#i guess what i’m saying is i love life but i also wish it was 2015 or 2017 or 2021 or 2019

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[rosicheeks]

I hope your days aren't as heavy and dark, I am sending all the positive thoughts your way. You deserve the best, fairy princess. <3

😭

[zushikun]

these few months… i feel like i’ve been generally satisfied with my life and then. the random wave of grief hits

[tojisun]

the apple that rolled over to the tree

!! fluff; f!reader; parenthood!!; simon-centric hehe >:3 // divider by @/plutism!

there is a… kid attached to your hip when simon returns home from a mission, his exhausted body stumbling into the kitchen where he finds you and it.

“what—”

he can’t even fathom the emotion coursing through him at the moment, what with shock triumphing over everything. still, you’d probably need to give him credit for not losing his goddamn mind at seeing a whole child — he couldn’t have been more than two years old with how he’s only three apples tall — clinging to you like a baby koala.

“oh my god, you’re back!” you squeal, unfazed at how dumbfounded your fiance has become, before shuffling close to embrace him.

simon reciprocates the hug anyway.

you step back, your lips still wobbling in your tears as you stare up at him, all awed like you couldn’t believe that he was back and simon wishes he can press his promises to your lips because he will always find a way to come back, he swears on his life, but also—

the child.

“sweetheart?” he begins, soft as to not spook you or the kid. “who’s, uh, who’s that?”

the child shifts, turning his little face from where it was burrowed onto your neck at the sound of simon’s voice. he rests his head on your clavicle, smooshing his already chubby cheek, before the biggest brown eyes that simon’s ever seen stare up at him, all doe-eyed and jarringly innocent, and simon, he—

well, not even babysitting tommy’s kids prepared him for this.

“this is yasha,” you murmur, pulling simon’s attention back to you. “or yakov, or james if he would want an english name.”

the boy reacts to you calling his name, and simon watches as those curious eyes tip up at you in question. you swipe your finger over his nose, the little thing scrunching up at the ticklish feeling, and simon becomes breathless at seeing the unadulterated joy in your face.

it is all parts soft and tender, but also anxious and worried, and simon begins to puzzle out the pieces.

“he’s my foster child. or ours, i guess, now that you’re here.” your voice is so fragile as you reply to him, your hand now beginning to rub soothing nothings on the boy’s back. simon wonders if it’s more to calm yourself down than it is to comfort the boy.

your lips purse, hesitating, and simon waits because while he he’s pieced out what you want to ask, he knows that this is something you would want to truly talk to him about. it is something he knows you have mustered up the courage to bring up so he gives it to you, open and ready, and he hopes that his face and his gait show that whatever it is you would want to say, simon will always support you no matter what.

“si?” you begin, looking heart-wrenchingly small in your worry. “i think i wanna adopt him.”

simon hums, stepping close but also being careful not to crowd yasha, before he curls his arms around you two — his family — and nuzzles his face on your other shoulder. “i’d love that.”

he offers you a smile, and squeezes your arm in comfort, then he watches as the tears come, easily springing up from your eyes. yasha startles, whirling to look up at his mother in worry. simon’s throat constricts at the thought of you being a mother and him, a father; how, now, there is someone else for simon to come home to. someone to fight for.

jesus. he’d need to tell the lads and maybe get wasted as a celebration.

“owies?” yasha asks, chubby fist balling your shirt.

“they’re happy tears, sweetie pie,” you reply, crooning. “i’m just so, so happy.”

yasha hums, nodding, probably already distracted, and simon takes that time to straighten back up. he pushes your hair away from your face, before he pitches forward to press a kiss on your forehead.

yeah, he’s happy too.

.

yasha gets spoiled, not that simon’s complaining given that he’s been the one doing all the spoiling.

“really, si? a new toly?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest in your exasperation.

toly or anatoly, or tory because yasha still can’t speak properly, is the name that yasha gave to all of his new stuffed toys. it all started with a dog plush that simon bought from the supermarket on a whim and gave to the boy. it was laughably quick how yasha had abandoned his blocks to make grabby hands to the toy, before squealing out that name.

the next stuffed toy that yasha received, which was just the softest and roundest penguin plush toy that simon’s ever seen, was also named toly. so was that teddy bear you bought for him. or that reindeer he got for christmas. somehow, every single one had been named toly.

the only thing you and simon can find about toly was that anatoly means sunrise. simon was so sure it was the russian word for animal, because why else would yasha repeat it, but who would have thought that their little fish is so imaginative?

like, of course he’s going to name all of his toys toly because they are as warm as sunrises. see? smart kid.

but this one, this new toly, set off world records. it was a camel plush that simon saw at the airport when he was out, pretending to be a civilian.

