#gina x experience

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 7 ( Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, slapping (brief), reader just letting out some aggression with Daddy's help, dirty talk, etc. FLUFF, they love her and tell her so a lot.

ANGST (because I'm me), the discuss more about what happened with the fallout of Gina and how they reacted when it came to Y/N. More insight into why the guys and Gina split (she's not a good woman). Reader does a thing at the end, I'm not calling it a cliffhanger but it could be construed as one.

Word Count: 5342

Series Here/ Donate to Me

“Would either of you like more coffee?”, your mom asked as the pot in her hand hovered over their cups. 

“Oh, no ma’am. Thank you though.”, Steve politely smiled as Eddie shook his head to answer her question as well. “The breakfast was delicious, sir. Thank you for allowing us to join you and your family.”

“Ok, calm down, son. That’s not the way to suck up to me and her mother.”

Both boys glance your way as you try to stifle your giggles behind you mug as you sip your coffee.

“I think I’m starting to see where princess gets her sarcasm from.”, the rockstar grins.

“Yeah, we spoiled her too much.”, you mom teases as you stick your tongue out at her reply. 

“If I may ask, what would be the way to suck up to you because we love Y/N very much and we would do anything possible to earn all three of your trust and acceptance back.”

The room became silent as Steve’s words hung in the air. 

“To be fair, honey, when it comes to us, our first experience with you is hurting our daughter. We didn’t even know she was seeing anyone again.”, you mother relayed as her eyes flicked towards you. “Everything we know about you is either from the tv or her when she came home crying.”

Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as her words pierced his heart; they never wanted to be the ones responsible for your pain. 

“You may not like hearing it but it’s true. You have to accept what you did to her first before you can move forward. A thousand years of marriage taught us that.”

“Oh my God.”, your father sighs. “You calm down to. Everyone at this table is so theatrical. I need back up. Where is Mya?”

“Mya is probably knocked out but I’m sure she’ll be around later.”, you smile. “There’s a lake behind the house here if you guys want to go for a walk.”

“Yeah, we’d love that.”

***

“If you’d like after this, we can run to your hotel and grab your clothes so you can change. You can stay in our house to if you want.”

Eddie’s palm balances just under your own as you hold your arms out while walking along the bank of the water. 

“We don’t have to. I mean…we don’t want to over crowd you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Said the men who were asleep at the foot of my bed this morning.”

“We were worried about you.”, Steve replied as he carefully traveled behind you to make sure you didn’t fall. 

“Well, I’m offering but if you’d be more comfortable in the hotel I’d understand. My family and Mya can be a lot.”

As you jump down, the metalhead guides your decent making sure you’re alright before you three continue moving forward. 

“They are a part of you and you aren’t a lot.”

“Not enough to be open with me.”, you grumble before you watch their heads hang. “I’m sorry.”

“No, um, no reason to be. You’re right.”

“Can I ask…what’s been happening since I left?”

“Jesus, fucking everything.”, Steve sighs as he takes a seat under a tree and you both follow him down with you in between. “I have no idea how she’s doing all these interviews at one time. We can barely get through one in general without being exhausted.”

“Gina and her lawyer have been making the rounds on daytime talk shows and sites like TMZ. Our lawyer says that tactic works in our favor because she either puts her foot in her mouth or contradicts herself so we can use that in court.”, Eddie exhales heavily. “All we’ve done so far is make that statement on Harrington’s social media which everyone has picked apart already.”

“Did that do anything for you?”, the mogul asks as his gaze shifts your way. “We were hoping that referencing you that way in our statement would help keep all that chaos away a bit.”

“I wouldn’t know since I haven’t looked at my phone. The only reason I know you said anything is because I had a weak moment and scanned your profiles on my computer.” Your head hung for a moment before you sarcastically chuckled and looked his way. “Now Gina’s interview saying that you’re only dating me because I’m the opposite of her, that was an accident. My mom was watching her morning shows and…”

“She’s not entirely wrong.” Your head swiveled towards Eddie as you waited for him to explain. “You ARE the complete opposite of her which is another reason we love you. If we wanted another Gina we could have just stayed with her.”

Your eyes closed at the words “we love you’, not quite ready to believe and accept them just yet. 

“So, yeah, did you guys have a lake like this back in Hawkins?”

“Y/N—”

“We should probably get you to your hotel so you can change and get your stuff.”, you interrupt as you hastily rise to your feet and dust off your pants. 

“Baby—”

“No.”, you growl as you put up your hand to cut him off. “No, Steve. You both don’t get to call me that right now. Don’t let this whole thing fool you. I’m still incredibly angry with you and it’s going to take more than a conversation and a meal with my parents to get me back.”

Silently the three of you walk back to your house but your mom’s loud voice cuts through the winter air as you come around the corner. 

“…and after the things she’s saying about MY daughter?! Gina Frost can go fuck herself!”

Eddie moves first, powerwalking forward and placing himself between a well-dressed man and your mother. 

“If I were you, Daniel, I would get in your car and go back to New York.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Munson? I’m not a woman you and your friend are dating so I imagine not.”, the man responds sarcastically. 

The rockstar angerly steps towards him but you hastily grab his arm and in return he stands up straighter to make sure you’re shielded with his body. 

“Is this Miss Y/L/N? I just need to talk with you if you’re able—”

“She’s not involved in anything between us and Gina. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with our lawyer.”, Steve defends, placing himself beside his friend to block the man from you and your family. 

“Trying to silence another woman, gentlemen?”

“No.”, you answer for them as you push forward. “They don’t speak for me nor would they ever try. You have one minute to say what you want before my father gets involved and trust me, you thought my mom was combative?”

“Can I at least have a minute alone—”

“No. 55 seconds.”

The man reaches into his pocket and hands you a card that you pass to your mother around your protecters. 

“I’m looking for some more character witnesses to corroborate Gina’s statements—”

“Oh, honey, I’m the last person you should ask because from what I’ve heard our experiences with these men have been very different. 30 Seconds.”

“Are they? How was the charity event? They used to bring her every year.”

“She was their partner. Try again. 25 seconds.”

“It took them awhile to do it. Even longer for her to move into their apartment. How long have you three been together?”

“Who says we’re together? They’re my friends. 15 seconds; you better make them count.”

“Gina was their friend for years before they got together and before they started lavishing her in gifts and all that material bullshit. How long was it until they started doing the same with you? This case was started almost 7 months ago. When did your friendship with them begin?”

Your eyes blink as your jaw tightens and you try to hide the doubt that hits your heart at his line of questioning. 

“Time’s up. Get off my family’s property now.”

##################

You sit quietly as you stare vacantly out the window while both men quickly change and place themselves on the bed in front of you.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”, Steve asks with a soft tone as both men’s eyes constantly scan you over with concern. 

“I don’t want to believe him…”

“But you do?”, Eddie follows trying to hide the pain in his voice. 

“I can’t help it. You hid things from me and then you fucking left! No, you expected me to be ok with you disappearing for ‘some time’ which is way worse.”

“Fuck me her lawyer is fucking good.”, the mogul breathily laughs as he shakes his head. “Yeah, the case was started two months before we met you but do you know how long we were separated before we ever considered trying to find a partner again? Eight months. Eight months of alcohol filled days and hiding in our apartment because the idea of going out sounded exhausting. Eight months of watching her plaster her pages with pictures of her tongue down other men’s throats after deleting everything that had to do with us.”

“When we got served those papers, we spiraled even more.”, the other boy continued. “It finally got to the point where I told him we needed to try and get back out there. We started slow going out to bars or parties and we met so many women, Y/N. They would fucking beg to come home with us but we could never do it.”

“Not the right target?”, you sass but regret it immediately when their hurt and anger filled eyes meet yours. 

“We told you when we first spoke with you that we aren’t into ‘yes’ girls and that’s all they were. We went to the site and it was a bunch of the same shit.”

Steve pulled out his phone and ran his fingers along the screen until he found what he wanted and began reading. 

“Please Daddy. I’ll do anything to be yours especially if you can afford to get me something as expensive as your shoes! I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I’m not really into the threesome thing but if you show me your faces I can pick one of you and give you the best sex you’ve had in your life.”

“I’d love to meet you but we may need to go to the mall first. You can’t take me out in cheap clothes like the ones you’re wearing.”

Your eyes rolled as you listened to what the other Babies had said to them hating that women like them existed especially since you knew a lot of “Daddies” preferred that. After pushing another button on his phone, a high-pitched giggle filled the room.

“Stevie! Answer the phooooooone! Ugh, fine. Whatever. I just wanted to call to tell you guys I won’t be able to make it tonight for dinner. My friends are doing this thing and its sooooo stupid. Do, um, do you think you can send me $300 so I can have some real fun? I promise I’ll make it up to you two! Love you!”

“Steve, I’m out here fucking waiting for you. Why aren’t you here? If this is about me saying I didn’t feel like sleeping next to trailer trash tonight, Eddie knows I didn’t mean it. I was just…you know how I am when I get upset and he promised to take me with him to that interview with Kimmel so I could meet him backstage! It’s not my fault I got wasted and made him miss the stupid plane.”

“Fuck you both! I’m fucking done! I needed you this weekend and neither of you were there! The fucking press and people on the street are calling me a fucking whore and TMZ is making the rounds with my fucking mugshot! You’re going to regret throwing me away! The least you can do is send me some money for the hotel since I can’t go fucking home now.”

“Wow…well she sounds like a winner.”

“Stop it.”, Eddie rumbled in his Daddy tone that had you unintentionally sitting up straighter. “We’re trying to explain something and this is serious, Y/N. Every Baby we talked to reminded us of her…except you.”

“And it’s not because we were targeting you or needed you to show how, I don’t know, how fucking amazing we are or some shit because we aren’t. We’re flawed and sometimes we can definitely be assholes but I swear to God, Y/N, we never meant to hurt you. These past few months have seriously been the best of our entire lives. I offer to pay for things and take care of you because I love you. No, hey, look at me.”, Steve scolds when you avert your gaze at his declaration again. 

“It’s not because we need to establish a relationship quickly or whatever Gina’s lawyer is preaching. You have never tried to take advantage us and selfishly we took advantage of that by commanding you to wait in your apartment without telling you want was going on. That’s never going to happen again, baby girl, and I don’t care what I have to do to make sure it doesn’t.”

“Trust us, sweetheart, the speed of this relationship startled us to. We constantly asked ourselves if we were moving too fast even though we told you we needed to go slow. But like Steve said everything we do is because we love you… I love you.”

Your eyes took them in as they spoke, fully absorbing what they were telling you. 

“Is there anything else I should know about you and her?” After exchanging a look, they shake their heads. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“We’re not, baby, we promise.” As tears cloud your vision, you close your eyes to try and suffocate them as they betray you, falling down your cheek. Ringed hands cup your face as a forehead presses to yours. “What can we do, Y/N? Tell us how we can help, princess.”

“I want to be mad at you.”, you whisper.

Eddie’s head straightens, understanding what you need. 

“Then be mad. Let it all out, baby. You aren’t at home and we’re on the top floor. Shout, scream, hell, hit us if you need to. Just like you we know the word and we know when to use it.” Still seeing trepidation in your eyes, he clears his throat as he stands to his full height. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be a little baby.”, he coos with a mocking tone that has you standing to match him. 

“I’m not being a baby!”

“Oh really, little girl? Sound like a baby to me.”

Your palms reach out to shove him but the rockstar quickly bounces back as you push at him again a bit harder.

“M’NOT a baby! I have every right to be angry with you!”

“Yeah, ya do, baby! Let it out! Tell me why you’re angry with us!”

“I was ALWAYS vulnerable with you and more than accommodating but you both couldn’t do the same with me! You hurt me!”, you screamed as you began punching his chest with your fist barely moving him in place. “You made me feel like trash! You took me out and treated me like a queen but as soon as things got hard for you two you threw me away!”, you began to sob. “You gave me hope that I could finally be fucking happy after what Holden did and then with one letter you ripped it all away!”

Dropping your arms to your sides, they watched as your body shook as the tears continued to flow. Abruptly, you turned to leave but when Steve’s hand reached out to grab your wrist, your palm reeled back before smacking him hard across the face. 

The mogul didn’t say at word or let you go as his head swiveled back and his forehead fell on yours. Your eyes remained zeroed in on his chest as it heavily rose and fell with each angry pant, matching you own as the intense energy hung in the air. Again, you slapped him but it wasn’t as hard as before. Repeating your actions, the force of your palm connecting with his cheek became less and less until you were just cupping his face in your hands. 

Your lips roughly attach to his as a small whine leaves your throat at the taste you missed so much. A needy atmosphere replaces the old one and Steve’s strong palms grip your thighs as you jump up to wrap your limbs around him. 

Tumbling onto the bed behind you, the mogul desperately tugs down your jeans and panties as you fumble with his belt before reaching into to his own pants to free his cock. The two of you groan into each other’s mouths as you collect some of your slick with his tip and guide him into your entrance.

Hovering above you, Steve delivers a couple of slow but deep thrusts that have your eyes rolling shut and your fingers threading through his hair when his entire body presses against yours. 

“We’re so sorry, honey.”, he whispered breathlessly. “Mmph—ah, fuck—we didn’t think…fucking stupid.”

You shook your head and pushed his closer to your neck as your legs clung to him tightly.

“It hurt me the most be-because…Jesus Christ, Daddy, just like that.”

“Because why, baby? Tell Daddy.”

Your pussy clenched around him as his heavy pants rippled through your ear making you mewl as he pumped into you at a harder pace.

“Because I love you to, Steve.”

The moan that rumbled through him was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard as he thrust into you so fast the bed shook aggressively underneath you. Keeping his arms secure around you, the man pushed up onto his knees, bringing you with him as he continued to thrust upwards as your palms held his face and his eyes locked in on yours. 

“Please…again…”

“I love you, Steve, so much.”

“Oh shit.”

As he pressed his head into your chest, you felt his release begin to paint your insides and at the sudden action your body trembled as you came.

When you glanced his way, Eddie couldn’t wait any longer, having been stroking his cock at the display before him and desperate to feel you in his arms again. Pulling you off his friend, he stepped out of his jeans and threw of his shirt, positioning you onto all fours with your ass in perfect view for him. 

The rockstars fingers dug into your thick hips as he slid himself inside you and leaned over to lay his chest against your back. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, we missed you so much. I promise we will—mmm—never make you feel like that again. You deserve the world, baby.”

With your eyes close, your mouth blindly searched for his and he obliged as your lips passionately mingled together. 

“I-I love you to, Eddie. Fuck, Daddy, please… harder.”

Pushing up onto his palms, he pulled his cock all the way back before slamming back into your cunt hitting that soft spot inside of you repeatedly that had you a moaning mess. His sweaty forehead was resting on the side of yours and as you opened your eyes, you watched as his gorgeous features contorted into pleasure as he picked up his rhythm.

“That’s it, Daddy. M-Make me cum.”

You couldn’t help but smirk when his nose scrunched in focus as he did what you requested. Falling completely on top of you, your hand quickly grabbed his as your pussy quivered around him and you whimpered as the coil snapped in your belly. The feeling was almost too much for Eddie as his pace sputtered and he grunted against your skin as his release filled you. 

After gently pulling his softening cock out of your now sore but content body, Eddie rolled you onto your back and continued to kiss any part of your neck and face he could reach until a second set of lips joined him on your opposite side. 

“I forgive you.”, you mumble causing their movements to stall before they raised both their heads to look at you. “I forgive you. I’m sorry I broke your rule about googling you. I only looked up your lawyer’s information. I swear I haven’t be looking up information since—”

Steve’s palm over your mouth cut you off.

“We understand. That rule was bullshit anyway… Another way for us to hide Gina.”

“We looked through your socials.”, Eddie revealed as his hand brushed some of your hair away from your face. “We had never done it before because, like you said, we wanted to learn about you from you but when we couldn’t get a hold of you…”

“Did you find anything interesting?”, you tease making both men smile.

“There’s a video on there one of your kids tagged you in where they were joking with you about slang or something. They seem to really love you.” Eddie’s grin grows when you lightly giggle. “Y/N, we’re sorry about not updating you more on our case. It didn’t even occur to us how this could ripple out and affect your job.”

“We’d hate ourselves if we were the reason you lost something like that.”

“I forgive you.”, you repeat before continuing. “I do have to make it clear, though, that this can’t happen again. I meant what I said, I do love you both but I’m not going through all of this again. I…refuse to.”

Their lips kiss your cheeks as they hold you tighter to them. 

“This is never happening again, sweetheart.”

“We promise, honey.”

#####################

As you step out of the shower at your house, you smile as you listen to Eddie’s cackle echo through the house at something your dad said before Steve’s lighthearted tone tried defending whatever was said. 

Glancing towards the drawer by your bed, you let out a heavy sigh before reaching in and grabbing your device to scroll through the screen. 

All of your socials had tags attached that you assumed were people claiming the “mystery woman” was you and the comments everyone was saying in response. There were a ton of emails from news outlets asking for you to say something or give them a quote to confirm it was indeed you that went to the charity event with them but thankfully nothing from your boss or the school. 

You saw a bunch of texts from Mya, your mom, and surprising your ex who assured you he wouldn’t say another to the press even though a few got his information as well. 

Going through your voicemails, you skipped passed reporters and the couple from Gina’s lawyer that you couldn’t care less about until a familiar voice followed through your phone. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie chuckled with a slight slur in his tone that told he was probably drunk at the time. “I just wanted to call you myself because…Because I was thinking about you. I think about you a lot…like all the time, Y/N. Even before all this bullshit with our ex… I would be in the studio with the guys and be like ‘I wonder what pretty girl is up to?’ You’re so beautiful, baby, inside and out. I had a dream about you last night. I was back home in my trailer and I heard you screaming outside. I ran to find you b-b-but I couldn’t. I started panicking like ‘She’s gonna think I didn’t try…try to come save her.’”, he sobs making your heart break at the sound. 

“No matter what, princess, I’d be here for you. I love you so much. I’ve never loved anyone as much I love you… Fuck…I shouldn’t leave t-this on your machine. Pfft, Machine. Like it’s the 90s still.”, Eddie laughs at his own joke. “Anyway, um, yeah…I just wanted you to know…that we miss you an we love you, baby. We so sorry…”

The rest of the message was his heavy breathing where you assumed he fell asleep making your grin grow as you wiped one of the tears that fell. Pushing the button for the next message, Steve’s gravelly voice followed. 

“Hey, Y/N. Um, I’m so bad with these things. Eddie’s a lot better with technology than I am but I’m so desperate to hear your voice, honey. I miss the sound so much and not just your voice but your cute little laugh or even the adorable way you sneeze with your entire soul.” When he laughed you giggled along with him. “Jesus…we really fucked up, huh, baby girl? When I was a kid, I would watch women come and go from my dad’s office and I would think ‘I’m never going to be like him. If I had a good woman like my mom at home I would never hurt her like this. I would never make her feel unloved or unwanted.’… We understand if you need some space… I just…I just don’t want you to think we’re doing ok without you. We love you, Y/N.”

When you selected the next message, you have expected it to be another declaration of love or an apology from the guys but when a high pitched sigh came through grating your ears you were surprised. 

“I hope I’m calling the right number. I’m usually a texter but I felt like something like this required a call. My name is Gina Frost and I am Eddie and Steve’s ex. Listen, honey, for your own good, leave them now while your heart is still intact. I spent years trying to be what they wanted me to be and it was never enough. The first time I stood up for myself was when I left them and they dragged my name through the mud! They are great at twisting the truth to fit their narratives. Don’t get pulled in. Would you be willing to meet with me so we can talk?”

You growled at her tone and accusations as what they told you, her voicemails on their phone, and what she said about you on national television swirled around your head.

Opening your Instagram, you uploaded three images with different captions. The first was from the night of charity event that Stephanie took of you three before you left the apartment with you in-between them and their arms wrapped around your waist posing with their other hands pushed in their pocket. Your grin stood out as you laughed at their insistence to not smile in pictures so it looked “sexy yet intimidating” while showing you a demonstration. 

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N and as a lot of you may have noticed I am the woman that went with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington to the event last month. I have known these men for a few months and have been in an intimate relationship with them for some time. For my privacy and because of the things being said online by Miss Frost, they tried to protect me by referring to me in the media as ‘just a friend’. I hope that notion alone goes into the column that they are not the lies that people have said about them. I love them both with every fiber of my being and I have never felt safer in my life then in these men’s company.”

The second image was a video of you and Steve sitting in your living room on the floor where you were trying to put one of your face masks on him while he kept making jokes to keep you laughing. 

“Why is it, cold?!”

“Because, you dork! It good for your skin now stop moving.”

When he playfully sticks out your tongue to lick your wrist as it grazes his lips, you can’t help but lean back on your knees as your tummy shakes with almost uncontrollable giggles. 

“Steven! Stoooop.”

“You want me to stop being adorable? I can’t do that, honey. That would be like asking me to stop breathing.”

“Steve Harrington is one of the kindest souls I have ever met even going overboard sometimes. I thoroughly believe that if he could move heaven and earth with his own two hands just to see me smile he would. He has never once asked me to change who I am but has himself adjusted his own personality to make me comfortable without me even asking. I love him as is but he can be stubborn when it comes to people he genuinely cares about. 

Your third video had Eddie straddling your waist while pinning your wrists to the floor. The power had gone out due to a storm so you three had been passing the time anyway you could think. While play wrestling, he got the upper hand and leaned down to kiss your lips. 

“Woooo! And Eddie Munson wins by a landslide!”

While he pretends to be praised by a nonexistent audience, you wrap your arms around his waist and push your chest against his bare one, flipping you both around till he was underneath you. 

“Oh no! And with the cruel hands of fate, Eddie Munson is no more.”

You giggle as he closes his eyes and pretends to pass out before you lean down to kiss him, making him grin as his fingers tangle in your hair. When you go to sit up, some of your locks get tangled in the metal of one us rings and his playful tone promptly changes to a concerned one. 

“Oh, hang on, princess, I got you here. There we go. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you or anything? Good.”, he beams up at you when your shake your head and the video stop as he leans up to wrap his arms around you in a big bear hug. 

“Eddie Munson is so sweet and caring. He’s very protective and does whatever he can to make sure I know I’m safe whether that be by making me laugh or holding my hand till I feel comfortable. He’s never belittled me or physically hurt me in any manner unlike men from my past. I love this goofy rockstar and there is no place I feel safer or more at home than in his arms. 

Gina Frost believes that these men chose me because I’m nothing like her and I genuinely believe that is the only thing she’s said with any truth. I would never hurt them the way she did and continues to do even though they are no longer in her life. They deserved better than you and I will do whatever I can to make them happy because they do that for me every single day.”

As soon as you posted your response, a small wave of fear rumbled in your stomach as the likes began to quickly fill up your notifications until you noticed the only two handles that matter when it came to your words. 

 “@thereal_EddieMunson liked your post.”

“@thereal_EddieMunson added your post to his story: “My princess is a queen 🤘.”

“@StevenHarringtonOfficial liked your post.”

“@StevenHarringtonOfficial added your post to his story: “I would move the stars in the sky if she asked me to.”

A wide smile paints your face as you blush and hastily get dressed to skip downstairs. 

“Jesus, child. Took you long enough. Were you writing your memoirs up there?”, you father joked as you came around to hop on a stool at your kitchen counter next to Eddie who was picking at the appetizers your mom had made while dinner was being prepared. 

