#don’t remember the last ‘good’ weekend I had
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sterifels-blog · 8 hours ago
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Last night I had a thought about Simon but I'm not creative enough to come up with a good scenario, so I'll just skip ahead.
Imagine that Simon and Reader had a thing for 1 or 2 months but they never ended up dating, and then Simon disappears and doesn't respond to Reader's messages. A while later Johnny takes Simon and Kylie to spend the week at his house after a mission and there Simon discovers that Reader is Johnny's younger sister, and that the 1 year and 7 month old boy who is very attached to her is actually his son. As if Reader looks a lot like Johnny but her son is identical to Simon.
Feel free to ignore this 👀 Any language errors are Google Translate's fault. Either way I'll spend days thinking about this 🤸‍♀️
this is definitely not a prompt i'd usually cover, but i'll attempt it nonetheless. i had such a hard time trying to conceptualize what an appropriate reaction to this sort of situation would be, but there are so many different ways to validate a reaction. this is the best take i can offer you! ⤵️
A mess of things to fix.
Simon had never imagined that he would be standing in Johnny’s kitchen, staring at a child. A child that he couldn’t fathom, whose heartbeat was unmistakably his own, though he'd never had the chance to know him. The sticky summer heat of a mission’s aftermath still clung to him, sticking to his body in cloying sheets of sweat and travel-worn leather. Simon was a contradiction in flesh: battle-hardened, skin soaked in salt and iron, and yet standing awkwardly in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead light, as if someone had poured an entire century's worth of regret down his throat.
And there you were— you— who had once been just the woman who had made his bones hum beneath the skin. A weekend, a couple of months… something like that. Something forgotten by time, but carved into the ether between you both like graffiti in an alley only the broken remembered.
You were Johnny's younger sister. Johnny, the one who'd so effortlessly pulled him into this twisted little family. But now? Now everything was mangled and unspooled.
His son.
He tried not to blink too hard when he first saw the boy. You were holding him, cradling him in your arms. The little thing was bundled in too many blankets, chubby cheeks peeking from under his small beanie, his large eyes a mirror of someone Simon had never really been sure he wanted to meet. But there they were, those eyes—those identical, goddamn eyes.
Simon didn't remember this. He didn’t even remember the night. But here, in Johnny’s kitchen, surrounded by mugs and heavy laughter that seemed too far off to touch, everything started to settle in his chest like lead.
You didn’t know how to look at him either. There was the hesitation—splayed, unsaid—heavy between you both. The moment when his presence meant more than just the passing shadow of the past. The truth had settled and clung to your face like old makeup. You didn’t want him to see, but you knew. He knew. He knew because his blood had turned to ice, and in his veins, a cold panic spread.
You had a child. His child.
Johnny, ever the oblivious one, smiled as if he didn’t see the earthquake unfolding. “She looks just like me, right? Gave her my best traits. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”
But it was clear, wasn’t it? Your son. He looked like him, even if the years had stolen what could have been.
“What’s his name?” Simon’s voice was gravel, rough with an unfamiliar edge. He felt nauseous with the knowledge. He couldn’t escape it. The knowledge of a past he’d left behind, unspoken, unresolved, and now here it was—too real to ignore. His son.
You swallowed thickly, keeping the boy close to your side. You told him the name, and Simon didn’t even register the syllables. The truth was louder than any name could be.
"Charlie."
Johnny clapped Simon on the back, misinterpreting the silence. “Oi, mate, just don’t look too long at her kid. He’s already on a first-name basis with trouble, trust me. I’ve seen the future, and it’s got a lot of broken windows in it.”
Simon forced a smile. A bitter curve of his lips. “..Right.” The awkwardness slithered around the table like some beast with too many eyes. Conversation flitted, fragile and half-formed, until dinner had ended and the quiet remained, stretching longer than it should have. The little boy yawned, and it was cemented in the moment it was time for bed. Simon barely heard the clinking of silverware, until Johnny was cooing a cheeky goodnight to his nephew- re-stating that his "favorite uncle" would be there to see him in the morning.
You stood, giving him no choice but to follow. The weight of the moment anchored his feet to the floor like gravity had decided it needed a joke at his expense. As you ascended the staircase with the boy in your arms, Simon’s boots followed behind in a trance. There was something haunting in the way you moved, like a shadow threading through space, one that should’ve been broken long before this— one that felt like a single thread was holding it together.
He hovered by the doorframe of the child’s room as you placed him gently into the crib. The boy squirmed for a moment, settling into the warmth of his sheets, but his little fingers gripped at your sleeve, unwilling to release. Simon watched, his throat tightening like an iron clasp.
You turned to look- and for the first time that night, you made eye contact. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. The weight of the silence between you both felt like it had grown too heavy, and there, in the doorway, he lingered, as if you had just invited the storm into the room.
You couldn’t escape it any longer— the elephant sitting in the room had too many sharp edges. The question hovered between you, thick and suffocating. He was trying to push it back, but it was there, in his eyes, tangled with guilt and regret. Until, finally, he broke the silence.
"..Love. Can I… can I see him?" Simon’s voice cracked the air, raw and desperate, as if he had the right to ask something like that after all this time.
The words felt like they had shattered the air between you. There was an edge to them—like a plea wrapped in anger. He was furious, but at what? Himself? You? The situation? The fact that he was asking this, now—it made everything too complicated, too impossible.
It made your blood boil. Made your chest tight with a heat you couldn't contain. How dare he? How could he stand there and ask, knowing nothing? Knowing how many nights you’d spent alone, how many times you had to bite back tears, pretending you weren’t breaking under the weight of it all? You didn’t even tell him. You couldn’t. You hadn’t. And now, after all this time, after all the silence, he had the gall to ask for what was his—when he hadn’t been there to help raise him.
Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, but you didn’t snap at him. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it— the hurt, the fury, the helplessness. He didn’t know. And you hadn’t given him the chance to.
You swallowed hard, biting your lip to keep your voice from shaking. "Yeah," you muttered, cold as ice, before stepping aside. The words stung like salt on an open wound, but they slipped from you, like a wave crashing over the rocks. You didn’t know if you could even trust yourself to speak. "Yeah.. Just— don't hurt him.."
Simon’s eyes softened— too late— and he stepped toward the crib slowly, uncertain, like the boy wasn’t his own flesh and blood. Like he had no right. But he was there. He was looking, and you couldn’t stop it.
You stood by the door, back against the frame, arms crossed, watching as he hesitated, before reaching down to lift Charlie, awkwardly at first, as if he were holding something breakable. It was almost a joke— the way Simon held him like he was a piece of glass, fragile and unworthy of the comfort the child had never known he needed from his father.
And then, like a dam breaking, Simon’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking, and you saw it. The first tremor of realization, of loss, of guilt— flooding over him in waves too powerful to stop. His hands shook, the child still clutched tightly in his arms, and he cried. A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, each one a crack in the wall he’d built around himself, and your heart twisted.
The bitter taste of resentment clawed at your throat, but it was drowned out by the ache you’d been carrying for so long. For so, so long. Watching him finally hold Charlie— the son he’d never known— made something snap inside you, something raw and real. And though you were furious— though a part of you wanted to hate him, to blame him for everything that had been missing, you couldn’t. Not entirely.
The tears fell freely now, down his stubbled chin, mixing with the slow, shuddering breath that escaped his lips. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even apologize in the right way, but you saw the regret in his eyes, and it twisted the knife a little deeper. He was sorry— more than he could ever express— but it was too late.
"You should’ve been here," you whispered, but Simon couldn’t hear you. He was lost in the weight of it all, too consumed by the moment, holding onto your son like he was the only thing left to hold onto in this shattered mess. He didn’t know how to fix it. Neither did you.
But you couldn’t take him back. Not like this. Not now.
And so, you let him hold him. And Simon wept.
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inbloomwriting · 13 hours ago
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Everything to me - Chapter 3
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Chapter three - Raspberry
Chapter 1 II Chapter 2
Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Sorry it took so long to update this. I tagged everyone who showed interest in future parts and/or asked to be tagged. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 
Jamie sleeps like a rock. It’s a new discovery for (Y/N) as she tries to unravel herself from his tight grip. She doesn’t remember falling asleep cuddled up to each other, in fact, she doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. It’s like one moment they were talking about the baby and the next she wakes up to the sun pouring in through the window and Jamie’s quiet snores filling the room. And his arms wrapped around her like a vice. 
God that man is clingy. 
And, whereas with any other man, this would scare her off, there is something about Jamie that makes the whole thing endearing.
Maybe it’s the fact that they are not dating, not even trying to. It takes some of the pressure off. All she has to be is a good mum and a good friend and while those two things are hard enough as they are, at least there are no romantic feelings involved, no expectations to uphold when it comes to being a girlfriend, a partner. 
Jamie sleeps like a rock, doesn’t even so much as twitch when she slips from his grip and rests his arm back on the side of the bed she used to occupy just moments earlier. Even the squeaky floorboard doesn’t wake him as she makes her way downstairs. 
A sweet smell permeates the air and makes (Y/N)’s mouth water. This heightened sense of smell is both a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse. Most smells make her nauseous these days. Not today though, this one just makes her hungry. It smells of sugar and vanilla and all things sweet and warm.
Simon’s smiling face greets her as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. She wonders if this man ever stops smiling. He’s the personification of a ray of sunshine.
“Good morning, come have a seat. I’m making waffles.” 
Waffles. (Y/N) can’t remember the last time someone made her waffles for breakfast. Dad did, sometimes when she was little, and stayed with him for the weekend. But then the waffle iron broke and he never got around to buying a new one. So pancakes and bacon it was. Beans sometimes. Sausages if he was feeling particularly fancy.
“I’d love some, thank you! It smells amazing.” 
“Yeah? Oh, thank god. I was afraid the smell would be too much and make you feel sick. Only realized that after I poured in half the vial of vanilla essence though.” 
The sheepish look on his face puts a smile on (Y/N)’s face. It’s nice someone cares about those little things.
“Never had to deal with anyone pregnant so I don’t know these things but I had a quick Google last night and it says 8 weeks means a heightened sense of smell. Also, the baby is the size of a Raspberry.” 
If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would swear that Jamie and Simon must share some DNA. Both of them so clumsy in the way they care but infinitely endearing. 
“Yeah, Raspberry or Blueberry or Kidney Bean. So tiny." 
“Crazy isn’t it? To think it’s gonna be a proper human soon enough.” 
She nods her head in agreement as Simon places a plate stacked with two thick fluffy waffles before her. 
“You’re telling me. I know this is all happening inside my body and it’s still insane to think about. Doesn’t feel real.” 
Simon regards her with soft eyes. There is warmth in there but something else. Something she can’t quite place. Georgie had the same look last night. Like they know more than she does. And fuck, maybe they do. They’ve done this before. Lived enough of life to know what the hell they are doing. 
“Are you alright? “
(Y/N) was never big on sharing her feelings with anyone, let alone strangers. Life, and both her parents really, have taught her that talking about your feelings only makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable usually ends in pain. So what you do is you take your insecurities, your fears, your sadness and you put it in a tiny little box and then you put on the lid. You tie a ribbon around it with a neat bow on top and then you take that box that holds your feelings and you bury it. And then you spend your whole life living like the protagonist in an Edgar Allan Poe story and that box becomes a beating heart under the floorboards of your life. 
And the beating never ever stops. 
“Sure. I’m good.” 
She thinks he knows she’s bluffing but lets it go anyway. Opening up to Jamie is scary enough, takes up enough of her bravery. Simon is lovely and if she was another person altogether she’d love to share her worries with him, he seems like the best listener. She’s not someone else though, she is just herself and she can’t bring herself to talk. 
“Okay. Just want you to know that if you need anything or — anyone. Georgie and I are always there to help. I know I’m not Jamie’s real dad but I do feel like that is my son. I don’t have children of my own and I only met Jamie when he was a pre-teen already so I don’t know much about babies but if you guys let me I am sure I can be a phenomenal grandad. My mum always used to say I was already born a little old man so this feels like I finally get a chance to be what I was always supposed to be. My time to shine has come.” 
A harmony of their laughter fills the kitchen. God, is this whole family made up of the sweetest people on this entire planet? Do they make them in a damn factory or something?
“I will hold you to it. When the baby is screaming and I need some sleep I’ll come drop them off with you then.” 
“Oh, I’ll be ready with some bedtime stories and lullabies.” 
“You are sweet, Simon. And I really appreciate the offer. God knows Jamie and I don’t know the first thing about being parents so we can take all the help we can get.” 
“Do you want to hear a secret?” 
“Sure.” 
“No one knows what they’re doing. As long as you try your best that’s all that matters. Kids are forgiving if they know you care.” 
People always say that but there’s a little part of (Y/N) that believes those words to be untrue. Did her mum try her best and this was the outcome? Or did she just not care to do more, to be better? And which of those scenarios would be worse? 
Jamie’s sleepy voice pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. “Morning, love.” 
He places a soft kiss on the top of her head. So sure, so unbothered as if they do this all the time. Is this what it feels like? Being able to show your feelings and show affection without wondering what consequences it may bring? Without fearing that it makes you too vulnerable? 
His hand finds her stomach and gives it a soft rub “And good morning to you, baby.” 
It will never not be endearing to her to hear him talk to the baby. And neither will the way he pronounces the word ever lose its magic to her. That is his pride and joy there. His babeh. 
“Aw Waffles, sweet!” 
As Jamie plops down next to Simon and stuffs his face with vanilla waffles, leaving a slight dust of powdered sugar on his lips, (Y/N) is certain that all his worries are unjustified. 
Jamie is all his dad and none of his father. Every inch and every fiber of him is a product of the love that Georgie and Simon have raised him with. He is them in the way he smiles and cares and the way he feels joy so freely and unabashedly.
And if only a smidge, only a sprinkle of that love is extended towards her child, that kid is gonna grow up so adored it won’t know where to put all of that love. 
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“Think I’m gonna throw up.” 
“Like pregnancy barf or meeting mum nausea? “
Leave it to Jamie to put a smile on her face even when the world around her seems to crumble and fall. 
“You gotta stop calling it that.” 
“Alright, but you have to tell me which one it is so I know if I should hand you a barf bag or give you a pep talk. I’m getting awfully good at them if I dare say so myself. Learned a lot from Ted, yeah?” 
If this was just the pregnancy making her nauseous everything would be so much easier. Ginger drops and rest would do the trick. But this is so much worse. This sharp feeling cursing through her veins, gnawing at her bones and devouring her like a hungry wolf. There truly is no one capable of breaking your heart like your own mother.
“Let me hear that pep talk then.” 
As he navigates the car up the long driveway, flanked by big ornate mansions with brass iron fences and perfectly symmetrical hedges, Jamie regards (Y/N) from the corner of his eyes.
“Okay, well you don’t need to worry. Things are gonna be just fine. You know why?” 
“Why?” 
“Cause mums love me and middle-aged women love me. It’s cause they think I’m charming,” he says and glances at (Y/N) for a second. That radiant cheeky smile of his taking over his features. Oh, she hopes their kid gets his smile. “Which I am.” 
“So charming, really.” 
“You’d know,” Jamie replies and nods his head in the direction of her belly.
His laughter echoes through the car as she gives him a soft slap against the shoulder. There’s just something about Jamie that makes life feel a little lighter, a little more effortless. Even if it's just for a moment, just pretend. It does take the heavy weight off of (Y/N)’s heart for a second. 
The car rolls to a stop in front of the gorgeous white house (Y/N) pointed out to him when they turned into the street. The lawn looks immaculate, the hedges are trimmed to perfection. This plastic palace all grand and gaudy. It never felt like home even though (Y/N) spent most of her life growing up in these very halls. 
But really what is it that makes a house a home? Love and laughter and memories you want to return to. This is just four walls and a roof. 
“Hey,” Jamie speaks up and places a hand gently on hers. “It’ll be alright but even if it won’t it will.” 
“Huh?” 
“I mean — look if she reacts badly, that sucks. But you have me, yeah? Always. Me and Rebecca and my Mum and Simon. Once we tell them I know the team will be obsessed with our baby, they’ll love her so much.” 
“Or him.” 
“Or him, yes. Ted is going to freak out, I know he’s going to want to hang out with our kid all the time. Roy? He’s already the best old geriatric uncle the world has ever seen. He won’t admit it but he’ll be really happy for us. Sam, Issac, Keeley, Higgins? All of them will be just a call away if we need help. I’m not sure about coach Beard though, he scares me not gonna lie.” 
“I think he’s hilarious actually.” 
“It’s because you’re smart and understand his jokes.” 
“You’re smart too!” 
“Nah, I just talk a lot and hope I end up saying the right thing. Anyway, what I mean is, this is your mum, yes, but in the big picture, she is just one person. And if she doesn’t love our baby there are so many other people who will. This baby will never, not for one second have to wonder if they are loved, because they are. So much.” 
And as easy as it is for him to make (Y/N) laugh, as easy it seems to be to make her cry. Good tears though. Tears that say “I believe you that things are going to be alright”. Tears that say “thank you.”
“Jamie Tartt, of all the footballers that could’ve accidentally knocked me up, I am so glad it was you. You are going to be the best dad.” 
“And you’re already the best mum. Well tied with my mum, obviously.” 
“Obviously.” 
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(Y/N)’s childhood home feels cold, Jamie notices. There are hardly any pictures and those that are there are posed and awkward. He can tell it’s (Y/N) on those pictures but they don’t feel like her. There is no happiness in them, no joy. None of that sarcastic charm she exudes. He passes by a lifetime of being told how to sit and how to smile and what to do and probably what to say as well. It makes him feel miserable. And it puts things into perspective. It makes sense now, her worries and fears. If you grow up surrounded by nothing but the cold you eventually start wondering if you’ll ever be capable of creating warmth.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” (Y/N)'s Mum asks as she sits down at the head of the table. There’s something scary about this woman. She demands attention like a god-given right. She extends nothing in return. Her eyes are sharp and intense. It makes Jamie feel like she can see right through him down to all his insecurities and faults. She’s fucking terrifying. 
“I wanted to talk to you about something.” 
He hates the way (Y/N)’s voice has become so small and timid ever since they stepped foot into this mansion. Hates that there is nothing he can do to make it better and take this weight off of her. Nothing but be there. So he does that at least. Be there in all the ways he can be.
It’s so silly really, how his heart beats just a little faster when he touches her hand underneath the table. When she welcomes the soft gesture. When she returns his gentle squeeze. And when she links her fingers with his. 
So silly. Stupid little treacherous heart.