(garrick had been assigned with him for that mission, and was quick to spot and mention simon’s on-duty purchase.

“it’s for my boy,” he grunted in reply, forgetting the fact that he’s yet to truly break the news to his squad. garrick had never looked as surprised, and next thing simon knew, the news made its way to their group chat.

price was amiable about the whole thing. mactavish? not so much.

he just about begged to see a picture of yasha — “and yer girl again, if you wouldn’t mind.” — or even visit him. then he invited garrick to come and price invited himself too, so now the guys are going to swing by some time soon.)

when simon gave it to yasha, their boy had stared at it for a solid minute — simon counted — before screaming and then running to snatch the toy from simon’s hold. he hugged the camel close to his person, his little head nuzzling against the plush face of the camel, all the while absolutely vibrating in unabashed excitement.

he picked up thundering footsteps and turned around just enough to see you literally slide into the room. yasha continued to hug the camel, ignorant of the distress he caused, while you looked on in your panic, buzzing with worry because you just heard your boy scream, damn it!

“he’s fine, bub,” simon said before you could ask, and he watched as you came down from your frenzy, your breathing slowing down at the rationalization that if simon was not panicked, then everything’s alright.

then, your eyes landed on the new stuff toy.

“really?” you asked.

in his defence, yasha adores camel-toly.

in your defence, yasha’s room is running out of space for his tolys.

…well, simon does have all that military money. gonna have to spend it on something else, right?

.

[charlie foxtrot]

sriley: link

john2: ????

sriley: new address.

garry: oh? congratulations.

sriley: thanks.

johnp: 👍

.

yasha was shy when saying hi to price, then outright cried when he saw mactavish, which made simon bark out loud in laughter. yasha only stopped sniffling when he saw kyle. in no time, yasha absolutely adored garrick to the point that he would not even let him go.

dinner was prepared and while you called them all to eat, simon ambled out of the kitchen, where he had been helping you, and walked towards kyle and yasha to pick up his son and seat him on his high chair. but yasha had only looked at him, his head tilted in question, before ignoring simon and clinging onto kyle.

hell, he had even let go of camel-toly so that he could use two chubby fists to hold onto kyle. surprised, simon didn’t even know how to react and watched as his sergeant offered him an apologetic smile before carrying his son to the dining room. kyle rounded the table and sat yasha on his high chair, only, yasha made a scene when kyle did so, and he released a lungful of screams and cries, breaking everyone’s eardrums and their hearts.

kyle stood there, worried and confused, and hovered because he did not know what to do. hell, none of them did, and then you walked out of the kitchen, rushing to yasha, and hummed songs to comfort your son.

you crooned when he made grabby hands to be picked up and you did so with no hesitation, your touch soothing the boy into quiet sniffles. but even then, yasha wouldn’t settle down as he wriggled in your arms, short limbs reaching for—

simon glowered.

yasha was reaching for kyle. you were quick to giggle, asking kyle if it was alright that yasha would eat with him, and simon had glared at his sergeant, daring him to deny their son of anything, before reluctantly nodding his approval at kyle’s happy trill of, “of course, ma’am!”

yasha had finally calmed down when you sat him on kyle’s lap, and his boy was even polite enough to actually eat his soft veggies every time kyle beckoned him to open his mouth for a new spoonful.

simon did not startle, but it was close, when your hand landed on his thigh.

“you okay, baby?” you asked, eyes furrowed in your worry.

“yeah,” he remembers replying with, his throat all choked-up because he knows yasha must be excited to have new people to play with, but still, there was something that stung when his boy chose garrick over him.

not that it was kyle’s fault because he is a dear for even doing all that he did for yasha, but simon had hoped that he would always be yasha’s favourite.

too lost in his thoughts, simon had almost missed yasha’s call.

“-ddy? daddy?” yasha asked, startling simon.

it was not the first time yasha called him that, but every time he did, it never fails to make simon melt.