As you reach for a slice of garlic bread, the rockstar leans towards you to kiss your cheek before taking your other hand in his and placing it on his lap. 

Steve, who was helping by cutting up vegetables, met your eyes across the marble and smirked as he gave you an adorable little wink.

###############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16 @lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer @aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @hardladyheart

[deathofacupid]

stupid | jake peralta

a/n: apparently gina's character has haters...

summary: he's an idiot, and you can't help but worry for him.

warnings: cursing, petty y/n (sorry in advance)

pairing: fem!reader x jake peralta (enemies but lovers)

word count: 2.5k+ words

"no, because you're an idiot!"

"i had him!" jake argues back. look at him, thinking he's all smart and crap.

"you quite literally did not," you throw your hands up, exasperated, "he would've blown off your head!"

"he wouldn't have! i would've talked him down!"

"oh, yeah, because you're just so charming," your voice oozes with sarcasm.

"i'll have you know that i am, in fact, quite charming."

"i don't want to even know what your definition of charming is."

"it's-"

"i said i don't want to know. and that's not even the point. how did we get here?"

"because you claimed-"

"it was rhetorical! the point is that you were being stupid and reckless!"

"what about you? is there, like, no trust in this relationship? fine, i might've been a little... but- but it doesn't matter! i could've got him! he wouldn't have shot me."

"yes, he-"

"nuh-uh!"

"yeah!"

"nu-"

"look, peralta. for once in your life, think with your head, not your junk."

he paused, squinting an eye, "uh, spontaneousness is... hot?"

"having my partner bleeding out on the ground, and i hate to break it to you, is not hot."

"subjective."

"it's really not."

"that's also subjective."

"what's also subjective?"

"your opinion on the subjectiveness is subjective, 'kay?"

you pinch the bridge of your nose. "jacob-"

"'jacob'?" he whines. "that's never good."

"-it's not even about your stupid, rash decisions. i'm your partner for this case. you can't just- just go off without me. we work together, you know that. storming into an active crime scene - mind you, with armed shooters-"

"well, if they're shooter, aren't they already armed?"

you give him a look (the millionth one that day). "jake, i am not kidding. and honestly, you shouldn't be either. this whole," you vaugely gesture to him, "childish personality was cute at first, but i'm getting real damn sick of it. grow. up. everyone already has. it's your turn," you jab him in the chest with your finger, jaw clenched.

"okay, wait, so it's not hot?" he calls to you as you storm out. he wasn't really expecting an answer, but jake was disappointed anyways.

you do your best to avoid him the rest of the week, and yes, the silent treatment is petty, but he needs to know you're being legit about this. otherwise, he'll never get it.

you don't want him to get over-confident and pull crap like that. up until now, someone's always had his back.

but what if one day, they just don't?

"mm, i'm thinking there's a little trouble in paradise," gina says, pointing at you, then jake from across the bar.

another case had just been solved, and it was a big one. and who doesn't like to get shit-faced drunk?

not many people, actually.

and, hey, maybe this is what you need. a chance to loosen up, and just for once, not think about that fight.

a chance to loosen up by sulking alone is what you mean, not gina prodding you about your relationship problems.

"okay, well, you go take that big brain of yours and think somewhere else."

"or - and hear me out - you tell me what's going on. i think we should go with the latter."

you sigh, is there any way you're getting out of this? you peer over her shoulder, trying to find amy.

"it's no use, my friend," she says, "we are offically on drink three amy."

"aw, man." from past experience, third drink amy was not helpful amy. you think you like helpful amy better.

much, much better.

especially now.

"now, spilll."

"ugh, fine," you say, as you down another two shots. if you're gonna talk about this, you're gonna need some background help.

"ooh, and she's going down from there," gina whispers.

"jake was being stupid, i got mad at jake for being stupid, jake is mad at me - because, and get this, he thinks i'm the stupid one!" you scoff, "i mean, come on! like, sorry i saved your ass, my bad. won't happen again!"

when you look over at him, he's talking with terry. completely unaffected! it's like, how dare he.

"oh, my god. gina, do you see that? look. at. him." he's laughing with terry and charles, as if nothing ever happened. you did not spend an entire week being petty for nothing.

you grind your teeth and turn back to the bar.

"i'll be honest with you, i have a feeling he doesn't realize you're mad at him."

"i've been avoiding him... all week."

"uh, you might have to step up your game."

"or don't do that," rosa says from beside you, making you jump.

"when did you even get here?" you splutter.

"i'm a good cop."

"or just a really scary ninja," you mutter.

gina tilts her head, "yeah, but if you're over here, who's watching amy?"

rosa blinks, "jake, i guess."

you've never almost snapped your neck that hard. you narrow your eyebrows, "four drink amy."

"is she..." gina pauses, "dirty-talking him?"

"she's drunk," rosa reminds you, to which you nod. "yeah, duh, of course. i can see that. um, very well."

gina cackles, "now, it's how jake responds - that's what matters."

"this is the saddest thing thing i've seen all day."

you shoo her, not looking her direction, "shhh, rosie." she swats your hand away, but you're too busy to notice.

"y/n, he's literally getting her water."

"damn him for being such a gentleman," you mutter.

"jake? gentleman? isn't his sense of humor literally just poop jokes?" you ignore gina's remark too.

you watch charles gently guide amy to a booth in the back, and then your attention is back on jake.

jake and the hot blonde beside him.

gina nods, "and the plot thickens."

"god," you scowl, "look at her with her prada. i hate rich people."

diaz snorts, "think you might be projecting there?"

"definitely," you tell her.

"it looks like small talk, y/n."

"who's side you on, diaz?"

she puts her hands up in mock surrender. "no one's. i'm just doing you a favor by not feeding into your delusions."

"where's sober amy when you need her?" you groan.

"what would you need her for?"

"lip-reading, duh."

"...right," rosa blinks.

you whine, "holdling grudges are so hard."

"they really aren't," diaz shrugs.

"why can't he just be not dumb? do you know how much easier that would make my life. hint: much, much, easier. like, scale out of to ten; 12, easier."

"terry has a wife, right?"

"is that rhetorical? or are you really asking? because he never shuts up about his wife and kids."

"do you think-" you start.

"that he could help you figure out what's happening between the two of you?" a deeper voice says.

"god!" you exclaim, "you guys just come out of nowhere!"

"well, terry would love to help you."

"okay, first, i was gonna say 'help me by talking sense into him', not have a couple's counseling."

"i think you should talk to him," terry says.

"no, no, you should talk to him. he totally started this."

"what happened?"

you frown, "n-"

"nothing is not a valid answer. because, trust me, everyone at the precinct know it's something."

"everyone?" you squeak.

"everyone," he confirms.

"i second that," rosa adds, "you guys are normally on top of each other."

"...yeah," gina winces, recalling the storage room incident.

"you really think i should just talk to him?"

"i do."

you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, debating this. "i just... i feel like if i talk to him... he'll automatically think i'm okay with it. like i'm letting it go or something."

terry gives you one of those looks, "maybe that's why you should talk to him."

you pause for a moment longer, before deciding he's right.

ignoring him has done nothing, which is the opposite of what you're intent was. you want everything to be okay again, so maybe the silent treatment isn't the right thing.

you have to try somthing else.

and, by the looks of it, it's talking to him.

you slid off the barstool, playing with the end of your hair as you approach him.

maybe if you'd gotten up a little earlier, as his girlfriend, that stupid blonde wouldn't think it was okay to shamelessly flirt with him. you raise an eyebrow as she rest a hand on his bicep, and he does nothing to stop her.

does he not realize she's clearly feeling him up?

you turn back to your small group of friend, giving them a look that says "what now?".

before any of them can respond, someone taps your shoulder. "jesus! what's with scaring the shit out of me today?"

you except it to be hitchcock or scully so you can let some hot air out by screaming at them. it is not in fact either of those to.

standing in front of you is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. "i'm a good cop!" you blurt.

"sorry if i startled you," oh god, he's british too.

if you weren't dating jake, you'd be all over this guy. but honestly, he doesn't hold a candle to your boyfriend.

but... does he know that?

you put on a polite smile as you shake your head. "no, i'm all good."

"cool, then," he remarks, leaning against the slab of the bar. okay, okay, slick. "one kamikaze, please." the man turns to look at you, "mind if i get you something?"

"sure," you brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "i'll have..." you scrunch up your nose, "the same thing."

"it's a margarita. just vodka instead."

"pft, i knew that."

he laughs, and it feels so... practiced. like he's done it a thousand times before, nothing but for stage presence. your eyes flit over him, and by his watch, you can tell that just might be the case.

"vincent, by the way." man, rich person name too.

"y/n," you say, shaking his hand. "nice to meet you."

"wow, pretty name for a pretty girl."

you pretend to giggle, squeezing his arm gently. how cliched was that line?

"you're so sweet." you can see jake seething at vincent, and you give him nothing but a petty look.

his attention is clearly not on the girl anymore, and it's just the way you like it.

you decide to indulge in this further, "where you from, pretty boy?" wait, was that too much? too late.

he chuckles, "london, sweets."

"oh, wow. what're you doing all the way over here?"

"ah, just work things."

"really? what's your job?"

"v.p. for a finance company. you?"

"nypd," you say.

"interesting."

you blink, "why?"

"i just- well, you don't see too many female cops. it's more of a... male-dominated thing, you know? and for good reason, i bet," he laughs like it's this insanely funny thing, and you follow along.

"hey, baby," jake comes up beside you, arm around your waist.

"oh, so now i'm 'baby'."

vincent looks from you to him, then back at you.

"you've always been 'baby'!"

"have i? because you looked like you forgot that, over with that blondie."

"are you serious? i wasn't even-"

"great," vincent mutters.

"she's was flirting with you!"

"she really wasn't!"

you give him a look. "okay, so maybe she was, but i swear i didn't know. like, she asked me about that dimond heist! and it's the coolest story to tell!"

"c'mon, you really didn't know? you always know!"

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means you can't keep it in your pants and, for some reason, you're proud of it!"

"what about you? you, and i know for a fact, were all giggly with this guy!"

"i think i'll be heading out-"

"don't you dare even move, vinny."

"seriously? vinny?" jake scoffs.

"and i was only over here because i thought you were flirting with her!"

"so it's some stupid, petty, misunderstanding?"

"stupid? oh-ho, you want stupid, jakey? what's stupid is trying to take on an armed criminal while unarmed."

"god, this again? i told you i had it!"

"guys!" you call to rosa and boyle, "enlighten us - him - did jake really 'have it'?"

neither of them respond. in fact, charles finds the rim of his shot glass very interesting.

"that's what i thought," you say, finishing your shot and slamming it down.

you march right out, and it's not until you make it out that you realize you rallied the attention of everyone in there.

a part of you feels really stupid, but another part is just mad. why doesn't he get that his actions have consequences?

"y/n?"

you quickly wipe away your tears.

"go away. i'm going home," you rummage through your purse for keys. you may have forgotten that you drove here.

"no, you're not. you're intoxinated."

"fuck off."

"it would've been so much cooler if you said 'fuck you'."

"wh- oh, my god."

"sorry, sorry! look, you're right. i didn't want to admit it before, but you are."

"because of your hero complex?"

"i don't- oh."

"yeah," you sniff.

"hey," he says, pulling you in for a hug. he smells like jake, like home. not your house, your home. resting his chin on the top of your head, you're tucked into his neck. "i didn't even know she was f-"

"jake, it's not about her. you know that."

he sighs, "i just don't get it. i mean, it's my job. and my job is dangerous."

"yeah, and you're right. the hostage thing was dangerous, but it didn't have to be that dangerous. if you would've given me just two minutes, i would've been there. i could've helped. you didn't need to do all that."

"what if in that two minutes, they hurt someone?"

"they were so obviously busy. they wouldn't have done anything. they were... dumb. and you just wanted to make your 'cool enterance'."

"okay, yeah, that was part of the reason. but i needed you to trust me."

"and i needed you to keep me in the loop. you just went, i mean, i didn't even find out until you were there."

"alright, i'm sorry. but i'm okay. i'll always be, right? because i've got you," he pauses, "that was cute, right?"

you pull away, "i might not always be there. you got lucky! jake, you... you could've died." your voice breaks, and you don't do anything to conceal it.

"aww, hey," he coos, bringing you back in. "i'm... i'm sorry. seriously, i really am. i didn't know you were worried about that. i thought you were just mad at me for keeping you... in the dark, a little."

"of course i was worried, jakey. you're my boyfriend, and i love you. i don't- i don't know what i'd do if you died out there. so, maybe in hindsight, dating my co-worker wasn't a good a idea."

"i'll be more careful from now on, i promise. it won't happen again," jake finishes, kissing your forehead. "and i love you too."

"okay," you sigh, content.

"does this mean we can have hot, angsty make-up sex?"

"why would it be angsty?"

"is that a no?"

ask to be added to the jake peralta tag-list!

[twopoppies]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe5qhX6A/

This video Gina ❤️

He’s so beautiful. And I’m so glad he sang that song on tour. It was such an experience getting to hear it finally.

x

[vettelsdarling]

Heyyy I’m the one who req the Instagram ff and I loved it so muchhhhhh and I want to ask for another but where it’s like a mix of an actual ff but also an Instagram ff? So here’s my prompt: Mick and Reader are both going through tough times regarding their dads because Michael isn’t doing well and readers dad passed away when she was in her mid teens. She and him are best friends because of her dads connection to his dad and they grew up in close proximity. She comes to all his races (can u do it so that mick is racing for Mercedes instead of George??????) and she is his biggest supporter. After a lot of time, Mick confesses to reader because he’s liked her for a long time and reader agrees to date and they make like a soft reveal on Instagram! Thank youuuu Elllll

𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑰𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔

➪Interesting plot, I like it!

➪Again, I'm pretty new to instagram fics, so I hope I succeeded in bringing your vision to life.

➪Wasn’t completely sure what you meant by “mix”, but I hope this is what you meant!

Things to note:

❥I took some inspo from “Daddy Issues“ by TNBHD

❥You’re a famous ballerina, daughter of a famous lawyer and business man, Erik Klum (name is made up btw.)

❥You and Mick are 2 years apart

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, a lot of angst, a lot of daddy issues

Word Count: 4.1k+

“𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒐.”

Euripides once said, “To a father growing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter.” The saying might've been true, but you never got to experience it for yourself. You never saw him grow old. Your dear father never got to see his sweet little girl grow old either. You missed him every single day.

Backstory

Your father, Erik Klum, was a famous lawyer, who handled Michael Schumacher’s monetary belongings. That's how you got to meet Mick Schumacher. The famous Formula One driver's son. The two of you practically grew up together. His mother, Corinna, was like a mother to you. Your own died when she gave birth to you. Mick and Gina were like your siblings. They were near your age, so the three of you had no problem getting along.

Your father did his best to provide for you. He funded your dream. Ballet. Your mother was a ballerina who travelled the world to perform. That was how she met your father. He also funded any extracurriculars you had time for along with whatever pampering he believed you needed. He wasn't a mother, so he never really had a clue about what a daughter would want, but he always tried his best. Corinna was there to help him out at times, which you also appreciated more than anything.

When you were coming into your pre-teens, you were sent to a ballet boarding school. Your father had set aside enough cash to get you there, as it was a part of your dream to be just like your mother.

At the airport, everyone came to say goodbye to you. You were moving all the way to France to pursue your ballet. Mick and Gina both cried, but Michael assured them it’d be alright. Your father only cried tears of joy. The way he saw your mother in you made his heart give out. You didn’t think the last thing you’d ever hear him say was,

“You look just like her. I’m so proud of you, my little girl.”

You spent the first couple of years training hard and working your way up the ranks at the academy. The process was halted, however, when you’d gotten a phone call from your father followed by a message.

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. Michael was in a coma. Your father explained it’d happened due to a ski accident. He’d booked you a ticket home so that you could go visit. After all, Michael was like a second father to you.

When you got there, you saw the immense grief etched on everyone’s faces. It happened so suddenly. Nobody had seen it coming. Your heart ached, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Mick and Gina were feeling. The three of you hugged and cried for the most part of that day. You stayed for two more days, grieving with everyone before you inevitably had to go back to France.

You managed to keep your composure whilst at the academy. With the updates you’d get from Mick and Gina, you were reassured. Some time passed, and you’d heard that Michael was out of his coma. It sent a huge wave of relief and helped ease your mind when you were alone. You’d been prone to panic and anxiety attacks.

A couple of more years flew by, and you suddenly got a phone call from Mick. He never really called without texting you first, because he knew you had a strict schedule. Luckily, you had your phone when he called.

“Hello?” You heard from the other end of the line.

“Hey, Mickie, what’s with the sudden call?” You asked.

“You have to get home right now. I’ll explain when you get here. We bought you a ticket, your flight leaves early tomorrow.” You felt anxious. Fear started eating away at your feet, making its way up your legs to your stomach and to your throat.

“Okay,” you croaked. The line disconnected and you immediately ran off to administration to tell them you had a family emergency and had to go home for a while. They gave you two weeks, which in retrospect, wouldn’t be enough for what was to come.

When you came to the airport, you realized your father wasn’t in sight. It was just Corinna, Mick, and Gina. Your heart sank. Had something happened to your father? Your head started pounding.

“Hi darling,” said Corinna and tried to keep her composure.

“My dad… where is he?” You asked with a shaky voice, scared of what her response would be. Much to your dread, your suspicions were confirmed,

“I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t even have the heart to tell you the words. He was gone. You broke down. Mick and Gina looked absolutely devastated for you. Your only driving force was gone. You were all alone. You couldn’t think straight. All you did on the car ride home was cry out to your father. You couldn’t believe that he was gone. It didn’t seem real to you.

When Corinna pulled into the lot of their place, soon to be yours as well, you got out with the help of Mick. Your head was too cloudy to walk by yourself. You could barely form a coherent sentence.

The funeral was the worst part. You watched as they sank your father’s mahogany coffin into the ground.

“Papa! No! Please don’t leave me, papa!” You screamed as you fell to your knees. You couldn’t take it. You never got to say goodbye to him. You never had the chance to say a few final words to him. He’d been taken from you without warning.

Mick and Gina helped you through the first two weeks, as you had to go back. Since you weren’t an adult yet, your aunt had gained custody of you, and you had to move from Switzerland to Germany. Moving away from all you’d ever known was tough on top of the death of your beloved father.

Years passed by at the academy, and you were a full-fledged Ballerina. You performed in various theatres and at famous events. You’d become somewhat of a household name in ballet. Many called you a prodigy, which you were. Your upbringing was based around ballet.

Present

You'd still kept in contact with the two Schumacher siblings during all the years you spent in France and Germany. You visited them sometimes for minor holidays, which always lifted your spirits.

Mick had started a career in racing, just like his father. He told you that he'd earned a seat at Mercedes. You had come to his races before. Several times, in fact, when he was with Haas. You were beyond ecstatic when you heard he'd earned a place in a dominant car for the new season. Next to Lewis Hamilton, no less.

You wore one of Mick’s shirts when he came out of the shower. His hair was dripping onto his chest, and he had a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, you should wear one of my new Mercedes shirts to the race today,” suggested Mick. For a while, you’d had growing feelings for Mick, and coming to all his races only made him admire you that much more. He’d come to your performances as well, and it always made you happy to see him amongst the huge audience you normally had.

“Hmm, maybe. Won’t people be suspicious though? I mean, I’d look like your…” you trailed off, hoping he’d finish off.

“No, don’t worry about it! Everyone already knows you’re like a sister to me,” He chuckled and threw you one of his shirts. It had 47 on the back of it. Your heart stung briefly when he said that you were like a sister to him.

The Australian Grand Prix was a strike of luck for you, as your performance was in the same city. You were performing in Her Majesty’s Theatre later that day. You’d practiced ever since you heard about the gig.

“You should wear one of my leotards for my performance tonight. It’s only fair!” You joked, watching as he laughed along with you. Domestic moments like this were what had made you fall in love in the first place. You travelled with him constantly. It was hard to not catch any feelings. You could only wish for him to one day feel the same.

“You’re coming to my dad’s 50th birthday luncheon next week, right? Gina said she’d come. Corinna too,” you asked. There was no race the following weekend, so he agreed to come with no hesitation. You always baked a cake on your father’s birthdays to celebrate for yourself. Sometimes Mick was there to join you. This time was different. It wasn’t just baking a cake and singing a gentle birthday song for your father. You wanted to go all in. He deserved it.

“Klum… I don’t want you to overwork yourself with the luncheon, okay? Let me help you.” Mick was always really considerate of you, which was enough to make your heart melt into a bowl of soup. You wanted nothing more than to spend every single birthday of your dad’s with him.

“Mickie… you know how much it means to me. 50 is a special number. That’s you know… halfway.” You mumbled the last part, but it was loud enough for Mick to hear it.

“I know, I know. If you really think you can do it on your own, of course, I’ll let you. I’m just saying, if you need help; I’m here for you.” You nodded and smiled at him. He gave you a warm smile back. It felt like it hugged you.

“We should probably hurry up, though. We have to be there in time.” Mick quickly found some boxers and other articles of clothes to wear for the day. The two of you were used to seeing each other without any clothes on. It felt natural. Yet, your cheeks were still dusted pink. Whilst he got into his clothes, you found a skirt to go with his shirt. It was barely visible due to the oversized shirt, but you wore it anyway. With the outfit, you wore a pair of white satin high heels you’d been gifted by Jimmy Choo. Because you were wearing his shirt, Mick had coordinated his outfit to match yours. You knew the media would try to gossip about it, but in all honesty— you wanted them to.

When the two of you arrived at the paddock, cameras were already everywhere and ready to snap photos of you and Mick in matching outfits. The paparazzi were ruthless. Anything to get the latest inside scoop. Even though you were used to the attention, you hated having your private life revealed. It was the main reason you never told a soul where you lived. Only the Schumachers, your aunt, and some of the drivers knew. You had a long-time friend from the academy who also knew because she often came over to your place to take care of it whilst you were gone.

Luckily, behind you was Lewis. He got all of the attention with his fashion statement. You adored his sense of fashion, and so did the media.

“Viel Glück, Mickie,” you said when Mick got into the car. You gave him a hug and stepped aside for the engineers and strategists. You were incredibly proud of Mick for landing a place with the silver arrows.

It was lights out and you saw all the cars race almost as if they were synchronized. It reminded you of some of the dances you’d done in the past. Before you mostly did solos, anyway.

You watched as Mick went from P13 and worked his way up to P1. You couldn’t even believe your eyes. It was incredible. With only a few laps left, he was able to fend off the driver behind him and go on to finish on pole. Everyone went to the celebration and when Mick came over to hug all his coworkers, he saw you in the midst and pulled you in for a big hug.

“This is for Erik and my dad. I did it!” Out of excitement, he kissed your forehead harshly and went on to hug the rest of the crew. Though the kiss didn’t have any meaning other than that of Mick’s elated state, it meant the world to you.

The interviewer was none other than Nico Rosberg. He came up to Mick and asked a couple of questions about the competition and whatnot, before moving on to ask about you. Mick was a bit surprised, but he answered with what media training he’d been through.

“I think Klum and I both have a lot in common and we grew up together, so I see her as a little sister. She’s very supportive of me.” It was a perfect response in his mind.

“This is your first win, you must be very excited!” Said Rosberg.