“Well, I gathered that much. I just wish you would’ve called ahead of time so I could’ve made some food.” 
“Made some food? Since when do you cook?”
The look her mother throws at (Y/N) could freeze a lake solid. It’s mean and chilling and Jamie wishes he never would’ve pushed (Y/N) to come here. Hates himself a little for putting her in this situation.
“I did attend several cooking classes last year. See, if you’d visit me a bit more often you’d know that.” 
And if she wasn’t such a raging bitch, maybe (Y/N) would visit her more often, Jamie thinks. Fortunately, he’s gotten much better at impulse control lately, well ever since Ted arrived really. The old Jamie would’ve blurted out those thoughts with no care of any consequences.
The old Jamie probably wouldn’t have stepped up to be a dad though. 
“Anyway, I would’ve liked a little warning. Especially if you’re bringing someone.” 
Being at the receiving end of that icy glare feels awful, Jamie decides as (Y/N)’s mother regards him with a mix of disdain and humor. Her eyes sparkle with a sense of smug superiority. Jamie is used to people underestimating him. They think he’s stupid. Some dumb footballer with straw filling the places where a brain should be. Quite honestly it doesn’t bother him, never had. He’s the first to admit that he can be dumb when it comes to certain things. He’s no poet and he has never been particularly good at math. But this woman and the way she looks at him rubs him the wrong way. She knows nothing about him and yet she thinks she’s got him all figured out. Flesh and bones and all. 
“Yeah uh, sorry about that. It was a spontaneous thing really. We would’ve called — “
“Sure, whatever you say. James was it?” 
His name sounds like venom dripping from her lips. James. He hasn’t been James since the moment he was born and Georgie first kissed his tiny head and whispered “You’re my little Jamie.” Not that he remembers that but it’s a story his mom has recounted to him many times.
“Jamie, yes.” 
“Right, Jamie.”
An uncomfortable silence settles upon the room. It crawls into the cracks and crevices of their conversation. It spreads and festers and discomfort grows around them like mold on damp walls. 
“Mum, we’re here because I wanted to tell you I’m pregnant.” 
The confession shoots through the silence like a bullet. Cuts through it like a knife through a flimsy ribbon. If this was a movie they’d put in a freeze frame or underlay the scene with some dramatic musical score. But this is real life and it comes with no editing and no soundtrack.
No, it just comes with a bellowing laugh from (Y/N)’s mother. It’s not the kind of laughter that makes you want to laugh along. The kind that makes you feel like sunshine has erupted inside your ribcage and wraps you in a warm blanket. It’s not like (Y/N)’s laugh. This one is mocking. It’s ridiculous. It’s meant to make you feel small and dumb. It breaks his heart to know this is the laughter (Y/N) grew up with. 
“You can not be serious. Pregnant?” 
A short, quiet “Yes.” leaves (Y/N)’s lips. Jamie gently squeezes her hand in return. I am here. He says. I will always be here. She squeezes back. He hopes it means “I know.”
“You stupid little girl.” 
(Y/N)’s hand grabs his more tightly. A lifeline to hold on to. Crescent moon shapes stamped into his skin. But if this is the price he’ll have to pay in order to be a good partner in all of this then he’ll pay it 10 times over. Of all the things in this world, all the ways to describe her, stupid is not one Jamie would ever think of. 
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” 
Maybe a little bit of old Jamie is still there. The good parts. The protective, opinionated parts maybe. Not reckless but brave.
“She is my daughter and I will talk to her as I very well please. But you’re right. She is not a little girl, she’s a grown woman. Which makes this even worse. You should know better, (Y/N). Getting pregnant by some — some guy.”
“Some guy? Excuse me?” 
“Well you’re not her boyfriend, are you? You are just some guy with no obligation to her. And if you wake up one day and realize what a massive mistake you made then you can just leave. She’ll be stuck being a mother forever.” 
It boils his blood to hear those vicious words hurled at him and (Y/N). Mistake? Sure this baby wasn’t planned but they’re not a mistake. Not for one single second did Jamie think of his child as a mistake. A surprise. A shock even. But never a mistake.
“I know you don’t know me and quite honestly I don’t think I want to know you either but I can tell you one thing. That is my baby and I love it now and I will always love it. It is not a mistake. You can judge me, you can judge her and you can judge our decisions but stop talking about my child like that. That is just uncalled for. I know my word doesn’t mean anything to you but I was here from the moment (Y/N) told me she was pregnant and I will be here for the rest of my life. That is a promise.” 
She has the audacity to scoff at him and completely ignore everything he just said. Instead, she moves her cold hard gaze towards (Y/N).
“What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Well, you’re not getting those here. Your father would be so — “ 
Before she can finish the sentence a shrill screeching sound cuts her off as (Y/N) pushes away from the dining table.
“I gotta get out of here.” 
“Oh, what is this now? You’re just going to leave because you don’t get the reaction you hoped for? I can pretend if that’s what you want me to —”
“Mum, I am not running. I need to go! I am nauseous as fuck and if you don’t want me to empty my stomach onto your dining table just let me leave. I didn’t come here asking for your approval, I just thought you should know you’re going to be a grandmother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw up in your bushes.” 
Jamie is hot on her heels, grabbing both their jackets and (Y/N)’s bag in the process as he rushes after her. Though even in the chaos and hurry he doesn’t miss the look of absolute shock and bewilderment on the older woman’s face. It feels like a small victory but it does paint a little smile on his lips.
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“Oh don’t do that. I’m disgusting.” 
“I’ll be watching you push out a whole damn baby. This is nothing compared to that.” 
If it weren’t such an absurd situation, that comment probably would’ve sent her spiraling but really it’s the least confusing part of today. Of course, Jamie wants to be around for the birth. Now that he mentioned it, (Y/N) thinks she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he’ll be there. He’s been there for it all so far of course he’ll be there when the baby enters this world.
It’s almost a little dreamy and magical to think about. Almost. Because life doesn’t let her think too much about it before it sends another wave of vomit up her esophagus. 
“I don’t mind holding your hair while you puke, you're growing a whole human it’s the least I can do. But I gotta ask you something.” 
“What’s that?” (Y/N) asks and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater. Desperate times, desperate measures. At least that’s how she tries to justify it to herself.
“Is that hedge purposely cut to look like a dick?” 
He nods towards one of the boxwood trees at the edge of the property that (Y/N) has no doubt her mother hired a gardener to trim and shape and care for. 
“Holy shit, it does.” 
“And cut too. You think your mum knows?” 
And suddenly the nausea is gone and forgotten about and in its place, a flurry of giggles takes over. 
“Hey, are you okay?” Jamie asks once they both calm down a little.
Is she okay? Not really but this too will pass and it’s not like she expected anything else from her mother. Ever since (Y/N) was a little kid she remembers her mother dulling all her joy and whimsy. Why should things be different now? 
“No. But I will be.” and when he takes her hand in his and places a soft kiss on her knuckles, for the first time since turning into this very street, she truly believes in those words.
“Good. Now do you wanna go home or do something else?” 
“Home sounds good but uh — do you want to stay? Watch a movie or something? I don’t want to be alone right now.” 
Another kiss to her knuckles sends her heart into a little frenzy. Teeny tiny somersaults all around her ribcage.
“Yeah, can I pick? “
“Fuck no.”
“Alright, was worth a try.”
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“It was a dream? That’s it?”
The ending credits to The Wizard of Oz play on her little TV screen as (Y/N) and Jamie sit on her couch, a bowl of microwave popcorn long devoured and now empty resting between them.
“I mean, you can interpret it however you want.” 
“Meh, didn’t like that one very much. Next time we should watch the Muppets treasure island. That’s a good one.” 
There truly is something so sweetly endearing about Jamie’s childlike qualities. His unintentional goofiness and his ability to make even the worst day turn into an okay one. An “all in all kinda good” one.
“Okay, fine. Next time we’ll watch the Muppets. It just — my dad had the Wizard of Oz on DVD. One of the few movies he had. So whenever I’d stay with him we’d watch it together. I think I just wanted to feel close to him today.” 
“Hey,” Jamie chimes up and gently nudges her shoulder with his. “I didn’t know your dad but from what you said about him he seemed like a fun guy. A good guy. So I think your mum is wrong. He’d be proud of you. I know that.”
And for the second time that day (Y/N) thanks whatever cosmic power there is for putting Jamie in her life. For making him the person who goes through all of this alongside her. For making him her partner in this crazy adventure. For making him the father of her child.
“Thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate that you stood up for me and the baby. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just froze. Every time I talk to her I want to say so many things but they get stuck somewhere on the way from my brain to my mouth.” 
“It’s okay, I get it. It’s like that with my dad too. We’ll just have to be each other’s voices then I guess.” 
“That sounds like a good plan to me.” 
He does it again then, that tiny insignificant kiss on the top of her head. It means nothing.
But it means everything.
“Hey uh — I’m not really tired yet. Do you wanna start that Muppets movie now?”
“Uh yeah? Absolutely. I’ll never say no to Kermit. He is THE frog.” 
Just a little while later, while Kermit and Miss Piggy sing a love song on screen while hanging off a cliff, (Y/N)’s eyes fall shut, her head resting gently against Jamie’s shoulder. 
For the second time in less than 24 hours (Y/N) falls asleep in Jamie’s arms. And though she might not realize it right then, she has never felt more safe and secure ever before.
Maybe things really will be alright.
“Now I know that life can take you by surprise, And sweep you off your feet. Did this happen to us, Or are we just dreaming? Love led us here.”
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maudie-duan · 3 days ago
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A/N: Hey guys! This chapter is kind of graphic in the sense that I wanted you to feel like "a fly on the wall" during Marlowe's day. I hope you guys enjoy it and have a lovely weekend!!
Tag List: Always Open
All Chapters<-
Word Count: 8.2k
Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Under Age Drinking, Eating Disorder, Body Dysmorphia, Mentions Of Pregnancy, Graphic Check-Up Scene, Mentions Of Abortion, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)
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I had every intention of going to school on Tuesday, but I panicked as soon as I woke up. I knew it was playing with fire to have unprotected sex with someone, but I did it anyway, and I knew the smart thing to do was to rush to Planned Parenthood and get the morning-after pill. 
I know that emergency contraceptive isn’t a good form of birth control, but I had no intention of having sex with Trent after I got off the pill; I had no intention of having sex at all. I thought I hated it all together and could go a lifetime without it, but then Harry happened. Every time I was around him, my fucking sound judgment went out the door, this whole other me slipping in like a piece of me got to be free, like I finally got to be free. There was nothing to live up to, no goals to meet, or a specific appearance to keep up with—and I know there are bigger things, but this was my life. 
When I stepped into the waiting room after calling ahead, I sat there, peering around at the people coming in and out—at the woman trying to console her baby, at the girl who looked the same age as me, smiling over at me as she stood when the nurse called her name, her belly rounding past her small frame. It made my heart sink. Even though I didn’t know her story, she was walking back alone, and something about it felt lonely. 
It was the heaviest dose of reality I needed—A hard hitter as I sat there alone, wondering if I should have been honest with Harry about everything and if I had, would he be sitting here next to me now? There’s no better way to suck the fun out of a carefree moment than to slap it in the face with the truth.
And what about him? I had no clue what his sexual history was like; I mean, I didn’t need a specific number, but how many girls was he fucking with no condom? It seemed strange on both parts—why has neither one of us said a word, and is no condom such a regular thing for him that it doesn’t even cross his mind? Or is he just assuming that I’m on birth control since I’m not walking around with a baby on my hip after two years of sleeping with the same guy?
My mind kept returning back to the day I tossed those pills in the trash, making myself sick at the thought of ever getting pregnant because what would I do? Would they tell my parents? I never pictured a baby in my life; would I keep it? I’ve never been opposed to abortion, but could I follow through with it if the time came?
How would I tell Harry? Because without a doubt, it would be his—and then I’m whipping my phone out of my purse, scrolling back one month…a month and a half…almost two months since I had my period, and I thought my heart would fall heart straight through to my ass. Had it really been that long? I sat there trying to wrack my brain, thinking, when was the last time?
I can only remember buying tampons that week before I hooked up with Harry for the first time. I remember now because it was like a miracle from the universe that I had just gotten off my period, not even spotting, like my body was just getting back to normal.
Can Plan B fuck up your period? I honestly didn’t know anything about it. My sister just told me to take it in case of an emergency, and dammit, that was an emergency, just like now, and holy fuck, it is so hot in here, and that baby will not stop crying, and would it be okay if I cried? Would that be okay because suddenly I’m freaking out? I don’t want this responsibility; this doesn’t seem fair; why am I the one sitting here panicking, on the verge of spewing up my breakfast? 
Should I text Harry, tell him what I’m doing, and hit him with the same menacing reality? Would he hate me? Would this be my fault for not speaking up sooner? Because I think this would ruin everything, and he is so good. I don’t want to let him go yet. Was this the moment I called my sister and told her she was right? That I should have waited to have sex because she was, in fact, right—it’s just as confusing as she tried to drill into my stubborn head before. 
Marlowe Asher, the nurse, calls, breaking me from my prisoning thoughts; I drag my palms down my jeans, force a smile, and stand, trying to keep my tears at bay. 
The nurse returns the smile, greeting me as I walk through the office door. “Hey there, I’m Hilary. I’ll be your nurse today,” she says, her friendly tone somewhat setting me at ease.
“Okay, we’re just going to get your weight,” she says, leading me to a scale, and I pull my purse over my head, planting my keys and purse in a chair close by.
“It looks like we have 115,” she says out loud, making my heart slam into my chest. The last time I weighed myself, I was 130lbs. I didn’t think I had lost that much weight—I wasn’t even trying this time.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping off the scale.
Hilary is writing on her clipboard, unbothered by my shock, “And how tall are you she asks, glancing up at me, “5’4,” I tell her, collecting my things and following her to the exam room.
When I called ahead, I told them that I wanted to schedule a routine check-up and screen for any STDs. Before we even started, she handed me a plastic container with a lid. “So this is routine; we’ll need you to pee into this cup. We normally run a quick pregnancy test before we proceed with any forms of birth control if that’s what you end up choosing.”
I take the cup from her hand, familiar with their whole spiel because I’ve been here several times, and this always seemed like the easy part. Luckily, I had to pee, so I filled the cup, washed the outside of the container, then my hands, dried it off, and placed the cup in the assigned bin.
Hilary led me to exam room 8, and as soon as we stepped in, she had me sit for a few follow-up questions:
“So this is a list of questions we like to ask, you know, just to get a background on our patients. If at any time you feel uncomfortable and would not like to proceed with any further questions, please let me know, okay.” She says, 
Easy enough, right?
“Okay, so we’ll start with the first question and move down the list, and it’s okay if you are unsure of any answer. They don’t need to be spot-on or super detailed. We just need a general idea.” She nods at me, eyes surveying my face, then looks down at her clipboard, the tip of her pen skimming down the page:
“When was your last period?
The first question seems the hardest because I know as soon as I say it, it’s going to sound bad, “I would say about a month and a half ago,” and Hilary peeks up then.
“Is that normal?” 
“I’m not sure. It’s been kind of random lately.”
“About how long do they last?”
“I think the last one I had lasted almost a month. I just stopped taking my birth control.”
Do you ever bleed/spot between periods?
“Not lately.”
Do you have any unusual pain, itching, or discharge from your vagina or vulva?
“No.”
Do you have any other medical conditions?
“No.”
What medical problems do other members of your family have?
“None that I know of…”
Are you sexually active?
“Yes, recently,” I answer, my mouth going dry, and I swallow hard.
Have you ever had vaginal, anal, or oral sex?
“Yes, all three, but I’ve only done anal once.” and my heart is starting to race. I’m not sure if I needed to clarify that detail because now my face is beginning to burn.
What gender(s) of people do you have sex with, and what kinds of sex do you have?
“Umm…just males,” I tell her, then clear my throat, “And I think it’s just like normal sex…I’m not sure how to answer that.”
Is sex ever painful?
“With the current guy that I’m having sex with…it was more painful than before…I guess at first, but maybe that’s because it had been a while.” And Hilary must sense my nervousness because she looks up then.
“I think that can be normal, Hon. You’re doing great. Just a few more questions, and I’ll set everything up and let the doctor know you’re ready…Okay, so—” she starts again as I nod my head. 
Do you bleed during or after sex?
“The first time I had sex, which I know can be normal, and the first time I had sex with my current guy…like after, I noticed it when I peed, but it didn’t last long.”
Are you using birth control?
“No.”
Do you think you might be pregnant?
“No, the last time I had unprotected sex with this current guy. I took Plan B, like that next morning. So maybe that’s why I haven’t started my period. Maybe it threw everything off..”
Do you want to get pregnant?
“Definitely not,” I tell her, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips.
“Perfect, and okay…last one,” Hilary says with a smile on her face:
What do you do to prevent STDs?
And I shake my head, pressing my feet to the ground. “I haven’t done anything with this current guys to prevent anything…”
Hilary is silent, jotting her last few notes, and my eyes shift to the ground, embarrassed that I’ve put so much faith in Harry, but if he does have an STD. Hopefully, it’s treatable, and moving forward, I will not be such an idiot. That’s what this is—One big scare to put me on the straight and narrow. I’ll get tested and get back on birth control, and all of this will be behind me, and I can move forward with my life. Happy and free of any burden. 
Hilary rushes around the room, laying a dressing gown on the exam table. Then, she finishes setting up the exam cart with the various items she collected for the exam. “Alright, so I put the gown on the table. You’ll just need to undress from the waist down. The doctor will knock before entering; you should be set from there. Do you have any questions?” she asks, reaching for the door handle. 
“No, you were very informative. Thank you for your time,” I answer, trying to sit up straight, like I’m not scared out of my fucking mind, hoping I’m not walking around with some kind of STD.
As Hilary exits, I peek at the clock on the wall. It’s 10:45 a.m., and I stand, unbuttoning my pants to prepare for the exam. 
When 15 minutes pass, I don’t think too much of it. I saw that waiting room. There were a lot of patients waiting, and sometimes they were understaffed. 
By 11:15 a.m., I lay back on the table, closing my eyes, trying to calm myself. I thought of everyone at school and how I should have just gone and put this off for another day. I was already dying to see Harry; just a glimpse would have been enough. 
I pictured his eyes searching for me when he didn’t see me after my Biology Class, the one time a day that I got close enough to reach out and touch him when I could graze his arm, and no one would have a single thought. I couldn’t believe how amazing that weekend was. Aside from the emotional stuff, we seemed to hit it off, able to co-exist in one another company for days. 