“yeah? what’s up, buddy?”

simon pretended that no one was watching the interaction.

yasha giggled, hiding his food-smeared lips behind his little palms, before turning to use garrick’s front to hide from simon. you snorted, murmuring to kyle how you swear you would wash his shirt before they go, but it’s all buzz to simon because his son — his darling boy — wanted to play with him during dinner.

yasha peeked at him again, before giggling once more when he caught simon’s eyes. this continued on until dinner ended, with simon occasionally miming growling monsters to induce more hearty giggles from his son, and being rewarded with the happiest laughter ever.

simon turned to you, with his heart on his throat, and beamed.

“aww,” mactavish sang from somewhere beside him. “ain’t that adorable— argh!”

simon had swung his arm out and thumped his fist on johnny’s stomach. thank god, yasha had chosen that time to hide his face again on kyle’s stomach.

.

“unca’ john?” yasha asks in a stage-whisper because everyone within earshot just heard him even with his attempt to be quiet. it’s only their training that stopped simon from acting like he’s noticed.

“yeah, bubsy?” john replies, sounding so utterly soft that this version of him is so foreign to simon.

“this tory,” yasha says and simon discreetly peeks to see which toly is being introduced to uncle john — it’s the elephant one.

price gasps theatrically like he hadn’t seen yasha drool all over this elephant toy before, and puffs out, “how cute!”

“mhmm,” yasha says, nodding, then smacks the face of the toy on john’s face. the trunk smooshes against john’s nose, and thank god that elephant-tory is soft because that aim would have been lethal if it wasn’t.

“jesus—” price gasps out.

“language!” simon hisses, and ducks his head back down just before yasha could catch him peeking.

.

yasha is now four and he still gets teary eyed when he sees johnny. simon placates his friend and says it’ll pass soon. maybe.

basically, i wanted to write a fic wherein simon’s reaction to being presented with a child is “what— oh okay, sure why not” and (literally in 20 minutes) “i will kill everything for this child” and so here we are

a simon spinoff - it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.

[hagravenholm]

Yeah.

[sailortongue]

Lima Bean

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji makes his intentions clear and a certain reporter is a little too committed to his job

an: ik the title is kinda dumb but bear with me i have an idea (title is still subject to change if the idea falls through). also tags are being kind of silly and I don't know how to get them to act right so if you asked to be tagged but didn't get notified I swear I tried 😭

wc: 2k

navi | prev | series mlist

--------

“I’m pregnant.”

Those two words changed Kenji’s entire demeanor in seconds. His face dropped and his jaw hung open in complete disbelief. “. . . Are you sure?” He asked. 

“Positive test, missed period, morning sickness,” you listed off. “I’m going to make an OBGYN appointment anyway just to be 100% sure, but so far yeah I’m pretty sure.”

“Ah,” was all he could say in response, his mind both blank and racing at the same time. Had he really not used protection? Was he that drunk? He tried to think back to that night, but all he could seem to remember was a flash of you under him and his lips on your neck. His face immediately flushed scarlet. 

“Are you angry?” You asked, noticing the rapid shift in his complexion. 

He rushed to deny your assumption. “No! No, nothing like that. I'm just . . . not sure what to make of this.”

“I know how you feel,” you said wryly. “Just thought you should know, I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling almost hollow inside with the knowledge that your life was about to undergo a drastic change.

“I appreciate it, thank you. If you don’t mind, uh,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “I'd like to be present. To be a father.” He thought back to when he took care of Emi and how much he came to love her. He was confident in his ability to take care of his own biological child, even if these weren’t the circumstances in which he imagined he’d have one. 

You looked at him as if you were meeting him for the very first time, entirely taken aback by his willingness to step up. Truthfully you'd expected him to deny any responsibility, but there he was, asking to raise the baby alongside you—to step up to the metaphorical plate and be a dad. “Really? And you’re not going to leave at the first inconvenience?”

“No. You have my word on that.” His expression was one of utmost sincerity. “I want to be a dad. Granted, this isn’t how I expected it,” he laughed awkwardly, “but it’s how it happened, and I won't run away from it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I'll be honest, I didn't expect you to be so noble.”

“Thought I’d tell you to get rid of it or just throw a check at you to never contact me again? I understand the concern, but I want to be there every step of the way.”

“Then, would you like to come with me for my appointment? I haven’t scheduled it yet but . . .” you trailed off, realizing you were asking a very busy man to take time out of his day to accompany you to a doctor's appointment. “Unless of course you’re busy or don’t want to,” you added quickly.

He laughed at how flustered you’d gotten. “I'll be there. No matter the weather, practice, or a game, I will be there. That’s my kid you’ve got in there after all,” he said with a broad grin on his face as he pointed to your abdomen. “And that takes priority over everything else.”