“Naturally. I’m dedicating it to Erik Klum and my father. They are both such important people to me and have shaped me into becoming the man I am today. Well, the man who just won this race.” It was sentimental and all the tabloids would be sure to latch onto that.

A week later, you were out shopping for ingredients with Mick. You'd spent the night before decorating your house. Apparently, you hadn't been discreet enough.

Sportsgossipc

47,221 likes

sportsgossipc Ballerina Y/n Klum spotted grocery shopping with Formula One driver Mick for Erik Klum’s death anniversary. Are they cosying up together with a celebration?

user1 Is it just me or is this sort of disrespectful to “gossip about”

user2I was about to say the same thing…

user3 This is wrong… Erik died in January. It's for his birthday probably

user4 Leave them alone lol they already got so much shit to handle

user5 First of all: it’s Erik’s birthday. Second of all: If it were his death anniversary, why would you make it into a gossip story??? Third of all: “cosying up together with a celebration”? What is that supposed to mean?

When you came home and went to post a happy birthday post for your dad, you saw a dm from your friend. It showed you and Mick shopping. The photo itself wasn't upsetting in particular. No, the caption is what got you. Mick walked up behind you to see what you were doing. When his eyes locked with the screen, he was shocked.

“They have no right,” said Mick and hugged your waist. You tried to not let it bother you too much and instead posted a story about it, followed by a birthday post for your father.

y/nklum posted a new story, mickschumacher posted a new story

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacher and 233,754 others

y/nklum You would be 50 today. I miss you every day. I know it’s been a while, but I will always mark my calendar on this day. Thank you for everything you’ve sacrificed and done for me, happy birthday papa❤️

mickschumacher Happy birthday, Erik❤️

ginaschumacher ❤️❤️❤️

You put your phone aside and started cooking. Gina and Corinna were going to arrive precisely at noon, so you had a good 3 hours to finish everything. You ended up letting Mick help you, as you realized there were way too many things to do.

As time passed, you got the food ready and the guests arrived. Everyone sat down by the table you had in your dining room. Next to you, you’d placed a nice portrait of your father. Before eating, a birthday song was sung in his honour.

“This is amazing, kids. You know what you’re doing!” Corinna complimented your cooking. Your usual meal was hotel food or restaurant food, but if there was one thing you could do well; it was cook. Your father had taught you from a young age, and the academy also required you to start cooking your own meals as you grew older.

“Thank you so much, Corinna, I’m glad you like it.” You smiled. Corinna was more of a mother to you than your aunt. You barely ever saw her even though you had to move all of your stuff over to her place. You spent most holidays with the Schumachers when you weren’t in France. After France, you got a house close to your second family.

“That reminds me! I found your father’s old wedding band in our storage. I figured you’d want it.” Corinna gave you a small box which contained the ring. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. It was a beautiful gold ring with a tiny diamond in it. You hugged it and thanked her for it.

After everyone went home, you were left with Mick. He offered to clean everything so that you could take a breather outside on your patio.

After he’d finished cleaning, he met you outside. You sat on a wooden porch swing. Before taking a seat next to you, he admired how the sunset hit your face perfectly. You were beautiful. Your legs were crossed over each other and the way your face lit up when you saw him… he could barely contain his feelings for you.

“He was a great man.” Mick finally took that seat next to you.

“I miss him.”

“It’s only natural. I miss him too,” he replied calmly.

“I want him to know how I’m doing,” you whispered, trying not to cry any more than you’d already done.

“He knows. Trust me, he does.”

“Do you think he’s disappointed? Because I can’t sleep alone? Because I can’t sleep without having nightmares of him?” You leaned into Mick’s chest, hearing his heartbeat.

“Not at all. I think he’s proud of the incredible woman you’ve grown up to be.” He rubbed your back and pulled you closer to him.

“Will you stay with me forever?” You asked.

“Of course, Schatz.” Your heart started beating fast. It was the first time he’d ever called you a pet name. Usually, he resorted to your name, a nickname, or your last name. You acted as if you hadn’t heard it so that it wouldn’t create any embarrassing tension between you.

“I’m sorry. I’m being clingy and needy, aren’t I?” You sighed and looked up at the setting sun.

“Never, Liebling. I know that you’ve got daddy issues because I do too.” Hearing him say the actual term out loud made you want to bury your face in his chest and cry until you no longer had any tears left.

“My dad is still… well, you know.”

“Yeah… it must be horrible. I don’t know how it feels, but I’m always here for you.” You snuggled into him.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I had lost him that day. You’re really strong. You should know that. I will always be by your side,” Mick spoke softly.

“If you were mine, I would run away and hide from all of this fame and attention with you. We could enjoy our lives to the fullest extent.” You felt like your heart had stopped. You pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes,

“If I was yours?”

“I tried to keep it to myself… I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I’m an older brother to you, right?” He said with a hint of regret in his voice. You immediately cupped his face with both of your hands,

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“You feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do! I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” You smiled.

“I’ve loved you since you first took off to the academy. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” He pulled you over his lap and hugged you tightly as if you were a fragile little thing.

“I love you, Schatz.”

“I love you too, Mickie.”

A few months had passed before the two of you agreed to go public with your relationship. The timing was perfect because you attended the last race of the season. The two of you still had your reservations about going public, so you played a little game with your fans to see if they could figure it out from subtle pictures. Of course, many of the drivers knew a few weeks after it’d happened, but you’d asked them not to tell.

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacherand 355,860 others

y/nklum Came to the show with flowers and carried my heels home for me after❤️

lewishamilton Show was great, keep it up!

landonorris I fell asleep but the parts I saw were amazing👍

y/nklum Why am I not surprised😒

charlesleclerc I know, I'm such a gentleman

y/nklum Hmmm🤔

user1 NOOOOO WE LOST HER😭😭😭 MOTHER NOOOO🙏🙏🙏

user2 crying rn

user3 my parasocial relationship is quaking💔

user4 It's Charles😭👍

user5 How do you know?

user4 Didn't you see the comment he made? It's definitely him💀

user5 Oh💀😭

user6 what in the soft launch-

user7 LMAO I CAN’T WITH CHARLES BEING SO OBVIOUS

user8 What abt Mick😭💔

user9 He said several times he sees her as a sister💀

user8 Could be lying🤷

mickschumacher✔︎

Liked by y/nklum and 538,924 others

mickschumacher Watched another amazing performance❤️ Had to leave early to prepare for a date though…

charlesleclerc Cool, wish I was that flexible😅

y/nklum Thanks💖

user1 Mick???? Soft launching???? Under a y/n post???? This makes no sense

user2 Wait is he referring to y/n or someone else wtf

user3 I thought y/n was dating Charles💀

user4 Bro everyone thought that

user3 Isn’t she though?

user4 Personally I think she is but idk

user5 Why is Mick soft launching at the same time as y/n😭

user6 Lmao he went to a friend’s performance and ditched it for a date💀

user7 rip y/n

user8 Charles is there for her though🥹❤️

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacherand 379,688 others

y/nklum Thank you to the random stranger who offered to take a picture of me and him together❤️

landonorris That random stranger was me🙄

y/nklum No, you were the third wheel

user1 Nah that definitely doesn’t look like Charles

user2 Nvm that ain’t Charles unless he dyed his hair💀

user3 isn’t that Mick😭

user4 It looks a lot like Mick. I think it is him…

user5 But didn’t Mick say that he left her performance to go on a date?

user4 No, he said he left early to go PREPARE for a date. It could’ve been a date with her.

user6 I love the subtle Lando slander for no reason😭🙏

user7 If Mick posts something like this, we’ll know what’s going on and who’s dating who💀

mickschumacher and y/nklum

Liked by landonorrisand 836,190 others

y/nvettel Spending our 6-month anniversary skiing ⛷️ Happy 6 months, Mickie❤️❤️❤️

mickschumacher Happy 6 months, Liebling, I love you❤️

y/nklum I love you more❤️

landonorris Should’ve invited me when I actually wanted to third wheel smh

y/nklum Go skiing with Carlos

charlesleclerc Finally I don’t have to keep quiet about it anymore

y/nklum You came close to revealing it one too many times

lewishamilton Enjoy your vacation guys, congrats🙌

user1 I KNEW IT. FROM THE FIRST SOFT LAUNCH POST I KNEW IT.

user2 Jeez okay we get it💀

user3 I really thought it was Charles lmao

user4 I always thought they looked good together🙏

user5 childhood friends and now dating? This is the sweetest🥹❤️

user6 I can’t wait for the wedding pics

user7 They better get married

user8 Lando in the comments again😭😭😭

You thought back to when it all started, as you sat in the ski resort’s outdoor hot tub. It was just you and Mick in a hotel room, both hoping the other felt the same way.

You knew that your father would be proud. You’d fallen in love with a respectable man. A man that he got to meet and know before he passed. A man that you could call home because you could be in any hotel and still feel at home as long as you were with him. With Mick.

You also knew that if you ever were to have children, you and Mick would be sure to tell them all about their grandfathers. How one was a former world champion, and how the other was an unbeatable lawyer. They were both heroes. You’d convinced yourself. You could convince a couple of toddlers.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

[bonniebird]

Rosa Diaz x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Valentine event

Support me on Ko-fi

Make a request

Request:  Anonymous asked:#valentine2023 💗-I bought her one of those frown smile octopuses that you turn inside out. Now when she's mad she makes it frown and throws it at me as hard as she can-Rosa Diaz b99 

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

"I have no idea what to get Jake for valentines day. I tried to figure out what he might want but somehow fifty gallons of orange drink doesn't seem romantic." Amy said as she stood next to Rosa's desk.

"Ok, but are you prepared to receive fifty gallons of orange drink, because I hate to break it to you, that's probably what Jake thinks is romantic. It's like a year's supply." Gina asked as she joined them. Rosa laughed at that and leaned back in her chair.

"Oh. No look, I don't have time to worry about that. It's our first valentine's as a proper couple and it needs to be perfect. I'm sure Boyle will be helping Jake so I'm competing with him for the best gift." She sighed and glanced over at Boyle who was staring at her and talking into a Walkie-talkie. "Rosa, what did you get (Y/N)?" 

"I bought them one of those frown smile octopuses that you turn inside out. Now when they’re mad they make it frown and throw it at me as hard as they can." Rosa said casually.

"That sounds healthy." Amy muttered.

"It's actually helped with our communication and now we assign a time to sit down and talk about stuff each week." Rosa went on. She then sighed and stepped closer. "If you promise not to tell anyone I helped you I know what the perfect gift for Jake would be."

"Of course! I promise! Omg Rosa are we having a bonding moment right now?" Amy gushed happily.

"I have ten minutes before I leave for my own valentine's date so don't make me feel like leaving early." Rosa said slowly and Amy nodded.

"Right. Sorry, reign it in." Amy muttered.

"You already have valentine's plans? You've got days yet." Gina asked Rosa who sighed.

"We each get to pick one thing they like and the other has to experience it with them and then on valentine's day we do something we both like." Rosa said with a smile.

"A romantic meal?" Amy asked curiously.

"We're going to one of the places where you can smash everything and then we're going to get food from our favourite food truck and watch people get dumped." Rosa said with a fond smile.

"Sounds… nice." Gina said and shrugged when Amy frowned at her.

 Rosa tags:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @geekyandgay98 @gatefleet

[blues-valentine]

HSMTMTS Final Season Spoilers:

Ricky and Gina’s first relationships (Nini/EJ) prepared them for their own trials this season.

The thing about Ricky and Gina going thought similar situations as PW and Rini is to showcase not just why they’re different but that they’ve learned from their previous relationships too.

Because that’s the whole point.

Ricky’s relationship with Nini failed not just because they outgrew each other but because Nini wanted bigger things for herself and didn’t feel like she needed Ricky to get that anymore. She herself said on the pilot that being away from Ricky actually made her come out of her shell and pursue leading roles. And Ricky wasn’t ready to accept that change so in order to protect that relationship he started to become too attached and making Nini feel pressured about balancing YAC and Ricky. He thought he had to put Nini’s dream on hold only to realize not only did it made him selfish but not a version of himself he wanted to be. This is why he corrected all of those mistakes with Gina when presented with the same issues. Not just this final season but last season as well. (X)

It was stablished last season, Ricky’s love for Gina changed what he thought he knew about love. Gina is the representation of change.

For Ricky, the idea of Gina and him growing apart and walking different directions terrified him — he has seen this before and it didn’t end with people choosing him. But he wasn’t going to be the old Ricky that would delete Instagram posts and be like “I want you to leave the movie and stay here with me” and that’s because he now knows that’s not how you love. And he isn’t going to make Gina feel guilty about living her dreams. And that’s why he was the most supportive and attentive boyfriend she could’ve asked for. And Ricky knows it could cost him losing Gina but he is ready to deal with that as long as Gina is doing what she’s meant to do.

For Gina, she was living her dreams but Ricky is also part of her dreams. Gina’s arc has never been just about finding success but finding a place to belong and she found that (with Ricky, with East High). By holding the whole movie offer from Ricky, she understood why EJ did what he did last season and I think it was a very good learning experience for her and closure for the two of them. Gina was very naive and new in her relationship with EJ and going thought that allowed her to understand other points. I feel like if she hadn’t been in a relationship with EJ first she wouldn’t have known how to handle this issue with Ricky. But as opposed to Nini, who basically told Ricky she didn’t come back for him. Gina would fight for Ricky. Because she wants both the fame and him and I’m glad they didn’t have her compromise on either of those.

The contrasts and differences in all of those relationships needed to happen. It would’ve been too easy if Ricky and Gina were just in a perfectly honey moon stage even with all of those circumstances. And I would say they handled it gracefully and better than others would have (including PW and Nini). The thing about Ricky and Gina is not just that they both give the other something they need (stability, propose, ambition, understanding) is that PW and Rini gave up on each other too easy. Maybe because they just weren’t the right person. And if anything the season shows is that whatever happens next Ricky and Gina will find a way to make it work together and unlike Troyella (“who are not a real couple”) Ricky and Gina are.

[beardedmrbean]

Disney has been delivered a crushing blow in its lawsuit battle with former The Mandalorian star Gina Carano.

The actor, 41, is suing the studio, alongside Lucasfilm, for discrimination and wrongful termination after the former MMA fighter was dropped from the Star Wars spin-off in February 2021 for sharing a social media post in which she appeared to compare the Republican experience in the US to that of Jewish people during the Holocaust.

Carano filed a complaint in California federal court, with help from X/Twitter owner Elon Musk, accusing the entertainment companies of damaging her reputation and discriminating her based on her gender. As part of the lawsuit, Carano questioned why the studios did not give similar treatment to her former co-star Pedro Pascal over posts he shared on topical subjects.

While Disney attempted to have the lawsuit thrown out, stating that Carano’s decision “to publicly trivialise the Holocaust by comparing criticism of political conservatives to the annihilation of millions of Jewish people was the final straw”, a judge has denied the studio’s appeal, and the trial will move ahead in September 2025.

US District Judge Sherilyn Peace Garnett said:“Having considered the parties’ submissions, the relevant law, and the record in this case, the Court DENIES the Motion.”

Carano said in response to the decision: “I am obviously very pleased with the opportunity to keep moving forward with the judicial process and into discovery. While I wish this was not necessary as it is not my desire to be in this battle in court, I will not shrink away from it because it is hard or uncomfortable.”

The Independent has contacted Disney for additional comment.

In a section of the lawsuit titled “Social Media Posts from Carano’s Co-Stars”, Carano questioned Disney and Lucasfilm’s lack of response to posts shared on X/Twitter by her former co-star Pascal, with whom she previously claimed to reach an agreement with over their opposing beliefs.

The lawsuit reads: “Carano respects the rights of her co-stars to express their views on social media, even if they differ from her own, and she remains personally fond of each of them. However, Defendants’ treatment of Carano stands in stark contrast to Defendants’ embrace of her male co- stars and other male employees, so the following examples are provided to demonstrate the discriminatory treatment Carano endured at the hands of Defendants.”

Carano’s lawyers then cited posts in which Pascal supported Black Lives Matter and LGBTQ+ rights, stating: “On June 27, 2020, Pascal posted two Disney-owned Muppet characters, Bert and Ernie, as activists waving a transgender and LGBTQ+ pride flag and promoting ‘Black Lives Matter’ and ‘Defund the Police’.”

Another post shared in the lawsuit shows Pascal comparing Donald Trump to Hitler.

It reads: “Upon information and belief, Pascal was not disciplined, required to review documentaries on any of these topics or speak to individuals with contrary points of view, or pressured to apologise for any of his posts. His employment was not terminated, and Defendants made no public statements about his social media posts, much less refer to them as ‘abhorrent’.”

Carano is seeking a court order that would force Lucasfilm to recast her and at least $75,000 (£57,500), plus punitive damages.

The Independent is the world’s most free-thinking news brand, providing global news, commentary and analysis for the independently-minded. We have grown a huge, global readership of independently minded individuals, who value our trusted voice and commitment to positive change. Our mission, making change happen, has never been as important as it is today.

[igotlovestruck]

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE | msc47

PAIRING: mick schumacher x reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: fluff, new parents!au, cryptic pregnancy, childbirth, hospitals, google translated german (like only one sentence lol)

WC: 725

A/N: okay well, maybe illicit affairs isn’t/wouldn’t be my first fic BUT i cant help it HAHA this universe takes place from mick’s post on baby reveal 📸 also this isn’t proofread! apologies for the mistake :> enjoy reading!!

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

the 2022 season didn’t end the way mick wanted it to, and now, he was starting 2023 the way he least expected it would start. the 23-year-old driver felt like he was holding the world when he held his tiny son in his arms on january 1st. matteo schumacher was not planned, neither the two of you knew his existence until he welcomed himself hours after midnight. matteo was indeed a surprise, because you, his mom, was not aware that you were pregnant.

it started when you felt a pain on your stomach, literally two hours before the clock hit midnight. it felt like something was stabbing you and no position on the couch helped it stop. you tried your best to ignore it, but mick noticed how uncomfortable you were and pain was very visible on your face. corinna suggested that the two of you visit the hospital. at first you said no—because who the heck wants to welcome the new year inside the hospital? but mick was persuasive and managed to carry you to his car and drive to the nearest hospital. the two of you thought you’ll be able to head home right after the doctor has checked you and will receive any drugs to relieve the pain, but they said something that caused both of your worlds to stop.

“you’re actually in labor right now,” one of them said, “i know this sounds scary, but we’ve checked and you’re currently 5cm dilated.”

“what the hell are you saying?!” was the first thing you said, “mick?! what the hell?!”

“baby—”

the next thing you know, you were being transferred to a private room and had nurses check on you every now and then. mick called gina, explaining what happened and how you two are expecting a baby any time now. mick called your parents right after that call with gina, though it took him a while because the clock struck midnight. the response you two heard were all ‘what?!’ ‘how’d that happen?!’ which had no answers because even you two didn’t know how it happened.

cryptic pregnancy, that was what happened to you. only a few people in the world experience it, and you were part of that minority.

hours passed, mick never left your side. he kept on saying sorry, kissing your hand and forehead every time you felt contractions. by the time you were fully dilated and was ready to give birth, mick swore you’ve never held his hand that tight before. you were holding onto it as if you were ready to rip it off his arm but he didn’t complain, considering that you were giving birth unexpectedly. that was nothing compared to the pain he was feeling on his hand.

at 5:47 am, a small baby was placed on your chest. you looked at your boyfriend who was looking at the baby, tears threatened to fall. mick placed kisses on your head, muttering a small thank you in between the kisses. when you delivered the placenta, the doctors and nurses cleaning you up and your son, and another nurse helped and taught you how to breastfeed, you were left alone with your two boys.

“mick,” you called your boyfriend who sat on the other end of the room, giving you space as you breastfeed your baby. “it… it was a wild night but, happy new year.” you say, earning a chuckle from him “i know it’s not the ideal timing. we haven’t talked about this, clearly he’s not planned… but, how do you feel? with the baby.”

he stood up, walking towards your bed. “it’s not ideal, but i’m ready to do this with you… the whole parenting thing and baby” he said, “though i can’t deny the fact that i’m obviously scared, confused and nervous but there’s no one in the world i’d do this with but you.”

while your baby was happily suckling on your breast, you took the time to look up to mick. he didn’t hesitate to lean and connect your lips together, and that made your heart skip a beat.

“matteo,” you say, “is it okay if we name him matteo?”

“i’d love that, liebe” he smiled, carefully running his finger on matteo’s small head. “matteo.”

mick didn’t know it yet, but soon enough, matteo’s got his dad wrapped around his fingers.

yourusername and mickschumacher

liked by mickschumacher, esteban_ocon, gina_schumacher and others

yourusername ...and then there were three 🤍 matteo schumacher 01.01.2023

comments on this post have been limited.

mickschumacher meine liebe, meine ganze welt

translated from german: my love, my whole world

[poisonappleeater]

Regina x Trans Male Reader !!

regina mills x trans male reader (reminder that this is just in relation to my personal transmasc experience, everyone’s can be vastly different!!)

prompt: regina helping you out w/ dysphoria after rumplestiltskin says some crazy transphobic shit (takes place in storybrooke)

i also tried to not actually trigger anyones gender dysph lmaooooo so i do not get specific about it

Rumplestiltskin looked you up and down with a cold stare.

“I believe that you’re to use the women’s bathroom, dearie.” You felt your face go hot with frustration (and maybe even some embarrassment). God dammit. You just wanted to wash your hands in peace. To be quick and quiet was the best option, so you took a deep breath and scrubbed the soap off your hands with much more vigor and velocity than you had just a few seconds before. The water scalded your hands and turned them a little pinker. Mr. Gold scoffed through his nose.

“Even your low pain tolerance agrees that you are not a man, and it’s likely that you never will be.” Silence no longer felt like your best option. You’d come to Storybrooke as soon as your best friend, Aurora had told you that it would be easier to live as yourself, as a man, in a more modern realm. You didn’t consider that Rumplestiltskin would be trying to get under, well, your skin.

You spoke, as lowly as possible, “What would you know about being a man? You sacrifice your relationships for power. What does that make you?” His gaze faltered, and you felt like you had gotten to him. You also felt just a bit concerned for your safety. Gold took a steady breath and a thourough pause.

“I think that makes me a powerful man. At least more powerful than you. Correct? I recall you coming to me for guidance.” You scoffed, but your lip auivered. Seeking help from Rumplestiltskin back in the Enchanted Forest didn’t make you any less of a man. Everyone had at least once looked for help from the Dark One. Before a salty tear could escape your eye, you fled the men’s restroom and stepped foot back into the welcoming, red-and-blue ambience of Granny’s Diner. You released a shaky sigh and looked for your girlfriend.

Regina. There she was. Even the thought of her made your cheeks warm, despite your prior encounter with Gold. She was chatting comfortably with the Charming’s. Your need for your girlfriend’s warmth made you nearly start running towards your table. She spotted you instantly and smiled genuinely. It was clear you were equally enamored with one another.

“Hey, Y/N,” Regina greeted warmly. She noticed how fast you were walking.

“Hey, hey, slow down, it’s okay.” The well-dressed woman placed a hand on your back and guided you to sit beside her in the booth’s cushiony seat, with your leg touching hers. Regina laughed a little at the sight of you adorably speed-walking to the table. Taking a second glance at you, though, she could tell something bothered you. Your girlfriend’s face darkened with concern.

“Did something happen in the bathroom sweetheart?” Her arm wrapped further around you. Her line of sight travelled behind you when Rumplestiltskin came out of the bathroom.

