delicious sounds from him.

You could feel the tension coiling in his body, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch. Knowing you had this kind of power over him was intoxicating, knowing you could bring him to the edge so effortlessly.

But you wanted more than just his pleasure. You wanted to see him unravel completely, to hear every filthy word spill from those lips as he lost himself in you.

Pulling back with a slow, deliberate drag of your tongue, you looked up at him, your lips glistening, your eyes heavy with desire. “You wanna feel how much I’ve been missing you, Daddy?” you purred, your voice dripping with honeyed temptation.

Your hands slid up his thighs, nails digging lightly into his skin as you teased him with your words. “You wanna know how much I’ve been dreaming about this? ‘Bout you?”

Terry’s jaw clenched, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes burning with a fire that made your entire body ache. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“You been dreaming ‘bout me, baby? ‘Bout what I’d do to you?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Dreaming ‘bout how you’d stretch me out, fill me up, make me scream your name ‘til the neighbors call the cops.”

You licked your lips, your eyes locking with his, unflinching. “Dreaming’ ‘bout how you’d hold me down, make me take every inch of you ‘til I’m begging for mercy. Dreaming ‘bout how you’d make me yours—all over again.”

Terry let out a guttural groan, his free hand gripping your hair tighter as he pulled you closer to him. “Mmm...let me make that dream come true, would you like that?” he growled, his voice dark and dangerous.

“Yes, let me finish,” you said, your voice sultry and defiant. You leaned in again, taking him into your mouth once more, this time with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Your tongue swirled around him, your lips working him with a rhythm that had his legs trembling beneath him. You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep himself from thrusting too hard.

“Shit,” he hissed, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses that only spurred you on. “You gon’ make me lose it, girl. Fuck, you got me ready to bust, and you ain’t even let me touch you yet.”

His voice was raw and ragged like it was being ripped from his chest. “You think you can handle all this pent-up tension? You think you can take what I got for you?”

You pulled back just enough to let him see the wicked grin on your lips, your eyes glinting with mischief. “Daddy, yes, give me all that you got,” you purred, your voice smoky and full of promise.

“I have been waiting for this, waiting for you.”

Terry’s laugh was low and throaty, but it didn’t mask the hunger in his eyes. He reached down, gripped your braids, and guided you back to him.

“You talkin’ like that you didn't have me waiting for it first,” he murmured, his voice dripping with menace. “But Imma give you exactly what you've been asking’ for.”

His grip tightened as he pressed himself more profoundly into your mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest.

“Shit, baby! You're so good at this—like you were born just to suck me off,” Terry growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled you up suddenly, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed your body.

“But I’mma need more than that pretty pussy right now. I miss it.” Terry said, dragging you across the room, his movements urgent and commanding.

Your heart raced as he tossed you onto a thick, plush mat on the floor, the friction of the fabric against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

Terry loomed over you, his eyes blazing with hunger, and you knew there was no escaping what was coming next. “On all fours,” he ordered, his voice low and gravelly, leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed instantly, your body trembling with anticipation as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Terry knelt behind you, his hands gripping your hips with a dominance that made your breath hitch.

Terry ripped a hole in your leggings, the sound of fabric tearing echoing through the room. "Oh baby," he muttered, his voice dripping with approval as he exposed your ass.

He smacked it hard, the sharp sting making you gasp and arch your back. "You been walking’ around like this, all this ass out here tempting me? You knew what you were doing!"

Terry growled, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through your body as he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin.

“You have done it now. You got me all worked up, and I ain’t letting you off easy.”

His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive skin at the small of your back before trailing lower, leaving a wet, hot path that made you shudder.

“Fuck, Terry,” you moaned, your voice trembling as his hands spread you open wider. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as his tongue dipped lower, brushing against the folds of your pussy with a teasing flick.

“Damn, baby,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he pressed his face deeper between your ass cheeks.

“You taste so fuckin’ good. Like sweet candy—I could eat this pussy all day.” His tongue swirled around your clit, slow and deliberate, drawing a whimper from your lips.

“You like that? You like how Daddy’s taking care of you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clawing at the mat beneath you as his tongue worked you like a damn masterpiece. “Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered, your voice shaking with need.