“Wow. You’re smitten with something that’s probably the size of a lima bean right now,” you teased.

“Woah now, that’s our lima bean and I’m going to be the best dad a bean could wish for,” he asserted, imagining teaching his future son or daughter to play baseball with him or helping with homework, even what it would be like to do his daughter’s hair, or perhaps teaching his son how to tie a tie.

He was snapped from his thoughts when you slid your phone towards him from across the table, the screen displaying a new contact. “If we're going to be coparenting we should have each other's numbers.”

He picked up the device to input his number and then checked his own phone. He showed you the screen, a message from your own number displayed there. 

It was only when he handed your phone back to you that you noticed how late it had already become. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize the time. I didn't mean to keep you so late,” you apologized. 

“No no, it’s fine. I'm glad you, or, Ami, I guess, insisted we have this conversation in person. Think if I had been told over text I’d still be sitting on the couch reading it over and over again,” he laughed. 

“That was how I felt looking at the test. It didn’t feel real.” You had a smile that mirrored his own, and you couldn’t believe how fortunate you were that Kenji wasn’t the douche you expected he’d be when he found out. Quite the opposite, to your pleasant surprise.

“Do you need a ride back home?” He asked earnestly, not quite ready to say bye. After all, you hadn’t  allowed him the chance the last time you had met. 

You shook your head as you stood from the table. “No, I drove here, but thanks anyway. I guess I'll keep in touch?”

He hummed in affirmation, standing from his chair, his impressive height towering over you. He gestured for you to walk first, following close behind you, his hand lightly pressed to your lower back as he walked with you to your car. While the two of you were wishing each other good night, another patron of the cafe was typing furiously into his phone, notifying his boss that he had just overheard the sport's world's juiciest scandal in months.

-❀-

The first thing you did the following day was schedule an appointment with an obstetrician. There had been a recent cancellation so you were able to get a slot in just a few days. You sent Kenji a text to notify him when and where, a small part of you looking forward to seeing him again. He responded quickly, saying he would definitely be there. 

When the day came, he called you to ask if you wanted to go together, rather than take two cars. You agreed and told him your address, choosing to wait for him inside due to the biting cold of December. When you heard a car pull up, you exited your home, and it took all of your willpower not to gawk at his car, which was probably worth more than your entire house. You saw the driver's door begin to open, and he stepped out, breathtakingly handsome as usual. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and waved, greeting you with a jovial “Morning!”

“Good morning, Kenji,” you returned, a smile gracing your features. 

As you approached the car, he slid back into the driver's seat and looked over at you, taking in the sight of the mother of his future child. He'd lain awake all night, playing with the idea over and over in his mind. He was really going to be a dad. How different could it be to raise a human baby if he’d already done so with a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby?

You noticed his gaze in your peripheral vision, but as you turned to look at him he snapped his attention forward and made himself busy with inputting the name of the doctor’s office you’d given him into the GPS. 

The ride was filled with pleasant small talk, asking each other how you had been since last time, basically avoiding the elephant in the room and talking about everything except the new life between you. After parking, he made sure to open the door to the office for you and entered after you, a rush of cold air enveloping you as you approached the front desk. You confirmed your appointment with the receptionist, and she directed the two of you to sit in the waiting room and told you your name would be called when the doctor was ready. 

As you were waiting, you noticed Kenji’s leg bouncing up and down rapidly, showing his nerves despite it not even being his appointment. You took the opportunity that had presented itself and placed your hand atop his knee. He looked over at you, his brown eyes wide and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You can wait in the car if you’d prefer—“

“No!” He all but shouted, refusing to let you believe for even one second that he would run out. “I said I would be here for you and I will,” he said adamantly, placing his hand over yours where it was still on his knee and squeezing tightly, a physical reassurance that we was staying put. 

“y/n l/n.” You heard your name called.  You and Kenji stood together, his hand not releasing yours. Instead, he rubbed calming circles on the skin as you were escorted into the patient rooms, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was meant to ease his nerves or yours. Either way, it was a sweet gesture.

-❀-

The gel was cold as it was spread across your exposed skin, sending shivers up your spine. A grainy black and white image showed up on the screen, and the doctor pointed to a small grey object depicted on it, surrounded by a sea of black. “This,” she started, “is the fetus.” You looked at the screen in awe before glancing over at Kenji. He was seated in a chair against the wall, his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward, his attention rapt on the screen and his lips open in a small “o” shape. 