“That son of a bitch.” Gina was livid. She tried to fathom how Rumplestiltskin could have possibly threatened her boyfriend. He could be up to literally anything. The vein above her right brow bulged so severely you thought it’d burst. You had to admit, her anger was hot. You felt her starting to stand up.

“No, no, Gina. It’s really okay,” you reassured. “No magical threats or sketchy deals were made. Promise.” The woman with burgendy lips looked into your eyes to ensure that you told the truth.

“Okay.” She sighed and crossed her arms, then sat down to kiss your cheek. You leaned in happily. The rest of dinner with the Charmings allowed the two of you to forget about Rumplestiltskin.

…

You locked the front door behind you and Regina and were suddenly too aware of your own body. Friendly chatter from Emma, Killian, David, Snow, and Henry filled your ears just minutes ago. And now, the quiet of Regina’s home flooded your mind with the words of Runplestiltskin.

“Hey, Y/N, baby?” Regina had both hands around your cheeks. You were sitting on the couch. You don’t remember moving at all since getting home. “I was asking you about a movie you wanted to watch, but-“

“Yes! Yeah, I’m sorry. We wanted to watch that movie. I’d love to,” you blurted. You gave your lover a half-smile.

“No. Gold said something to you. He’s plaguing your pretty little head,” she cooed. She sat down beside you and provided you with space to talk with her properly. You smiled at the gesture.

“It was nothing new. He said that I’m not a man. I can’t do anything about that. I feel like a man, but I don’t have the parts.” Regina intook your words with great conscience. Her glossy eyes looked into yours. She spoke after contemplating for a moment.

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from this realm, it’s that rules that we used to abide by back home were not laws of nature. They were laws made by people. And people can be so stupid, my love. That means that we, as smarter people, are allowed to live by rules that fit our logic. And according to my logic, you’re a man, sweetheart, regardless of what body you have. I know that because that’s what you’ve told me, that’s how you truly feel, and that’s how I think of you. You are whatever you think yourself to be. I love you for it, my sweet boy.”

“I love you, Gina. Thank you.” She took her time to memorize your handsome face for the thousandth time.

“Can I come close to you?” your lover asked, gently. You nodded and placed your head in her neck. she took you into her arms and stroked your hair.

“I still want to kill him,” Regina confessed. Her sharp words contradicted the gentle pets that she gave you.

You laughed. “Sure, Gina, just not today.” She couldn’t be upset when you were so calm and cute. Regina kissed your head and chuckled into your ear. You loved the sound of her laugh and the smell of her shampoo. Apple. So fitting.

“Okay, not today,” she sighed lightheartedly. “How about that movie?”

…

Soon, you had both showered and gotten ready for bed. There was no better feeling to you than being clean, on the couch, with your girlfriend about to watch a movie. You laid atop her chest while her legs entrapped your middle. Rumplestiltskin’s comments remained forgotten, and you and Regina remained content.

—

Hope this was okay!! Feel free to comment on anything, if anyone sees this. I’m kinda new to actually writing ff

[venus-haze]

Enjoy the Silence (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Art is tragedy, and your role in Vincent’s work is no exception. Still, you wonder what about you particularly inspired him, and if there’s something you can use to your advantage to escape your unknowable yet seemingly omnipresent captor. You don’t know how his work on living subjects started, and as the days go by, you’re not sure you’ll survive to ever see it end.

Note: Has the “being Vincent’s muse” thing been done to hell? Yes. Do I care? No. The reader is a woman in this but no other descriptors are used. Vincent almost exclusively signs, which is indicated by quotes and italics. Vincent is a perv but tells himself it’s in the name of art. There’s a little bit of Bo x Reader if you squint because I can’t help myself. I’ve been listening to Depeche Mode’s 1990 masterpiece Violator a lot recently, which is where the title comes from. I hope I did Vincent justice. If not, I’m always open to feedback! Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Death, murder, kidnapping, prolonged captivity. Psychological and emotional manipulation. Religious references. Stockholm syndrome. Voyeurism. Toxic artist-muse relationship. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion including oral (m receiving), waxplay. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Paris has over 200 miles of deep catacombs, centuries of silent death sprawling beneath the city of love. Ambrose certainly wasn’t Paris, far from it, but it was where you pretended to be as you sat on the musty mattress and watched Vincent work. You could recall reading about a section of the catacombs closed off to the public due to the fragile, ancient bones that were laid to rest there. 

Surely the subterranean, waxen labyrinth of Ambrose must have its own Church of the Innocent, a section to honor the town’s first victims. After all, with the dozens of candles that burned throughout the workshop, if you let your eyes go out of focus for long enough, it almost felt as though you were in a cathedral. With Vincent’s preferred opera music playing softly in your peripheral, the experience was comfortingly spiritual.

While your first few weeks of being in Vincent’s studio, as you’d personally come to refer to it, were nothing short of a nightmare, you had accepted your fate and found that if you didn’t struggle, didn’t fight, Vincent would leave you alone while he worked. There was a day early on where you were convinced he’d kill you like he’d killed your friends. You watched him do it to each of them, one by one–sedated, then killed, and preserved in wax. Your best friend, Gina, was in particularly rough shape when her limp body was brought in by Bo, who shot you a shit-eating grin when he saw the look of horror on your face at Gina’s condition. 

Something in you broke at seeing your best friend in such a state, and for a few hours, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but sob uncontrollably, to Vincent’s dismay. Your cries echoed as he tried to work, and you could see his shoulders tense up when you wailed out a plea for him to kill you. He set down his tools, and just when you thought he had enough, that he was going to go ahead and do it, he pressed his hand to the side of your face, caressing your cheek so gently it shocked you into silence. He brought his pointer finger to the lips of his mask, and it was then you knew he wouldn’t kill you, no matter how much you begged.

As much as you wanted to hate Vincent, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel more than a vague dislike for the man, not when it was much easier to hate Bo. Since you were Vincent’s, you were off-limits to his volatile twin, much to the man’s frustration. You never pushed your luck with Bo. He was too obvious and impulsive, wanting to see you snap so he had an excuse to pull whatever sick shit he did on the women he kept in his dungeon beneath the gas station to you. He left the disturbing photos around the kitchen on purpose, you knew as much when you saw a particularly grotesque one of Gina and threw up in the kitchen sink. Bo had the audacity to saunter in and ask you what was wrong, glee in his eyes as he took in your disgusted expression. 

Still, something about Bo intrigued you, but not nearly enough to go poking around. Vincent didn’t like you spending much time with his twin anyway, seeming to want to keep your interactions with him at a minimum. You certainly weren’t complaining, although things in the studio could get boring when Vincent became engrossed in his work, though there were dozens of books on art and anatomy stacked on tables and shelves, some old and waterlogged, others crusted with wax. For your own sake, you stuck with the art books while Vincent paid you little mind unless you spoke up. Otherwise, Jonesy would be at your side or disappear on her own. It was almost comical how the dog had more freedom than you did.

It helped that you knew some basic signs, as he preferred communicating that way than writing everything to you. In the few weeks you’d been there, you’d managed to pick up on more signs that he used, some that were clearly of his own invention. He never had long conversations with you, and you knew better than to insult a man who could make your life even worse and would take pleasure in doing so. Though you were uncertain of your own future, you at least wanted to make an effort to escape so your friends, especially Gina, didn’t die in vain.

Days seemed to pass at an achingly slow pace when there were no windows to see out of, and you jumped at the opportunity to do some minor chores around the house when Vincent requested it. While you did some minor cleaning and most of the cooking, Vincent was insistent on doing the laundry. You were happy to leave the task to him, not even wanting to figure out how to get the wax out of the various sweaters he wore. The laundry room could hardly be considered such, more of a closet with space for the washer, dryer, and one person standing inside. It seemed like one of the appliances had issues, because whenever you walked past the small room when Vincent did laundry, you’d overhear him groaning. You figured you weren’t handy enough to offer him help, anyway.

For all of the time you spent in Vincent’s basement studio, you rarely saw Bo down there. You were making lunch, using half a loaf of bread to make sandwiches for you, Vincent, and Bo when the man only commented for you to not use too much mustard on his when he sped past you and downstairs. 

You set down the spoon you’d been using to spread the condiments—Bo had hidden the knives when Vincent first granted you access to the kitchen—and creeped over to the top of the stairs. Chewing your bottom lip, you strained to hear what Bo was telling Vincent. It sounded mostly mundane, details about how the town was running and some of the wax figures that needed repairs. You shuddered to think what that involved. 

Just as you were going to backtrack and finish making lunch, the conversation shifted to you. Of course, Bo had nothing to say but complain about your presence in the house, as if you had decided of your own volition to move in and inconvenience them. Your eye roll quickly turned into shock when you heard how much further he was taking things.

“You’re tellin’ me you’ve had this bitch for weeks and you ain’t fucked her yet?”

Silence.

“Then what’s the hold up?”

Silence.

“Your muse? You’re keepin’ around another mouth to feed for some art bullshit?”

You gasped upon hearing a crash.

“Jesus. Fine. It’s your fuckin’ funeral.”

You resumed making the sandwiches, considering the implications of what you’d just heard. The relationship between artist and muse was always volatile and dangerously intimate. Human nature being what it was, either party would inevitably end up heartbroken or gone mad. What artist wouldn’t give everything for a muse who could never leave, never have dreams of their own, never be with someone else? 

From the art books you’d read in Vincent’s studio to pass the time while he worked, you could think of a few, Claudel and Rodin, Miller and Ray, Marr and Picasso—none of which ended on what you’d consider good terms. There was an inherent tragedy to art, yours just looked different. Though, you had no doubt the artist-muse relationship you had with Vincent would end any less than violently. 

Perhaps you could use it to your advantage, manipulate the relationship to escape Ambrose. Vincent immersed himself in his art, denying himself companionship in favor of it until recently. Something must have shifted emotionally or psychologically for him to seek out a muse in you of all people. Loneliness could turn into desperation with the right push. 

There was no way for you to know what Vincent looked like beneath his mask. Though you knew he and Bo were twins, conjoined by the head at birth until their father performed the surgery that separated them, there were no maskless photos of him anywhere to be found. For a child prodigy who was clearly his mother’s favorite, there was still a clear sense of shame regarding his appearance. While Vincent didn’t indicate that he held on to any of the religious beliefs he was brought up with, the dogma of suffering as holy, pain as good and righteous, could cast a long shadow over a person’s psyche long after they leave the faith.

You ignored Bo when he walked upstairs, doing your best to disguise your knowledge of the conversation he’d just had with his brother. Wordlessly, you slid a plate across the counter to him. He grabbed one of the two sandwiches that sat on it, taking a bite and apparently finding it to his satisfaction.

“Least you’re good for somethin’,” he said, his mouth full.

To your relief, he brought his food into the living room, turning on the TV. Carefully, you grabbed both your and Vincent’s plates, praying none of the sandwiches fell off the plates as you walked down stairs, easier said than done when Jonesy jumped up on you as soon as she smelled the food. She didn’t listen when you pleaded for her to get down, but Vincent signed such to her, and the dog made a displeased whine but relented. 

“I made lunch,” you said, setting Vincent’s plate down on the nearest clear surface. “I’m not sure if you’re hungry.”

He was silent, unmoving for a moment before he nodded his head in thanks. You knew he wouldn’t eat in front of you, reluctant to take his mask off unless entirely necessary. Though you wouldn’t pry, you were genuinely curious as to what he looked like beneath the mask. Was it really that bad?

“Well, let me know when you’re done so I can get your plate and wash up,” you said, walking over to one of the crowded worktables, where you had no view on Vincent.

You weren’t alone for long, Jonesy right on your trail and staring at you as you began to eat. It was your own doing, you’d gotten into the habit of feeding her from your plate to win her favor not long after Vincent abducted you. It didn’t do anything to help your case, but at least she liked you. Though you tried to eat slowly, you ended up finishing your lunch in a few minutes, giving Jonesy some of the leftover crust. She left your side not long after that.

A chair scraped across the floor, and you heard Vincent’s familiar steps. He didn’t acknowledge you when you called out for him and asked if he was finished eating, his footsteps becoming increasingly distant. When you couldn’t hear him walking anymore, you got up to collect his plate.

He ate most of what you’d made, but his sketchbook next to it caught your attention. Despite being the subject of what you assumed was most of the drawings in it, he never let you actually look inside and see what he’d drawn. Anytime you’d try to sneak a glance at it, he’d pull it away, guarding it almost jealously. 

There it was, out in the open. He must have meant to return quickly from wherever he walked off to if he left it lying around like that. Sure, it was his, and you shouldn’t have been violating his privacy, but you justified it as he did plenty of sketches of you in the shower, anyway. It’d make you even, about time you finally got to see what you assumed were strictly artistic nudes. Still, you weren’t sure when you’d get another opportunity to look inside. You glanced behind your shoulder before grabbing it. 

When you flipped open the sketchbook, you were in awe at the detail that went into the drawings. The first few pages were of different people, but as the pages went on, all you saw was yourself—in various poses, states of undress, and pleasure. Your eyes widened as you came across the first of dozens of erotic drawings Vincent had done. It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, all things considered.

The first time you had showered in the Sinclair house was the most oddly intimate experience you ever had. You weren’t allowed in most parts of the house alone for a while, and that hadn’t changed much over time. When you were first brought to Vincent’s studio, you desperately wanted time to yourself, to be alone instead of spending every waking moment with your captor. A few days after you had reluctantly come to terms with your situation, you requested a shower. You were relieved when he acquiesced with a hesitant nod. To your bewilderment, however, he followed you into the bathroom. Your confusion grew as you noticed the pencil and sketchbook in his hand as he sat on the closed toilet lid, motioning for you to undress and go ahead with your shower.

Humiliation had rushed through you when you attempted to pull the shower curtain closed, and instead he held it in place. You tried to give yourself some form of unrealistic modesty, maneuvering your hands to cover yourself as best as you could while thoroughly cleaning your body for the first time in a week. Your heart had been pounding as you lathered shampoo in an attempt to get the dried blood out of your hair. Your exposure was unavoidable, and you tried not to look in his direction. 

Vincent was always quiet, save for the few grunts and groans you’d heard him make in his studio. You could only hear the faint sound of pencil on paper over the rush of water hitting grimy tile. 

Of course, as soon as you had turned the water off, his head shot up from his sketchbook, and your eyes met his, at least, what you figured were his eyes through the mask. You’d lowered your gaze, sheepishly asking him to hand you a towel. 

He offered you his hand as you stepped out of the shower after drying yourself off, and your skin felt especially warm at the contact in the cold bathroom. You noticed pajamas set on the counter, not yours, but they looked about your size, at least. For a brief moment, you had wondered about the clothing’s previous owner. 

When you’d reached out to grab the clothes, he placed his hand over them, and you looked at him in confusion until he began dressing you. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed your bare body, grazing up your thighs as he pulled a pair of panties up your legs. 

He always dressed you, but you hadn’t realized he was using the opportunity to study your body more closely, not just for art’s sake, but for his own gratification. It was perverse, but what could you expect in such a place, a monument to death and destruction disguised as creation. The sculptures weren’t his, he stole them, the bodies of other people that he manipulated to his vision. He was doing the same to you.

Your stomach churned, yet you flipped one more page and were greeted with a drawing of you–and Vincent. Your figure was nude, as usual, while his form was draped in a cloth. His body was leaned against yours as you held him against your bare torso, your somber eyes raised to the smoky sky he’d drawn above you. He only drew his profile, one side of his face hidden in the softness of your breast. Even then, he didn’t seem to portray himself with any specific features besides his long, dark hair. Though you recognized the painting he was invoking in his recreation, the name escaped you as you stared at the haunting drawing, a warped version of the original’s spirituality.

Before you could turn the page, the sketchbook was ripped from your hands and slammed onto the table. You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you and Vincent. You didn’t have to see his face to know he wasn’t pleased with your snooping. An explanation escaped you as you opened and closed your mouth, hoping he wouldn’t do anything rash. 

“Why am I your muse?” you asked.

To your surprise, he hesitated before signing. “You were there.”

“What do you mean? Where was I?”

“There.”

You opened your mouth to inquire further, but the horrifying truth dawned on you. There wasn’t anything special about you, nothing in particular that stood out when he first saw you. Vincent wanted a muse, and you just happened to be the member of your group within his reach, in the right place at the right time for him to try out, see if you were a good fit. You were expendable, a medium with which he could create to his desire, to his vision, just like everyone else. Your legs seemed to give out on you as your brain fogged with the realization that it was pointless—all of the speculation and sleepless nights trying to make sense of your situation and get an upper-hand. 

Before you could hit the ground, Vincent held you up, bringing you over to the bed. You sat on the edge of the mattress, and he looked down, head tilted as if he weren’t sure how to regard you. You dug your nails into your palms, releasing before you could break skin, though you desperately wanted to. He ruined your life, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. You didn’t even know what he looked like. 

“Let me see you,” you begged. “Please, let me see you.”

Instead of gracing you with a response, he brushed his thumb against your pleading lips and gently pushed his finger into your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you began to suck on his thumb, moreso when you heard him elicit a deep groan exactly like the one you'd overheard in the laundry room. You couldn’t believe you’d been so fucking stupid before—appliance troubles, he was getting off to your dirty laundry. As if his violating you from afar made him any better than his brother, who was unabashed about his violating your best friend. You were no better off than Gina had been. 

Gina. God, what would she be thinking if she saw you just taking it. She was always a fighter, standing up for you on more than one occasion. Even Bo had commented on it when he was taunting you. Yet you couldn't even fulfill the promise you had made to yourself to escape and expose what was going on in Ambrose so her death wasn’t in vain. 

You cried harder, drool pooling in the corners of your lips as Vincent pushed his thumb further into your mouth. Tears clouded your vision as you tried looking at him, towering above you. It wasn’t fair. Your body had been exposed to him, and you had no idea what he looked like.

He groaned again, his long hair falling into his face. As he kept pumping his finger in your mouth, you were practically eye-level with the tent in his pants. His free hand grabbed his crotch, and you whimpered, causing his hips to jerk. 

When he pulled his thumb out of your mouth, you were dizzy, letting out a shaky breath that turned into sobs again. You half expected him to unzip his pants and shove his hard cock in your mouth. Instead, he looked down at you with a blown out eye, panting at the sight of you.

“Let me see you,” you croaked. 

He turned away, disappearing into the labyrinth beneath the town, leaving you, covered in spit and tears, on your own. You let out a hopeless wail that echoed pathetically back.

Taking a few minutes to pull yourself together, you didn’t want to get up from where you were sitting on the mattress, preferring to curl up in a ball and cry until you fell asleep. He owned you, that much was evident. Even if you could use his physical attraction to you to get some kind of freedom, he was stronger than you, with no issue using your body as an object for his personal and artistic gratification. 

Though you felt numb and empty, you managed to push yourself onto your feet, slowly making your way upstairs into the kitchen. You didn’t want to go to the bathroom and see your appearance, opting instead to wash your face at the kitchen sink. The cold water didn’t make you feel any better as you splashed it on your face, drops falling down your neck and into your shirt. 

When you dried your face off with a paper towel, you sniffled as you tried not to cry again. Hearing the TV volume turn down from the living room didn’t make you feel any better, knowing Bo was on his way into the kitchen with some comment to make you feel even worse.  

“You ain’t got a scratch on ya, and you’re cryin’ about somethin’,” Bo said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“Can you please just save it?” you mumbled.

He rolled his eyes as he cracked open the can. “Who shoved a stick up your ass? And don’t say my brother, ‘cause Vincent ain’t got the balls to fuck you like he should’ve done already.”

“And you would’ve?”

He grinned, stalking toward you until his face was dangerously close to yours. “I thought I already gave you an idea of what I did to your little friend. What makes you think I would’ve shown you any less hospitality?”

You studied Bo’s features in your proximity to him, wondering if Vincent wore that same, sick grin beneath his mask when he had his thumb in your mouth just a few minutes earlier. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on you.

“You ain’t the least bit curious? We’re twins, after all,” Bo whispered.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d moved in closer, close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your swollen lips. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t, darlin’.”

Shit. You remembered why you and your friends were so quick to trust him in the first place, all smiles and giggles as he put you at ease with his charm that he could turn on and off at will. Just a friendly, small town mechanic looking to help a group of friends down on their luck. 

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Well, whattya got to lose?”

You didn’t move as you glanced at his mouth. He could make you do it. It’d take no effort at all for him to force you into a kiss, but that’d take the fun out of this whole thing for him. You had to make a move for him to win the game.

He had a point. It wasn’t like you had much to lose, giving up on your life not long after you got into town. In the split second before you decided whether or not to give in, a loud bang made you jump back.

Vincent stood on the other side of the kitchen, his fists clenched as he stared at you and Bo. Your heart crashed back down to earth, heavy in your stomach as you looked between the brothers. A suffocating silence filled the room, until Bo stood up from the counter he was leaning against, taking a few steps forward so he was almost between you and Vincent.

“C’mon, Vin, don’t be like that,” Bo said in a good-natured tone that could only make things worse. “I’m just keepin’ your muse company, ain’t that right, doll?” 

You didn’t have a chance to respond, as Vincent quickly closed the distance between you. He grabbed you by the arm, pulling you away from Bo and toward the basement. For as much as you’d wanted to see his face before, in that instance you were glad you couldn’t, if his unforgiving grip on your arm was any indication of his anger. You could see his eye through his mask, though, a stormy blue as he narrowed his gaze at his brother, still smug as he took a swig of his beer.

The faint sound of the TV in the living room was the only thing breaking the tense silence, though you wished it were anything but the stupid Zoobooks commercial playing–at a time like this? Would the last thing you ever hear before Vincent turns you to wax be fucking Zoobooks? 

He tightened his grip on your arm, practically dragging you downstairs and back to his studio. Your lip trembled as you saw the table where Vincent prepared his subjects to be preserved. He pulled you past it, though, down the corridor he’d disappeared to earlier. 

He sat you down in a wooden chair next to his work station where he, thankfully, was working on a non-human wax sculpture, a statue of a saint from the church, though you’d never been inside the building yourself. Your gaze was fixed on his hands as they flexed in and out of fists balled at his side. Finally, he lifted his hands to sign, “Stay away from him.”

“He approached me.”

He scoffed, and you resisted the urge to argue further. Instead, he sat down and went back to sculpting, you felt numb, even as Jonesy nudged your hand with her wet nose. There was no way to know what Vincent was thinking, no facial cues or ticks for you to pick up on. His mask made him cold and unknowable, which frightened you more than anything Bo could do. 

The next few days, you were on edge, careful around Vincent and making a conscious effort to avoid his twin. Between the two of them, you knew escaping was a long shot. It was easier to abandon hope, and your best friend’s memory with it, than you expected. Besides, being Vincent’s muse wouldn’t be anything like being Bo’s—whatever the fuck you could call that.

Though Vincent was more open about his art with you, even showing you how to make small wax sculptures or your own, he would tense up every time he so much as heard his twin. When you’d go upstairs to prepare food, Vincent now accompanied you, and the elaborate dish you were hoping to make turned into a hastily thrown-together mess when Bo walked in from his day at the gas station. Vincent spirited you away not long after, and you didn’t exactly buy that he suddenly had inspiration for a drawing.