“Please—fuck, don’t stop.”

He growled against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. “You beggin’ already?” he teased, pulling back just enough to make you ache.

“Nah, baby.....” His hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he leaned back, his dick hard and heavy against your ass.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he traced a finger down the curve of your spine. “All this ass up in the air, just begging for me to ruin you.”

He smacked your ass again, harder this time, the sting making you cry out and push back against him instinctively. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said, his voice dripping with approval.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Terry,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation as you rocked back against him. “I need it—I need you inside me. Fuck me, please, big daddy.”

Terry chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick teasing your slick folds.

"You sure, baby?" Terry murmured his voice a low growl that made your stomach tighten.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. "Please, Daddy—I need it. I need you so bad."

"Alright," Terry said, his voice thick with approval as he gripped your hips and slammed into you in one smooth, brutal stroke. The air left your lungs in a rush, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he filled you, stretching you most deliciously.

"Fuck," Terry groaned, his voice strained as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him. "Pussy always gotta gripping’ me like it ain’t never letting go."

"Don’t stop," you begged, your voice shaking as you clenched around him, your body already craving more. "Please—fuck me."

"Shit," Terry muttered, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, the force of it making your breath hitch.

"You feel that, baby? That’s all me, stretching’ you out, makin’ this pussy mine." His thrusts were relentless, each one deeper and harder than the last, and you could feel the heat building in your core with every movement.

"Damn, you take it so well," Terry growled, his voice rough and raw with need. "This pussy was made for me and only me—you hear me? Made. For. Me."

"Y-yes, Terry," you stammered, your voice breaking as he hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"All yours—only yours." Your hands clawed at the mat beneath you, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you senseless, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

"That’s right," Terry said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned over you, one hand sliding up to grip your throat just enough to make your pulse race.

"You’re the best wife, Y/N the best thing that's ever happened to me. I’m so grateful to call you mine,” he added.

“Oh, Terry, yes,” you moaned, feeling grabbed your breasts through your sports bra.

“Fuck…always takin’ this dick like a champ—like you were born for it. Turn around for me, and let me see your face and those tits."

You whimpered at his command, your body trembling as you turned to lay on your back as he slides his dick deep inside you. The movement made you gasp, the fullness of him sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.

Terry’s dark eyes locked onto yours, his gaze hungry and predatory as he hovered over you, his hands moving to tear off your sports bra swiftly.

Your breasts spilled free, and he groaned low in his throat, his eyes taking over your exposed skin like he was devouring you whole. Terry growled, his voice thick with lust as he palmed your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples.

“Look at you—fuckin’ perfect. These tits? Mine. This pussy? Mine. All of you—mine.” Terry leaned down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he rolled the other between his fingers.

The dual sensation made you arch into him, a desperate moan escaping your lips as he teased and tormented you.

“Terry, please,” you begged, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued to feast on you. “I need you to keep going…fuck me more, please.”

Terry pulled back with a wet pop, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at you. "No need to beg, baby," he said, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine.

"You already know I’m gon’ give you what you need." His hands slid down your body, rough and wild, gripping your hips as he pulled out slowly, teasing you with the drag of his dick before slamming back in with a force that made you cry out.

"Fuck, Terry!" you screamed, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, each thrust driving more profound, more challenging, until you felt like he was everywhere—filling you, owning you, consuming you.

"Y-you feel so good—so damn good!" you moaned. "Yes, do you feel that? Feel how deep I’m in you? Huh?" Terry asked.

"Yes, I feel it!" you cried out, your back arching off the mat as he pounded into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

"You’re so deep—oh, you’re everywhere! Terry, please—I need more! Fuck another baby in me, please!"

"Are you sure?" Terry growled, his eyes dark with hunger as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with the same intensity as his dick was ravaging your core.

"Because I’ll give you what you want. You want me to put another baby in you? Huh? Are you ready for that?"

"Yes, please, yes!" you moaned into his mouth, your hands moving to grip his ass, pulling him deeper still.

"Fuck, you beg so pretty," Terry snarled, his voice dripping with raw desire as he slammed into you again, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room.