The doctor chuckled at your amazed reactions. “Excited to be parents?” She asked.

You don’t think Kenji even heard her, so you answered. “To be totally honest, this was unexpected, but I think we can make it work. Kenji here made it very clear that he wants to be a dad.”

“That's wonderful to hear. Well, looking at the scan I'd say you’re about 7 weeks along and you can expect to welcome the baby around August 11. 

Kenji was practically bubbling as you each took your seats in the car, and he kept stealing glances at your tummy even if you weren’t showing any visible change yet. 

-❀-

These past few days of tailing the nation's sweetheart baseball player were so worth it, thought the man sitting in his car while browsing through the photos of Kenji Sato and a woman he’d never been seen with before entering and leaving an OBGYN facility together. Interesting. Very interesting. With those photos there was no denying that Kenji Sato, baseball heartthrob, was a soon-to-be father.

-❀-

Kenji put the car in park in your driveway. You made to get out of the car until he exclaimed “Wait!” You re-situated yourself on the seat, angling yourself towards him. He seemed almost at war with himself, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually say what had prompted him to stop you from leaving. “Would you, uh,” he faltered, chuckling awkwardly. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” He gave you a hopeful look. 

Heat flushed across your face and ears, and you beamed at him. “Doing things way out of order aren’t we?” You joked. 

He laughed mirthfully as well. “Way out of order,” he agreed. “So, was that a yes? To go out?”

“Yes, that was a yes,” you giggled, finding his eagerness endearingly sweet.

He nodded his head. “Ok. Ok, great. Are you free this Saturday? I'll pick you up?”

“I’ll see you then,” you agreed cheerfully, and, deciding to take another risk since you were doing things all out of order anyway, you leaned over and placed a quick peck against his cheek before hopping out of the car and waving goodbye. He continued to wait in the car until he saw you safely enter your home, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and his face crimson red, one hand placed lightly against where your lips had touched his skin. 

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taglist: @mochminnie @lovingyeet @sassy-cat-in-town @hanachiiii @aise-30 @reivelmin @fcheung750 @breaddippedinorangejuice @lunaryasha @imsimping4life @boomboom-tanjiro2019 @f1uveryysblog @random-3455 @b3e-sat0 @retaaaa56 @casualburning

[sescoups]

favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

masterlist

a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

[thelostconsultant]

Secrets

pairing: Lestappen x reader

summary: Charles convinces you to join his relationship with Max.

warnings: Well, not much, except for mentions of sexual activities, unprotected sex (wrap it, guys) and pregnancy.

note: Just little snippets stitched together to give you a glimpse into their life.

The plan began to form in Charles’s head when it was announced you would become his race engineer from the 2024 season. As you got closer and got to know each other better, he began to flirt with you, making it quite clear that he wanted something from you, and when he kissed you for the first time, feeling it in his bones that he got you, he finally told you the truth. 

“There’s something you should know,” he told you softly with his hand resting on your cheek. “I’ve been in a relationship for a good… three years now, but me and my partner are looking for someone to play with, someone who would be willing to be a part of our little secret.”

“Why do you keep it a secret?” you asked him, flashing a curious look at him. 

Charles let out a long sigh as he thought about what to say to that. “We are trying to avoid a scandal.”

“So it’s someone people know. Hmm… If I was held at gunpoint and they told me to name one person you might be in a controversial relationship with, my first guess would be Max, but–” When you came to a sudden halt, he knew his expression gave away his surprise that you figured it out on your own. Well, he wasn’t that good at keeping a poker face after all. “No way,” you said slowly, your voice suddenly dropping. 

He smiled at you after shaking off the bad feeling he had. You wouldn’t rat them out, he could tell, but now he was worried you would say no and it would change the way you work together. “Now you know, but please, this has to stay between us.”

You nodded your head a few times. “Sure, I won’t tell a soul.” There was a short pause, but then you looked back at him and said, “So how long have you been looking for a third member for this relationship?”

“We weren’t actively searching. When I met you, I found you attractive, then I got to know you better and realized I like your personality too. Max heard a lot of stories about you, and he was also attracted, so we just came to the rational conclusion that we would love to have you,” he explained. 

You agreed pretty easily. Sure, you did point out that it was only a pilot period, you wanted to see if this could even work, but that was more than enough for Charles. And soon enough you fell in love with them the same way they fell in love with you, and being together in this relationship became the new normal for you.