My first thought this morning was how strange it was, hanging with a guy, the most sleepovers I’ve had in a row. I had never stayed more than a night with Trent. I felt like a grown-up, wondering if this was what life would be like in college—and then a knock sounded on the door. 
“Come in,” I say, sitting up. The doctor comes in, reading her chart, then glimpses up with a pleasant smile. She seems in good spirits, even though they’re obviously slammed because when my eyes flick to the clock, it’s 11:32 a.m.
“Hello, Miss. Asher, I’m Dr. Cooper. How are you this morning?” she starts.
“I’m not bad. I just thought I would have a little check-up. Make sure everything is sound. I leave this summer for school, so I might as well tie up some loose ends.” 
She smiles, “Well, I like that you are taking the initiative with something as important as your health—”
Another knock sounds on the door, and Dr. Cooper turns to grant their entrance; Hilary peeks her head in with a smile and then says, “I did get those results—” She conveys. 
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Cooper says, turning back to me. The lab was a little backed up this morning.” Then she stands to retrieve some paperwork while Hilary stands by reading over her shoulder.
Hilary doesn’t close the door behind her, so all the noise from the hallway is drifting in, a cold draft drifting over my bare legs hanging over the exam table, making me feel exposed, with only a thin paper gown covering my lower body.
The draft sends a chill up my spine, making my teeth clatter, and I clench my jaw and watch the two women. This time, Hilary reaches over Dr. Cooper’s shoulder, pointing to something on the page. 
Hilary’s eyes dart to me, then back to the page, “I can stay—” she suggests, finally stepping back to close the door.
As soon as the door closes, my heart starts hammering in my chest, the loud thud, pounding in my eardrums, the chill turning into a noticeable shake as I wipe my cold, clammy hands over the paper gown, that continues to slip down, clinging to my hands, so I clutch them in front of me as Dr. Cooper pulls the rolling stool towards her, and takes a seat.
Hilary is standing behind her, hands clasped in front of her, sending me a faint smile when my eyes flit to her and then back to Dr. Cooper, and god, it is so cold in here because I can’t stop shaking—the shudder coursing through my torse, and I think I might be sick, I think that stomach bug is still lingering. I should open my mouth and tell them about it, but the way they’re looking at me now says otherwise.
Dr. Cooper clears her throat, and already my eyes are stinging with tears; then I shake my head, swallowing hard, and as soon as the tears spill over, she looks to Hilary. They don’t even exchange a word, and out of instinct, Hilary moves next to me. 
“Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” she asks, and as soon as I look at her, my face crumbles. I am sitting here alone with two strangers who I know are about to tell me something that will change my life forever.
The wheels of Dr. Cooper’s chair sound as she rolls forward, the hard plastic effortlessly sliding across the shiny linoleum floor, concern etched between her brow, or is it pity? I can’t tell.
“Miss Asher, Before we can proceed any further, I want to go over the results of your pregnancy test—” And I hear every word that she’s saying, but every couple of seconds, she becomes a blur, tears running down my face uncontrollably, dripping past my chin, and into the cleavage of my tank top, becoming an irritating soggy mess of tears pulling between my boobs.
The same tank top I questioned wearing because when did my boobs get this big? And so sore? How I wrote it off, thinking I was about to start my period, you know, like that’s why I’ve been so emotional, pre-menstrual precursors; It’s all normal. 
“So, I’m sure Hilary explained that we have to perform a routine pregnancy test, and looking at your results now—” And she scooches to the edge of her seat, handing me a piece of paper.”
My eyes skim the page until I find the word “results.” But I didn’t need the paper to figure it out; all she had to do was look at me. I didn’t say anything, mostly because I was in shock, but I didn’t think I knew what to say because I couldn’t even see the paper anymore. All I could see were the tears spilling onto the page, one by one, a foggy blur when a tear splats over the word “Positive,” and I shake my head. 
Maybe I’m taking too long to reply because Dr. Cooper speaks up then, “Marlowe—” and she uses my first name now. “Do you understand what you’re reading?” And all I can muster is a faint whimper because my throat is aching, a knot so tight that it hurts to swallow.
I couldn’t look up; I just kept wiping my hand over the surface of the document, now creasing between my thighs—the once crisp paper rippling in small wet blotches across the page, and I am so fucking stupid.
I am so stupid and careless, and how could I be such an idiot? All I can think about is that damn Plan B pill, I took it, I took it, and then it’s spilling out of my mouth, “But I took Plan B,” announcing it like it’s going to change anything like the results aren’t exactly what they are. 
“I took—I took it…right after, I swear,” promising because I feel like a fool, like a child being coddled with Hilary’s arm around my shoulders; I thought that was the right thing to do. 
“I thought I did the right thing—” I tell them, “I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I thought I fixed my mistake—”
And now I feel crazy because what was the point of that, “I’m not allowed to make mistakes—Oh, god—” I panic then.
“Are you going to tell my parents—?” 
Dr. Cooper puts a hand on my knee to calm me down, but I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe when every breath is a sob stealing my breath, and I am all alone—I’m that girl in the waiting room, all alone, her big round belly holding her future.
“Marlowe, try and take a breath for me—” Dr. Cooper coos, trying to console me, “Everything will be okay…you have options, Honey.”
And I suck in a hard breath, peering down into Dr. Cooper’s deep blue eyes as sobs shudder through my chest, then I’m holding my breath, trying to calm myself down, and when I close my eyes, all I see is Harry’s face, and I hold onto that image—every touch, the kindness he gives so freely, and it seems to be working.
I draw a small breath through my nose, my chest quivering in the aftermath of the fading sobs, “By law, we are not allowed to tell your parents. Now that you’re eighteen, whatever you decide moving forward is entirely your choice.” Dr. Cooper explains.
“I want an abortion—” I tell her, no thought, just decision because that is absolutely my only choice. 
“Yes, that is an option, but maybe we can go over the rest so that you have a clear perspective on your decision.” She explains, but I know the other options and don’t have time for anything else. We have three months left of school, prom, and graduation—I’m moving away this summer. I can’t stay in the place another year, being this person, this fucking people pleaser, because I’m so fucking tired—I’m exhausted, and I need something to hold onto, something to look forward to. 
“I don’t need time to think—” I tell her, straightening my posture, attempting to clear the whine from my voice, “Can we do it today?” I push.
Hilary squeezes my shoulder, then steps away to start resetting the space. “Marlowe, why don’t you take a few days to think this through? This is a huge decision that could majorly impact your life.” 
“I don’t have any other choice…everything is already planned—” I tell her, waving my arms around, “Like my whole future for the next four years—”
Dr. Cooper interjects, “Trust me, I understand that, and we will support anything you choose. But why don’t you go home, take a day or two, and make the appointment if you still feel certain about your decision?”
“Here’s the thing—” she says, “If your period was a month and a half months ago, we still have plenty of time to make an adequate decision. Even if it feels like a rush, trust me, there’s not, okay? Whatever you choose, right now, you have plenty of time to make a sound, healthy choice. Listen—I’m a mother. If my daughter were sitting here today, I would hope someone gave her the option I’m giving you—”
She places her hand on my knee again, “I know whatever you're feeling is extremely scary—” And the tears are back, blurring her face. “But don’t make the mistake of not thinking it through. It sounds like you made the smart decision to take Plan B, and for some odd reason, it didn’t work, and I’m sure that feels scary, too, but in that moment, you made the right decision. Today, you made the right decision to come and take power over your choices in life. That was so brave and so smart, okay?”
And all I can do is nod because I just want my mommy, “And Marlowe, we have a great support team. We are here for whatever you need or have questions about, and Hilary will set you up with some helpful brochures that can guide you in making the best choice possible; it’s entirely up to you and whatever you choose. This is a safe, judgment-free zone. We’re here to support each other in one another choices—” 
Hilary gives me a sympathetic smile, but I believe what Dr. Cooper is communicating, so I nod and draw in a deep breath, stretching my spine so that I can take in more air, “Do you have any questions?” she asked as Hilary handed over a few brochures.
“Nope…” I say, pushing out a deep breath, “Thank you for your time.” 
Dr. Cooper pats my knee and stands, giving Hilary a slight nod. “Alrighty, Hon. Why don’t you go ahead and get dressed? If you have any questions before you leave, we’re happy to answer them. Go ahead and take your time; there’s no rush, Sweetie.”
As Hilary finishes resetting the room, I wonder if she’s ever been on the opposite side of her role, sitting in a spot similar to mine. Or was she smarter, always playing by the rules like I was supposed to?? I thought I did everything right before this, so why is this happening to me?
I didn’t take my time getting dressed; I shoved my legs through my jeans in a furry, pushing the stupid pamphlets to the bottom of my purse, forcing my foot into my boots, readying myself for the walk of shame, knowing I’d have to walk past all these people. Would my face give it away? I was so thankful I didn’t wear make up this morning, could you imagine the mess? 
As I stepped through the exam room door, I pulled my oversized flannel around my body. I walked at a pace that wouldn’t draw attention, trying to remember the route we took. I held my breath every time someone peered my way as heat rose to my cheeks, the shame almost unbearable. Was Hilary the kind of nurse to walk out of the exam room and gossip to the fellow nursing staff?
Keep your eyes forward was all I could think, walking down an empty hall, pushing my way through the door into the waiting room, don’t make eye contact with anyone—don’t focus on the baby crying, try and avoid the toddler running out in front of you on your way to the exit, oh shit, did this little fucking kid drop his toy in my path? Do I pick it up? 
The toy rolls to my feet, and I bend down to retrieve it, “Here you go…” and I crouch down, reaching out with the toy. His tiny fingers wrap around the toy hesitantly, his big green eyes so innocent. He grabs the toy and then runs back to his mom as my eyes follow. She sends me a gracious nod, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly. She looks tired, like she’s already spent all morning chasing that tiny kid around, and I smile, eyes dropping to her belly, a brief nod of recognition. 
Then I’m out of the waiting room doors into the chill of the morning, the fog of my breath drifting past my vision, forcing myself with every step to keep it together long enough to make it to the car.
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I went straight home, knowing my parents would be at work—well, at least my dad. My mom has a strict workout schedule throughout the week. Today was water aerobics, a class that she usually takes with my grandma, but I knew she wouldn’t miss a day, even if my grandma was out of town.
I run up the stairs, huffing and puffing as soon as I reach the landing, and bound to my room. I went straight for the trash can and fell to my knees, reaching for it, but the trash can was empty, and I fell to my butt. My heart beat thudding in my chest, a rapid whoosh filling my ears, vibrating out. My lungs ached with every breath that I took in, the realization hitting that my mom emptied my trash and yet another stupid move.
My eyes dart around the room, looking for any changes, then they land on my perfectly made bed, and there lies the empty Plan B packaging, waiting in a neat pile—waiting for me to stumble upon it because, of course, this is the one time my mom wants to be passive. Why didn’t she just call me? The gesture confuses me, but it’s the least of my concerns right now. 
I pace over to the bed and swipe the empty box off the bed, flipping it around in my hands until I fumble across the date—Expired—the fucking pill was expired by two years. Had I really had it in my drawer that long? Does medicine really expire? I thought it was just a suggestion.
How many times can one person read and reread the same label? with the same expiration date—ignoring my phone buzzing in my back pocket because whoever is calling can wait? 
Whoever it was had tried to call three times, and on the fourth attempt, I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped it open. “What, Sienna?” I blurted into the phone.
“Jesus, Marlowe—Chill—” My sister snaps back, “What’s your deal?”
I exhale, pulling the phone away from my mouth, attempting to decompress the onset of rage filling my lungs. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I was in the middle of doing something, and you kept blowing my phone up.”
“I’m sorry—mom said you didn’t go to school today…”
“You talked to mom—?”
“Yeah, why? What’s going on? She said you’ve been distant lately—”
“I haven’t been distant—” I tell her, raising my voice, “I’ve just been house-sitting for grandma—”
“Marlowe—chill, dude, I’m not coming for you. I’m just checking in. I know I’ve been busy, but usually you call. Is everything okay?”
I roll my eyes, still on the defense, “I’ve been busy, too—” and I try and keep my voice calm, but I can hear how it’s still coming out, and I can’t control this mood swing; it’s like it’s taking over me.
“Okay…?” Sienna says, and I don’t respond because she’s the one calling me. If she has anything to ask, then she should just ask it.
“Lowe—” She nudges, of course using my nickname, the name she gave me since birth, when “Marlowe” was too hard for her three-year-old brain, and decided she hated it, and even though that’s changed, she’s never stopped calling me “Lowe.”
“Did mom tell you?” I ask flatly, clearing my throat.
“Of course, she told me, but why didn’t you tell me?” Even though I should probably have felt freaked out, a sense of calm washed over me because, at this point, the worst had already happened.
“She left the Plan B package on my bed…” I tell her, rolling my eyes.
She clicks her tongue, “Dammit, I told her not to do that. She thought it would be like an open invitation…in case you wanted to talk.” 
“There’s nothing to talk about—plus that shit is passive as fuck. It makes me want to do the opposite, actually—”
Sienna’s laugh muffled into the phone, “I know! That’s what I told her…”
“She should have listened to you,” I admit.
“I mean—that’s what I’ve been telling you guys for years—”
“Shut up—Sienna, don’t be annoying…” And I roll my eyes again, falling back onto the bed.
“That isn’t all she told me…” 
“Okay…” I say, pausing for her response.
She clears her throat, “That there was a weekend that you didn’t come home, like didn’t even call—which is strange, by the way…and she told me that you came home in a hurry—Mom said she heard you while cleaning the kitchen—anyway…she said you came home in Harry Styles hoodie…like the one you had that major crush on in Junior High—”
“I know who he is, Sienna—”
“I’m just clarifying for details because you haven’t breathed a word about him since then.”
I sigh, “I don’t tell you everything—”
“Bullshit—you haven’t even said anything, and I know you’re about to lie to me.” She starts.
“Was that the same weekend you took Plan B? Because that’s what mom thinks, and that seems pliable?”
I snap then, “What are you guys working together or something? What the fuck, Sienna, whose side are you on?”
“I’m on your side—but it’s hard to be on your side when you’re not talking to me.” She retorts, then goes silent.
“You guys always—”
“Don’t say always, Lowe, because you know that isn’t true.” she interrupts.
So, I sit there, trying to think of a way to rephrase the sentence, “I just feel like, most times…instead of just asking me…it seems like you go straight to each other, and I told you how that makes me feel.”
“I promise it wasn’t like that. I swear Mom only called because she was worried…we were not trying to gang up on you.”
I ponder her words for a moment, trying to decide what I should tell her, but instead of confessing to everything. I start projecting all my life problems onto her.
“Listen, Sienna, I’m sorry if Mom bothered you. I know how busy you get, okay? I know that you have a life outside of me; you’ve told me plenty of times—” I spit.
“Marlowe—”
“No—Seriously—I feel like it’s always going to come down to whether or not Marlowe is living up to Sienna’s potential…because heaven forbid, I step out of line for one fucking second—”
“Mar—”
“Seriously, Sienna—” I continue knowing that every word that falls from of my mouth is just to hurt her, and I don’t know why I’m doing it because, really, I just want to confess to it all; because I know she wouldn’t judge me, she would have the perfect advice because she’s such a good person.
“Did mom get scared? Call you thinking—god Marlowes about to ruin it all, Sweetie, please make some time in your busy schedule to call your pathetic sister??”
“Was that it? Sienna, was I slipping? Was one of my million flaws showing because I’ll never be as perfect as you!” I yell, I fucking yell, and then everything around me goes silent, except for the sounds of the whooshing still pulsing through my ears.
Sienna’s sniffle fills the line, and I hate myself the second she opens her mouth, “Marlowe, one day—” She croaks out.
“I hope one day you see that all those years you thought I was outshining you—I was just trying to give you space to be you—you know, the opportunity to just be yourself, that all those years that mom and dad were riding my ass, you were the one that got to explore yourself, make the friends, go to the concerts, date the cute boy because you liked him. My whole life has been a show, Marlowe. Have you ever thought that maybe I wanted to be like you?
“I’m nothing—” I force, tears streaming.
“You’re everything—but what you just said hurt me, Lowe…”
“I didn’t mean it…” I cry out.
“I know—listen—I’m here for you always. I’m never too busy for you…I don’t know what’s going on, and clearly you don’t want to talk about it—”
“I just—” I try.
“No—Marlowe, it’s fine. I’m here, okay? And if you need me to come down this weekend, I can shift some things around. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sienna, I’m sorry.”
“Just call me, okay? I have to go—” Then she hangs up, and I crawl under my blankets and sleep until I open my eyes and the room is dark, except for the glow of the moonlight, casting a shadow of the window frame across my bedroom floor, and then I roll back over, and closed my eyes. 
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The following day, I woke to an empty house and a note on the table. My mom telling me she was out running errands, which normally meant getting her hair or nails done. 
When I checked my phone, I found two missed calls from Harry and a text message from him checking in on me since I had missed two days of school now—Want to take a guess at how many messages Trent sent—zero.
I gathered some more clothes and drove to my grandma’s house, wanting to be totally alone and isolated from the world around me. I didn’t know how many hours I had just slept, but all my body wanted to do was sleep, so I crawled into my grandma’s bed and hugged her pillow—her scent still lingering in her bedroom, and I drifted off to sleep. 
The doorbell woke me, and I slumped down the stairs. When I peeked through the side blinds, Skylar was standing on the porch waving when she spotted me, and I opened the door.
“Hey—what are you doing here…” I ask squinting my eyes, the world a little too bright.
She shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was already boring her. I hate this side of her. Sometimes she can be extremely present, and others, she’s a self-absorbed drone, moving through the motions of our friendship, a lot like Trent.
“Just checking on you,” she says, looking around, “I forgot how cool your grandma’s house is…”
“Yeah—” I breathe.
When I push past her on my way to the kitchen, she follows. “I brought your homework…” she tells me, and I glance back, catching sight of the strap slung over her shoulder.
“That was nice of you…Thanks,” I say, forcing a generous smile, placating her a little. I feel like Skylar’s up to something, a weird twinge in my gut. Things have been off between us lately, so this feels a little off-putting.
 “You want a soda?” I offer. 
Skylar shakes her head ‘no’ then slings the bag onto the counter, “I’m shocked they’re still giving homework to be honest,” 
“I mean—when you’re in all honor classes…it would make sense,” she combats with a laugh.
“I guess…” I agree, bringing the can to my mouth, eyeing her every movement. She seems nervous, barely making eye contact, and when she feels my gaze on her, she looks up.