Still, you acquiesced, hesitant when he elaborated that his artistic vision involved you posing nude. It was the first time you did so outside of the typical shower setting. Though he’d seen so much of you already, you were embarrassed when you rid yourself of your clothes, especially when he walked over, placing his hands on your bare limbs to put you in an uncomfortable pose.

Despite the eternal furnaces that seemed to be running in the basement to keep the wax melted, you were freezing in your nakedness, unable to stop yourself from shivering in addition to the way your muscles strained at how he had you posed.

He slammed his pencil down on the page as he angrily signed, “Stay still.” 

“I can’t,” you whined. 

Ripping the page out of the sketchbook and throwing the crumpled ball on the ground, he stormed over to you. Though you braced yourself for a blow, you found him repositioning you in a different pose, one that wasn’t as hard on your limbs, but nonetheless exposed and vulnerable. 

He took a few steps back, shaking his head at your new pose. Looking around the room, he seemed to find the missing thing that would bring his vision to life. There were dozens of candles burning in the studio, and he picked up a white one, walking over to you. 

Your lips betrayed you, a moan escaping them as he poured the hot wax over your bare breasts. He froze, staring down at the milky-colored liquid as it hardened on your soft skin. A switch flipped in him, and he tipped the candle again. This time, you whimpered at the sensation, your skin stinging, but this seemed to be enough for him, as he set the candle aside with shaking hands.

“Let me see you,” you pleaded softly.

“No. Stop asking.”

“You’ve seen me, even the parts I don’t like,” you said. “I’m not scary.”

“I am.”

“So what would change?”

He sighed, shooting you a glare through his mask. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll—“

To your surprise, he grabbed his mask, lifting it from his face. His eye was squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t bear to see what he assumed would be the disgusted expression that spread across your face at the sight of his own. 

The state of his face was shocking, and you’d underestimated the extent of how much it would be scarred and disfigured, but you felt more pity than repulsion. His stillness was what unnerved you, as if he were holding his breath in preparation for your reaction, like you’d scream and call him a monster or a freak, like he was afraid of you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head.

“That’s good,” you said softly. “Can I–”

He opened his eye to see you reach for him, letting out what sounded like a whimper when your hand make contact with his scarred skin. You caressed his cheek as he’d so often done to you before.

“Is this alright?” you asked, though he’d leaned into your touch.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice strained and raspy before he signed, “Need you.”

“I’m right here.”

It wasn’t until he pulled you flush against his body that you noticed his erection, pressing hard against your exposed skin. You looked at him, the longing and desperation in his expression was almost romantic. Maybe you could pretend, just for a few seconds, that you were there by choice. Slowly, you leaned in, softly pressing your lips to his, the scarred side of his face an odd sensation against yours, but he quickly took your face in his hands, kissing you harder. 

When you pulled away slightly, overwhelmed by the fervor he was kissing you with, his lips followed yours, a gentle chase by a predator starved for your touch. His tongue slipped between your lips when you opened your mouth slightly, though there was a hesitation to his actions, as if he didn’t know what to expect once he got this far. It was sweet, endearing even, this vulnerability from a man who otherwise had so much power over you. Gently guiding him, you couldn’t help but smile a bit as he moaned. 

You quickly found it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He finally allowed you to pull away from his lips. His gaze was focused as you tried to catch your breath. Of course, just a kiss wasn’t enough for him. He’d tasted blood, and he wanted more. 

He pulled off his sweater, revealing his torso, strong, pale, and littered with dozens of scars all varying in size and color. From the way he looked at you, it was easy to pick up on what he wanted you to do next, and as you pressed feather-light kisses to his bare skin, you wondered if it were the first time he’d ever been intimate with anyone. Sure, he could have had his way with past victims, expertly immobilizing them so he could get his pound of flesh before their transformation into the newest member of the town’s population, but that was cold, distant, uninspired, a cheap substitution for the way your mouth was worshiping his body. 

His cock strained against his pants, and he couldn’t take it anymore—the friction, the anticipation, you. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, he pulled his hard cock from under the fabric, the slightest smirk spreading across his face as your eyes widened, hesitant and a bit frightened at the size of him. Pumping himself with his hand, he used his other hand to push you to your knees. Though you tried to hide it, he didn’t miss how you squeezed your thighs together. 

The dried, white wax on your breasts from just a few minutes earlier made it look like he’d already cum on your chest, and he moaned at the thought, pulling a little harder on his cock before pressing the leaking head against your lips. 

Vincent was not a vocal lover, as you hesitantly referred to him, only offering grunts and groans as you licked his cock just before taking it in your mouth. He was bigger than what you were used to, and you were careful not to choke, easier said than done when the warmth of your mouth, your soft tongue stimulating his hard length, made him buck his hips and you gagged at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You looked up at him, his head thrown back in pleasure, his long, black hair sticking to his skin. 

When he looked down at you, making eye contact, you felt like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, a suspicious and almost accusatory expression on his face that almost made you pull away from his cock. He remembered the scene he’d walked in on just a handful of days before, you and Bo so close, your noses practically touching, the gleam in his twin’s eyes like he wanted to eat you alive. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he roughly grabbed you by the hair and took control of the pace, no intention of going easy on you. He had to make up for lost time, after all, years of isolation, loneliness, and self-loathing until you came along, ready for the taking and far more compliant than he had expected. 

The sight of you, kneeling before him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you took what he gave you, made him almost believe in god again, almost. The soft light of the candles burning throughout the studio reflected off of the sheen of sweat on your skin, you were practically glowing. Perhaps he was letting his emotions get the better of him, his first truly intimate experience with a woman clouding his senses, but he could let himself get lost in it, just this once and every time afterward. You were his muse, that was what you were there for, after all. He wanted you to fear him, reverently, passionately—be not afraid, from the mouths of monstrous looking angels.

You almost sighed in relief when he pulled his cock out of your mouth, throat and jaw aching from the unrelenting attention. He took his cock in his hand, pumping it, wet and slick with precum and saliva, until he climaxed on your breasts. His cum was nearly indistinguishable from the wax that littered your skin, complimenting the faint, raised burns left in the wake of the liquid’s heat when it was first poured onto you. Though you moved to get up, you found yourself being pushed back down again.

“Stay still,” he signed, his hand a bit shaky as he did so.

When you didn’t move, your hands resting above your knees as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a tired, twisted grin before reaching for his sketchbook and getting to work. Numbness overtook your senses, and you had no idea how much time had passed when Vincent finally put down his pencil to help you onto your feet. 

He sat you on the mattress, its softness a relief from the floor you’d been kneeling on for god knows how long. When he made the sign for shower, an inquiry as to whether you wanted one, all you could do was stare at the sketchbook that was still in his hand. Your pleasure, your comfort, wasn’t even an afterthought, while his was a priority. With an exhausted exhale, you allowed him to drape you in a blanket and lead you upstairs.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 10 (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I bare you an angsty distraction for the day <3. I'm not going to add my Ko-Fi to this post because I want you to keep your money and use it today to do something that brings you peace.

This is your sign to go buy that venti cup of coffee, buy that book you've been wanting to read, or get that shirt you've been eyeing at the store. Go...be <3.

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, of the rougher variety (they are letting off some steam), belt as handcuffs, after care always <3, FLUFF, they love her and she loves them

ANGST *does disco arms on a dance floor of angst*

Mediation begins so we get more insight on Gina, I don't go into detail of her claims (it doesn't matter anyway cause she be lyin!), the guys take her to an event where someone flirts with her (its someone they know and HATE), Y/N insists the guys use her since they've been keeping things in, near the end they talk about why they've been afraid to be rough with her when they are upset, go into a bit more of their relationship with her, cliffhanger ending (because I can :)) but I think you'll like this one.

Word Count: 5199

Series Here

This was a new experience for you when it came to the two men that you loved. 

Today was the day of their mediation to hopefully get things resolved without having to fully go to court. They were dressed from head to toe in their more formal attire with Eddie’s hair pulled back into a ponytail and Steve’s fluffy mane slicked back away from his face. 

Originally they didn’t want you to go but at the last minute the rockstar insisted stating that he didn’t want to hide any of this from you like they had tried to before.

“Like we said, sweetheart, we told you everything but she’s probably going to get a bit more specific about certain things… we never did the things she claimed but we also weren’t exactly good men.”

When Gina and her lawyers came in they both straightened up immediately. 

You couldn’t deny she was a beautiful woman with her long brown hair and fit physique that squeezed a bit too perfectly in her short pink dress that cut off just above her knee. For some reason you were under the impression that she was closer to your age but now that you were able to see her face to face you realized she was closer to theirs. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room till they landed on you sitting quietly in the back closer to their side. 

As she grinned wide and rose to her feet so did Steve before both lawyers grabbed each person’s wrist and mumbled something while Gina smirked his way. Even after she took her seat again it took the mogul a few more moments before he finally did the same. 

Someone you assumed was a judge or at least in charge started to speak and read out instruction for this particular review. The entire time he spoke, their ex watched them like a lion waiting for prey. She was playing a game she intended to win even if it meant hurting them in the process. 

##############

A couple of days after the mediation, both men were barely in the apartment and when they were you didn’t want to push them. Occasionally, your hand would tenderly run along Steve’s shoulders as he worked and in response he would grab your palm to kiss the back before letting you go to focus again. When you noticed Eddie smoking on the balcony in his sweats but no jacket, you would bring one out to him but as you turned to go back inside, he would wrap his arms around you, bringing your back to his chest as he held you tightly. 

Tonight was an event they couldn’t ignore, hardly covering their distain as their stylist and her team came over to dress them and you up for the evening. 

Just as they had before when you stepped out of the bedroom, both men froze as their eyes took you in. Since this wasn’t exactly an elegant affair, Stephanie had you in a red dress that clung to your curves, showing off your arms and chest a bit more than you were used to. 

“What do you think?”, you ask as you smooth the material around your stomach. “I’ve never worn something that showed off my upper half like this.”

“You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”, Eddie exhaled breathlessly as he stepped forward to caress your cheek making your eyes flutter at the intoxicating cologne that surrounded him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, baby. I just…is there a sweater or jacket, Steph?”

The ever gentleman he was, Steve started to remove his own suit jacket before the stylist stepped forward to hand you a matching shawl to wrap around your shoulders. 

“Thank you.”

The mogul softly smiled your way as he tilted down to kiss your forehead. 

“You look beautiful, honey. We need to get you a necklace or something that you can wear. Not that it matters right now, I mean you look breathtaking as is. I was just—”

“Steve!”, you giggle as his friend lightly shoves his arm. “I knew what you meant.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly light up as he abruptly runs towards the hallway and turns into what was once his old bedroom but was now being used as a place for him to play and record his music. Beaming widely, he saunters back down the hallway with his hands behind his back. 

“Close your eyes.” Biting your lip, you do as he says, smiling just as widely as he had when you felt something cool and flat touch your chest. “I wore this in high school but obviously my jewelry game has gotten WAY better.”, he chuckles and backs away from you. 

Glancing down, you fingers hold up the red guitar pick that was attached to the chain now clasped around your neck. 

“We’ll obviously buy you some more prettier things but—”

Your lips cut him off before you tilt back and wipe away the lipstick that remained. 

“This is perfect, Eddie, thank you.”

***

You weren’t sure what to expect this time around now that people knew you were with them but unless they said any different, you were going to do as you did before. This was their territory not yours and they knew how to navigate the sea of fame better then you ever could. 

“Did you want to take pictures or would you rather wait inside?”, Steve asked as they waited in line to enter the building. 

“You’d take pictures with me?”

His eyes blinked as if you asked one of the most complicated questions he had ever heard. 

“Of course, baby, but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I…I just…I don’t know what to do…”

“You just stand there and look beautiful, princess.”, Eddie grinned.

“I don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”

“What makes you think you would?” When you shrugged, the mogul saw the confidence they loved so much about you slowly receding from your eyes for fear of ruining something you perceived as important to them. His large palms cup your cheeks as he brings your lips to his and the sound of cameras clicking fill your ears. “All that matters to me is you.”

Photographers scream their names as cameras continue to go off but neither of them moves except for Eddie who leans down to kiss you as well. 

“We can just walk right passed and go inside. You hold all the power here, baby girl, but no matter what we aren’t doing this…”, he gestures towards the reporters. “…without you.”

Nodding, you take each boy’s hand and allow them to take over as they stand beside you to pose for photos. Occasionally the rockstar whispered something in your ear to make you laugh that helps to calm your nerves as your smile stretches wide across your face. 

“Mr. Munson, how are you feeling today? You look so happy!”, an interviewer asked enthusiastically. 

“Thank you. I am, I am. I’m here with my best friend and this beautiful angel, I mean…”, he chuckles as you blush. “…I’m an incredibly lucky man.”

“How are you tonight, Y/N? You do look exceptionally beautiful! Let’s get a double take here.”, she encourages as you step back and Steve spins you 360 to show off your dress. 

“Thank you so much. I’m good. I’m nervous. You’re my first ever interview so… you look gorgeous to. I love your earrings.”, you praise as she playfully shows them off for the camera behind her. 

‘Oh, you’re so sweet. I look forward to many more interactions in the future.”

While you three step closer to the door something catches the mogul’s eye that has him tugging at his friend’s sleeve before both men pull you inside. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, baby, you did amazing.”, he whispers as he leans down to kiss your cheek. 

***

Something in their mood changed as soon as you guys were finally in the building and sitting at the table as drinks were being served. On the walk there, they didn’t let you drift too far, sticking by your side as they or you spoke to people around you. 

While you were eating, they seemed to always have some part of their body on yours and seemed to be knocking back the champagne a bit more than you were. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast.”, you whisper as you get to your feet. 

“I’ll walk you—”

“Eddie, baby.”, you say as you place your palm on his shoulder to keep him seated. “I don’t need an escort to pee, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He didn’t seem at all calmed especially when you felt both their eyes watch you as disappeared down the hallway. After finishing your needs and adjusting the rockstar’s necklace around you, you give yourself one final pep talk as you head back into the fray. 

“Ow!”

“Shit! Oh my god. I am so sorry! Are you alright?”, you ask frantically as you try to consol the young man you accidently hit with the bathroom door. “God, I’m such mess.”

“Ah, no, no worries. I’m alright. Got me pretty good there though.”, the boy chuckled as his palm rubbed his nose before taking note of your worried demeanor. “It’s ok. I’m seriously alright, see? I’d have lost my contract a long time ago if I couldn’t take a few hits. I’m Roman, Roman Hart.”, he grins as he extends his palm for you to shake. 

As you provide him with your name the man laughs a bit harder. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“No? Should I?”

“I’m a quarterback for the New York football team.”

“Ah! Ok, yeah, still have no idea who you are.”, you giggle. “I’m not really into sports and the few players I do recognize are from my hometown. Well, it was nice meeting you and again, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“No worries.”, he grins. “May I walk you back to your seat? Maybe, we can get to know each other a bit more and you can tell me your favorite guitarist.”

As he reaches out to delicately touch the guitar pick on your chest, something in his tone rubs you the wrong way as your smile falls.

“I’m ok, Mr. Hart, but I appreciate the offer.” 

Swiftly turning to leave him behind, you bump into a broad chest that’s heavy breathing with anger and glance up to see Steve’s furious features. 

“What are you doing, Roman?”

“Hey, Steve. How are—”

“WHAT are you doing!?”

“Jesus, old man. Take a breath.” At the man’s dismissive tone, the mogul started to step forward but you hastily put yourself between them as you place your palm on his chest. “This beautiful woman here hit me in the face with the door on accident and we were just talking.”

“Bullshit. Did she put you up to this?”

“Well, someone’s paranoid.”

“And someone’s a little bitch.”, Eddie growled the quarterback’s way as he came up behind his friend. “Didn’t think you were manipulatable enough to do Gina’s bidding.”

At his words, Roman’s eyes squint as he glares at the rockstar. 

“You’re the football player she cheated on them with.”, you breathe as your own eyes close in frustration. 

“Is it cheating when she’s already fucking two guys? I guess not since she said you two could barely get it up for her let alone satisfy her.”, he sassed, this time causing Eddie to step towards him. 

“No.”, you scolded in your teacher tone hoping that was stronger than your arms because you were struggling to hold both men in their place. “Go away. There’s nothing I want from her or you.”

“She’s been wanting to talk to you.”

“Then she needs to stop sending men to do her bidding and come talk to me but again there’s nothing I want or need from her.”

“Gina said she wanted to talk to you the other day but…”, he pauses as he glances at Steve. 

“Come on, guys, let’s go home.”, you murmur as try to push them back but they don’t budge. “Please… he’s trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t let him win.”

It takes a few seconds before the mogul finally turns around and begins to stomp down the hallway as the rockstar grips your hand. 

“If you come near her again, it won’t be a door that hits you in the face.”, Eddie threatened as Roman grinned and winked your way.

#################

“Can we talk?”, you ask as Eddie veers towards the kitchen to grab a beer and Steve starts to take off his suit jacket as he heads towards the bedroom. 

“We’ll talk about it later, Y/N.”

“I want to talk about it now, Steven.” At your words, he heavily exhales as he turns to face you. “I’ve given you two space these past few days but this was a big deal. She overstepped a boundary by doing this.”

“Ok, honey. Agreed. Now what?”, he responded sarcastically as he shrugged. 

You blinked as your gaze shifted between both men as Eddie came up to your side.

“You don’t have to hold it in. It’s ok to be angry. I told you if you needed to throw a tantrum or vent, you could. I know the word.”

“We’re not angry, Y/N.”, the rockstar sighs and your jaw clenches. 

“Really? You’re not angry at all that she sent the man she cheated on you with to come speak with me? The same man she was caught fucking in a car by paparazzi because she was so brazen about her infidelity yet hid her relationship with you both?” As you spoke, Eddie’s fist clenched tighter around the glass in his hand while Steve placed his hands on his hips as they glared your way.

“You aren’t angry that he said you two could never satisfy her even though you went out of your way to make her happy? Or the fact that at that hearing the other day, she had the audacity to giggle her way through her testimony while saying things like how she never imagined you, Eddie, could hurt her because of how you talked about your mom or, Steve, how you manipulated her the way your dad did by giving his side pieces better jewelry and things than you ever gave her.”

Slowly sauntering forward, you place yourself directly in front Eddie’s chest as his eyes blaze down into yours. 

“You aren’t angry that Roman touched my skin with his fingers; my body that belongs to you two and only you?”, you murmur as your palm rubs his chest through the opening in his button up shirt before backing away to find home in front of Steve. “It’s not only the fact that he touched me but that he wasn’t afraid to do it. He thought he’d get away with it no matter what because you’re ‘old men’ who can’t satisfy a woman…especially a young woman like me.

The tip of your nose caressed his as your words landed breathily against his lips. 

“Hm. Well, I guess you’re more mature than me because I’m furious I can’t make her stop hurting you the way she does.”

Flashing them a soft smile, you start to walk away but Steve’s fingers around your wrist give you pause as he pulls you back to crash his mouth to your own. There’s a fever behind it that has you moaning as Eddie comes up behind you to unzip your dress and tug it down your frame. 

You tear at the mogul’s shirt and he pants as you sloppily kiss down his chest. Tilting down to pick you up, he throws you over his shoulder and you watch as the rockstar removes pieces of his own suit as he trails behind, tossing them to the floor without a care.

After throwing you onto the bed, you watched as Steve unbuckled his belt and handed it to his friend who quickly bound your wrists above your head as the other man’s face fell in-between your legs. 

“Fuck, Daddy.”, you whined as you pulled on your restraints, desperate to run your fingers through his hair while his tongue and mouth devoured your pussy like a man possessed. Eddie leaned over your body to hand his friend something but it didn’t take you long to realize what it was as the sound of buzzing filled the room and vibration from the wand was pressed against your clit. “Oh…my…”

“Atta girl.”, the rockstar cooed as he took hold of your ankles to help keep your legs open and in the air. “We know how to take care of you, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm.”, you groaned as Steve’s tongue moved faster in and out of your entrance. 

“Do you think we’re too old, little girl?”

“No, Daddy. I’ve never—mmph—I’ve never thought that.”

“Do you think someone your own age can fuck you better than us?!”

“Never, Daddy. No one—fuck I’m gonna cum—no one fucks me like you two.”

Your legs tremble in Eddie’s grasp as the coil snaps and the mogul presses the wand harder against your clit to elongate your high. As your legs fall to the bed, Steve unbuttons his slacks and frees his cock, leaning down to spit directly into your hole before guiding himself inside you.

“Say that again.”, he rumbles.

“No one fucks me like you two, Daddy.”

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“You two, Daddy.”

His large palm wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as his hips roughly snap, punching a sharp grunt from your lips. 

“WHO does this pussy belong to?”

“Ah! Steve and Eddie!”

“That’s right. Say it again.”, Steve growls as his rhythm quickens.

“M-My pussy belongs to—fuck—Steve Harrington and E-Eddie Munson!”

The mogul fell fully on top of you as he pounded his cock deep inside you with a rough abandon that had you wincing a couple of times.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to fucking kill him when I saw his hands on you. If you—oh my god—if you hadn’t stopped me I’d have put him the fucking hospital. No one fucking touches you like that except us.”

“No…one…baby…Fuck me…harder, Steve. I can…handle it.”

Pushing up on his knees, he took hold of the wand again and pressed it to your puffy nub, smirking a bit to himself as he watched you squirm. 

Ringed fingers gripped your hair and as you turned your head you were met with Eddie’s cock. Opening wide, you allowed him entry between your parted lips and he was anything but gentle as he thrust his hips. 

You whimpered around him and they knew you were close to the edge proving them right when your pussy clenched around Steve’s dick like a vice especially when the rockstar held you still to choke around his length. 

You panted when he finally pulled away and the mogul grunted loudly as he slammed his release aggressively into your cunt till he was empty. 

They didn’t allow you a second to breathe as Eddie seamlessly flipped you over and placed his entire frame on top of your back before he shifted his waist a bit and you felt his cock effortlessly slid into your aching pussy. 

With one hand around your neck and the other underneath you gripping one of your breasts, he remained close to you, absorbing you with his weight as he roughly rolled his hips. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Y-You’d never hurt us like that would you? You’d never cheat on--”

“N-Never, Daddy. Mmm—I love you so much…both of you. H-H-Harder, Eddie. Use me.”

The man’s hold on you tightens as he honors your statement and pumps into you so hard the bed underneath you shakes. 

Your orgasm crashes like a rouge wave and you scream their title before you’re abruptly rolled onto your back as the rockstar grunts and climbs up your body to shove his cock down your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut as you allow him to use your mouth till you feel his release hit your tongue and you swallow every drop. 

As soon as he pulls himself back, Eddie lays on you again resting his head on your chest waiting patiently for you to play with his hair like you always do but the lightbulb doesn’t go off till he finally glances up to see if you’re ok. 

“Shit! Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?!”, he panics as he reaches up to quickly remove the belt from your wrists and carefully bring your arms down to your sides. 

“May I have some water, please?”

Hearing the hoarseness of your voice, Steve doesn’t hesitate as he powerwalks to their kitchen and comes back with a cold glass of water. Amber and chocolate eyes scan you over with concern as you chug back the liquid and flinch as it slides down your throat. 

“I’m going to make her bath.”, the mogul announces as he turns to head towards the bathroom. 

Eddie’s fingers brush some of your hair away from your face and in return you fall into his equally sweaty chest. 

“I love you, Eddie.”, you whisper.

“I love you to, princess. Come on. Let’s take a nice relaxing bath.”