During race weekends the two of you could spend a lot more time together, easily slipping into his driver’s room to have some fun, but times like this you usually put extra effort into showing Max how much you loved him when you got him in your company again.

Charles was in an extremely good mood in the evening, and when Max finally arrived, he was immediately pulled into a hungry kiss, his back pressed against the now closed door. “Good drive today, pretty boy,” the Dutchman praised him as he placed kisses along his jawline. “Wish we could talk a little more.”

“We can talk now,” he said before letting out a short laugh and slipping out of his grasp to move towards the kitchen. 

Max shook his head with a smile as he glanced into the living room. “Where’s our princess?” he asked with a confused look as he followed the other man.

“Left to take care of something. Actually, it’s good that she’s not here, because I need to talk to you,” Charles said as he passed his boyfriend a glass of soda, who seemed much more interested in what he was about to hear. Rolling his eyes, Charles reached out to take his hand. “Hey, don’t give me that look, I’m not planning to break up with you. I was thinking about why she wanted to go on a date. Do you think she wants to leave us?”

“No, I don’t think so. But… I don’t know, I once overheard a conversation she had with a friend or relative, and she was trying to explain to them why she hasn’t been in a relationship for a while,” he admitted. 

As he sat on a barstool, Charles let out a thoughtful hum. “It’s a good thing you mentioned this, because my idea could actually help this issue,” he began, earning a questioning look. “Maybe it’s time to make things official for our sake.” Max shook his head, but before he could say anything, he went on. “Not us, dummy. I know we agreed to keep it a secret for a few more years. I’m talking about you and her. Just hear me out. I can be seen in her company because she’s my race engineer and we’re friends as far as people know. But you? You’re on a different team, people think we don’t like each other. So if she was dating you, you wouldn’t have to feel left out even on race weekends, and I could jump over to meet her, even if she’s with you.”

With a thoughtful hum, Max rested his forearms on the kitchen island. “That’s… actually… not a bad idea,” he said slowly. “Have you told her about this?”

“No, not yet. I was waiting for you,” came the response. 

Nodding, he moved to stand behind him and wrapped his arms around his body. “Are you sure about this?” Charles let out a confirming hum in response. “Well, if she’s on board, I say let’s do this,” he replied before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Max woke up to the sound of you vomiting in the bathroom. He quickly jumped out of bed to see what was up with you, and when he opened the door, he saw you sitting on the floor with tears in your eyes. With a worried look, he kneeled next to you and kissed the top of your head. “Stomach flu?” he asked you softly. But you shook your head at this, carefully avoiding his gaze. “Tell me, what’s wrong? You’re hiding something.”

“What’s going on?” came Charles’s groggy voice from the door. When Max looked over at him, he saw the way he was rubbing his eyes, but then he focused on the two of you on the floor and quickly woke up. “You okay?”

You groaned, then flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash your face. “I’m fine,” you replied defensively. 

“What are you hiding from us?” Max pressed on, knowing you well enough to sense there was more to the story. 

A minute or two passed in tense silence while they waited for you to finally speak up. Charles moved to be by your side as support, but he was stopped right away. He meant well, but this wasn’t the time to play nice. Max wanted answers, and if he had to be harsh to get them, he was willing to do it. And his strategy worked, because you finally took a deep breath and turned around to rest your hips against the sink. 

Your eyes moved back and forth between the two of them as you said, “I’m pregnant.”

Charles gasped next to him, barely able to hide his bright smile, but Max was hesitant. You had been with them for almost a year, and you had been publicly dating him for a while too, but this? This he wasn’t expecting. It’s not that he wasn’t happy, because he was. But you looked scared and maybe even ashamed, and this was killing him. So he quickly rushed over to you to cup your face with a smile on his face. 

“Are you sure?” When you nodded, he kissed your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” Charles added as he joined you and put his arms on your shoulders. “So… I’m gonna ask. Who’s the father?” he wondered out loud with raised eyebrows. 

Shrugging, you looked down at your hands. “I don’t know. I’m on the pill, but both of you doofuses tend to forget to use a goddamn condom, so it could be either of you,” you mumbled. 