“Why are you being weird?” she accuses.
I match her indifference, “I’m not—” 
“Mmmm…” she hums, reaching for my can. Then she takes a drink. Actually, I changed my mind…” she laughs.
“I do want a drink.” 
I raise a brow, “Take it, I’ll get another…” I say, rolling my eyes, and as I turn to the fridge, she says:
“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been acting really strange for the last couple of weeks…and you ditched my party—”
“I didn’t ditch your party—I was sick—” I lie.
“Marlowe, you were fine most of the night—”
“And then I wasn’t—” I voice, my tone sharp.
This shuts her down, her eyes moving to the label on the can, “And what about all the text and calls? You haven’t been messaging me back…it’s just weird—”
“I told you I was sick over the weekend…”
Her voice raises, “It’s not just this weekend, Marlowe—”
“Look, Skylar…I don’t know what you want me to say…I could say the same for you…” And she shakes her head.
“That night of the party. I tried talking to you so many times, but you kept blowing me off, and then you and Trent were up each other’s ass…”
And her eyes whip to mine, “Oh come on, Marlowe like I want to steal your boyfriend. If I wanted your boyfriend, then I could have had him—”
“I never said that…and what the fuck does that even mean?” My eyes roam her face then, taking in her stiff posture, searching for clues. My eyes dart to her throat as it contracts, a slow, shallow, her lips parting, and when I shift my gaze back to hers, she looks away.
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I know that you two are friends. I’m just saying I have tried talking to you…”
She shrugs her shoulders, visibly uncomfortable by this conversation. She keeps fidging with the can, scraping a fingernail over the cuticle of her thumb. I know her, and this is what she does when she’s nervous, “Okay—whatever—let’s just drop it—”
I pop the tab on the new can and bring it to my mouth, pulling my phone from my back pocket. Harry messaged again, asking if he could see me tonight, and I bit back my smile, sending him a quick text, telling him I’ll call once Skylar leaves. 
When I glance back, Skylar is watching me, “Trent text you?” she questions. 
“Yeah—” I mumble, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
“So things are good between you two?” She asks.
I shrug, “Yeah—I don’t know why anything would be wrong…” I tell her, fainting ignorance. Then she turns, looking out the window, and I glimpse a hickey on her neck. when she turns back, my eyes move back to her face as her hand comes up to her neck.
“You never told me you were hooking up with someone…” I pry.
She smiles then, “I don’t know…It’s nothing serious…just like casual. He’s kind of preoccupied…” and I arch an eyebrow.
“Plus—He doesn’t go here—” she quickly adds.
“So he has a girlfriend?” I push.
Skylar rolls her eyes, “Not everything is so black and white, Marlowe.”
I just stare at her because she has a point, I’m in a messy enough situation; I have no room to cast judgement.
“Anything good happening at school?” I ask, trying to find some commonality because this conversation feels like pulling at teeth.
She lights up then, “Oh—! Yeah—dude—yesterday, Harry Styles came to school with the biggest hickey on his neck….and now everyone is trying to figure out who the mystery girl is…like no girl is coming forward—”
“Hickey’s must be a trend…” I say, scowling, thinking about the hickey on Trent’s neck, the one he claims is a “rash” I call bullshit.
“I guess…” she says, checking her phone and smiling.
“Harry’s probably seeing some girl from another school…” I tell her, but she’s typing away on her phone, not acknowledging a word I’m saying.
“What did you say?” she finally asks.
“Nothing—”
“Hey, I have to jet. I was just dropping by to give you your homework,” she explains, grabbing the empty bag and leaving her can on the counter in her wake. She must be in a hurry and she’s out the door before I can even open it for her, and I watch her get into her car, peer down at her phone grinning, then I shut the door and call Harry.
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I know this is how I got myself into this mess, but as soon as Harry walked in, my worries went out the door, if only for a short while, long enough for me to grab his hand and lead him to the guestroom, and that’s how easy it was to forget everything.
How easy it was to take off my clothes and get into bed with him, to feed on his carefree energy as his playful hands groped my body. When he pushed his way inside of me and whispered, “I missed you,” I closed my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, while he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing my cheek, my nose—a kiss on the neck, kissing everywhere his mouth decided to roam. 
And when I came, he came with me, that easy because now it didn’t matter, now he could come inside me every day until I rid myself of this leech sucking away at my life; because this would all be over soon enough. Everyone will go their separate ways, and I’ll never have to see any of these people again. 
I didn’t have to tell Harry anything because why burden him with this? He deserves to be happy; he deserves to be as happy as he makes me, and I can do this. I don’t need to burden anyone with this, not Harry, not my sister, definitely not my mom because I don’t think she could handle this. A pregnancy would be too much for her.
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb, my head on his chest.
“I don’t know—everything…” I answer.
He laughs, “Everything?” and the rasp of his voice echoes through his chest, and I press my ear against him, listening to the rhythm of his slowing breath. 
“Yeah—everything—” I tell him, closing my eyes because the sound of his heartbeat is lulling me to sleep, and he lightly pinches my cheek.
“Don’t go to sleep yet…I haven’t got to see you in two days…”
I laugh then, “Two days, Harry?”
“Yeah, two school days,” he clarifies, and his chest rattles with laughter, and I lift my head.
“My mom told me to go to the doctor—” And I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me, still facing him.
Harry traces a line across my calf, “And how was that?”
“I don’t know—” I shrug, “Exactly what it is. A stomach bug.”
He looks at me then, “Luckily, it hasn’t hit me…”
“You are very lucky—trust me…” I tell him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. 
“Hey—” he says, pushing himself up on the bed, “Can we talk? I just thought we haven’t really talked about anything—”
And my heart drops then, “Like what?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Like—I don’t know—” and he scratches at the back of his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face.
“I don’t—I’ve been like thinking about it, and I just wanted you to know that you’re like…the only girl I’ve ever, like, not used a condom with.”
My eyes dart to his, “Really?” 
“Yeah…I promise, and maybe it’s shitty, but I figured Trent was the only guy you’ve slept with?” he says, but it rings like a question.
I smile then, “Well, Trent, and now you…” 
“And you’re like on Birth Control?” he asks, nerves creasing at the brow, but all I can do is stare at him.
“Marlowe?”
“Harry—I lied to you—” I blurt.
“When? I’ve never asked you…” he straightens in the bed, all ears now. 
“Today—just now—I lied?” 
He laughs, “About which part? Who you’ve slept with? Marlowe, I don’t care—”
“No—about the doctor’s appointment—” Then his face falls.
The lines between his brow deepen, “What about it?” 
“I really went to Planned Parenthood…”
“You did? by yourself?” He asks, reaching over to grip my leg. I draw a deep breath through my nose, trying to get it all off my chest before the tears start coming because my throat is already growing tight, and the worry growing on his face is scaring me.
“I think I need to start from the beginning, and if you hate me after all of this, I’ll understand—I just…”
“It’s okay…take your time…” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, and I nod my head.
“Before we had sex—I guess you should know that I stopped having sex with Trent, and since I wasn’t having sex with Trent anymore, I stopped taking my birth control…” 
Harry nods, swallowing hard, but lets me continue, “I just want to be clear that the first time we hooked up, that was not my intention—” 
“I know—” He tells me, and he squeezes my leg to resume.
“That day when you dropped me off at home. I ran straight to my room and took the Plan B pill that I stashed away for emergencies because that was definitely an emergency…
And Harry nods his head up and down, the muscles along his jaw tightening, “I took the pill; everything was cool. I didn’t think anything, then I saw you at the party—”
“Marlowe—I know that part—” he says, impatience tugging at his tone. 
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” I tell, him taking his change in demeanor like a scolding, feeling the emotions simmering at the surface.
“No—Lowe—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” He apologizes, cupping my cheek.
“Why did you call me Lowe?” 
He shrugs, a shy smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “I don’t know…it’s how I saved your contact in my phone…I just thought it was cute.”
I smile, “Only sister calls me that…”
“Do you want me to change it?” He asks lowly, his voice like a warm hug.
“No…” I whimper out because I was such a bitch to my sister earlier, and all of this is a fucking mess, and he is so kind and sweet, and now our time is over, and I’ll never have this with him again.
“Hey…don’t cry okay…I’m not mad, I’m just nervous—because I think I know what your about to tell me.” I bit down on my lower lip and nodded my head.
“Are you pregnant?” And I nod my head again as the tears cascade.
Harry blows out a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. “I bet that was scary, huh?” he says, forcing himself to blink away the tears.
“Yeah—” I whisper. 
“I’m sorry that you had to do that alone…” And everything he says is so genuine, and it hurts even more to watch him try to keep it together for me. 
“Listen, I need to take a little walk—” he says, rubbing his palms over his eyes. I just need to clear my head…I promise I’ll be back. I just need a little air.” He tells me, pressing a long kiss to my forehead. Then he stretches past me, dragging the sheets with him. 
I don’t turn around. Shame is roaring its ugly head, and I don’t think I could look at him. I don’t want to see the pity, the look in his eyes, when he no longer sees me the same or feels the same feelings as before—See the look on his face when reality sets in, and everything changes—where we change from who we are in very this moment because it’s inevitable. 
“Lowe?” he calls from the doorway, but I don’t turn to face him.
“I’ll be back okay—?” and I nod my head, listening as he lingers in the doorway. Then the door clicks shut as darkness engulfs me, and I press my head into the pillow and close my eyes because as soon as I open my eyes again, everything will change.
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A/N: Okay...so that's happened...now what?
All Chapters-> Here
Requests-> Here
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rosicheeks · 5 months ago
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how is the sale going?
🙃🙃🙃🙃
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alaskan-wallflower · 4 months ago
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how my parents feel after always reminding me how much better my older brother is than me
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three-o-clock-things · 4 months ago
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not to harp on the same shit again but why’s it always like. am i hormonal or mentally unwell. or is the being hormonal making me mentally unwell
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therealbeachfox · 1 year ago
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Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.
It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.
To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.
This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.
Join me below, if you would.
2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.
Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.
It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.
But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.
The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.
“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”
“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”
We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.
"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?
The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.
We had slightly miscalculated.
Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.
“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”
“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”
“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”
“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”
And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.
00000
We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.
It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.
At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.
Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.
So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.
“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.
“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.
Monday is the last day to do this, after all.
00000
So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.
The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.
“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”
So.
Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?
Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.
It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).
Then it starts to rain.
We had not dressed for rain.
00000
Here is how the next six hours go.
We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.
Everyone is so happy.
Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.
People online start making delivery orders.
Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.
A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.
The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.
A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.
Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.
00000
We have Line Neighbors.
Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.
The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.
Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”
“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”
“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”
My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.
“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.
“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”
We stay in line.
It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.
The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.
We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.
It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.
They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.
We still have a -long- way to go.
00000
They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.
It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”
We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.
We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.
I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.
The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.
Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.
The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.
A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“
The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”
We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.
If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.
That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.
There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.
We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)
I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.
There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.
Then we're married.
Then we get in line to get our license.
It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.
Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.
We make it to the marriage records office.
I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.
It's almost 3PM.
00000
There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.
We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.
I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”
He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.
Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.
We get back to our car and climb in.
It’s 4:30 and we are starving.
There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.
We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.
We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.
The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.
My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”
00000
It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”
But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.
It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.
I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.
We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.
Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.
It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.
Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"
And that was that.
00000
When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.
I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.
I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.
I never thought I’d live in this world.
And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.
I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.
The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.
And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.
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roturo · 1 year ago
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?
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˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .
tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!
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satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)
well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.
like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.
“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.
“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.
all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.
suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)
you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.
he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.
“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.
“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.
he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.
kento nanami (Big Boss)
Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.
the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...
“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.
“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 
“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”
toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)
you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.
you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 
“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 
“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–
“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”
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raeathnos · 11 months ago
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mywritersmind · 3 months ago
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HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4
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summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.
listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.
word count : 5404
⋆。‧˚⋆
I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.
“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.
“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.
Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, ���Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.
“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.
“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.
“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”
The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.
I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.
I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”
⋆༺
LANDO NORRIS
I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.
I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.
She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.
What the fuck?
I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.
“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”
“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.
“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”
“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.
“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.
“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”
“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”
“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.
“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”
She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.
I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”
She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.
⋆༺
YOU
Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.
But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.
“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”
I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.
My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.
But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.
“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.
“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.
“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.
“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.
I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.
After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.
I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.
I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.
I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.
I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!
I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?
Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.
“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.
“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.
“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”
I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.
“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.
“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“
“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”
Okay. Good point.
“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”
He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.
“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.
“Needed a breather.”
I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”
He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”
“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”
He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”
I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”
“Yeah but you… nevermind.”
I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”
He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”
I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”
He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…
“Just shut up.” He does.
Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”
I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”
“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”
“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”
He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”
“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.
“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”
I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”
“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”
“Later, Norris.”
⋆༺
“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.
I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”
“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.
“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”
I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”
“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”
“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.
“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”
“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”
We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.
⋆༺
I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.
The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.
What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.
I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?
I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.
He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”
His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.
I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.
I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.
“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.
“Huh?”
“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”
“I- I have to.”
I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”
He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.
“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.
“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”
He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”
“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”
He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.
I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.
“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”
I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”
He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”
“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”
He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”
⋆༺
It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.
“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”
“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.
“Just let me take you out.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.
“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.
“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.
“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.
“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.
Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”
“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”
“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.
“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”
“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.
“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”
“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.
“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”
“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.
“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.
“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.
“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.
Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”
I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”
He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.
“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.
“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”
⋆༺
Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.
He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.
“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.
“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”
He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”
I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”
We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.
My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.
There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.
I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.
He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?
I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.
“What are you doing?”
I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.
“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”
“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”
He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.
I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.
“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”
I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”
He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.
I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.
He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.
“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.
“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.
“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”
I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”
He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”
“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.
“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.
I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.
He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”
Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”
I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”
My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”
“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.
I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”
“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.
“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.
“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.
“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.
“Dream about me, then.”
⋆༺
The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.
I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.
I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.
“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.
“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”
“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.
Lando Norris.
He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.
He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”
I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”
I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”
“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”
I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”
I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.
⋆༺
Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.
I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.
“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.
“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.
He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.
I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”
I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.
“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.
His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.
I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”
Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”
I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”
My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.
Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”
“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.
“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.
⋆༺
The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.
The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.
My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.
Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.
I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.
I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.
If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.
After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”
“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.
“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.
“I guess I sort of owe you.”
He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”
I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”
He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.
“You did really well today.”
He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.
My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”
“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.
He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”
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moonstruckme · 3 months ago
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Hey angel!! hope ur doing well!!
i was wondering if I could request roommate!marauders where they have crushes on reader buttt she already has a bf but he's just a total jerk.... and u sorta get the idea?? (if u haven't done one like this already)
much love!!! <3333
Thank you for requesting lovely <3
cw: douchebag boyfriend, marauders fancy reader but don't genuinely want her to cheat or end her relationship for them
(poly)roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words
It’s heartbreaking how lovely you look first thing in the morning. Sweet, rumpled pajamas, plodding gait, sunlight stretching over features still soft with sleep. You raise your hand to cover a yawn as you enter the kitchen, eyelashes still drooping like they’ve weights sewn into them. 
“Morning,” you say on the tail end. 
“Morning.” James opens one arm to you. You step into the hug automatically, and he drops a kiss to your head, his own private indulgence. You’re eyeing the omelet he’s frying up with his other hand. “Want one?” 
“Mm, wish I could,” your voice is a somnolent mumble, “but Dale’s taking me to breakfast in a bit.” 
James tries not to react, but his hold on you stiffens some. From the living room, he hears Sirius scoff. “Oh.” 
“I’m sure your omelet would be better.” You pat his side, moving out from under his arm to go to the coffee pot. “We’re going to this cafe he likes, and they never have anything I want. Still, I can hardly show up full.” 
James feels himself frown. Typical of your boyfriend to take you somewhere you don’t even like. Perhaps he’s a tad biased, but James thinks you should eat one of his omelets and show up full just to teach him a lesson. 
He plates up the one he’s just finished. You tail him into the living room as he delivers it to Sirius, curling your feet up underneath you on the couch. Remus is sitting in the armchair reading the paper. He and James have already had their breakfasts, but you and Sirius are always the last up on weekends.
“Are you finished with the funnies?” you ask Remus. 
He looks up at you with a tenderness James doesn’t know how you can’t see. “Yeah,” he says, shaking out a page. “Here.” 
Sirius snickers at your choice of reading material as you reach across him for it. You nudge his thigh with your knee. “Bite me.” 
“Anywhere you’d like me to, babe.” He winks. 
You roll your eyes and fold the page to read, well used to Sirius’ flirting. Similarly to how he’d done with Remus, Sirius’ ill-advised tactic for winning you over involves alternating between taunting you relentlessly and acting like his affection for you is all one big joke. It only barely worked on Remus—James’ interference had been required there, and that was before he’d admitted to himself his own feelings for either of the two boys—so James doesn’t understand why Sirius would give it another go with you. 
“Oh.” Remus closes his paper, seeming to remember something. “I was wondering if you might have time to go with me to the farmer’s market this morning. We’re out of eggs, but I can’t haggle with the woman like you do.” 
You give him a sorry sort of smile. “I would, but Dale’s meant to pick me up at ten.”
“Oh, well.” Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing malignantly on a bite of omelet. “If Dale said he’ll be here at ten, then surely that’s what’s happening.” 
You bump his thigh again good naturedly. “Be nice.” 
James bites his tongue, and even Remus reopens his newspaper with a tad more vigor than necessary. Sirius is by far the most vocal with you about your boyfriend’s flaws, but your roommates all hate him. The guy’s a prick. James would never in a million years try to convince you to leave your partner for them—and despite Sirius’ joking, he knows neither of the other boys would want that either—but if you broke up with Dale, he would be very tempted to throw a party. 
James really doesn’t understand how someone like you could end up with someone so holistically unpleasant as your boyfriend. He’s rude, inconsiderate, he doesn’t express any gratitude for the sweet things you do for him, and he is never where he says he’s going to be when he says he’s going to be there. He shows so little regard for anyone but himself. If he told you he was going to pick you up at ten in the morning, he’s just as likely to arrive at three in the afternoon. Even for your half-hearted defense of him, it’s nearly ten and you’ve made no move to change out of your pajamas or get ready, because you know he won’t be here on time. It irks your roommates to no end to see you tolerate such poor treatment. 
“Maybe you can go with Remus to the farmer’s market,” you tell Sirius. “You seem like you could negotiate.” 