Noticing you struggling to move, the man lifts you in his arms and carries you the rest of the way. While the rockstar climbs into the water with you, Steve sits on the edge face you both as he leans against the wall, studying you as his friend washes your skin. 

When Eddie starts to clean between your legs, you wince causing Steve’s face to twitch with worry. 

“I know, baby girl, I know. I’m almost done.”, the rockstar tries to comfort as you began to softly cry. 

When your eyes lock with the other boy’s, you gently smile and he does the same. 

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you to, honey.”, he murmurs as he leans forward to grab your hand so he can kiss the back of it. “I, um, I hope you know we aren’t angry with you or anything. We know that…you weren’t…flirting or—”

“I know. As soon as he touched me…I knew something was off. I swear I didn’t recognize him—”

“We know.”, Eddie soothes as he kisses your cheek. “It did trigger something though. Memories of her being more than polite just to get a rise out of us. Add in what you mentioned…”

“That he had the audacity to touch you and talk to you because he thought we wouldn’t do anything.”, Steve clarified when your eyebrows furrowed. “Because, ya know, we’re grandpas and all that.”

A large grin stretches across both their faces at the sound of your laugh as it echoes through the bathroom. 

“He said that was the reason but you know that’s not why right? It’s not your age, its that she sees you as weak. That’s what this whole display is about. That’s why she wants to talk to me. She knows I don’t see you that way and she genuinely believes she can change my mind like she did with everyone else in her circle.”

“Listen to baby girl over here talking like a lawyer. Do you want to take over our case because you absolutely can.”, Eddie jokes as he pulls you back into a tight hug. 

Steve’s face slowly changes as his eyes flood with concern before his fingers extend to lightly trace the skin along your neck. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, the mogul exhales as he rises to his feet. “Ed, go ahead, get her dressed, and when you’re done bring her to the kitchen.”

“Ay yi, Captain.”, the rockstar sasses as he climbs out of the water and grabs a towel. “Again, boy talking to me like he’s my Daddy.”

When his eyes linger where Steve’s had, you shifted your gaze towards the mirror to find growing bruises the size of fingerprints along your throat. 

“It’s ok, Eddie, I promise.”, you coo as you reach up to caress his cheek. “I would have used the safe word if you both were hurting me.”

With a tight smile, he nods, gently drying you before throwing some pajamas over your body and carrying you into the kitchen to place you on the counter. 

“Ok, honey, this is going to be cold.”, Steve announces as he rubs his hands together and rubs them along your skin. Your squeak at the cold gel makes him chuckle as he continues his task. “This stuff is pretty good. It should lessen’ that colorization before work on Monday.”

“Hey.”, you call softly as you grip his chin and tilt his eyes up to meet yours. “Not the first time your fingers have left bruises on my body. In a good way of course.”

His movements slow for just a moment before he sighs and continues. 

“This is different.”

“How?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“We don’t actively want to hurt you, sweetheart.”, Eddie answers for him. “You said we could use you to…throw a tantrum as you call it but…”

“Remember last time, when you got scared that you triggered something by being a brat?” You nod at Steve’s question. “Same thing more or less. She…brings out the worst in us.”

“You keep saying that but I just don’t see it. I really don’t, Steve.”

The rockstar hopped up beside you and handed you a cup of warm tea eliciting a cute little sigh that makes them smile as the liquid slides down your throat. 

“You’ve never pushed.” Blinking at Eddie’s statement, he exhaled as he petted your head. “Kind of like what Roman did, she would dangle men in front of us till we snapped. We would scream, yell, shout but it never got physical until we were playing. We made sure she reiterated she knew the word but she never used it. She…fuck…we did drugs together once. She kept pushing and pushing until one bad night I agreed. It was the one and only time I did blow and she held it over my head forever.”

“She would call him names and imply he was angry for something SHE did because he was stoned which he wasn’t.”

“I…it reminded me of my dad and I knew if Wayne found out he would be so disappointed.” As the rockstars head hung, you moved his hair behind his ear and tenderly kissed his cheek.

“Sometimes, Y/N, I would be so wasted from a party the three of us went to that when we were intimate…there were times I felt like I wasn’t in control…She would egg me on talking about how pathetic I was and I would feel my grip tighten…” As he spoke, Steve’s eyes flicked to your throat. “There were times…I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me…”

Extending your legs, you wrapped them around his waist bringing him to you so you could hug them both tightly.

“I know you’ve been through a lot with her and aren’t even close to being done but please don’t hold it in. Talk to me or hell if you can’t find the words then use me. I know I’m safe with you.”

“Pfft, you can’t just say shit like that and not expect us to swoon, princess.”, Eddie teases as he lays his head on your shoulder and blinks his eyes obnoxiously.

“What if we were done. With the case.”, Steve interjects.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…what if we paid what she’s asking for?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”, you growl a bit sharply making them both chuckle as the mogul cups your cheeks to bring your forehead to his lips. 

“Because, baby girl, if we did that then everything would end now and we can move on with our lives…be happy just the three of us.”

Sighing, you jump down from the counter, regretting your decision as your core throbs at the soreness. They watch you scoot to the sofa before following, Steve placing himself on his knees in front of you as Eddie sits beside you holding your tea and carefully putting an ice pack between your legs. 

“Thank you.”, you murmur as he lays his arm behind your head. “Steven, if you think this will stop her then you aren’t as smart as I thought you were. If you give in, she’ll just keep coming at you guys asking for more and more. It may not be now but it’s not the money she’s after. She likes toying with you and when she realizes she can’t change my mind she’ll probably do the same with me to.”

“Over my dead body.”, the mogul grumbles as you smirk. 

“You both have to be smart about this. Don’t let her win.”

“What do you think we should do, baby?”, Eddie asks as his fingers begin to play with your hair.

################

Gina saunters into Steve’s empty building with a giddy sense of pride. When the mogul emailed her that God awful formal statement asking her to meet them in his office she literally danced around her (Roman’s) massive bedroom as she began getting ready. 

She knew sending the quarterback would rattle their cage. Eddie was the easiest one to shake but Steve was the most fun to make jealous. Neither boy was the possessive type but the mogul held in his emotions more than his friend and watching him break was just…so much fun.

When he stood up to keep her from talking to you, she knew exactly what she needed to do. You meant nothing to her. Whether she could get you on her side or not didn’t matter to her one bit but if she could convince you in someway to leave them… 

The thought of them broken hearted as they crawled back to her drove her insane. One way or another she’d get the money she was owed but to watch them grumble after abandoning her? Well, that was just a bonus.

“You know, boys, we could have done this at my place.”

“Last we checked; you don’t have one.”

At the sound of your voice, her head shot up to take in the setting before her. 

Instead of Steve sitting at his desk, you were in his large office chair while both men were seated off to the side on his couch he kept by the wall. While they were dressed a bit more casually, you were in a red, long sleeve velvet dress that had a belt around your hips accentuating your curves. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, displaying the guitar pick necklace Eddie had once told her was his favorite.

As you stood up and came around the desk, your red heels Steve bought you clacked across the floor. 

Her startled eyes scanned you over constantly before she took a step backward causing a smirk to flicker across your lips. 

“Well Gina, you wanted to talk to me so here I am. Let’s talk.”

###############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons  @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @myherometalhead

AGAIN! Here's hoping the tags do what I want this time lol

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Please Hold My Hand

Clone [insert] x Fem!Reader

Summary: Today is your yearly gynecological exam and you’re less than excited about it, but your boyfriend is there to make it better.

Pairing: Clone [insert] x Fem!Reader

Characters: Clone [insert], Kix

Tags & Warnings: 16+ for allusions to female anatomy, no graphic descriptions, male!gynecologist, gynecological procedures, gynecological tools, fear, anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft kisses, supportive clone boyfriend, clone insert fic, based on a real life experience and dialogue

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: I had my yearly exam today and it was an absolutely terrifying experience. The nurse had to hold my hand the whole time and she was absolutely amazing! But I thought about how great it would be to have my fave clone there holding my hand instead. This is for all the v*gina owners that struggle with their yearly exams 💚 (I chose Kix as the gyno because I know that man would be super gentle and not weird about it). As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Relax

“I don’t want to go,” you pout while sitting down on the edge of the bed and resting your head in your hands. You were all set to go to your appointment, but now your nerves are getting to you and you’re having second thoughts.

“Meshl'a,” he walks over to you, places a gentle hand on your shoulder, and crouches down to look you in the eyes. “You should go. It’s for your health and safety.”

“But it’s uncomfortable,” you groan as your mind wanders to the last time you went to the gynecologist. You shudder and shift uncomfortably at the memories. “It’s awkward and it hurts.”

He sits down on the bed next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side. He leans his head over top of yours and breathes softly. “I can go with you, if you want.”

“You would?” you respond with a little surprise. “Really?” Your heart melts. Out of the few boyfriends you’ve had, none of them ever offered to go to your exam with you. They never understood how truly terrifying the exam was for you.

“Of course,” he answers with a shoulder shrug. “If it will make you more comfortable.”

You hesitate and fidget with your fingers as you think about the offer. On one hand, it would be great to have the emotional support for such a frightening exam, but on the other hand, you don’t want him to see you in such a vulnerable state. Not that he would do or say anything to embarrass you, but you haven’t been together yet, so it might be awkward. You put your hands against your face and blush at the thought. 

You remove your hands from your face and clasp them on your lap. “Okay,” you exasperate. “I’ll do it, but only if you go with me.”

“Say no more, cyar’ika,” he gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and gets up to grab his things so he can go with you to your appointment.

As you approach the facility, your anxiety increases and your heart pounds in your chest. You know exactly what is coming and you’re not looking forward to it. You cling a little tighter to his side as you walk in and head to the reception counter. You think it’s a little weird to be at a GAR facility for your exam, but that’s supposedly a perk of being a clone trooper’s girlfriend. You’ve heard good things about the GAR facility’s care, but that doesn’t make you less nervous.

You check in with the receptionist droid and it scans the serial number in his left wrist to make sure you’re eligible to receive care. Your mouth is completely dry as you sit in the waiting area for them to call you in. You hope you get a humanoid doctor and not some cold mechanical droid, but you can never be sure. You don’t get to choose your doctor in these types of facilities. As your foot bounces up and down on the floor, he places a strong hand on your thigh and gives you a small smile.

You take a deep breath and exhale. You tell yourself you’re going to be okay and that he’s with you, so nothing can hurt you in there. You try to convince yourself that this time will be different. Maybe you’ll be able to relax this time. Maybe it’ll fit better this time. Maybe it won’t hurt so much this time. But try as you might, you can’t convince yourself it’ll be better. Before your thoughts can continue, you hear your name called and the two of you get up.

You hang onto his hand in desperation and stare down at your feet while walking towards the droid. Not paying attention to anything else, you suddenly lurch backwards when his hand is no longer moving forward with yours. Unsure as to why he stopped walking, you look up and see the droid holding out its arm in front of him. “Non-spouses are not allowed in the exam room,” the droid states.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes as your anxiety increases. “No, you don’t understand, he needs to go with me.”

“I’m sorry,” the droid continues. “But, protocol dictates that non-spousal family members are not allowed during an exam.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The fear of being alone in that cold room overwhelms you and your heart beats rapidly. You whip around to leave, not caring about the appointment cancellation fee, when you bump nose-first into his chest plate. You startle for a moment, but lean your forehead to rest against him in defeat. Tears begin to form in your eyes. You don’t want to go in there alone. You don’t want them to touch you. You don’t want them to hurt you. 

“Shhh,” he hushes while wrapping his warm hands around your back to hold you tight against him. “Udesii, cyar’ika. It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you muffle your words into his chest.

“I know,” he soothes while rubbing his hands up and down your back for comfort. “I know.”

“Would you like to cancel your appointment?” the droid asks.

“Can you give us a moment?” he retorts sharply.

“I’m sorry, but we’re on a tight schedule,” the droid points out.

He lets go of you and confronts the droid. “Listen,” he begins with a gruff tone. “She needs a second.”

“Would you like to cancel your appointment?” the droid asks again.

“Can I cancel you?” he raises his voice in annoyance.

“Is everything alright over here?” Kix asks as he walks into the waiting room after hearing the mild confrontation.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” he sighs in relief at the sight of his brother Kix. “This droid won’t let me go in the exam room with her.”

“I see,” Kix notes as he looks at you, sees your terrified expression, and quickly realizes the situation. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the droid starts again. “But it is against protocol—”

“I’m in charge today,” Kix begins to explain with a snarky tone while placing a finger in the droid's face. “So, I say he can come with her.”

“But—” the droid tries to interject again but is cut off. 

“Alright, follow me,” Kix directs while ignoring the droid and walking through the door to the inner facility.

You both follow Kix through the door and down the corridor. The facility is a mirror image of Kamino. Everything is white and bright and… sterile. Your shoes clack on the tile flooring, making an unnerving sound. You grip his hand tighter as you walk through the halls and he gently squeezes it to remind you he’s still there. The further you walk the more your anxiety increases. You can feel the sweat forming in the palm of your hand and you find it embarrassing. 

Your first stop is the vitals station. You nervously step on the scale and Kix notes the weight in your chart. Kix then notes your blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen saturation before leading you both to one of the exam rooms. As you enter the room, you see the exam table with the stirrups and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach. You feel sick. You hate this appointment more than anything in the world. It’s only once a year, but once a year is enough. 

Kix pulls out a gown and a small sheet and hands it to you. “Everything comes off, gown ties in the front like a robe, and the sheet goes across your lap. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

“What?” you ask as your face goes pale. “You’re… You’re doing the exam?”

“Yes, I am,” Kix answers hesitantly as he can tell you are uncomfortable with the idea. “There’s a lifeform giving birth to twenty upstairs, so they pulled some last minute fill-ins from the troops here on Coruscant.”

“Nope,” you squeak out in response as you shake your head and back away until you feel his chest plate against you.

“I’m fully certified,” Kix explains as he tries to quell your worries. “Done it several times and seen it all, literally.”

“Nope,” you repeat. Your head is spinning. You don’t care what credentials Kix has or how many times Kix has done it. There’s no way a he is touching you down there.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika,” he reassures you while gently rubbing your shoulders. “I’d trust this man with my life.”

“It’s not my life I’m worried about!” you retort with fear. 

“I’ll be here the whole time,” he continues to comfort you and plants a small kiss on the top of your head. “You know I won’t let him hurt you, right?”

You think about it for a moment, weighing the options in your mind. The whole situation has completely blown up in your face and you’re not sure you can relax now even if you want to. You mull it over quickly, because you know Kix has other things to do. You also know that your boyfriend really won’t let anyone hurt you and he’ll be right there beside you, but it’s still a hard decision. You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Okay,” you sigh in agreement while leaning your head back against his chest plate. A male human is still better than a droid.

Kix nods his head and leaves the exam room and closes the door to give you privacy. You give a shy pleading look at your boyfriend and he turns himself around without a word. You take a deep breath and begin undressing. The tile floor is cold against your feet and goose bumps form on your body as the cool air in the room brushes over your skin. You shiver as you tie the gown and hop onto the exam table. You lay the sheet across your lap and cross your legs tightly.

You startle upright when you hear the knock on the door and Kix walks back in. Kix takes a seat on the rolling chair and puts on a pair of gloves while looking at your anxious state. Your muscles are tense, your legs are not quite where they need to be, and you look like you're ready to jump out of a window. “Are you okay?” Kix asks with concern.

“No,” you say with a shaky voice. “I don’t like this exam.” 

“Not many do,” Kix agrees with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a little. “I’ll do it as quickly as I can, okay?”

You nod your head because your words are lost somewhere in the atmosphere.

“You know,” Kix begins as he pulls out the needed tools. “They say, men are actually more gentle when giving this exam than women are.”

You give a small ‘mhm’ in acknowledgement.

“See,” he says while leaning against the counter next to the exam table. “Kix will take good care of you no problem.”

You really want to slap him in the face for that remark. Not that you would, since he’s genuinely trying to comfort you, but it’s hard for men to understand what it’s like to have a metal duckbill shoved inside you and then being pried open like an oyster. It’s humiliating is what it actually is, and painful. As you wait for Kix to continue, your breath becomes rapid and your body begins to shake. You want to get it over with, but you don’t want to get it over with.

“We’ll start with the pap smear, then a pelvic exam, and finish with a quick breast exam,” Kix explains while wheeling over in front of the exam table. “Sounds good?”

You nod automatically, but you really just want to vomit.

“Lay back, scoot forward to the edge of the table, and put your feet in the stirrups,” Kix instructs.

You take another deep breath and start scooting down the table. Your face turns red at how awkward this is. The silence in the room is deafening. It feels like they’re both staring and judging you, even though they aren’t. You lift your feet up and place them into the stirrups, but lean your knees against each other with an iron grip, too embarrassed to expose yourself. You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you think about what’s going to happen next. 

Kix gives you a soft and compassionate look at your discomfort. “I'm gonna need you to spread your legs out.”

You look up at the ceiling and hold your breath as you slowly open your legs to put them in the proper position. Your heart beats rapidly and pounds in your ears. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be here. You tell yourself this over and over again as your body shakes in fearful anticipation. You're pulled out of your downward spiral by a warm hand being placed atop yours. You look over and it’s him, standing right next to you, looking at you with his big brown eyes.

“Please hold my hand,” you ask with a shaky voice. He smiles and opens his palm for you to grab his. His hands are so much bigger than yours, but also gentle and warm. You feel a bit more strength while holding onto him.

He bends over to get on your level and places a kiss on your cheek. “Cyar’ika, you’re doing great.”

His presence and words of comfort give you a small sense of peace, but the feelings quickly dissipate when you hear the dreaded clink of the speculum. You grip his hand tighter and you feel your body tense up automatically. You know tensing only makes it worse, but who wouldn’t feel tense being splayed out like this? You try to breathe through it, but it’s like you're underwater and drawing in fear. You hold your breath and brace for it.

“Take a deep breath for me and relax,” Kix coaches you as he rolls to the side to look at you and motions with his hands. Kix takes a deep breath along with you. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

You take another deep breath and feel the torturous instrument intrude. “Ow!” you flinch away from the source of the pain and grip his hand tighter. The instrument intrudes a little farther. “Ow!” you yell, digging your nails into his skin. Ow! Ow! Ow!” you yell louder in succession. “Please, stop!” 

Kix stops the exam and gives you a moment to collect yourself.

“Do we have to do this?” you ask through a panting breath as tears form in the corner of your eyes. Seeing your distress he kisses your temple to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, but we do,” Kix laments, feeling awful about your pain and discomfort. “I know this isn’t fun.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you say while bringing a hand up to cover your face to wipe the tears away.

“Eh,” Kix begins while rummaging around in one of the drawers. “There might be a smaller one in here somewhere.”

“I’m so sorry,” you cry in embarrassment at how childish you are being.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Kix encourages as he pulls out another speculum. “You’ve done nothing wrong. There are a lot of women who struggle with this exam.”

“I think you’re doing a great job,” he reassures you while nuzzling the side of your face with his own.

“Ready to try again?” Kix asks with a kind smile.

You take a deep breath and mutter ‘no’ under your breath, but you nod your head yes instead. Kix starts the exam again and you feel the instrument start to intrude. “Ow!” you wince. It’s still uncomfortable, and painful, but it’s better than the last try. “Ow!” you grimace as it finally makes some progress. Now you can feel the instrument start to pressurize your insides. You groan and grit your teeth and scrunch your neck at the pain and discomfort. You tighten your grip on his hand.

“Easy,” he whispers into your ear in response to your intense grip. He kisses your cheek. “Deep breaths, cyar’ika. Deep breaths. Relax. I’ve got you.”

That’s right. You forgot to breathe again. You take in a few deep breaths, but the room starts spinning as you realize your beginning to hyperventilate. You want to leave right now. You turn your head to look at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to scoop you up and remove you from this torture chamber, but he doesn’t. He just gazes lovingly into your eyes. So much love. So much care. So much comfort. 

“And done,” Kix says as he pulls the speculum back out. “How are you doing?”

“I…” you say breathlessly while swallowing hard against your dry throat. “I’m okay.” In reality, your insides are throbbing and your head is spinning.

“You’re going to feel a little pressure again for the pelvic exam,” Kix warns as he grabs the surgical lubricant off the counter. “Are you ready for this?”

Of course you’re not ready. You’re never ready for someone to do this to you. You’re not sure which one is worse, the pap smear or the pelvic exam, but they're both terrible. You let out a little ‘mhm’ in response and take a few more breaths. As the pressure increases, you wince. “Ow!” You shut your eyes tightly and squeeze his hand again as you wait for it to be over. You feel the pressure subside and you let out the breath you were holding in.

“All done,” Kix says happily as he tosses his gloves in the trash receptacle. Kix puts on a new pair and does a quick breast exam. “The results of the pap smear will be back in a couple days, but other than that, you’re all set to go.”

“Thanks,” you say while slowly sitting up on the exam table. You feel dizzy and your legs are like jello. Your boyfriend stands up beside you and slides a hand across your back to help stabilize you when he notices your sway. You pull your shaky legs out of the stirrups and let them dangle down the side of the exam table.

Kix gives you another smile before taking his leave. “You did great kid. Like a real trooper.”

You smile back at Kix and he shuts the door behind to leave the two of you in peace. You lean your head against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you and plants small kisses on the top of your head. He was right, it was much better with him there. To be able to hold his hand and squeeze it when you were in pain was such a relief. To know he was there, giving you praise, and encouraging you through the whole thing was amazing. He’s definitely a keeper.

“Why don’t we go grab some ice cream,” he says while helping you off the exam table and steadying your wobbly legs on the floor.

“That would be perfect,” you answer with a sigh of relief.  

Masterlist

A03

Tag List: @nahoney22

Join my taglist HERE

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina, hope you are having a relaxed weekend..

I was having a question related to louis.. do you think louis is bi?!! I mean before he met harry i saw videos of him with girls, it doesn’t have to mean anything buy just asking!!!

No, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s bi. I don’t know what “girls” you are referring to, but he was dating Hannah when he went on X factor.

There are tons of people who have dated the opposite gender, and then realized that they are gay, or dated the opposite gender because it was safer, or dated the opposite gender with the other person knowing that it was just a bearding situation, etc.

I don’t think we’re going to know how he identifies unless he wants to tell us. But if you want to take a stab at a guess, I would look at the entirety of what Louis has said, and done in all the years you’ve been aware of him, and make a decision that way.

To be honest, if you really want an answer and if your only real time experience of him is in the last few years, I’d start by spending some time looking through old videos and posts and interviews.

x

[hrtbrkwthrs]

Second Chance

Status: In Progress , On Hiatus

This is a High School Musical: The Musical: The Series fanfiction that follows Blake Sahan alongside her childhood best friend and first love, Ricky Bowen.

This series loosely follows the plot of the show, each chapter being based on every episode. A few notes:

Blake Sahan's faceclaim is Maitreyi Ramakrishnan.

Timeline might be a lil wonky at times, but I tried my darndest to get it right (also might not be perfectly aligned with the show)

There will be a few differences in this series from the show to fit the new storylines.

Some differences include: Gina doesn't fall for Ricky, Ricky and his dad don't move out, and more.

Ricky Bowen has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), though it's unknown at first.

Blake has BPD, pre-established.