Max looked over at his boyfriend as he bit on his lower lip, feeling guilty since they had agreed at the beginning not to do this. But based on the look on Charles’s face, he wasn’t the only one thinking about this. Of course, this was nothing new for the two of them, they had discussed their preference to fuck you raw countless times, but they never explicitly told you about this. But you weren’t stupid, you just probably loved them enough to let them do what they wanted as long as you all tested yourselves on a regular basis. 

“Are you mad at us?” Charles asked cautiously, but you just shook your head. “Then what’s wrong? I can see there’s something else you’re not telling us.”

“That’s not how you wanted to become parents,” you eventually told them. 

The sentence made Max’s heart clench, and he could tell Charles felt just the same based on the look they exchanged. They had told you about their plan to one day either use a surrogate mother or adopt a child depending on how things stood in their lives. Adoption seemed to be the winning option at the time as they couldn’t decide whose biological child should it be if they chose the surrogacy option. 

But things had changed since then, a lot of things happened and their feelings also changed. Once the Monegasque nodded, Max took a deep breath and prepared to tell you what they were both thinking about at the moment. 

“We love you. Yes, we did have different options in our heads at the time we talked about this, but now you fully belong to us. Our gorgeous and smart girlfriend is pregnant from one of us,” he said with a smile as he tipped your head to make you look at him. “It’s so much better than anything we could dream of. You should be happy now. We’re here, we love you, we’re going to support you the whole time.”

On his side, Charles let out a quiet chuckle, then kissed your temple. “You’re not getting rid of us, baby, don’t even think about it.”

note2: I just wanted a little glimpse into their lives. I don't know if I should write more about them, little snippets or text or idk.

[javier-pena]

three's a crowd

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 9.9k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re in love with Frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. Until Joel Miller comes along.

Warnings: friends to lovers | alcohol consumption | smoking | pining | jealousy | reader’s hair can get wet without it being an issue | Joel is kinda sleazy in this (but reader is very much into it) | mentions of cheating | protective Frankie | threesome m/f/(m) | a surprising amount of biting | the oral fixation in this is insane, I’m sorry | it’s all about hands and fingers | voyeurism | semi-public sex | cuck!Frankie but also not really (guess you’ll have to read it to find out what that means) | nipple play | (brief) fingering | (very brief) masturbation (m) | unprotected p in v sex | rough sex | spanking | orgasm delay | overstimulation | creampie

Notes: I started writing this fic in June and it was supposed to be a fun little summer thing and then stuff happened and now it's October - but here it finally is. There isn't really much I can say about it except that Dani @alexturner saved the whole thing by pointing out that the final fic wasn't really like what I had talked about while discussin the idea with her and after editing it, it's much, much better. I also had a lot of fun talking about Frankie's and Joel's backstory with you, Dani 🤭 maybe I'll write that one day ...

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

BEFORE

It must have been two years ago, or maybe it was three. Your hair was longer, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of five years, had just moved to a town where you didn’t know a single soul. “A fresh start is what you need.” That’s what your therapist said to you when you cried your heart out after Derek dumped you and moved in with his new girlfriend a week later. But she hadn’t been talking about this, moving halfway across the country, all the way from Maine, where the winters are cold and the air is always salty, to Texas, where it almost never snows and the tornado sirens make you run for cover.

That’s how you met Frankie, sweet, smiling Frankie. Your truck broke down in the grocery store parking lot and he jump-started it. He stuck out to you because he was wearing a pale blue baseball cap, bleached from countless summers under the hot Texan sun, and not a cowboy hat like all the other men around. You bought him dinner at that steak place that would become your favorite, and after three shots of tequila you opened up to him. He held you when you started to cry, took you home, slept on your couch when you asked him not to leave.

You’ve been friends ever since.

He showed you around San Antonio, he flew you to Enchanted Rock in a helicopter he rented, he even took you to Mexico where you found out he speaks Spanish fluently. He helped you fix the roof of your bungalow when it started leaking. You, in turn, took him to the cinema, made him watch horror movies that made him squeal, dragged him along to a rodeo, taught him how to ride a motorcycle when he told you he had always wanted to learn. The two of you just clicked. It felt right.

Now, after three years, you can’t imagine your life without Frankie in it. You don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to. He’s your best friend, and you’re his. Where one of you goes, the other follows. And of course, people mistake you for a couple, of course they ask, “And what about your girlfriend here?”, they say, “You’re lucky to be dating such a nice young fella”. You always laugh, correct them lightheartedly. But sometimes you wish they were right. You love Frankie as a friend, more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but sometimes you want more.