"You hear that? That sound your pussy makin’ when I hit it? That’s what I wanna hear every damn night. You gon’ give me that, huh? Gon’ let me wreck this pussy whenever I want?"

"Yes, Terry—oh fuck, yes!" you cried out, your body trembling as he drove into you with relentless force. His words were filthy, dripping with a hunger that matched his movements, and they only made you want him more.

"Wreck me—fuck me however you want! I’m yours—all yours, fuck another baby into me please!"

Terry’s hands tightened around your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he leaned back slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You want another baby? Huh? You want me to fill you up, plant my seed deep in you, and watch you grow with another child inside you?”

“Yes!” you screamed, your voice hoarse from the relentless pleasure as you clawed at his chest, your nails raking down his skin. “I want it—I want you to fill me! I need it, Terry—please!”

Terry growled low, the sound primal, as he thrust into you harder, faster, each stroke more punishing than the last.

The garage was filled with the raw, wet sounds of your bodies colliding, the slapping of skin against skin, and the desperate, breathless moans spilling from your lips.

“Say it again,” Terry demanded, his voice rough and guttural, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he pulled you into him with every brutal stroke.

“Say you want me to come inside you, to make another baby. Say it.”

“I want it! I want you to come inside me—oh, Terry, please! I need it—I need you to fill me up!”

“Fuck,” Terry cursed, his face twisted in a mixture of pleasure and raw, animalistic need. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ this dick like you were made for it. My girl, my wife, my everything.”

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly as he pounded into you, each thrust lifting you off the mat.

The world around you blurred, the only focus the relentless drive of his hips, the heat building in your core, and the raw, unfiltered pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body.

“Come on, baby,” Terry growled, his voice strained as he leaned over you again, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“I feel you squeezing me, but don’t you dare come yet. You hear me? You wait for me. We come together.”

“T-Terry, please—I—” You couldn’t finish the sentence, your breath catching as he hit that perfect spot again, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Not yet,” Terry snapped, his thrusts becoming erratic, wild, as he chased his own climax. “Hold on, baby—hold on for me!”

Your hands clawed at his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him deeper, your body desperate for more. The heat inside you was building, coiling tighter and tighter until it became almost unbearable.

“Let me see your face,” Terry growled, lifting his head to lock his eyes with yours. “I want to see you when you cum. I want to see my baby full of my dick, takin’ every inch like the good girl you are.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the dam breaking. “Terry—I can’t—oh fuck—”

“Now,” he barked, his voice harsh as he slammed into you one final, brutal time. “Cum now, sweetheart”

Your body obeyed, the release tearing through you like a freight train as you screamed, the sound raw and guttural. Terry wasn’t far behind, his growl deep and primal as he buried himself inside you, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, hot and thick.

For a moment, time stood still as the two of you rode the wave of your climaxes; the only sound was your ragged breathing and the pounding of your heart.

Then, slowly, Terry collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mat as he buried his face in your neck, his chest heaving with exertion.

Terry flips off of you and lies there; his breath slowly steadies, and he turns his head to gaze into your eyes, the intensity still burning within them.

Terry brushed a braid from your face, his touch tender yet charged with the remnants of their passion. "Fuck...I love you," he whispered, his voice still husky.

"I love you too, Terry." You smiled weakly, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of their climax. Terry shifted slightly, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you like a shield.

The garage was quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the world outside, a stark contrast to the raw energy that had filled the space just moments before.

As you lay there, the weight of Terry's words settled over you. The want for another child, for the expansion of your family, lingered in the air.

You thought about the future, about the possibilities, and how this moment might be the beginning of something new. Terry's hand drifted to your belly, his fingers tracing gentle circles as if envisioning the life that might soon grow there.

"We'll see," he murmured, a soft smile on his lips. "We'll see."

-

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks slipped into a month, then more. Life fell into its familiar rhythm, but something felt different.

At first, it was just a faint morning nausea, a queasiness that lingered long after breakfast. You brushed it off as a stomach bug, something that would pass.

But as the days went on, the sickness persisted, and with it came a weariness that clung to you like a second skin. You were always tired, no matter how much you slept, and the smell of the simplest meals could send you running for the bathroom.