Disclaimer: All BPD storylines are loosely inspired by my own personal experiences! (beautiful princess disorder sol xoxo)

Also, this series will involve cursing. I don't care. #Let Ricky Bowen Say Fuck! (and they did! hehe thank you s4 writers)

There's gonna be A LOT of those cheesy/cliche tropes and I'm not even sorry.

childhood best friends to lovers

falls first x falls harder

hurt/comfort

one-sided pining

mutual pining

I will add trigger warnings specific for each chapter, but here are some general trigger warnings for this series:

Alcoholism

Addiction

Mental health (mainly Borderline Personality Disorder)

Toxic relationships

Poor relationship with parent / absent father

Death of parent

Occasionally some adult themes

Season 1

Ep.1 Ep.2 Flashback Ep.3 Ep.4 Ep.5 Ep.6 Ep.7 Ep.8 Ep.9 Ep.10

Season 2

Ep.1 Ep.2 Ep.3 Ep.4 Ep.5 Ep.6 Ep.7 Ep.8 Ep.9 Ep.10 Ep.11 Ep.12

Season 3

Ep.1 Ep.2 Ep.3 Ep.4 Ep.5 Ep.6 Ep.7 Ep.8

Season 4

Ep.1 Ep.2 Ep.3 Ep.4 Ep.5 Ep.6 Ep.7 Ep.8

dividers: @kodaswrld

photoshop/manip: @cihkennugget on twitter

[trulybetty]

Welcome to New York | (Dieter Bravo x OFC)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Warnings: alcohol, smoking & zero angst, promise! Summary: Bryony attends a housewarming party in New York City, where surrounded by the laughter and energy of the party, she encounters Dieter Bravo for the first time. Sparks fly hinting at an unexpected connection that could forever change their lives. AO3: Linked

A/N: in passing with @gnpwdrnwhiskey last week I mentioned that I didn't think I knew how to write without adding angst, so this was my challenge to myself to try and do so! Also to give Bryony and Dieter a little reprieve from the drama! Still not 100% on this piece, throwing it at the wall and seeing if it sticks, so feedback, as always, is welcomed! Also, if it's not apparent, the poster in the graphic is not a visual of Bryony.

Welcome to New York.

2017

The night air was warm, winter was turning to spring and the city of New York was buzzing. It was Bryony's first time in the city, she had travelled to other cities in the US before. But hadn't really understood the call of New York. The idea of a city that never slept made her feel exhausted and wasn't that just London? A city she was already too familiar with. However, that was all until she had touched down earlier that day and taken a cab from JFK to her hotel across from Central Park.

The cab ride from the airport had been an experience in itself. As she zipped through the bustling streets, past towering skyscrapers and neon-lit billboards, she couldn't help but be swept up in the city's vibrancy. Each sight was a stark contrast to the tranquillity of her native South Wales and the sophisticated charms of London.

Gina and Lloyd's brownstone, nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, was Bryony's destination. Arriving just as the sun began to dip below the city skyline, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a soft, golden light, she felt a twinge of anticipation coursing through her veins.

Bryony, having watched enough Sex and The City, knew all too well that these brownstones didn't come cheap. Despite being thirty-two and having almost a decade's worth of experience in the TV and film production industry, the magnitude of the property's value was somewhat intimidating. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being somewhat out of her depth.

Bryony had grown up in Cardiff, in a close-knit community where her grandmother and both her aunts lived just down the street. When her career meant a move to London, she found a roommate in her brother. Rhys, retired from professional rugby, had a few international tours with Wales and had a good run with a professional club. Both of which had ended with a crushed disc and falling back on his law degree that he swore he'd never need. That arrangement had ended when they could no longer stand the sight of each other, and Bryony subsequently moved to a modest flat in Islington.

She paused at the doorstep at the top of the stairs, adjusting her dress, a nervous habit, she tried to quell the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She inhaled deeply, the scent of the city, a blend of fresh flowers, car exhausts, and tantalizing wafts from a nearby pizzeria, filling her lungs.

Arriving in New York also marked a pivotal chapter in Bryony's career. She was currently basking in the glow of being the lead producer of the BBC overnight sensation, 'Dark Waters'. The engrossing drama had captivated the nation for six tension-filled weeks, catapulting Bryony's name when her relentless efforts to launch the show were finally acknowledged. The waves of her success were still riding high, the demand for her talent leverage that had carried her across the Atlantic.

Taking one last moment to gather herself, she reached out and pressed the doorbell.

As the heavy oak door swung open, Bryony was embraced by not only the welcoming chorus of laughter and lively conversation that escaped the townhouse, but the arms of Gina, who upon seeing Bryony nearly took her off of her feet despite her petite stature. The diminutive blonde held her at arm's length, her chic bob bouncing with the infectious energy that matched her smile.

Gina had a good ten years of experience in the industry when she'd first taken Bryony under her wing in her first years. Gina had been a guiding light then, her role as a producer instrumental in shaping Bryony's growing career. Over the years they continued to work on various projects together, and as they did, their friendship grew.

"You made it!" Gina exclaimed in excitement.

Bryony smiled "Wouldn't have missed it!" she replied. "Congratulations on the new home! It’s beautiful!"

Bryony followed Gina into the awe-inspiring brownstone, where New York charm met Gina's exquisite taste in decor. The walls were already adorned with photographs and personal mementoes, reflecting their new home's warm character.

Basking in the glow of the lively gathering, Gina turned to Bryony, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thank you, love. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have you here." She squeezed Bryony's arm in excitement, "And brace yourself - I've invited someone who I'm convinced will be your one true love!"

Bryony's brow arched in a mix of curiosity and playful exasperation. "Wow, dinner and my future husband? You do know how to throw a party Gin!" She was all too familiar with Gina's relentless penchant for playing cupid, this wasn't the first time.

"Lay off the matchmaking, Gina," came a voice from behind them, rich with amusement. They both turned to find Lloyd, his face split into a wide grin, cradling a glass tumbler in his hand. "I'm pretty sure Bryony has had her fill of your romantic schemings for a lifetime by now." He extended the tumbler in his hand to Bryony, his smile infectious. "A warm welcome to our abode, Bryony. Gin and tonic, if my memory serves me right?"

"Right as always, Lloyd," Bryony responded as she accepted the glass.

Lloyd exuded an aura of sophistication that was almost tangible. He was the kind of man who could spout lines of profound prose at the drop of a hat, and then be found at the heart of good gossip. His charm was effortless, much like the characters he brought to life on stage, making him a beloved figure within the New York theatre circles.

Gina crossed her arms, feigning a pout. "I'll have you both know that I'm an exceptional matchmaker."

Bryony laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the lively atmosphere. She took a refreshing sip of her drink, the cool tang of the gin and tonic a welcome contrast to the warm room. "The jury is still out on that one Gina."

Gina shot Bryony a grin, her eyes twinkling. "Well, don't be surprised if someone manages to catch your attention tonight."

With a playful roll of her eyes, Bryony retorted, "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

---

As the night went on, Bryony navigated the party, pushing herself out of her comfort zone to network and engage in conversations with various attendees. Excusing herself from another discussion about the nuances of British television, she headed off in search of another drink.

Surprisingly the kitchen was empty, the sleek expanse of the island held an array of dishes wrapped in anticipation of dinner. Bryony’s stomach grumbled reminding her that she’d eaten no more than the limp sandwich that had been served prior to her plane's arrival to JFK. Eyeing a box of crackers, she opened the box, popping one into her mouth as she turned her attention to making herself a drink. As the ice cubes clinked in the glass, Bryony savoured a brief pause from the energetic ambience of the party.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when a voice broke the silence. "Looks like we both found the one quiet spot in this place," the voice said.

Bryony jumped, startled by the sudden sound of another person in the kitchen. The box of crackers nearly slipped out of her hands as she spun around, her gaze meeting that of a face she certainly didn't recognize. He was tall, with dark brown eyes that twinkled with amusement at her surprise, and an easy smile that complimented his features. He stood casually against the kitchen island as if he belonged there.

Bryony felt her cheeks flush as she stammered out a response. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

He responded with a deep, hearty chuckle, "Apologies. Wasn't my intention to startle you. I'm in search of a refill myself."

Bryony eyed his half-drained glass of bourbon and raised an eyebrow. Unfazed, he winked at her and polished off the remaining liquor. "As I said, in dire need of a refill. Call me Dieter. Dieter Bravo."

Bryony suppressed a smirk, finding it hard to believe that his name could be real.

"Bryony," she countered back, mimicking his theatrical name presentation, "Bryony Morgan."

"Your accent gives you away, Bryony," Dieter said in a low voice as he leaned around her to access the cabinet to her left. His shoulder grazed hers, sending sparks through her. He was close enough that his hips brushed against hers as he reached for the stash of premium spirits. "Seems like you're a long way from home, no?" A hint of a flirtatious smile tugged at the corner of his lips, pulling something within Bryony along with it.

"I suppose I am," Bryony said and gave him the cliff notes of her background. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she watched him select a bottle. "New York though is quite a bit different from London."

He chuckled, popping the cork off a bottle of vintage bourbon before taking a sniff. "That it is, Bryony. I've spent some time in London myself. Fine city, but it doesn't quite have the... chaos of New York, you know?"

Her soft laughter filled the warm, bustling atmosphere of the housewarming party. "I'll give you that. The chaos is definitely unique here."

Their eyes met as he poured the liquor, the amber liquid catching the light as it filled his glass. He held her gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. There was something enticing about him, every bit of him demanded her attention.

"So, Bryony Morgan," he started, setting down the bottle and turning to face her. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "What brings you to Gina and Lloyd's party tonight?"

"Friends with Gina, we've worked on a few projects back in the UK over the years," Bryony replied, tracing the rim of her glass with a fingertip. “And of course, by proxy, that's how I know Lloyd.”

"Ah, working with Gina, that must be quite the adventure," Dieter chuckled, taking a sip of his bourbon. "She is one of the best in the business."

“How about you?” Bryony reached into the box of crackers, popping another into her mouth before offering the box to Dieter, “How do you know Lloyd and Gina?”

Dieter grinned, accepting a cracker from the box. "Lloyd and I go way back. He's quite the taskmaster when it comes to his stage productions. I'm currently starring in Lloyd's latest production. It's... interesting, to say the least. He's got a knack for the dramatic."

Bryony chuckled, her gaze meeting Dieters. "That he does. I've seen a few of his works. Quite compelling. And you? Do you enjoy the drama?"

"Depends on the day," Dieter answered with a shrug, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It can be... exhilarating. And other times, it's just exhausting."

Bryony found herself drawn in by his candour, the easy way he spoke about his work. There was a vibrancy that was hard to ignore.

He looked at her then, his gaze inquisitive. "So, what about you, Bryony? What brings you to the chaotic city of New York from the refined streets of London?"

“Work,” she replied simply as she took a sip of her drink, “there's the promise of work out in LA, so I'm meeting with some studios this week for interviews and meetings. I'm also hoping I get a chance to take a look around New York, I've never been here before.”

Dieter clutched at his chest dramatically, “Never been to New York before? How is that even possible?”

"I guess I never saw the appeal," Bryony replied, the crinkle at the corner of her eyes betraying her amusement.

“Well, how are your first impressions?"

"Honestly," she began, a light chuckle escaping her as she glanced down at her watch. "I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, and most of that time was spent in a taxi or adjusting to my hotel room." She met his gaze again, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

He smirked, taking a thoughtful sip of his bourbon. "Well, the beauty of New York can't be appreciated in the back of a taxi or from a hotel room window," he responded, setting his glass down on the counter. "There's a certain life to it, a rhythm that you have to immerse yourself in to really understand."

“Anything, in particular, you recommend I see first?” Bryony asked, emboldened by the gin she'd already consumed on top of the jetlag.

"New York?" Dieter arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "The city has endless possibilities. A little exploration could be just what you need."

Bryony lifted her glass to her lips in the hope to hide the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks. She couldn't deny the appealing prospect of Dieter Bravo as her personal city guide. "That so?" she replied, her tone playfully challenging. "Sounds almost like an invitation."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling in a way that promised fun and adventure. "Consider it an opportunity, Bryony. An opportunity to see the city through the eyes of a man who's lived and loved here."

"Aren't you a busy man? You must have a lot going on," she retorted, trying to keep the conversation light.

A dismissive shrug accompanied his smug grin. "Oh, there's always room for one more adventure," he replied, casting her a playful wink over the top of his bourbon.

Bryony's unexpected laughter surprised them both. "Adventure, you say? Is that how you see me – a damsel in need of a thrilling rescue?"

"Not exactly," he said, the flirtatious veneer fading for a moment, replaced by something more genuine. "I think you're someone who's about to embark on an exciting new chapter, and I'd like to be part of that story, even if it's just for a brief moment."

Dieter's words echoed between them, the background chatter of the party fading into a muffled hum. There was an honest charm about Dieter, an attraction that went far beyond his clean-cut Hollywood looks. She studied him thoughtfully, his proposition appearing less a daunting task and more a promising adventure in the grandiosity of New York City.

A subtle rush of excitement coursed through her veins, her cheeks blooming with a soft blush. Generally, the thought of navigating a social situation like this with a stranger would have her mind plotting potential escape plans. Yet, with Dieter, she felt inexplicably at ease, wrapped in the warmth of his charismatic pull.

Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with him and, with a spark of anticipation, accepted his offer, “I think I'd enjoy that.”

---

As the dinner call was announced, Bryony reluctantly extricated herself from the comfort of the kitchen, following in Dieter's wake. He was soon swallowed up by the crowd, enticed away by a familiar voice. Dieter cast her a playful wink before weaving his way through the sea of people, his name echoed around him.

Much to Bryony's frustration, Dieter sat further down the table. However, he could be heard over the thrum of conversations. Throughout the course of dinner, her attention kept gravitating towards him. The way he held court, the way he drew people in, it was undeniably captivating.

"Unparalleled, really," he expressed fervently, his hands dancing in the air to emphasise his words. "The enchanting realities we conjure up on stage are truly astounding." He passionately shared captivating anecdotes and viewpoints, mesmerizing his captivated audience with his fervent words and expressive gestures

His laughter, enchanting and infectious, would fade into a knowing smile whenever their eyes met. Yet, every time they found a chance to navigate through the crowd towards one another, the currents of the party would sweep them away. Another admiring compliment here, a spirited debate there.

As the evening wore on, it felt as though the number of guests had multiplied. Bryony found herself questioning the architectural integrity of the brownstone, surprised that it could hold such a vast variety of party-goers. Gina and Lloyd, the soiree's hosts, had long since disappeared into the vibrant mass of their guests, leaving her adrift amidst the waves of well-wishers and hangers-on.

Eventually, needing a breather from the crowd, and the repetition of hearing people try and imitate her accent, Bryony sought refuge in the cool New York night of Gina and Lloyd's garden. The slight chill was a soothing contrast to the stifling warmth of the party, and she welcomed it, wrapping her arms around herself. Eyes closed, head tilted up towards the sky, she took a deep breath. The nagging pangs of jetlag reminded her it had been almost a full day since she'd left Gatwick, yet she tried to put that aside.

Her moment of peace was broken by a gentle voice, rich with intrigue, "Finally, didn't think I'd get to see you again this evening."

The sound of footsteps echoing against the flagstone pavement announced Dieter's approach. In his hands, he balanced two filled-to-the-brim champagne glasses and a box of cigarettes. Wordlessly, he offered her one of the drinks, taking up a casual stance against the railing next to her. His dark eyes, sparkling under the dimly lit sky, darted her way, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

She returned his smile as she accepted the champagne. The crisp, cool bubbles of the drink served to heighten the pleasant chill of the evening.

As Dieter offered her the cigarette box, Bryony shook her head, "No thanks."

Unfazed, Dieter tilted the box toward himself, raising an eyebrow in silent query. Bryony gestured for him to go ahead. He then smoothly pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips with a lazy finesse that was impossible to ignore.

Captivated, Bryony watched as the dimly lit tip of his cigarette cast a warm glow onto his chiselled features. Dieter took a long, thoughtful drag, his posture subtly shifting to ensure the smoke veered away from her. Despite her personal aversion to the habit, she couldn't deny the allure the habit added to him.

When he finally released a slow stream of smoke into the air, he turned back to her with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling in the soft light. The silent intensity of his gaze ignited a familiar energy between them, a thrilling undercurrent that had been palpably present since their paths had crossed earlier in the evening.

“Managed to escape, then?” His voice was quiet, meant only for her, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy he displayed inside.

Bryony smiled, shrugging lightly. “Needed some air. It’s a bit much in there.”

A deep, resonating chuckle echoed from Dieter. His nod of agreement punctuated the understanding that passed between them as he savoured another puff. “Absolutely, it's quite the circus.” His eyes locked with hers in the sparse lighting, the soft intensity within them captivating her completely. The quietude that stretched between them was comfortable, each seeming to find solace in the other's company.

"Is it always this easy for you?" Bryony asked, playfully referring to the seamless charm he seemed to exude.

His shoulders moved in a casual shrug, his mischievous grin remaining in place, "Only with someone worth the effort." His statement, laced with flirtatious intent, hung in the air, amping up the tension between them.

Bryony blushed, "So, 'More Than I Should'," referring to Lloyds play that he'd mentioned he was starring in, "How's it coming along?" Her question attempted to keep the conversation casual, but there was no mistaking the flirtatious undertones.

Dieter exhaled a slow stream of smoke before answering, "It's intense," he confessed, his eyes following the trail of smoke. "Lloyd is a genius, and he’s pushing us to explore some profound emotional depths. The play has these intricate themes of love and loss that are quite compelling."

Bryony found herself nodding along. "I've been debating asking Lloyd for tickets. It sounds like an experience I shouldn't miss."

Dieter quirked a brow at her, "Why bother Lloyd when I can get them for you?" He challenged, his grin teasing and magnetic. "And I can do you one better. A dinner date after the show perhaps?"

"Really?" Bryony's surprise swiftly morphed into a delighted smile. "That's quite a generous offer, Mr. Bravo."

His response was a rumble of laughter, the sound warm and intimate. "Think of it as the first stop on Bravo New York experience," he quipped with a theatrical wave of his arm.

Bryony found herself laughing, charmed by his casual bravado. "A proposition like that is quite impossible to turn down. I'm in."

His eyes lit up at her acceptance, a spark of excitement dancing in them.

A yawn, wide and deep, escaped Bryony. She swiftly covered her mouth, but it was too late to hide. She laughed in embarrassment, "Sorry," she apologized, but it was barely a moment before another yawn surfaced.

Observing this, Dieter's lips curled into a smile. "Bryony my dear, I do believe your jet lag is catching up with you," he mused, "Perhaps it's time for Cinderella to consider her exit?"

Feigning a hurt expression, Bryony shot back, "Are you trying to get rid of me so soon?"

Dieter returned her playful jibe with a roguish grin. "On the contrary," he responded, his voice rich with amusement, "However, it wouldn’t do well for my reputation to have a lovely lady like you dozing off on me," he paused, his smile broadening, "Well, at least not because of my conversational skills."

Bryony’s laugh rang out, the sound brushing away her fatigue, if only for a moment. "Well, we certainly can't risk damaging your hard-earned reputation, can we?"

With a flourish, Dieter stubbed out the remnants of his cigarette and extended his arm to her. "Shall we?" He proposed, his tone layered with charm. "I owe you at least the courtesy of hailing you a cab."

Bryony bit her lip, taking appraise of the man before her. It wasn't as if she'd been lacking any attention on the romance front. Being currently single had been a choice for Bryony, she'd dedicated the last two years to her work on Dark Waters, determined to ensure its success. Her trip to New York however was initially intended for interviews and exploring the city's attractions. Dieter Bravo, on the other hand, was an unexpected surprise

Taking a deep breath, she linked her arm through his. "Alright, Dieter. Let's get a cab." She smiled gratefully at him. "You're quite the gentleman."

He returned her smile, the corner of his lips quirking up in a way that set her heart fluttering. "Only on occasion," he quipped as they started making their way out to the front of the townhouse.

Once outside, Dieter pulled out his phone and quickly typed something into it. He held it out to Bryony, the new contact page open, "Just making sure you can schedule your 'Bravo Tour' of New York," he teased, his tone a playful blend of humour and earnestness.

Accepting the phone, Bryony couldn't suppress her smile. Swiftly, she entered her number and hit 'save'. Regardless of the spontaneity of this evening, she knew one thing for certain: there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to see him again.

Returning his phone, Bryony gave him a teasing smile, "I'll be expecting five-star service on this tour, Dieter." She could see the glint of excitement in his eyes, matching her own.

As their playful banter melted away, giving way to a comfortable, yet electrifying silence, an unspoken understanding passed between them. The air around them was charged with a palpable tension, a connection that neither of them could deny.

The late winter chill didn't bother Bryony as she stood under the muted glow of the street light, her eyes locked with Dieters. As he moved a step closer, erasing the minimal distance between them, a sense of anticipation knotted in her stomach. She was acutely aware of his presence - the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the broad expanse of his shoulders just inches from her, the defined angles of his jaw, and the alluring smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Taking her by surprise, Dieter gently cradled the back of her neck, his gentle fingertips tracing over her skin. A small gasp escaped her lips, and without thinking, her hands found their places - one on his firm chest, the other resting lightly on his hip.

He ran his tongue over his lips, a seemingly innocuous gesture that set her heart racing. The playful tilt of his head and the knowing look in his eyes made it clear he was aware of the effect he had on her.

He pulled back slightly, surprising her with a gentle gesture as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, creating a moment of sweet tenderness that left her stunned and craving for more.

The unexpected tenderness of Dieter's kiss to her forehead sent a rush of warmth coursing through Bryony, leaving her a little breathless. The hint of surprise must have registered on her face, because Dieter's face split into a self-deprecating grin, "I know, not my usual style." He said with a shrug.

Exhaustion was starting to make itself known, her brain fuzzy around the edges, but she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips at his admission, "You don't say."

His hand still held at her neck, thumb gently stroking the bare skin of her collarbone. The night was quiet around them, leaving them standing alone under the streetlamp. New York’s nightlife was dwindling down into a softer lull, the noise distant. Their surroundings were forgotten for a moment as Bryony got lost in Dieter's deep-set eyes.

The sudden transition from a simmering tension to this tender intimacy left Bryony both surprised and yearning for more. She found herself captivated by Dieter, his proximity allowing her to notice the faint flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes. His warm breath fanning her face caused her to catch her own.

"Dieter..." she uttered his name, a whisper amidst the gentle night breeze. Her emotions were bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. The fatigue of the long day, mixed with the unexpected intimacy she was experiencing with Dieter, was a potent concoction that made her feel unsteady.

Responding to the bewilderment mirrored in her eyes, Dieter offered a small, soothing smile. He swept a loose lock of hair away from her face, his thumb brushing lightly against her jawline. The electrifying sensation this created stayed with her, a tantalizing suggestion of what might be.

"You're tired," he acknowledged softly. His thumb traced the contour of her jaw in a languid stroke, igniting a trail of goosebumps down her spine. Then, in a statement that contradicted his usual impulsive nature, he added, "The city can wait for you. And so can I."

His words hung in the night air, a promise that left Bryony both intrigued and more confused than before. For Dieter, who was accustomed to pursuing his desires with relentless intensity, this restraint was uncharted territory. He was aware of the profound impact his words had, a stark contrast to his typical behaviour. The unfamiliar sensation of patiently waiting, rather than chasing fervently, gave him a sense of strange satisfaction.