“Sirius doesn’t know how much eggs are supposed to cost,” Remus says idly. 
“Oi!” Sirius objects through a mouthful of omelet. “I do so.” 
James smiles at him. “Really. How much do you think eggs cost, love?” 
Sirius manages to take another bite while James is asking, so his mouth is conveniently too full to answer. 
“I can manage it on my own,” Remus says with indulgent fondness. “Dove, do me one favor, though?” 
You lift your coffee. “Sure.” 
“Don’t let him summon you outside with his horn again.” 
There’s a brief but thick silence while you finish swallowing your coffee and all three boys try not to look too obviously judgmental (Sirius trying the least, naturally). The purse of your lips reveals some embarrassment. 
Still, your voice comes out unconcerned. “It’s not a big deal to me. It’s not like we’re in school and I need him to come to the door and meet my parents. It’s a time saver.” 
“It’s rude,” says Remus gently. “You deserve someone who will come to the door for you.” 
James’ thoughts exactly. 
“Sure you don’t want some toast or something while you wait?” James asks, partly to dispel the tension and partly because he really does think you should eat something if Dale isn’t likely to be here until the afternoon. “You could call it an appetizer.” 
You stand with your emptied coffee mug, passing an affectionate hand over James’ hair as you move between his legs and the coffee table. “Thanks,” you say genuinely, “but I’m alright. I’m going to go get ready.” 
However eager James is to avoid the tension that comes from insulting (or, really, just speaking frankly about) your boyfriend, Sirius has no such concerns. “While we’re telling Dale things,” he says after you, “be sure to remind him that our flat has a three-strike roommate tears policy. Next time you come home crying, Jamie and I get to make a house call.” 
Your laughter echoes down the hallway. “Sure, I’ll let him know.” 
Sirius looks at James, perplexed. “Did I sound like I was joking? I was not using my joking voice.” 
James pats his leg consolingly.
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mrsriddlenott · 2 months ago
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~ JB’s Little Sister ~
JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader
Warnings: smut, weed, creampie, breeding kink mentioned, a bit of spit kink but barely, hair pulling, kinda choking kink but barely. Barely proofread, plz point out mistakes.
{masterlist}
————
JJ knew it was wrong but he was absolutely obsessed with the youngest Routledge sibling. It really boiled over when you were both in high school, he absolutely loved having the excuse to be near you all day. He was a year older and knew John B would lose it if he found out it was more than jokes. But he was unashamed in his decade of flirting, so much so he genuinely thought he was gonna die when you left the island for your freshman year of college. And when you came back for summer it was like a dam broke in his mind, he couldn’t hold back.
“God I’ve missed you.” JJ groaned as he and John B ran to tug you into a hug, tripping over himself right in front of you before he could reach your arms, making you laugh and give your brother the first hug. He pops up immediately, tugging you back by your waist before you can follow your brother into the Chateau where the rest of your friends wait. “Get the fuck back here, I needa hug from my favorite girl.”
“I swear you missed me more than JB did.” You laugh jumping up, fully prepared for him to catch you and he does, unabashedly letting his palms rest on the exposed flesh at the base of your shorts as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Y’know it Mama.” His voice was deeper and laced in want, placing you back down onto your feet after squeezing you tightly. JJ lets his hands rub up your waste as you slide down his toned body before he steps back from you, wetting his lips, finally getting a good look at you after so long of only facetime. You lock your hands around his neck, smiling up at him in a way that would surely get you yelled at by John B had he seen.
“What would I do without you?” You ask, your smile wide as you look up to him. Finally allowing yourself to show him everything you wanted to for so long.
“Crash and burn of course,” He tugs you around under his arm, resting his toned bicep on your shoulder as he directs you into the Chateau for the first time since you left last fall. John B pops his head out the door watching you both as you approach him.
“What the hell is taking you so long?” He snaps, making you roll your eyes as you shove past him, begrudgingly letting JJ’s arm fall from your shoulders. As you finally step into your home you’re bombarded with hugs and welcomes, making your way into the center of the group, sitting in your regular spot in rotation right across from JJ’s. Something JB ensured as soon as he caught onto to your infatuation with his best friend. But after practically living on your own for an entire school year you were tired of your older brother taking control over your life. You had a plan, and you knew it would work.
“So what are you doing your first weekend back?”Kie asks, passing the joint they had rolled for your return your way as you try and ignore JJ’s burning gaze on you. You give yourself time to work out the best response as you take your hit, puffing on the joint again to fill your lungs a little extra before passing it off. You catch the way JJ’s adam’s apple bob’s, his eyes watching you blow the smoke past your lips as though he was in a trance.
“Well, don’t get mad but do you remember my ex, the one I broke it off with junior year?” You ask, plucking at a lose thread on your shorts, looking around at everyone but JJ’s reaction.
“That douchbag kook who was too old for you and didn’t deserve you?” John B asks sarcastically, “Yeah, how could I forget.” He rolls his eyes, puffing off the joint as you laugh at his annoyance. You let yourself steal a glimpse at JJ buying yourself time as the joint makes it’s rounds, catching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. You smile to yourself, looking to the floor and feigning ignorance of his reaction.
“Yes, Tyler, he found out I was gonna be back for the summer and he asked me to get dinner later, I said I would but that it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re getting back together,” You shrug your shoulders as though it was nothing, watching JJ take his hit, his hard eyes remaining trained onto you with fire blazing behind them.
“Necessarily?!” Pope blurts out with a fake laugh, “Isn’t Tyler the asshole college dude me and JJ had to put in line a few years ago?” You feel yourself starting to laugh at Pope’s scoff of annoyance, remembering how he was always just as protective as your brother when it came to you starting to date.
“It doesn’t mean anything okay, it’s just for fun.” You shrug, ignoring the smirk Sarah sends your way as JJ begins to fume in his spot. You roll your eyes playfully away from her, smiling as she clearly picks up on what you were doing.
“That’s what you say when something definitely means something.” JJ pipes up, trying to stop his teeth from gritting together as your eyes avoid him again.
“I don’t know this guy but if he’s fun, I think you should have your fun,” Cleo states with a smile before standing and tugging Pope off with her. You shake your head, laughing as you fake a disgusted look in their direction.
“I will not be having that kind of fun.” You state, finally locking eyes with JJ, tilting your head slightly, challenging him to break eye contact first. His blown out pupils contrast against his ocean blue eyes as he holds your gaze only breaking it when John B stands up beside you.
“Yeah, right. Just don’t bring him back here, I can’t promise I’ll remain civil this time.” Your brother laughs at your dramatic eye roll, despite knowing he was only half joking. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, your eyebrows arching for a split second before she gets your request. You hold back a sigh at watching your plan fall perfectly into place, Sarah hopping off the couch she was occupying to tug at her boyfriends wrist.
“And what were you and Sarah going to be doing? Hm lemme think…” JJ finally laughs at your words, watching the way you jokingly tap your chin as the pair retreat into the Chateau towards John B’s bedroom. Sarah giggling, winking back at you over her shoulder, fully supporting you in your endeavors unlike your brother.
“And I think that would be my cue,” Kie says between laughs, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” She states in a sing song voice before slipping out the door and out of sight. You watch JJ’s confused face, his eyebrows furrowed adorably watching her leave, his lips trying to form a question as he mutters confusedly before she’s gone.
“Wanna come hotbox the Twinkie with me Jay?” You stretch out towards him, kicking his thigh softly, snapping his eyes back to yours. He caught the twinkle in your eyes, the slight tilt to your head and part of him already knew.
And with one decision, he ended up getting everything he wanted.
“You don’t even gotta ask Mama.” JJ responds excitedly, immediately hopping up in front of you as he reaches his ring clad hand down to take yours, “M’lady?”
~~~~
“Come on, he’ll never know I swear.” JJ begged, continuing the non-stop flirting he’d started from the second he began rolling a blunt for you both. Ever since you mentioned you had a date his “jokes” started to feel more and more serious, making your giddy excitement skyrocket as you slowly push yourself closer to him in your seat.
“John B would literally kill you if he found out,” you laugh, taking a puff off the blunt before passing it off to him again, “He doesn’t care that I’m in college now and more responsible than him, he’s overprotective.”
“Then I would die happy Baby,” He states, shrugging his shoulders as he hits the blunt blowing the smoke directly in your face from across him, “You know me, imma’ daredevil.”
“See you don’t even actually want me Jay, you just like the chase,” Your eyes meet his through the haze of smoke slowly filling the Twinkie, “You think it would be hot to sneak around.” You fill your voice with teasing interest, knowing he would pick up on the change in your tone immediately.
“It would be really hot yeah but you’re also one of my best friends.” His breathless voice takes you by surprise as he leans forward to hand you the blunt, letting his fingers brush yours for too long, catching your eyes again and forcing you to maintain eye contact. He does love a chase, but the excitement of finally hearing your interest after so long of getting the cold shoulder sends him reeling more than the desperation for your attention that John B denied him ever did.
“Which should discourage you Jay.” He watches the way your eyebrow raises with your tone, wetting his lips as his brain reminds him of the many times he watched you flirt at the Boneyard, taking charge and wrapping some poor sucker around your finger for the night. His heart started to race, a smile growing on his lips when he takes note of your tell.
You were finally flirting back.
“Well it doesnt, and I don’t care about no pogue on pogue anymore either Sweetheart, I do genuinely want you.” JJ tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, watching your face and he can tell he’s finally got you, “And if John B kills me and dumps my body in the marsh so be it.”
JJ watched your lips wrap around the blunt sucking in your hit it, blue eyes bouncing from the smoke pouring past your lips to your eyes still locked onto him. “Wanna shot gun it Jay?” You blurt out, smiling teasingly as you push yourself impossibly closer to him on the bench in the back of the Twinkie. Loving the way his eyes found yours immediately, swallowing thickly while he nods.
“Yes, yes I do.” His hands found your waste as though it was second nature, pulling you into his lap where you rest your weight with a sigh. Your eyes stay locked in his gaze, taking a long drag to properly fill your mouth with the warm smoke. You watch JJ’s face intently before tugging his mouth up to yours by his stubbled chin. You ghost your lips against his, letting them touch each other just slightly while you pass him your hit. You lean back in his lap to watch as his eyes flutter shut, feeling the way his fingers grip your hips as he inhales the smoke you gave him.
“Y’like that Baby?” You ask and a moan vibrates through his body and into yours at the sound of the nickname, a smile subconsciously covering his face as his eyes stay closed. You take the opportunity to put out the smoking blunt in the ashtray behind you, letting your now free hands roam across his chest and shoulders as you pull yourself back to him.
“I think I’m dreamin’ Sweetness,” He sighs, his hands dancing up and down your waste, gripping at your flesh everywhere he stops. You giggle above him, wiggling your hips against the growing bulge in his shorts and sending a shiver through his body.
“You’re not Jay,” You whisper, resting your hands on his shoulders has his eyes flicker open to watch you, “Do you wanna kiss me?” Your voice comes out soft despite the confidence you feel, slightly rocking your hips against him as he nods desperately.
His hand rubs its way up your back, gripping the back of your neck and smashing your lips into his. The kiss is heated as soon as you touch, years of pent up feelings urge you both further, your lips fighting each other as you moan into his mouth. You graze your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance, making him groan into you gripping your lower waste harder, tugging you impossibly closer and shoving his tongue past your gasping lips. You laugh into the kiss, sighing as you grind into him feeling him entirely through his and your own shorts. The taste of his spit coating your tongue sending a wave of excitement through you, the puddle in your panties growing as you swirl your tongue against his, coating your mouth in his saliva.
JJ pulls back suddenly, his blown out eyes watching your face intently as you whine for him to come back. Your brows furrowing, your fingers tugging at his shirt collar desperate to have his taste on your lips again. “Jayy, come on.” You beg, bucking against his hard bulge again desperately.
“You’re not just doin’ this because the weed though, right?” He asks, his voice desperate and strained. You laugh, tugging him closer by his shoulders, grinding into his lap harder and tangling your fingers in his hair to tug on it hard.
“You are absolutely clueless JJ, I have been obsessed with you for years, why do you think JB hates us being alone together.” You drag your lips against his neck as you speak feeling the way he twitches against you, itching to finally get you the way he needed, “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of ridin’ you in this van.”
“I’ve thought about taking you in damn near every position, everywhere on this fucking island.” He responds, holding back a moan at the feeling of you pressing against him.
“Well, no one can stop you now because I say what you can and can’t do to me.” He growls as he smashes his lips back onto yours. Maneuvering your body so you laid under him across the bench of the van, one hand disappearing between your bodies, tugging at the button on your shorts to let his hand fall into them. He circles his finger slowly against your clothed clit, laughing as his eyes find yours again, your brows furrowing and your mouth falling open, “You’re so fucking wet.” He laughs out, his free hand drifting to wrap softly around your neck tugging you towards him again and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.
He moans against your tongue as your hand falls to palm him through his shorts, making him pull back quickly, the clank of his belt coming undone so quickly sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes follow his movements entranced by him, watching as he tugs his shorts and boxers down together, letting himself spring free. His tip bounces against his lower abdomen making him hiss lightly, his hand falling to stroke himself slowly, thumbing his leaking tip as his free hand springs into action. He tugs your shorts and panties down in quick, smooth motions sighing heavily when he spreads your thighs to get a look at you. His hand speeds up at the sight of your glistening folds, groaning into his kiss bruised lip while you desperately wiggle your hips below him. His thumb moves subconsciously, pulling one of your sticky lips to the side and watching as they clap back together when he releases it, growling at the sight of how wet he can make you.
His eyes meet yours, groaning as he feels your hand replacing his on his cock. His fingertips ghost against your thighs slowly working their way up your body, catching on the tank top you wear to slowly pull it up your chest.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Sweetheart, look at you, your nipples are all perky for me.” His tongue swipes against his lips before he dives into your chest, tugging your shirt off fully over your head and tossing it behind him before swirling his warm tongue against your hard nipple. Your fingers of your free hand get lost in his hair, tugging lightly as the other moves lower palming his tightening sack as he moves to suck your other nipple into his mouth. Groaning and moaning into your flesh, biting your nipple and making you whine underneath him.
“Please fuck me Jay, I wanna feel you inside me already.” JJ pushes himself up, his strong arms framing your face as he watches you, spit coating his lips and making them glisten. His brows furrow in pleasure as your hand picks up speed between your bodies, “Please Baby, I need you.” You emphasize your words with a squeeze of your fingers, slowly drifting your hand up ghosting your fingers against his tip and feeling him twitch in your palm before tugging your hand away. Quickly you drift your hand up his shirt, digging your nails into his chest and dragging them down his abdomen, marking him as he shudders above you. “Take your fucking shirt off and fuck me already JJ, or I swear you won-“
JJ pushes off of you immediately, pulling his shirt off over his head in a flash before falling back onto you. Holding his weight on his arm beside your head as his free hand falls to line himself up at your entrance. His fingers tangle in your hair at the side of your head, his lips capturing yours as his tip slowly slips into your drenched center, “You’re so fuckin’ needy, been waitin’ too long for this to not take it slow with you.” He gasps against your lips, breathing heavily as he slides into you slowly letting his hand drift up to wrap around your neck possessively, “I want you to feel every bit of me Baby.”
“It’s not like this is never gonna happen again Jay,” You moan, his cock stretching you out, sending your juices leaking past him and onto the blanket below you as he slowly penetrates you, “Unless you didn’t want t-“
“Shut the fuck up,” JJ growls, snapping his hips into you and cutting you off with a moan as he fills you completely, “I know you won’t be able to get enough of me after this, but don’t worry imma fuck you every chance you give me. I can feel you clenching around me already Gorgeous, so don’t play because I’m in charge now.”
He pulls out slowly, his eyes falling to watch his glistening skin as he slips out of you. His tip rests inside you while you pucker around him, desperately trying to suck him back into you. His bright blue excited eyes bounce to yours, your brows furrowed adorably, your teeth digging into your lip. He thrusts into you, filling you back up and forcing your mouth open with a moan. His hips start to rock against you, setting a slow but rough pace as he dips his head to catch your lips in a slow, passionate kiss matching the desperate thrusts of his hips against yours.
JJ’s thrusts speed up, dragging against your twitching walls and hitting your cervix each time. He twitches inside you as your tongue swirls around his, moaning in your mouth and letting his hand fall down your neck to your chest, stopping for only a second to squeeze at your breast before continuing his decent. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again, circling over it and dropping his lips to kiss down your neck.
JJ speeds up his finger’s movement as his pace slows, trying to control himself. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, your slick sticking to him every time his balls slap against you pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Your hips move desperately trying to speed up your own release as JJ holds himself back. His teeth dig into the skin at the base of your neck groaning as your hands dance across his muscular back. Dipping low enough to grab at his ass before drifting their way back up, dragging your nails against his shoulders and making him shudder.
"Please Jay, faster," You gasp, clutching JJ's shoulders as he pounds into you slowly, letting your nails dig into his skin with each thrust. “Faster Jay I’m gonna cum,” You practically scream as his fingers rub into you impossibly faster, his hips digging into you deeper as he speeds up his thrusts again.
"You gotta be quiet Gorgeous, this thing ain't soundproof." He laughs, pushing himself above you, one hand resting beside your head, taking a second to glance out the fogged windows of the Twinkie before looking back to your closed eyes and furrowed brows. His eyes glance down your body, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you gush around him, slowing his fingers as you come undone below him. The band in your abdomen finally snaps, forcing you to arch into him, your nails digging down his back and leaving bright red marks behind. JJ pulls his hand from between you, sucking it into his mouth and moaning before letting it fall to your cheek, pushing your hair back as he attempts to maintain a steady pace, fucking you into oblivion as he watches your face contort in pleasure.
“Look at me.” His voice is laced in dominance, breathing heavily above you as he watches your eyes flicker open, staring up at him desperately. With a groan his mouth finds yours again, your moans mixing together while he pulls all the way out, slamming back into you and making you gasp into his mouth. Allowing his tongue to explore yours as his hips speed up even faster to a brutal pace, shaking the van with each thrust. You should be worried someone will see, but you’re too fucked out to care right now.
Your fingers tangle in his hair as his hand falls to steady himself on your hip looking for anything to grab onto, latching to reality. You tug at his hair aggressively as he bites your lip, locking your legs around his waste, whining out a moan into him as his cock hits deeper inside you making you pull his hair even harder subconsciously. Your whole body begins to twitch with overstimulation as JJ moans desperately above you, his hips stuttering and his breath shudders, “Do that again, now.”