Terry noticed first, of course. He always did. He’d watch you with that sharp, observant gaze, his brow furrowing when you pushed food around your plate or excused yourself again to be sick.

“You should go to the doctor,” Terry said one morning as you sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

“You’ve been feeling like shit for weeks. It’s probably just a bug, but you must ensure it’s not something more serious. You might be pregnant; we've been trying.”

But you were stubborn, not thinking you were pregnant just yet, even if you two were trying. You shook your head, insisting you were okay, that it was just stress or something you’d eaten.

Terry sighed and dropped it, but he wasn’t convinced. Then came the day at the zoo. Elijah was bouncing with excitement, his tiny hands clutching the map as he dragged Terry toward the lion enclosure.

You trailed behind, the sun beating down on you, making your head swim. The air was thick with the smells of popcorn and sweat, and your stomach churned in protest.

You paused and took a breath while leaning against a railing as the world spun around you. “Mama! Mama, look! The lions are eating!” Elijah’s voice carried back to you, distant but clear.

You tried to smile, to wave, but your vision blurred at the edges. Terry turned, his expression shifting from amusement to concern in an instant.

“Hey,” Terry said, stepping closer. “You good you look-.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, but your voice wavered.

"Sweetheart, you know it's me you're talking...I know when something is wrong," Terry said, but the ground tipped beneath your feet, and everything went black before you could stop it.

-

"Daddy, I think she's waking up," you heard a familiar voice as you opened your eyes and lay in a clinic bed.

Terry’s face was etched with worry, and Elijah sat in a chair beside him, his small face drawn.

“Thank God,” Terry whispered, his voice cracking as he took your hand.

"What happened?" You whispered.

“You fainted, scared the hell out of us, baby.”

You tried to speak again, but your throat was dry. A nurse bustled in, smiling warmly, and handed you a cup of water.

“Take small sips,” she said. “You’ve been out for 20 mintues.”

As you drank, the doctor came in, clipboard in hand. “Good to see you’re awake, Mrs. Richmond,” he said.

“You fainted at the zoo; your husband brought you in. We ran some tests." The doctor’s voice was calm and reassuring, but you could sense a hint of excitement beneath his professional demeanor.

“You fainted due to a combination of dehydration and low blood sugar, but…” The doctor paused, glancing at Terry and Elijah before returning to you.

“We also found something else during the tests.”

Terry’s hand tightened around yours, his eyes narrowing slightly as if bracing for news. Elijah, oblivious to the tension, leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his tiny voice breaking the silence. The doctor smiled a small smile that put you at ease. “It seems you’re going to be a family of four soon. You’re pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a whispered secret, their weight settling over you like a soft blanket. You blinked, your mind racing. Pregnant?

Terry gave you a *I told ya so* look and you should've known, and the nausea, the fatigue, it all made sense. A small, incredulous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it caught there, leaving you breathless.

Terry’s face transformed in an instant. His initial shock melted into a vast, radiant smile, and he squeezed your hand so hard it almost hurt.

“Really?” Terry asked, his voice trembling with hope. “Are you sure?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, very sure. She's about eight weeks along. Everything looks healthy. You just need to stay hydrated, Mrs. Richmond, take it easy for a while, and come in for regular check-ups.”

Elijah, who had been quietly processing this information, suddenly jumped.

“We’re gonna have a baby!” Elijah exclaimed, his voice ringing. He jumped on the bed and threw his arms around your neck, almost knocking over the water cup on the bedside table.

“I’m gonna be a big brother! I’m gonna teach them everything!”

You laughed then, the sound breaking free from your chest. It was a shaky, half-tearful laugh, but it felt good. Terry leaned over, kissing your forehead, his eyes shining with unspoken promises.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Terry whispered. “We’re gonna be great.”

The doctor smiled again, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, stepping out of the room.

“We’ll set you up with an appointment with your preferred OBGYN for a follow-up, and I’ll send in a nurse with more information.”

As the door closed behind him, you looked at Terry and Elijah, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

“I’m gonna be a big brother,” Elijah repeated with a giggle. He pressed a small, earnest kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll take care of the baby, Mama. I promise.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I think we’re all going to take care of the baby,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“Together.”

You leaned into him, feeling his warmth, his strength, and let the happiness wash over you.

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