But as the horn of a taxi Dieter had flagged broke through the silence, Dieter reluctantly let go of Bryony. "Your chariot awaits," he said with a smirk, his hand lingering for a moment longer before he finally stepped forward to hold the taxi door open for her.

"Goodnight, Dieter Bravo,"

"Goodnight, Bryony Morgan," he replied.

As the cab pulled away, leaving a somewhat dazed Dieter on the sidewalk, Bryony couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of their story. Little did she know, at that moment, just how drastically this unexpected rendezvous with Dieter Bravo would impact her future, transforming her world in ways she couldn't yet fathom.

---

As Bryony settled into the back of the taxi, the Brooklyn dissolving into a whirl of twinkling lights, she felt the familiar buzz of her phone from inside her purse.

Pulling it out, she noticed a new text message from Gina lighting up the screen.

"Sorry I missed you leaving babes, I hope you had a great time??? Coffee tomorrow? I didn't even get a chance to introduce you to that guy! He's a production assistant on Lloyd's latest show, James. I think you and him would hit it off! Love you lots, g'night xxx"

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 12 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year. additionally, ricky begins to desplay more symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy and has a good support system. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 5k

genre: mild hurt/lotta comfort, smut, feels

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: post show depression, more backstory for reader, brief mentions of gifted kid burnout and rediscovering your love for theatre, more fake texts, ricky is down ba-a-a-a-ad, classic Hot Boy Climbing Through Your Window moment, heart to heart convos, smut, body worship, clit sucking n fingering, penetrative sex, emotional 'i love you' sex, ricky begging <3, possible cliff hanger?? (BUT NOT BAD I PROMISE)

summary: it's late at night and you're reflecting on your experience performing high school musical the musical with all your fellow wildcats when someone shows up, throwing rocks at your window, and thinking the exact same thing.

song recs: rocks - imagine dragons, end of all things - panic at the disco, I hear a symphony - cody fry, fuck it I love you - lana del rey, tell me that you love me - victorious cast, where do we go from here - amelie obc, I can't handle change - roar

a/n: this is the last chapter of rocks. I got so emotional writing this and I sincerely hope yall enjoy. also before anyone asks YES I'm planning a sequel about season 2 but it's curretnly tba. I hope you cry when you hear rocks by imagine dragons and get flustered as FUCK when you hear tell me that you love me by the victorious cast because Ricky Bowen needs to be told I love you to cum it's canon Tim Federle told me so. Fangz again to Cici for proof reading and fangz to you guys for reading <3 send in Ricky asks lol

tags @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

The show is over, midterms are over, now it’s Friday night and you can’t sleep. It’s one of a handful of Fridays over the past few months that you haven’t spent at rehearsal, and no matter how many times they roll around, it still feels weird. You chalk it up to routine, muscle memory, but part of you still worries you’ll be late when you see it’s past 6pm. You miss the El Rey, you miss the auditorium and rehearsal room at school, you miss circle time with Miss Jenn and all your friends. Post show depression always sucks, but after everything that happened during High School Musical, how intense things got, the letdown is worse than usual. 

Even all the fun things Miss Jenn had planned to keep everyone’s spirits up until the next show gets announced are all over. You’d spent a week with your friends learning a song about winter Ashlyn wrote and Gina and Carlos choreographed so everyone could do a flashmob for the new East High theatre department’s instagram page. Miss Jenn got everyone together to make some content in advance to post before the break, but you finished your last take of the flashmob after school today. New Year’s isn’t until later this week, so you’ve finally reached the wasteland between closing one show and starting another. 

“Hey,” your mom says softly from your doorway, and you look up from where you’re sitting on your bed. You greet her quietly, flipping through your playbill from the show, still wearing your cast shirt. You have a few open hat boxes in front of you, adorned in light florals and other delicate patterns and designs. Each one of them is full to the brim with playbills, confetti, and other mementos from past shows, except the one in front of you, which still has some room left in it. 

Your mom walks over to you, watching your expression closely as you flip through your playbill, not wanting to put it away just yet. She rests her hand on your back, rubbing her thumb affectionately before tucking the tag of your shirt back into the neck. You both know what’s coming. You think back to the deal you made with her after your dad left. You didn’t realize until months after how much you’d been struggling with everything. Your mom discussed dropping out of the show you were in, even though you were so close to opening night, and you’d refused. You’re not the type to drop out of a show you’ve spent months rehearsing for just because of some struggles in your personal life. 

Your mom could see clear as day how you weren’t having fun like you used to, how burnt out you were going to get if you kept up like that. What kind of mother would she be if she just let you do that to yourself? Once you’d found a new house and a new job out in Utah, you came to the agreement that you’d take a break for the summer. After that, if you wanted to do theatre again, you could do a show at your new school - nothing high pressure, or competitive and catty, or overly professional. After that, if you still want to, you can return back to professional theatre after you graduate. 

“So?” she says softly. Your chest squeezes, and you’re so grateful that you’ve been able to feel and see and do and experience every single thing you love about theatre so much. There had been no high stakes, nothing riding on you and your ability to perform. It was just fun. Passion. A passion you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to let go of. 

“I want to do the next show.” You say, without a trace of reservation. She smiles softly, looking down at you. She hasn’t seen you like this, so much like yourself, in years. You’re glowing and at peace, and she has never, ever been happier to see it. After everything the two of you have been through, the divorce - and the events leading up to it - she remembers this is what she’s been fighting for, the goal she’s been working toward; seeing you happy and thriving. She had a hunch that high school theatre was exactly what you needed, and now she thanks her lucky stars she was right.  

You don’t talk about what you’re going to do after the next show, it’s not quite time to worry about that yet. There’s no need to rush anything, especially when it comes to stuff like this. You’re sure that when it comes time to make a decision, you’ll know in your heart what the right one will be. But even just from looking at you, even if you don’t know yet, your mom has another hunch that you’ll be back in New York, lighting up every stage on Broadway at some point. She presses a kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back again as you finally, reluctantly place your playbill in the open hat box in front of you. 

“Try to get some rest, sweetie.” 

She goes off to bed, and now you really have nothing to do. You sigh as you organize your hat boxes back on the top shelf of your closet, in the order you usually keep them in. You look around, deciding to clean your room. You run down to the kitchen to get a trash bag, then return to your room. You dig through all the scented candles you’ve been hoarding and pick out a nice smelling one to light, then put something on Netflix for some background noise. You start by folding your laundry, then pick up any stray trash. Usually cleaning your room gives you time to think, but you’re not really thinking much of anything now. You’re grateful for the break. 

You move from task to task, losing track of time as Netflix continues to autoplay. You pause what you’re doing for a second, trying to figure out why two characters are arguing. You’ve barely been paying attention, but are still managing to follow the plot for the most part. During that moment of stillness, you hear your phone buzz with a text. You pick it up, shocked at how late it is, how quickly the time got away from you. It also makes you wonder who could be texting you so late. It’s Ricky. That makes sense, you think. You wonder what he’s doing up so late as you open the message. 

You set your phone on the windowsill, then head towards your closet to try and make some sense of it. You’re not sure how it got to be such a hot mess - in all fairness, it’s not really that messy. You just need a project to work on. You straighten up your hanging clothes, refold all your jeans and folded sweaters, then reorganize it by color. Or maybe cut. You’re not sure yet. You make a mental note to rewatch Tidying Up with Marie Kondo later for more ideas. 

You decide to revisit that in a few minutes, instead turning to all the pillows and blankets hidden on the floor of your closet. You adjust them, remembering the first time you’d shown your nap hole to Ricky. Your mind wanders idly, recounting all the things that have happened since then. You really hope that in spite of everything, Ricky had a good time performing. A part of you really hopes he’s going to do more shows. He’s so talented, and he has so much natural potential. After what he’s been through, it would make total sense if he never wanted to do theatre again, but a part of you silently hopes that he’s grown to love it the way you do. 

Thunk. 

You turn your head suddenly, wondering if you’d imagined the small noise. You glance back at the window, and see you left your phone there. You figure it was a notification or something. When you press the power button to check, you’re met with the words no new notifications on your lock screen. 

Thunk.

Something moves in the corner of your vision, followed by another noise, then another.

Thunk- crack! 

Your brow furrows as you stare at the hairline fracture left in the glass of your window. You try to peer down, but it’s so dark you can’t really see anything. You open your window up wide, lifting the latch and popping out the screen. You lean your head out just enough to look down, but it’s still too dark. You turn on your phone flashlight and hold tight to your popsocket, angling the beam down, only to be met with Ricky. 

He’s holding a small plastic bag and a handful of rocks to throw until he gets your attention. He waves up at you awkwardly, and you laugh, covering your mouth to not make too much noise. It sounds beautiful. Everything you do is always so beautiful, he’s not sure why he’s still surprised when you take his breath away effortlessly. His stomach twists for a moment, and he hopes he gives you butterflies like you give him all the time. He looks up at you, and leaning down from your window like this, he thinks you’d make a really good Juliet. He’s not sure if you’ve done any Shakespeare before, but he makes a mental note to ask. 

You watch from above as he holds the plastic bag in his mouth and starts climbing up the tree next to your house. You lose sight of him for a moment, until he reappears on the lattice on the side of your house. He’s careful not to disturb the ivy slowly growing its way up in spite of the cold weather. You laugh in disbelief, watching him climb through your window until he’s standing in front of you. It feels like something out of a movie, and your heart is pounding in your chest. 

“You could have used the door…” you laugh. 

“Well,” he shrugs, “I wanted to shake it up a little.” He smiles at you, pulling something out of the bag. 

“I brought you coffee.” He pulls a to go cup out of the bag, handing it to you. He’s hopeful it will make you happy, and the way your eyes light up when you accept the drink is worth the stranger looks he got from the barista for ordering espresso at 11 at night. He takes out his drink, throwing the empty plastic bag in your garbage. You look up at him with those pretty eyes and his stomach flips. You move closer, pressing a kiss to his lips, one he leans into. 

“Thanks,” you say after pulling away, sending him the most blinding, dazzling smile. He’s been inside you more times than he can count, and your kisses still make his head all fuzzy. He lets out a soft laugh, feeling a little high from your attention. He sits on your bed, watching you as you sit backwards on your desk chair. You both sip your drinks, and it’s quiet for a moment. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask. He lets out a breathy laugh, surprised at how well you can read him. 

“It… still feels weird not being at rehearsal.” he says, thinking out loud. You nod in silent understanding of everything left unsaid. You chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, post show depression will really kick your ass.” He laughs, feeling called out at your words. 

“Yeah…” he agrees. When Nini dumped him, he felt like there was a sinkhole in his chest. Then after that, when she left, when she just walked out on him and his dad, he felt like he was going to cave in. Then he met you. You didn’t make him stop missing her or Nini, but you gave him something to lean on. You helped him realize he had something else to think about - the show. Now he doesn’t think about Nini nearly as much as he used to; that wound is starting to heal. As for the other thing, long as he doesn’t let himself think about her or Todd, as long as he keeps moving, he’s sort of okay. 

But now he’s feeling a new kind of emptiness. He doesn’t like goodbyes, he never has, so even though he knew closing night would be hard, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much. He didn’t expect himself to grow so familiar with the soundtrack and the script, running lines and remembering blocking. He didn’t expect to miss being called Troy so much. 

“I didn’t ever expect to love theatre, or love you, as much as I do,” he muses. You glance down, face flushed from his words. He gives you butterflies so effortlessly, it’s really amazing. 

“I love you too,” you smile, taking another sip of your drink. He giggles - actually giggles - at your words. 

“So,” you continue, “you liked it? Doing the show, I mean. I know there were some ups and downs but-” 

“I loved it.”

He smiles, and you both laugh, light and bubbling over your shared adoration of each other and the experiences you just shared. 

"I really, really loved it." He breathes, distracted for a moment as he remembers it all. "I just… I didn't expect to be so sad after?" 

You spin a little in your seat, taking another sip as you listen. 

"Like, I spent so much time learning how to become Troy, learning all the lines and blocking and choreo and now I'm never going to get to do that again."

"Yeah," you agree, looking down. "I mean, that's the beauty of theatre; it's always fleeting, but there's always going to be another show."

You can see him soaking in your words, really letting them in. It doesn't mitigate his sadness, but you don't expect it to. You get up from where you’re spinning side to side on your desk chair and sit next to him on your bed, placing your coffee on the night table. You wrap your arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder. You don’t say anything, and you don’t need to. Your presence is more comforting than words could be. Maybe it’s the sweet smell of your peachy perfume, maybe it’s the way you’re so consistent in his life, but he’s reminded in a rush of the first night you spent together. Memories replay like flashbacks in his mind, and after a moment, he turns his head toward you. 

His face is so close to yours, and it’s obvious what he’s thinking from the bedroom eyes he’s giving you, flicking between yours and your lips. It happens so suddenly, your heart barely has time to pound before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. Ricky needs a distraction from the ache in his chest. He needs something else to do, something else to think about, something else that makes him happy. He can’t think of something better to focus on than you. He deepens the kiss as you hold on to him tight, loving the way you always melt under his touch. You sigh against him, giggling as he works your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

He climbs on top of you as his hands move down. He takes his time, feeling you up, obsessing over every part of you until he gets to your thighs. He gropes your pretty thighs that he wants so badly to put his face between, not missing the way you were squirming a moment ago, already needy for some friction. He slots himself between your legs as he presses kisses into your neck, adoring the pretty sighs and noises you let out. He squeezes your thighs in his hands, before pulling you flat on your back with him hovering on top of you. The sudden change in position makes your heart race, and you can feel your cunt getting hot and puffy with arousal. The expression on your face makes it so worth it, he thinks, watching it grow even more flustered as he moves down. He pulls off your shirt and presses kisses between your tits. He plays with them, squeezing and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples in little circles. No matter how many times he sees them, it always feels like the first time, when all he could say was Wow. Oh my god. Wow. You let out a choked noise at the feeling, one he reciprocates, moaning into the soft flesh he has in his mouth.

“Fuck, Ricky…” you breathe, watching him closely as he moves down, trailing kisses along your stomach, squeezing your waist and hips, finally tugging off your bottoms. He trails his fingers over your panties for a moment, taking in how pretty they look on you, how much he loves to see that little wet spot growing bigger and bigger. He throbs as he takes them off, and you watch with wide eyes as he opens your legs a bit more. 

“There we go,” he says softly, and your pussy pulses in anticipation of his touch. He spreads you open, taking a moment to take in how pretty your pussy is, how nice you look all spread open for him like this. It’s a shorter moment than he would have liked, he just can’t resist you, he can’t wait to press soft kisses to your heat, to flick his tongue over your clit, to make you feel good. He won’t wait any longer, doing just that, listening to every noise that escapes your pretty lips like a breathtaking song. He traces a finger around your dripping hole, fluttering and desperate for contact. 

As he works his first finger in, he can't help but feel like he's home. You're so tight around just one finger, he wonders how you're always able to take all of him. The thought makes his stomach flutter with anticipation. He pumps his finger in and out gently, feeling you get wetter around him as you get used to the sensation. He continues licking and sucking on your clit, pulsing in his mouth, as he does. You taste amazing, and he wants more and more. 

"Fuck, Ricky…" you sigh, and it's like music to his ears. He pushes his second finger in, and moans against your clit as he feels your tight walls stretch and relax to accommodate him. You let out a sharp gasp, throbbing erratically against his tongue. He scissors his fingers, breath hitching as you stretch around him. 

“Oh my god,” you choke out in a breathy sigh, “Ricky…” 

He loses all his progress as you clamp around him, bucking into his mouth as you cum around his fingers. He pauses for a moment, dizzy from the sensation, that he did that to you, made you feel that good. You tug on his hair, and before you can even ask, he knows. You want more of him, want him inside you. He climbs up on top of you. You tear his clothes off, throwing them on the floor, not wanting to waste a moment. His cock throbs, almost painfully hard, and he can’t wait any longer. He needs to be inside you more than anything. He lets out a jagged sigh, pumping his cock in anticipation. He’s so ready, more ready than he’s ever been to be welcomed back into your wet, hot, tight embrace. 

He finally begins to nudge his cock inside you. He chokes at how easily it goes in, how you seem to pull him deeper and deeper inside you. You’re ready for him, even more so than usual from how hard he made you cum a few minutes before. He can feel you suck him up inside you, gripping and squeezing him just right. Each time you let him inside, each time you let him stretch out your perfect, dripping cunt, it always feels unimaginably better than the last. Every single time, he thinks that this, you, have to be the best he’ll ever have. And every single time, he’s right. You feel so good, so indescribably good, a part of him wants to cum right on the spot. 

“Fuck, I love you…” He chokes out, voice breathy. And he means it. God, does he mean it. He says it right as he pushes his cock inside you, filling you up in the most delicious way, knocking the breath out of your lungs in tandem. You try to say it back, you want to say it back, but his tongue is already shoved down your throat as he covers your mouth with deeper and deeper kisses. He’s insatiable, not ever getting as much of you as he needs to satisfy what he’s craving. 

He starts moving, unable to wait, unable to stop himself from pistoning his cock as deep inside you as he can get it. He drags his cock against your gummy walls, the friction already making you both dizzy. He keeps going, rutting his hips into yours, moaning into your mouth. He cages you in with his arms, resting his hands on your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes. He’s so in love with you, so fucking in love with you. You’re… his world. You’re his everything. Everything he does revolves around you; he’s not the main character in his story, you are. 

He would move mountains for you, overcome anything, travel any distance just for you, to be in your arms. He loves you so much it almost hurts, and he knows he’s never felt more relief than he did on opening night, when he finally, finally told you everything he feels for you. He was so sick of biting it back, of worrying about timing, if you would say it back, if he could even say it at all. He can’t remember ever being happier than he was when he finally said fuck it, and spilled his guts to you. Right here, right now, he can feel the little bulge he’s making in your tummy. He can feel where your bodies are touching and squishing together, and he can feel you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer. He didn’t think he could be any more crazy over you than he already is, but all of this, all of you is driving him to even higher heights than he could imagine. 

It’s overwhelming, and he moans, long and low into your mouth. There’s no other way to express what you make him feel than through his beautiful moans, like music to your ears, or telling you that he loves you every chance he gets, with his last breath he’ll be telling you again and again. He presses kisses to your cheek, moving down to your neck, taking in your sweet scent. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone this badly. He doesn’t think he’s wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants you. He’s so attracted to you, drawn to you in an almost primal way that leaves him rutting his hips into yours, grinding into your clit to get as close as possible, moaning shamelessly into your neck. It sends jolts of electricity through you, lighting you up like a powergrid. 

His breath hits your skin in steady, warm puffs. He lets out another moan as you scratch your nails down his back. Your hand tangles in his hair and tugs it just right, making him throb inside you. He knows in this moment that no one can ever make him feel this good, no one else can do what you do to him. He can feel himself getting closer and closer as he sucks bruises into your neck, leaving constellations of love bites across your perfect skin. Even though he’s holding you as tight as he can, drawing noises out of you that no one else has had the privilege of hearing, and it makes his head spin, he needs more. 

He finally pulls away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. You lean up to kiss him, and even though he’s aching for you, he doesn't kiss you. Not quite yet. Instead, he looks into your eyes so deeply, so intensely, with such a burning hunger that you feel like you’re being fused together. He’s still panting, this time your warm breaths fan over each other’s faces as he really soaks in everything about you, how pretty you look in his arms like this - and fuck, you’re pretty. 

“I’m close, peach,” he pants, sending even more heat to your core, making you squeeze around him as he presses a burning kiss to your lips; one you accept eagerly.  

“‘M so close,” he says again between kisses, “Can- fuck- can you say it for me? Can you tell me? Please, peach, I need to hear it, need to hear you say it…” he rambles, drunk on you and p=-

You’re trying your best, but it would be a lot easier if everything he was saying and doing didn’t render you breathless and unable to do anything but moan and writhe beneath him. 

“I love you, Ricky,” you choke out, desperate and sincere. You finally connect your lips, only for him to moan into your mouth. It’s loud and shameless and has you teetering on the precipice. “Love you so much, so fucking much,” you continue to babble as he buries his face in your neck, moaning so much he almost can’t register what you’re saying. He’s glad you’re saying it anyway. 

He can barely register how close he is before he cums. It’s hard and sudden, and he’s barely able to hear your sweet words over the blood pounding in his ears. You let out a noise he thought only existed in porn, following closely behind him. Your legs shake around him as you grab him as tight as you can, desperate for something to hold onto. You squeeze him in a vice grip as you let out the most beautiful whines and moans, and it’s enough to make him dizzy. Just your noises alone are almost enough to make him hard again - which he probably would be, if you hadn’t just milked his cock completely dry. You stay like that for a moment, letting yourself be filled up with him, letting himself be squeezed tight by your throbbing walls. He can feel your heartbeat in your soft cunt, and he lets out a shuddering sigh at the feeling. He mutters sweet nothings into your ear, rambling about every good thing he feels for you. He doesn’t think he could shut up if he tried - he usually can’t when it comes to you. He presses more and more kisses to your skin as you mutter sweet nothings back, rubbing your hand over the red marks you’d left on his back, playing with his hair. You take your time coming down from this, letting yourselves be right here and now, in each other’s arms. 

Eventually, he pulls out more reluctantly than he’s done anything. You manage to clean up enough to fall back into bed, into each other’s arms. In those few moments, you glance around at the several unfinished cleaning tasks you’d started earlier. You shrug them off, telling yourself you’ll finish them later. As you’re welcomed into Ricky’s warm embrace, you think this is way more fun than cleaning anyway. 

You settle into each other, getting comfortable as he holds you tight against his chest. You can feel the steady rise and fall of each other’s breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing back down, the warmth pooling between you. In the quiet air surrounding you, you can feel the calm turn into a sort of melancholy. You trace your fingers over his skin as he takes solace in you. Everything about you is so comforting, he can’t deny that you’re what’s kept him as centered as he’s been able to be. 

“Where do we go from here?” he asks.

His voice is quiet, breaking ripples into the glassy silence surrounding you, but you can hear the emotion wavering through it. You’re quiet for a moment, considering. You’re not quite sure if he means him and you, him and his dad, or the next audition. It doesn’t matter, you realize, because you’ll have his back through all of it. And he’ll have yours. 

“I dunno,” you start gently, and he holds onto your words, cherishing them like heirlooms, “but I do know one thing. Miss Jenn is announcing the next show in a few days, on New Year’s Eve. So, we should probably start thinking about audition music.” 

Just the briefest mention of auditions has him smiling at the memories from a few months ago, bursting in late with his guitar. At the time, he had only ever expected to remember that audition as the day he won Nini back. He never could have predicted what a different, more significant weight that would hold for him now. The mention of New Year’s Eve brings something else to mind as well. 

“Ashlyn’s having a New Year’s party, right?” 

“Yes!” you exclaim softly, “I totally forgot about that…” 

Ricky traces his thumb over your cheek as you discuss carpools and if you should bring drinks or cupcakes. He never knew he could feel this way, this warm, just from listening to someone talk. He doesn’t know what happens next. He doesn’t know what’s going to change, but he thinks he can handle it if he has you. He’s so wrapped up in you, so invested in the quiet little conversation you’re now having about sheet music and party outfits that he doesn’t notice his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans, strewn across your floor. After a moment it lights up with a new notification. 

1 missed call from Dr. Robert (therapist)

1 new voicemail from Dr. Robert (therapist)