You do as your told, moaning as his hips snap against you at an erratic, random pace when you do. “You gonna cum Jay?” You ask, your voice breathless and squeaky post orgasm.
“Mhmm, tryna convince myself I wanna pull out right now though Sweetheart.” His eyes squeeze shut, clenching his fingers onto your hip. His fingernails digging into your skin trying to control himself.
“No don’t, please don’t Jay,” you whine, locking your legs around him tighter, tugging him fully against you as he groans and moans into your neck. He whines loudly, pushing into you, his tip kissing against your cervix as you feel his hot cum paint your walls. He stills completely, dropping his weight onto you, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties himself into you.
“If I get you pregnant,” JJ huffs, pushing himself up on shaky arms to watch your face, “Your brother is definitely gonna kill me.”
“No he would never kill JJ Jr.” You laugh breathlessly, JJ’s eyes following the way your chest moves before dropping to look at where he sits inside of you. The ring of the creamy mixture of your releases at his base driving him absolutely insane, sending his head spinning with excitement.
“Fuck, I guess I have a breedin’ kink now,” He groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses against the warm flesh there, “Thanks for that Princess.”
JJ pushes off of you to watch as he pulls out, his intense eyes staring as your mixed release flows out of you and onto the seat below. You wiggle your hips teasingly with a tired smile before he snaps out of it. Shaking his head with a laugh as he bends over to tug his bandana free from his shorts, swiping it against your overstimulated clit as he cleans you of the sticky residue coating you.
You both redress in a comforting silence, both giggling together when you flip the blanket covering the bench of the Twinkie to the clean side. Your eyes meet his for a second too long, your shared laughter stopping slowing as he stares at you with soft eyes, his smile only growing as you lean into him. Your lips melt together in a soft, welcoming kiss before parting with a sigh. JJ’s hand falls to the ashtray sitting in the front of the van, relighting the half smoked blunt before passing it off to you. You sigh contently, smiling up at him happy that everything still feels so normal.
Once the Twinkie is filled with the scent of weed and not the evidence of your previous actives you slide the door open. The smoke falling out around you as you squint at the light change. JJ sits on the floor of the Twinkie with his legs hanging out the side door, looking at you as you stretch your arms and legs. You catch sight of John B as he emerges from the door of the Chateau, quickly walking his way towards you. You chuckle, thinking of how lucky you are he chose to come looking just after you and JJ both found your way out of the steaming van. You can feel John B’s suspicion seeping off of him like a palpable entity as he approaches, making you laugh and turn to JJ behind you. His eyes popping up off your ass and to your eyes quickly before noticing his best friend approaching over the yard behind you.
“What are you two doing?” Your brother snaps, eyeing you as you roll your eyes back to him.
“Jus’ smoking JB, I got bored waiting for you so Jay took care of me.” JJ holds back a laugh at your words, poking his tongue into his cheek while his eyes fall to the ground at his feet.
“I thought I said years ago I didn’t want you two smoking alone together.” John B states, suspicion laced in his voice and eyes. A look of disgust forming on his face when he eyes the Twinkie, seemingly looking for “clues” he will never find.
“And I distinctly remember telling you I can hang out with whoever I want. I’m an adult now, just like you, so untwist your panties.” His brows furrow in suspension once again, looking back to you desperately trying to decipher what the look in your eyes means. His gaze bouncing between you and his best friend, unsure if he should trust his gut or let it go.
“Is somthing going on with you two?” John B asks, his voice dropping to a whisper as if this was all a giant public scandal.
“Uh yeah, we’re friends.” You state with a dramatic roll of your eyes before slipping past your brother. You turn to catch JJ’s eyes over your shoulder, sending him a wink and watching him try to hide his smirk.
“Don’t you have a date to get ready for?” JB yells after your retreating form, not noticing the way JJ’s eyes lingered on you as well, eagerly awaiting your answer.
“Nope, I’m canceling, decided you were right, Tyler is a douchebag.” You don’t miss the proud smile JJ wears as you flit into the Chateau, ignoring the look your brother gives his best friend when he notices as well.
————
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peachylynnie · 3 months ago
Text
sick
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word count: 1.8k
synopsis: in which sylus sneaks into your apartment and finds you sick. yet, you're not resting. why?
contains: sylus x mc!reader (they're not dating but sylus is pining and reader is confused), reader is implied to be in college, slightly obsessive sylus, mentions of violence and sickness, suggestive themes, cussing, and fluff.
a/n: i got sick yesterday. what better way to rest than to write about sylus? do NOT copy or steal my work. sylus WOULD NOT endorse plagiarism :)
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you don't want to admit it. you really don't. but you're sick. there's no denying that with how short of breath you are, how nauseous you feel, and the goddamn soreness in the back of your throat that didn't go away with the first sip of water.
"shit…" you mumble as you sluggishly move to empty the dishwasher as your roommate asked. it's bad enough that you were sick, but you were also stressed out of your mind. midterms have been kicking your ass this semester. big assignments have been piling up on your already heavy shoulders. in essence, this was a burnout month, and all that lack of sleep and unparalleled stress had finally caught up to you. in the form of a cold, that is.
"of all the times," you grumble as you struggle to stack the dishes in the cabinet. "why now…" indeed, this was a terrible time to get sick. how were you to complete all your tasks while feeling absolutely miserable? you glance at the microwave clock in desperation. 10:00 PM, it read. although you meant to sigh a breath of relief, you let out a painful cough. maybe you could finish an assignment or two by midnight. that way, you can focus on studying tomorrow, you thought to yourself.
you sniff as you return to the dishwasher to unload the rest of the dishes. as much as you were happy for your roommate leaving for the weekend to finally see her family, you couldn't help but feel resentful. why were you here struggling to do the dishes while she got to have fun? shaking your head at your bitter thoughts, you bend down, trying to grab the utensils from the dishwasher. keyword: trying.
the sudden pair of strong arms that wrapped around you prevented you from doing so. normally, you would've swiftly elbowed the person behind you and turned around to land a hard blow that would have them seeing stars. instead, you exhale shakily. you recognize the mysterious backhugger's scent. the scent of sweet wine and sharp citrus. sylus.
how the hell did he get in? you don’t remember giving him a spare key when you told him your address. you look behind you, angling your head to meet his garnet eyes. "i did not give you my address just so you can sneak in like this," you say, trying your best not to sound like you're dying.
unfortunately, the nasal tone of your voice does not go unnoticed by sylus. instead of offering his usual quips, sylus furrows his brows and unclasps his right arm from your waist. you try not to flinch at the chill of his slender fingers touching your forehead. he frowns. "you're sick."
you immediately avert your gaze. "i'm not sick," you mutter as you try to bend down once more to grab the stupid utensils from the dishwasher. sylus doesn't let go. this time, he spins you around with his left arm, making sure that he can see you properly.
"you're burning up, sweetie." sylus says as flips the hand on your forehead for good measure. "you're sick and you know it."
you roll your eyes, squirming to get out of his grip. you did not want sylus to see you like this. a sick, miserable mess incapable of doing something as simple as emptying the dishwasher. you had an image to uphold after all. being vulnerable with someone like him could mean getting hurt again. last time you were vulnerable with someone… well, let's say you learned your lesson.
weakly, you push at sylus' arm around your waist with your small hands. you try not to think about how minuscule they looked next to sylus' deliciously veiny forearms. great, you're sick, and your mind decides to lust after sylus' arms. you shiver at your thoughts and attempt to push sylus' grip away once more. normally, escaping sylus' hold would be a reasonable task for you. after all, your sparring sessions with him prepared you to get out of sticky situations. but you were sick and exhausted out of your mind. all you could manage was a feeble squirm.
sylus' gaze moves from his hand on your forehead to your eyes. your half-lidded baggy eyes. his frown deepens. you looked extremely fatigued. your face was noticeably pale, and your intake of breath was short. not to mention, sylus could see the slight wince of pain whenever you tried to swallow your saliva. sylus sighs as he removes his hand on your forehead and replaces it with his own. you were neglecting yourself again.
under normal circumstances, you would've shied away from sylus' physical advancements. his hand on the small of your back? an immediate flinch and glare, signaling him to stop. a tap on the crown of your head? a swift jerk of your neck and avoidance of eye contact. instead—again, you blame it on your exhaustion—you tiredly close your eyes, relishing in sylus' cool forehead against your heated one. no resistance to be shown.
you don't see it, but sylus' sharp eyes soften at the sight of you accepting his touch. even with the eye bags and ghastly skin, you looked ethereal. like an angel sent from heaven to save him from his own solitary hell. as much as he wants to savor this moment of you finally giving into his touch, sylus knows what he must do. you're unwell and unrested. you need to be in bed immediately.
"you should be in bed, sweetie." sylus murmurs as he pulls away from your forehead. you try not to sulk at the loss of the soothing chill of his skin. though, not without feeling conflicted because why you would even sulk about him? for god's sake, he was a criminal. he's taken countless lives. not to mention, he choked you upon meeting you, called you a disappointment, and tried to alter you after three straight days of relentless attempts at a forced resonation… just thinking about him drives you nuts and being driven nuts is the last thing you want right now.
"i'm fine, sylus." it was your turn to pull away, trying to put as much distance between you two as his firm grip around your waist would allow. "besides, nothing a little old tea can't fix."
with that, you turn to face the dishwasher and reach for the utensils for the umpteenth time of the night. sylus sighs and pinches his nose bridge with his free hand. as much as he admired your stubbornness, he could not help but resent it at times like these. times when you were in desperate need of a break. before you can grab the utensils, you feel yourself get lifted off the ground effortlessly.
sylus' arm on your waist had moved to your shoulder, and his other arm was hooked under your thighs. he had you in bridal style in less than a second. your eyes widen, realizing the sudden change in positions. "what are you doing?!" you cough painfully. "put me down!"
you do your best to escape sylus' new grip on you by kicking your legs and squirming uncontrollably, but it was hopeless. you were weakened due to your sickness, and sylus was determined to make sure you looked only at him instead of the goddamn dishwasher. one more look at it, and he swears he's gonna break it with his evol.
quickly and confidently, sylus exits the kitchen with you in his arms and arrives at what he guesses is your shared bedroom with your roommate. he tries not to get distracted by the fact that this is his first time in your room. god, the entire space smelled so much like you, he wanted to become one with it and watch you forever and ever. dismissing his intrusive thoughts, sylus gently places you down on your bed and starts to cover you in your blanket.
"wait, sylus," you start, trying to get up. "i have to empty the dishwasher. i have homework, too." sylus tuts as he shakes his head, his messy silver locks following suit. although he doesn't respond, sylus continues to spread out your blanket. you furrow your eyebrows at his strange behavior. "sylus…" you whine. you actually whined. something you never thought you would do, especially in front of sylus. you could feel his intense gaze prick at you like little needles. you avoid his gaze, hoping to hide your flustered state.
adorable. that's what you are. incredibly adorable to the point sylus wants to grab your chin and force you to look at him as he coaxes more and more of your pretty whines out of you.
trying to fight his indecent thoughts, sylus locks eyes with you, a firm yet pleading look on his face. "you need to rest, sweetie," he leans in to adjust your pillow. "you won't get anything done in this state." you try to protest again, but sylus beats you to it. "rest. i'll take care of everything."
well, fuck. how can you say no when sylus, in all of his gorgeous glory, is centimeters from your face, telling you that he will take care of everything and asking you to do the one thing you've been longing to do for a very long time? besides, you felt sleepy ever since sylus took you in his arms. just this once. just this once, you'll allow yourself to be vulnerable with him. so that you can rest, of course. totally not because sylus had a way of comforting you so sweetly and breaking your defensive walls so charmingly.
your labored breathing slows as you cautiously nod. "fine," you yawn. "the utensils go in the very left drawer of the island while the pots and pans go in the stove oven, and…" you can feel sleep beckoning for you as you continue to list instructions. sylus can't help the grin that appears on his face as he watches your cute blinks grow in intervals.
"noted, sweetie." he caresses a stray hair strand out of your face. "i'll make sure everything is back where they belong." like you to him. though, he doesn't say that part out loud. maybe another day. when you are no longer wary of him and are willing to acknowledge his very obvious affection for you. deep in his fantasy, sylus almost misses your cute snores. he chuckles, taking this chance to admire you now that you've fallen asleep.
you truly were an angel. the way your eyebrows furrowed here and there in your sleep. the way your plump lips parted at times. the way your button nose twitched sporadically. oh, sylus loved it all. he could watch you sleep forever. but he had a better task at hand: to take care of you. he assured you that he would take care of everything. and sylus is a man of his words. carefully to not wake you, sylus cups your face with his right hand. closing his eyes, he places a delicate kiss on your forehead.
"rest well, sweetie. i'll see you soon."
2K notes · View notes
buck-star · 9 months ago
Text
Little perv | Stucky
Co-Written with @lanabuckybarnes
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// Pairing //
Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers
// Summary //
You didn’t mean to walk into Steve but when you do and he tells your stepbrother about it, they will teach you a lesson how to be a good girl.
// Wordcount //
4.956 Words
// Warnings //
18+, Minors DNI, dubcon, stepcest, smut, threesome, both boys are dicks and cute, they are both huge, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (male!receiving), deep throating, choking, crying during sex, degrading, unprotected p in v, anal play, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, spitting, slapping, praises, pet names (sweetheart, babygirl), aftercare
// Authors Note //
This oneshot is co-written with @lanabuckybarnes, I wanna say thank you bbg, for listening to all the ideas, coming up with your own ideas. And especially for helping me to write it while I freaked out. This wouldn’t be as filthy and it wouldn’t even exist with your help, so thanks for writing this together with me.
// Events //
Build-A-Bucky-Bingo | BABB055 | December | Sensory Play | @buckybarnesevents | LGBTQ+ Bingo | G4 | Bisexual Threesome | @lgbtqbingo | Stucky Bingo: Round 5 | 5089 | B2 | Kink: Double Penetration | @stuckybingo
// Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist //
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You groaned as you heard the shower running; your body was aching and you were in dire need of the relaxing feel of the water over your body—low and behold just as you’d grabbed your towels Bucky’s friend Steve had stolen the shower from you.
To say you were irritated was an understatement, you’d been dealing with shit like this ever since your dad’s new girlfriend moved in with her man-child son. Bucky was the quarterback of your college football team, a complete catch for any stupid girl silly enough to believe his charming eyes and wicked tongue, which you found out was quite a lot of girls; almost every weekend he’d hop out to a party and either come home reeking of sex and booze or with a girl clung to his hip, sucking dark marks into his thick neck as his large hands ran over her body— they would barely make it into his bedroom before she was moaning like a pornstar and he was growling like a fucking animal.
You suspected all that fucking booze and constant bashing into other burly men had gotten to his brain because he had a teasing, arrogant, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that rolled off his body in waves. And by god did he love making you squirm.
The first time it happened you brushed it off, after all, he was probably so used to walking around in only his sweatpants; they hung low, the waistband of his briefs easily visible, accentuating his Adonis belt and soft happy trail that sunk below his pants.
You thought you’d stopped your gawking quick enough but Bucky had caught you—and you were in for it now.
Ever since that day Bucky had been more relaxed in the clothing department when he was around you, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a shirt around you; his corded muscles rippling under his tanned skin, biceps bigger than your head bulging as he brought his water bottle up to his plush lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the cold liquid. He tried his best to bite back the shit-eating grin threatening to plaster over his face as he shuffled by you, tall frame looming over you, your ass rubbing against the front of his sweats ‘accidentally’. After a quick glance your way the smile broke free, you’d stopped stirring your tea, head dipped to hide your reddened face behind your locks of hair but no amount of effort could wipe the mortification you felt and Bucky was loving it.
And now he’d even roped his friend into this absurdity.
Noting that the shower had finally stopped you gathered your towels and other toiletries in your arms and shuffled down the hall, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as you walked. Bucky’s room door lay adjacent, shooting noises and cursing flowing through the crack as he played whatever goddamn game that had him up at 4am most nights.
You were so distracted by Bucky you neglected to knock on the bathroom door to make sure it was well and truly empty.
“Well, what do we have here?” Steve’s cocky voice broke you from your trance, his hair pushed back and a towel hung low on his hips showing off his washboard-like abs; he wasn’t as wide as Bucky but definitely just as built. His blue eyes watched you from the mirror above the sink.
Your mouth gaped and shut like a fish out of water as you stuttered over your words, your brain shutting down at the worst possible time ‘Stupid fucking brain’.
“Never knew Buck's new step sis was such a fucking perv” he turned, hand gripping the waist of his towel as he stalked forward until you stumbled over your own feet, your items falling as you reached out instinctively to grab at something close to you— unfortunately that happened to be Steve’s towel.
“Wow! Tryna strip me now huh?” He chuckled, thick fingers gripping your wrist, his towel remaining in place thanks to his earlier hold.
“No-I” you tried to speak but his stormy eyes shot you down quickly.
“Sureee” he smirked, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek “We’ll see what Bucky has to say about this” he finished and before you could react he’d dragged your body down the hall and into Bucky’s room.
“I—I don’t think Bucky wants to know anything about it. And I— uhm I’m it was an accident to walk into the bathroom while you are still in here,” you mumbled, every thought washed out of your mind.
Steve chuckled, pushing you away from him causing you to stumble through the room until you were standing in the middle of it, facing Bucky with widened eyes and slightly parted lips.
“Didn’t know your sister is such a perv, Buck. Came into the bathroom and when I asked her about it she wanted to take away the towel around my waist,” the blonde-haired man laughed. He walked closer to you, his hands gripping your waist before he pushed you closer to Bucky who was sitting on the bed.
Bucky’s legs were dangling down off the edge of it, he smirked at you with that shitty knowing and arrogant smirk. You blushed softly when he held his hands out for you to grab, when you didn’t take his hands Steve pushed you closer until Bucky was able to grasp at you and pull you closer to him.
“Are you that much of a needy girl?” Bucky cooed, pulling you down until you were seated on his thigh. His thick muscles were pressing perfectly against your throbbing cunt and you couldn’t help yourself, your hips slowly grinding you on his leg. “Oh, you really are a needy little whore, say it, babygirl, tell us that you’re such a horny little bitch for us.”
You whimpered, his thick thigh pressed against your pussy was too much for you to think straight. Bucky laughed darkly, his hands making their way to your waist and he helped you to grind on him.
“Stevie, look how fucking desperate she is, such a fucking whore for us. Say it, babygirl! Say it!” Bucky said in a stern tone. When you still didn’t answer his demands he stopped your movements. You whined, throwing your head back and hitting Steve’s lower stomach. You didn’t even realize he was so close to you but your head was resting against him now. “Fucking say it, bitch.”
“I—“ you cried out when Steve grasped your throat, his fingers were digging into your soft flesh and your eyes widened immediately. He didn’t let go of your throat, his fingers were digging more into your soft skin and you gasped. “I’m a whore for you.”
Both men chuckled, Steve loosened his grip and you inhaled deeply. Bucky still didn’t let you move on his thigh, he was looking up at Steve, nodding towards him and before you could have asked something you were turned around and tossed onto Bucky’s bed.
“Good girl, now ask daddy to let you suck his cock,” the brunette smirked, he was now standing next to Steve, both admiring you shamelessly. It felt a bit like you were nothing but a piece of meat for them, and maybe you were right now.
You didn’t answer him, your eyes just looking at them while you were placed on your back. “Think she wants to be punished, what do you think, Buck?”
A low groan left Bucky’s lips, he placed his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them slowly down. Your eyes wander over his toned chest and abs to his hands which were going to reveal his hardening cock. Steve was making his way around the bed, one of his hands on his cock, palming himself and feeling himself getting harder underneath the towel.
Bucky pushed his sweatpants down eventually, his boxer briefs following and his cock sprung free. The tip was red, leaking with pre-cum and you whimpered once more. Your mind was too dizzy to care what both men were going to do with you, you just needed them, needing them to help the ache in your pussy.
“Open your mouth and suck daddy’s cock like the fucking little whore you are,” Bucky groaned, walking a step closer. He lowered himself slightly, his hand tapped your cheek lightly and you did as you were told. With a grunt he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately thrusting forward when the warmth of your mouth surrounded his cock. Bucky couldn’t — he didn’t want to hold back his thrusts, he wanted you to take him completely into your sweet little mouth.
Steve who had settled on the bed, spread your legs apart, he’d taken off your pants already, the only fabric between him and your pussy was the thin sopping material of your panties. Steve ran his fingers up and down your inner thigh, inching closer to your soaked pussy. “Fucking soaked, making a mess in her panties.”
You moaned in response, Bucky’s cock moved in and out of your mouth, causing you to gag around his length. He didn’t care how much you sputtered and pushed his cock deeper into you, tears were streaming over your face and you quietly sobbed when he hit the back of your mouth over and over again.
Steve’s fingers were now circling your pussy, the fabric still covering your wetness but the intensity of his movements made you go crazy. He pinched your clit through your panties and you tried to move away from him but he held you in place. Steve then slipped his fingers under your panties, before deciding it wasn’t good enough and ripping the fabric into two pieces and throwing them away.
Any type of protest was muffled by Bucky’s cock, his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue and you hummed your satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what you like, huh? Fucking desperate slut needs to be punished for your being so needy.”
Bucky guided his cock in and out of your mouth, loving the way your tears fell down your cheeks while he hit your throat with every push of his cock into your mouth. He groaned, his hand making its way around your throat and he squeezed your soft flesh slightly. Your eyes shot open, terror written in the color when he squeezed more and more.
You wiggled, trying to pull away from him but your stepbrother held you in place. He beamed down at you, then he loosened his grip around your throat and removed his cock, giving you a moment to breathe deeply. With a rough laugh he brought his hand to your jaw, and with a bit of pressure he made you open your mouth. Bucky was then spitting into your mouth, looking at the way you involuntarily swallowed his saliva.
“Fuck, you little bitch. You’re so fucking desperate, swallowing my spit like you’re gonna do with my cum,” he groaned, placing his cock back in your mouth, thrusting harshly and fast in and out of you.
Steve worked one of his fingers into your tight cunt, his fingers were moving between your folds for a while, gathering your arousal. But now he just needed to stretch out so he would be able to fit his huge, veiny cock into you. “You’re so fucking tight. Bucky didn’t know your little stepsis felt like a virgin.”
“Oh don’t worry, she might’ve not fucked a boy yet but I know she fucked herself, haven’t you, babygirl?” Bucky cooed. Steve chuckled, removing his finger before he was pressing his finger against your entrance once again. His thick finger entered you and he immediately pushed another finger into you, causing you to moan loudly — or at least as loud as possible with your stepbrother's cock down your throat. “Have heard you moaning my name like a desperate slut, fucking yourself with your small fingers, not even comparable to my cock, babygirl.”
You moaned around his huge length. Steve curled both of his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. The attempt to throw your head back was stopped by the bed and you only arched your back, pressing more against the blonde-haired man’s fingers.
“Don’t you dare to cum you fucking whore,” Bucky growled, his hand back around your throat and squeezing once again. Your eyes rolled back, pleasure growing inside of you especially when you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in your mouth, his balls slapping against your face.
You whined when Steve slipped his fingers out of your tight entrance, pushing one of his digits back into you so he felt you clench around him. “So tight, sweetheart. Can’t wait to fill you with my cock.”
Before you could respond in any way Bucky removed his cock, smirking at Steve like he got the best idea he could ever get into his mind. His tongue was poking out, gliding across his lips when he took a step back and grasped your hair, causing you to hiss. Bucky made you sit up, your front to Steve while your back was towards Bucky.
“Take off your shirt, sweetheart. Let me see your pretty tits, poor things, hidden by your clothes,” Steve mumbled, sitting on his knees in front of you. Your hands shook when you brought them to the hem of your shirt, slowly taking it off and revealing your bare body to the men.
Steve’s hands immediately reached out to place them on top of your breast, squeezing the soft flesh. A low moan escaped his lips the moment he saw your lips parting and a quiet moan leaving your perfect, pink lips. He played with your nipples, twirling them between his fingers until you were nothing but a whimpering and moaning mess.
“Get on your knees, sweetheart. Be a good girl, huh?” You moved a bit, getting on your knees and giving Steve better access between your wet folds. Bucky undresses himself as well, getting on the bed behind you, his big hands caressing your smaller frame.
Bucky and Steve were huge compared to you, and you between them made you feel even smaller. Their hands were roaming over your body, arousal was dripping out of your cunt, slowly wetting your inner thighs. You squirmed slightly, you wanted them to touch you properly, you needed them to fuck you.
“Impatient, babygirl? Do you know that bad girls get punished?” Bucky whispered into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. He kissed down your neck, biting into your flesh before he licked over it and kissed the spot. “Are you going to be good for us?”
You nodded your head, letting it fall back against Bucky’s shoulder. Steve stroked his cock slowly, his thumb brushed over his plush head and he groaned while he smeared his pre-cum all over his tip and shaft. He then got closer to you, his cock placed in between your legs and he pushed his hips forward. Steve was grinding his length through your folds, your pussy clenched around nothing while his rock-hard cock pressed against your clit and he brushed his cock over it with every movement.
“Doing so good, sweetheart. Do you want my cock?” He asked, grinning at you when you nodded. Your head was still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. Just a moment after you nodded Steve’s hand flew across your face. Your eyes widened and tears built up in them, slowly rolling down your cheeks. Steve’s handprint appeared on your cheek, red and burning. “Shhh— I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you need to use your words.”
Steve mumbled before he pressed his soft, plump lips against your burning cheek. You hissed, but Bucky’s broad body behind you held you in place. To make it up to you, Steve grasped his cock and pushed it slowly into you, his cock stretched you out and you whined.
“Too big, Steve. Please, too big,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes tight. Your hands gripped whatever was close to you, his thick shoulders. Your fingers were digging into his flesh when he bottomed out inside you.
“Doing so good for us. Fuck, you’re right, sweetheart. Could immediately come in your pussy, you’re squeezing me so much already,” the blonde-haired man said, smirking when he looked at you.
Steve gave you a moment to adjust to his size, playing with your nipples. He twirled them between his fingers, squeezed your breasts and sucked softly at your sensitive skin. His cock was resting deep in your pussy, walls clenched violently around him and he needed to focus to not come immediately inside of you.
Meanwhile, Bucky was looking for some lube in his drawer, squirting some of the cold liquid on his fingers. He then placed his fingers on your even tighter hole, smearing the lube around before he pushed one of his digits against your tight muscle ring. You shake your head, not sure if you want him to fuck your ass but when Steve slowly moved his cock you melted into their embrace and let Bucky work his finger into your puckered hole.
Whines and moans were all that left your lips, desperate and needy to be fucked like a slut — exactly what both men did, at least when you were prepared for Bucky’s cock in your ass.
Bucky pushed his digit into you, and you welcomed him immediately, sucking him deeper inside you. A low chuckle left his lips and he looked at his best friend. “Fucking slut is sucking my finger into her ass like she is made to be fucked. Like to be fucked by two men, huh?”
You didn’t answer, too deep into the pleasure both of them gave you. Steve’s cock was twitching in your tight pussy, the feeling of him in you, making you still feel like he would rip you apart and Bucky’s finger moving deeper into your ass before he added another didn’t help your fogged mind.
“B—Bucky, please. N—Need you.” You weren't sure what came over you, your pussy was already hurting with Steve’s cock inside but Bucky would ruin your ass. It would hurt a lot more would he push in especially when you’re not stretched out with his fingers, but the pleasure you felt was just too good to wait for him to work you open for his pretty but huge cock.
“He has to stretch your tight ass before he can push into you, sweetheart. We don’t want you to have too much pain when we fuck you, it’s not just about us, it’s also about you,” Steve told you, his hips slowly moving against yours but just so slightly that you could cry out frustrated. The tip of his head was hitting your sweet spot with every movement and you felt the knot in your belly already tightening but he stopped his movements once again.
Bucky worked three of his fingers into your ass, he scissored them, stretching you out for his cock. And then he pulled them out of you, smirking about the frustrated whine that left your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, babygirl?”
You rolled your eyes, feeling the tip of his cock against your entrance. You wiggled your ass, trying to push against him but Steve grabbed your waist and held you in place.
Bucky grasped the lube once again, this time he squirted it onto his hard cock. Without warning he entered your puckered hole. Your eyes widened, your breath hitched and you felt the pain appear in your ass. This wasn’t quite comfortable, especially not with Steve’s cock pressing against the thin wall between his and Bucky’s cock inside of you.
“No— too—“ you got interrupted by another harsh slap but this time on your ass and Bucky was the one who brought his hand down against your skin.
“It will fit, we will make it fit and you will take us like the good fucking whore you are!” His voice was stern and not even Steve’s soft touches against your breasts and cheek didn’t help against the pain in your ass.
You nodded, letting him slide his dick inside of you. Both men were balls deep inside of you, giving you a moment to take a deep breath. It felt at the same time good and bad, you wanted to get off their cocks but at the same time, you needed them to fuck into you and destroy your holes in the most delicious way possible.
Steve was the first one who pulled out of you before he slammed his cock back into you. Bucky and his best friend were groaning just as loud as you moaned when Steve started to fuck you. Bucky followed his movements, and so you were kneeling between those broad men, two cocks inside of you while they slammed into you with such force.
The pain you felt quickly turned into pleasure and the desperate moans that left your lips showed that. Bucky was kissing along your neck, while Steve couldn’t stop himself any longer — his lips were pressing aggressively against yours but instead of pulling away you kissed him back.
The knot in your lower stomach was growing, their thick veiny cocks inside of you, stimulating your sweet spot and themselves made your mind go dizzy. “Please, please.”
“What do you need, babygirl? Do you want us to stop?” Bucky asked sweetly and you shook your head, lips parted when Steve used the moment to fuck even harder inside of you. The only sound that left your lips was a cry and your eyes rolled back. Bucky laughed, his hand sliding to your neck and he held it in a loose grip.
“Guess she wants us to make her come before we fill her up with our pretty babies,” Steve growled. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Fucking love that clenching pussy.”
Bucky hummed, agreeing with his best friend. Your walls were clenching around them and both could tell you were just as close as they were. With a harsh thrust from Bucky into your tight ass and a sloppy thrust into your pussy — which was still hitting your sweet spot — you came all over Steve’s cock. You were clenching around them painfully, sucking them even deeper into you while you squeezed them and it caused them to come inside of you.
Bucky’s hot breath hit the sweaty skin of your neck, and his grip around your throat tightens while he pumped his cum into your ass. Steve dug his fingers into your hips, rutting into you, groaning and throwing his head back.
“Fuck, so fucking tight. Take my cum, take my babies,” Steve moaned and you bit your lip when you thought about his words. Your mind was still dizzy and you could feel their heavy breaths on your skin, their sweaty body pressed against yours and their cum slowly dripping out of your holes.
“Taking our cum like a good little slut. Yeah, that’s what you are, our good slut. You look so beautiful when you come,” Bucky grinned and bit your neck slightly. Both were fucking you through your orgasm before they pulled out of you.
They had their hands still on your body, holding you in place while they watched your mixed cum dripping out of you and flowing down. Bucky dipped a finger into the mixture, bringing it to his mouth, and sucking on it before he repeated, only this time he held his finger in front of your mouth.
“Suck it clean, it tastes good. You taste so fucking good baby girl. Especially mixed with our cum,” he chuckled when you let him push his finger into your mouth, you sucked at it, moaning about the salty taste — it was delicious, and sucking Bucky’s finger was just as delicious as the cum.
You were so fucked out; so high on the aura of the room, both boys panting around you, trying to find a sliver of air around the sex-filled space.
“Fuck” Bucky groaned out as he stood from the bed, slightly pushing your form forward until you collapsed onto Steve’s awaiting body.
“There we are sweetheart you did so well, so good for us…took your punishment like a champ baby” Steve cooed, his thick fingers combing through your matted locks, separating the sweaty knots gently.
Bucky watched the pair as they settled against his headboard, smiling softly at just how fucked out you were, a bubbling mess on top of Steve and soaking up his praises like a sponge.
“Mmm Buck” you croaked out, eyes barely cracking open to watch the man as he slid a pair of briefs up over his legs before adjusting himself. His heart clenched at the sound of your raspy voice just barely forming any words, he wanted nothing more than to dive into the bed with you and Steve and snuggle close to you but he was well aware that you needed to be taken care of.
“I’ll be right with you babygirl ok” he squatted down to look at you, a soft smile pulling on his lips and wrinkling the corners of his eyes before he planted a soft kiss along the bridge of your glistening nose and disappeared into the bathroom.
When he returned Steve had pulled you up into his lap, his legs dangling off the bed as he spoke to you about nothing in particular, keeping you awake long enough for them to look after you.
“Come on sweet girl” Steve spoke smiling at the appearance of Bucky “Let’s get you all cleaned up”.
He stood; lifting you like you weighed nothing, a wide palm on your ass while his other cradled your waist making sure you didn’t slip from him, physically and mentally.
The warm sudded water was a welcoming touch, your muscles tensing as your lower body stung lightly but it quickly subsided into a soothing feeling that left your eyelids heavy. A groan sounded from behind you followed by the sloshing of water as someone settled in; his firm arms pulling you close until your back hit his soft chest.
“Still with us babygirl?” Bucky’s breath fanned against your ear as he leaned in close, his plush lips running from behind its shell to the nape of your neck.
You hummed, but the sound wasn’t enough for the boys. Steve leaned over the tub, his index finger curling under your chin and his thumb pulling at your lower lip.
“Come on sweetheart, use those words…you wouldn’t want poor Buck and me to worry all day about hurting you” he murmured, his thumb drifting over the soft pink of your mouth.
“Mm mm, you didn’t hurt me Stevie—just feeling too good and tired” you mustered, your brain still short-circuiting and swirling in that deep subspace.
“That’s ok baby as long as you’re feeling good” He leaned forward, kissing you gently before accepting the bottle of body wash and loofah Bucky held out to him.
“Gonna wash you up, that ok?” The blonde man asked, already squirting a heady amount of the sweet-smelling scent into the sponge.
“Uh huh” You responded meekly, suddenly the thought of Steve touching you all over so intimately had you feeling all shy—something that made Steve’s heart swell as he noticed the soft blush perching over your cheeks.
His hands worked softly, lifting each arm and scrubbing away the sweat and heavy scent of sex from you while Bucky took his time massaging over your hips and thighs, thumbs pushing into the tight knots.
You were almost completely unconscious by the time they’d deemed you clean; the water had gone cold and Steve had scrubbed the same spot on your tummy a thousand times yet none of you wanted to leave the loving coils of the other. Bucky broke first and brought you up with him as he stood, turning you and lifting you out before wrapping you in a huge fluffy towel. He scooped you up again and walked back down the hall to his room, leaving Steve to clean himself and the bathroom up.
“Shit” Bucky cursed, stopping suddenly in the middle of his room. Through all the fussing over you, he’d completely neglected the fact his sheets were covered in your combined juices.
You turned your heavy head to look over your shoulder, a soft chuckle leaving your lips as you realised just what exactly had Bucky grumbling.
“It’s alright we can sleep in my bed” you whispered against his temple, lipsing the spot softly and earning a playful spank in return as he turned on his heel and down to the opposite end of the corridor to your room.
Bucky dried you off quickly, eager to get under the sheets and you in his arms; your soft giggles music to his ears as the fabric ran down your sides and over your breasts.
Finally, Bucky got his wish as he tucked you under your sheets and rounded the bed to the other side, his naked frame curling in beside you, his arm snaking over your waist and pulling your back into his front. Steve joined soon after and slipped into the bed in front of you, his hand running up your arm before cupping your cheek and kissing you softly.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better little girl tonight, can’t wait to do this more” he mumbled against your lips, paying no mind to the fact you’d drifted off to sleep as soon as he’d joined you and Bucky.
“Mhmm” Bucky agreed, blue eyes meeting the stormy colour of his friends “But next time I get her pussy” The growl in Bucky’s voice left no room for argument, but Steve only chuckled.
“Sure man, sure”
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// Taglist //
@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @felicitylemon @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @sebastianstanisahotmf @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes
3K notes · View notes
multicohn · 4 months ago
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summary: fans don’t like lando’s new girlfriend because how scary and emotionless she looks, but he could care less.
warnings: mention of fans not liking the reader
pairing: fem! reader x lando norris
genre: fluff, short one shot, established relationship
face claim: none
author note: lowkey kinda sucks. i don’t have much motivation to write rn but i wanted to upload something 🥲
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the couple had only been dating for only eight months before lando decided to reveal his girlfriend to the public. y/n had no problem with keeping it a secret since they were both unsure if their relationship would even work given the busy schedules they had, but through a lot of communication they managed to make it work. however, fans weren’t very happy since y/n always looked emotionless or angry on screen and in photos despite lando having a giant smile on his face that could rival all might’s ( my hero academia reference ) when he’s beside her. his fans were very vocal about how they felt about her, but neither of them cared.
the british grand prix was only a few days away and ever since they started dating, lando had dreamed of having her being by his side. however, y/n ( had exams that weekend / couldn’t get time off work ). he tried not to show that he was upset, brushing it off with a simple; "well, there's always next year", but y/n knew him too well and knew how much this race meant to him. any other race would have been understandable, but this was the british grand prix.
when lando arrived on thursday, he was immediately greeted by cameras, microphones, and merchandise being shoved at him from every direction.
"you look a little down, lando. not a fan of the weather?" it was quite cloudy that day and the rain was starting to pick up, but it was far from the reasoning behind his mood
"just didn't get a good sleep"
"oh?"
y/n had gone to bed much earlier than usual, saying she needed all the energy she possibly could for tomorrow. lando inquired about what was so important, but she refused to tell him. he had stayed up last night and wondered about what was happening; was her exam worth much more than he realised? / did her job have a special work thing going on that he doesn't remember?
lando sighed deeply as he made his way inside the hospitality area. his hand itching to grab his phone and text y/n despite knowing that she would be busy.
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y/n had lied.
she knew how much this race in particular meant to lando and she wasn’t going to miss it, but the thought of surprising him made her lie about school / work.
unfortunately, her plan slightly backfired as she was going to surprise lando when he finished his practice session, but the weather delayed everything.
shrugging it off, y/n entered the garage to find her boyfriend dressed in his race suit with a windbreak over top and looked to be dozing off in a chair.
“lando” y/n tapped his shoulder gently as she sat down beside him
“oh, hey baby” he commented while staring at her sleepily
. . .
he suddenly shot out of his chair making those around them jump in fright at the sudden movement.
“y/n?” lando rubbed his eyes. sure that his brain is still asleep and making him hallucinate
“yeah?”
“am i dreaming?” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the tv where they were showing fans who were in colourful ponchos or raincoats
she almost laughed at seeing someone’s poncho decorated with george russell’s face.
however, all emotion left y/n's eyes as her face popped up on the screen before it shifted towards lando who was just dazing at her lovingly.
if they were in a cartoon, his eyes would've been hearts.
she heard some people let out “awes” and they started cooing at the couple making the edges of y/n's lips twitch upwards. she turned to her boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheeks before caressing softly.
once they were no longer on screen, y/n leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend gently.
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678 notes · View notes
ace-turned-confused · 8 months ago
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sea spray | dbf!joel miller x f!reader
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joel masterlist
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summary: a relaxing weekend break by the sea is just what you need, but spending it under the same roof as joel miller might not be the kind of relaxing you had in mind word count: 3,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / wears a bikini & a dress / can swim, pet names, unspecified age gap, food & alcohol consumption, smut, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, spitting, creampie, overstimulation, joel's filthy mouth, praise kink, size kink a/n: i actually did spend the past weekend by the sea, unfortunately without joel miller 😔 written for @mermaidgirl30's Ocean Challenge! of course it took the entire timeframe of your challenge for inspiration to strike, but it was super fun! 🩵 big hugs to @morallyinept for beta'ing & the kind words, your message legit put the biggest grin on my face LMAO ily 💜
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Going away with your parents for a long weekend is just what you need — walks along the cliff path, cocktails on the beach, lounging in the sun. Plus the bonus of free accommodation and your meals being paid for. You’re long overdue for a break and this will be a good change of scenery.
The bricks burn through your sandals as you unload your bags. Midday sun blazing down on you, you’re desperate for a cold shower after two hours of traffic to get here.
“Hello?”
You’re met with silence as you push open the front door, a rare breeze coming through the windows. They must’ve gone into town. Kicking off your shoes, you pad through to your room at the back of the house and dump your bags.
You peel your clothes off and run a shower, washing off the sweat and stress of the morning. Unpacking your bags, most of your weekend attire is swimsuits and dresses; you’ll just be floating around the house the rest of the day and decide on a blue and white check bikini, pulling on plain linen shorts.
Making your way upstairs, the rest of the house is still, the only sound coming from slow waves rolling against the rocks. Kelp bobs up and down in the swell and wispy clouds dot the sky, you pull your phone out to snap some pictures to send to your friends, relishing in the tranquillity.
You hear muted footsteps and turn around, expecting to see your parents come up the stairs. Instead, you’re met with Joel Miller — your dad's best friend with nothing but a thin towel hanging low on his hips.
“Oh! Didn’t uh- didn’t hear you come in sweetheart.”
Your eyes flicker down as he adjusts his towel — he clears his throat and you snap your eyes back up to his face.
“I got in about half an hour ago, I just got out of the shower. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Your old man told me to come up for the weekend, he didn’t mention what time they’d be back this afternoon though.”
You nod and turn to look outside again, the image of Joel in his towel now burned into your mind. You don’t ask him about it — no possible explanation would stop your mind from wandering.
You were much younger the last time you saw him — just a sweet girl harbouring an innocent crush on a handsome man. Now you’re far from sweet, and that crush is far from innocent. This is the most you’ve ever seen of him — greying curls in every direction, wide chest into a soft tummy, dark trail of hair below his navel disappearing beneath his towel.
You can feel a wet spot forming on your bikini bottoms — so much for a relaxing weekend.
-
Joel’s seen you in passing and heard about your various achievements and adventures from your parents, but it’s been years since he spent so much time with you in such close quarters. He can’t remember you being so… grown up.
Seeing you stand there in just your bikini, your eyes flitting down to his towel, he almost instantly began to harden. Maybe some light conversation will calm him down.
“So, what you got planned for the rest of the day?”
You turn to face him again and he takes a steadying breath.
“I was gonna head down to the beach but it’s fucking hot out, so I think I’ll just be lazy here instead.”
“Pool’s nice if you’re keen on a swim.”
You slink past to head downstairs, stopping in front of him to look up at him.
“You wanna join me?”
“Think I’ll uh, sit this one out. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”
Scratching at the nape of his neck as you descend the stairs, he’s not sure how he’s going to survive this weekend. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this — you’re young, spritely, his best friend’s daughter — but he watches out the window anyway as you pull down your shorts, glass in hand, and dip down into the water.
He sneaks off to his room before you can notice.
-
Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted to the ceiling, he’s already fully hard. He lets the towel fall open and wraps a hand around his throbbing cock. He shouldn’t do this, but who’s going to know?
Stroking himself with long, slow pumps, he closes his eyes and all he can see is you. Ass peeking out the edge of your bottoms, your tits spilling out your bikini top, so much skin. You sighed as you sat down in the water, a breathy, satiated sound — he wishes he could make those sounds spill from your mouth.
Precome leaking from his tip, he’s reaching his end embarrassingly fast. Speeding up to fist himself tightly, he imagines your hand wrapped around his cock instead. He imagines burying his tongue, fingers, cock into your cunt, tight and wet and his to have however he pleases.
It takes just one, two, three more strokes of his cock and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back a moan as he comes, spilling milky ropes across his hand and lower stomach. Using the same towel to clean up his mess, he tells himself he won’t do this again, he can’t do this again.
He shifts up to lean against the headboard as he comes down from his high, deciding to stay clear of you until your parents get home. Keeping you out of sight is the best way forward, even if he can’t keep you out of his mind.
-
You spend the rest of the day in the pool, nursing a Long Island iced tea and paging through your book. Joel doesn’t show face again, but it’s for the best — you can’t stop thinking about that damn towel and how easily it could slip down.
Your phone rings and pulls you from your daydreaming; you haul yourself out of the pool and pat yourself dry, fingertips wrinkled from the water. You see it’s your mom calling, and slide to answer.
You don’t get a chance to say hello and she’s bombarding you with questions.
“Hi, sweetie! How was the drive? I hope you didn’t have too much traffic. Oh! And did you see Joel? He’s with us for the weekend, maybe he went out for the day too.”
You certainly did see Joel. You still can even with your eyes closed.
“Hi, Mom. The drive was fine, and Joel’s been here the whole day.”
“That’s nice. I hope you don’t mind, you two always got along well so your father didn’t think to tell you beforehand. Listen, why don’t you and Joel come through to town for dinner with us? I’ll send you the restaurant name.”
“Yeah, okay sure. See you soon.”
“Bye, sweetie. See you.”
She hangs up the phone and you venture inside to find Joel, heading towards the spare room. Pressing your ear to the door, you don’t hear any movement. Maybe he’s sleeping.
“Joel?” You knock on the door and hear rustling, he responds a few moments later.
“Yeah? You can- you can come in.”
You nudge the door open and he’s sitting up in bed, sheets pulled to the same height his towel was hanging earlier and it takes everything you have not to stare, debate if he’s still got that towel on or is stark naked.
Stepping just over the threshold, you lean against the wall to steady yourself and focus your eyes on his face.
“My mom called, she said we must go into town to meet them for dinner. She texted me the address.”
“Sounds good, I can drive us. I’ll just uh, get ready.”
You nod and retreat from his room in silence — you’ll be able to hold a conversation once he’s fully clothed.
-
Tonight’s restaurant is right along the shoreline, carved into the cliffside. It’s a good climb down the hillside and you’re glad you’re wearing flats, mentally noting to go easy on the drinks tonight to make it back up again. Gentle waves lap against the rocks and the sea breeze is just the refresher you need after a hot summer day.
You’ve changed into a strappy dress, the hemline falling just above your knees and Joel’s in a loose button-down and board shorts. Your parents are sitting across from you, and they’d spent the better part of an hour asking you about work and romantic prospects.
Once satisfied with your answers, they turn to focus on each other, leaving you and Joel to your own devices. With them both engrossed in conversation, you try and test the waters.
You shift your legs under the table and bump your knee into Joel’s — his hand falters as he scoops more food onto his spoon, but doesn’t pull away. You push further, pressing your thigh against his and he stills completely, peering at you out of the corner of his eye.
The unfortunate combination of the summer heat and your heavy hand when pouring your drink earlier has made you fearless. You snake a hand below the table, resting it dangerously close to the growing bulge in his shorts.
He drops his spoon, catching your dad’s attention.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, uh… Yeah, fine.” He swallows and gives them a tight smile, waiting for them to continue their conversation.
“What the hell are you doin’?” Joel practically hisses at you under his breath, eyes flashing in your direction.
You ignore him and flatten your hand, unsure if the heat you can feel is radiating from him or yourself. You continue moving upwards, the tips of your fingers brushing against the outline of his cock.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper back to him, unmoving in your chair.
You start palming him through his shorts, angling your head to look at him and a fresh wave of arousal floods your panties.
“Sweetheart, you can’t be doin’ this. Not here.”
“Say stop and I will.”
His eyes flutter closed, taking in a shaky breath. It feels like he’s already fully hard.
Just when you think you’ve won, your parents stand up and you rip your hand away, heart racing in your chest. Caught up in your teasing you hadn’t noticed they’d finished dessert and paid the bill. You look at your dad with wide eyes, hoping nobody saw anything.
“Nice dinner, everyone. Good to have you here, kiddo. We’ll see you back at the house, been a long day.”
“Um, yeah, we’ll follow you guys.” You hope you sound less startled than you feel. 
He rounds the table, a hand coming down on your and Joel’s shoulders and he walks off. You and Joel stand to follow him — your mind foggy with lust, you can feel his eyes burn into you, but you don’t dare look at him.
-
Arriving home after a charged car ride with Joel, your parents say goodnight and their door shuts behind them. The room falls silent, you’re unsure who will make the first move. Joel grabs onto your arm, dragging you through the house.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna finish what you started.”
He pulls your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Pushing you onto your bed, his eyes trail up and down your figure as you lie before him.
“What were you doing all afternoon? Didn’t see you at all.”
“You wanna know what I was doing?”
You nod and he leans down to speak into your ear, voice low and raspy.
“I was thinkin’ of you, baby. That skimpy little bikini of yours got me all hard, so instead of spendin’ my time out by the beach, I was jacking off in my room and all I could think of was you.”
A shiver runs down your spine, a small whine escaping at his words.
“Thought a lotta things about how you’d be, now we’re gonna see how much of it is true.”
He pushes you down to lie on your back, pulling your panties down. You try to cross your legs out of habit and he grabs your knees, spreading you open before him.
“Now we’re shy, are we? Don’t want me seeing this pretty pussy?”
He cups you entirely and you tilt your hips, chasing the friction of his palm against your clit.
“After that little game you played just now, you’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna enjoy it.”
He wraps his arms under your legs, dragging you to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees, draping one leg over each of his shoulders. You look down at him and he stares into your eyes, flattening his tongue against you and licking a broad stripe up through your folds. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling in tight circles and your head falls back against the bed.
“Oh, fuck, Joel.”
He chuckles into you, causing you to moan again.
“Better than the boys you normally go out with?”
He doesn’t give you time to answer, tongue circling your clit again and he drags his fingers up and down, coating them in your arousal. Pushing two fingers into your cunt, the stretch is already far more than with your own — you’re not sure how you’ll ever satisfy yourself after this.
He pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, curling them upwards and you feel heat spreading across your abdomen, your legs just beginning to tremble. You move your hands into his hair, tugging on his curls and he groans against you, speeding up his movements.
“You gonna come for me?”
“Please, Joel. Oh, god, please.”
“Go on then, come. I know you can.”
You tighten your grip on his hair, legs going stiff as you come on his fingers and his movements don’t stop, tongue flicking back and forth over your clit, fingers fucking into you relentlessly to drag out your high. With no chance to recover, he pushes a third finger into you, his pace never faltering.
“Joel, please. It’s too much.”
He pulls off from you just enough to speak, a devilish grin on his face.
“Say stop and I will. I told you you were gonna take what I gave you.”
Mouth latching onto you again, he ignores your protesting, eyes boring into your own. You can see him rutting into the side of the bed and your moans turn into whines and whimpers, the heat pooling at the base of your spine more intense than before.
“Come on, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.”
Pushing his free hand down onto you, he curls his fingers inside of you, grazing over that one spongy spot and your vision blurs. You dig your heels into his back, hips lifting off the bed as you come again, a warm stream of liquid soaking his beard that’s scratching at your inner thighs.
Chest heaving as you come down, he pulls his fingers out and sucks one into his mouth, licking it clean.
“Better than I imagined.”
He leans over you, shoving his other two sticky fingers into your mouth and you whine at tasting yourself on him.
“All that messing around and look where it got you.”
He unbuttons his shirt agonisingly slowly, a smirk spreading across his face. His eyes are blown wide, beard slick with your release as he trails his fingertips up and down your leg, the small hairs standing in his wake. You close your legs and flop back onto the bed, already feeling spent.
“Just one more thing I needa see for myself.”
Finally pulling his shorts down, that tantalising trail of hair you saw this morning spreads into wiry curls surrounding the base of his cock. He’s bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with, fully stiff as he takes himself in his hand with long strokes — thick, throbbing, and precome pearling from his tip.
“Are you gonna fuck my mouth?”
He draws circles into your leg, still stroking himself.
“Not this time. Wanna feel how tight this pussy’s gonna squeeze my cock.”
Not this time. You clench around nothing in anticipation, and he starts crawling up the bed to you.
“Be good and maybe we can use that mouth of yours another day.”
Propping yourself up on your elbows, Joel drags himself through your wetness, nudging the tip of his cock against your clit.
“Gonna be a tight fit, sweetheart. Might just ruin this cunt for anyone else.”
He lines himself up with your entrance, both of your eyes locked on where you join. Pushing in just past his tip, your mouth falls open with a strangled moan.
“Warned you. Feels good, doesn’t it?” All you do is whimper in response.
“Gonna feel even better.”
He sheaths himself completely inside of you, hair at his base pressed against your clit and balls pressed against your ass. It’s the most stretched out you’ve ever been — it’s also the best you’ve ever felt and he hasn’t even started moving.
He leans over you and starts grinding his hips, pulling your bra down. Pinching a hardened nipple between his fingers, he takes the other into his mouth, swirling his tongue just the same as before.
You lock your ankles behind his back, legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as if you’d float away. He lifts his head, a trail of spit connecting his lips to your breast. Bringing a hand up to your face, he squeezes your cheeks to force your mouth open, looking into your eyes as he spits into the back of your throat.
You moan quietly, clenching around his length and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“Dirty girl. You let other boys spit into your mouth, too?”
You shake your head clumsily and tighten your legs, trying your hardest to grind yourself against him.
“What’s wrong, baby? What happened to it’s too much?”
He straightens up and pries your legs off him, pressing them into your chest. His eyes are dark as he watches how you squirm and stretch around him. He angles his head forward, letting another string of saliva fall from his mouth onto your cunt and it drips down around his cock.
Using two fingers, he puts slight pressure on your clit but doesn’t move.
“You’re gonna come on my cock, and then I’m gonna come inside you. Understand?”
You’re not sure how to string words together on your own accord anymore, clit throbbing and cunt stretched out, mind filled with just Joel.
“Hey, repeat after me, come on: I’m gonna be a good girl.”
“I’m gonna be a… a good girl.”
“Next: I’m gonna come on your big cock.”
“I’m gonna come- on your big cock.”
“And to finish off: You’re gonna come inside me.”
“You’re… gonna come inside me.”
“Was that so difficult?”
He readjusts his grip on your legs and starts pounding into you, the force of his thrusts shifting you up and down, your clit rubbing against his steady fingers. Your moans are only broken by the need for more air, your voice becoming hoarse and getting higher and higher in pitch as he keeps going harder.
You start clamping down on him, the day’s heat and your teasing and the way he’s using you relentlessly quickly becoming too much.
“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good girl. Come one last time for me and I’ll fill you up.”
His words push you over the edge and he keeps fucking into you as you come. You reach down to hold onto him, your hands wrapping around his arm and you dig your nails into his skin, carving out crescent moons.
Through the ringing in your ears, you can hear him grunting, his resolve finally breaking after a few more thrusts as he spills inside of you, your walls coated in his spend as the warmth spreads throughout your body. He loosens his hold on your legs, bringing them down and massages your tired muscles.
Pulling out of you, you feel his come slowly leak out and down your folds, landing in thick droplets on the sheets. You turn onto your side, sleep already creeping up on you and he drops down behind you, his chest pressed against your back and softening cock against your ass.
“We’re going to the beach tomorrow, and I wanna see what other little outfits you got with you. Try another game like you did tonight, though, and I’m gonna have to put you in your place again.”
You huff a laugh, a gentle, satisfied smile on your face. This long weekend is suddenly far more exciting than you prepared for.
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