You almost got that more about a year after meeting Frankie. One of his friends, Santi, was in town, and you went out with a group before taking advantage of the hot tub that came with Santi’s motel. There were drinks involved, one thing led to another, and suddenly you found yourself straddling Frankie, wearing nothing more than a bikini, your fingers tugging on his curls, his hands roaming all over your body. It didn’t go any further than that, and the next morning he dropped you off at your house with his usual, “See ya ‘round.” He never talked about it and neither did you. He was probably regretting it and you didn’t want to lose him over something like this, so you left it all unsaid.

He started dating someone soon afterwards, first Arabella, then Bessie, and you hated them both, even though they were probably decent women. Luckily, neither relationship lasted long because it hurt. You didn’t tell Frankie, acted perfectly civil around them, but it felt as if your heart had been dropped from a great height and had shattered against the pavement. You had to ease that pain with a couple of meaningless one-night-stands but they couldn’t take your mind off Frankie buried deep in another woman when it should have been you. And when you told him about Billy and Carson and Hank and Landon and Clara to provoke him to do something, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

Frankie is single now, and so are you, and life is good. It isn’t always easy, but it’s a far cry from how it was in Maine. You’ve made peace with the whole Frankie situation, realizing it might just be enough knowing you’re the most important person in his life, even if you’ll never have him completely. This way, there also won’t be a messy breakup, hurtful things said in anger, actions you can never undo. You’re content with being Frankie’s best friend, and that should be enough.

It's summer now, one of the hottest on record. The AC in your bungalow broke and Frankie wanted to help you fix it, but then he got busy at work. That was almost a week ago, and you use these circumstances as an excuse to hang out at Frankie’s place as much as possible. He doesn’t mind. He has a big pool in his backyard that he always shares with you, and he loves your company. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s putting off fixing your AC on purpose.

You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, the sounds around you muffled by the water. Frankie is lounging in a chair by the side of the pool, resting in the shade after a hot day. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes are closed. That gives you the freedom to truly look, to see him how not many people are allowed to see him.

You take a deep breath and dive, floating weightlessly for a few seconds. It’s so easy to imagine this to be your life, Frankie to be your boyfriend. If he were, nothing would be different. You’d get to use your shared pool, watch him doze in the shade, help him prepare dinner later, laugh at his corny jokes … Your heart squeezes when you realize you have all of that and still it isn’t enough. What’s missing is riding him by the side of the pool, your bodies sticky with sweat. What’s missing is kissing his neck while he’s watching the brazier. What’s missing is knowing he’s yours and you’re his, come what may.

There’s a shadow by the side of the pool, and you scramble upwards, breaking through the surface with a gasp. “What?” you ask, smiling up at Frankie, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand.

Frankie gives you a thumbs up. “Just making sure you’re not drowning.”

You’re treading water as you say, “Would you jump in and rescue me if I was?”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re a better swimmer than me.”

“I’d make it worth your while.” You wink at him.

He lowers himself into a crouch so he’s closer to the surface of the water, closer to you. “How?”

“Ever heard of mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughs one of those laughs that comes from deep inside his chest and shakes his whole body. “Leave it to you to make saving someone’s life sound sexy.”

“But it is sexy,” you say emphatically. “Imagine pulling me from the pool, your big, strong arms wrapped around me. I think you’d stay calm and collected; you’d know exactly what to do. Any woman who doesn’t fall for you after that would be a fool.”

Frankie dips his fingers into the water and flicks some of it in your direction. You squeal and try to duck, but the drops still hit you in a quick shower. “Shut up,” Frankie laughs.

You use your whole hand to try and shove the water back toward him. You miss. “Stop it,” you tell him, no weight behind your words, a broad smile on your face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t make me come in there, young lady.”

He always makes you laugh when he calls you that, the air of authority he puts into his words. You’re not that much younger than he is, but he always acts as if you’re 20 years his junior, while you have started calling him “gramps” to rile him up.

You propel yourself backward, away from him toward the opposite side of the pool. “You’re too chickenshit.”

“Oh, just you wait.” He starts to pull his shirt over his head, his cap that he always wears getting caught in the hem of the neckline. You really try not to but you can’t help looking at his soft belly, the white skin such a stark contrast to his tanned arms. You wonder what it would be like to touch him, what sounds he would make in response to the difference in pressure, if you were using your nails or –

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

You don’t mean to, but you squeal at the sudden appearance of a strange man next to Frankie. You were so preoccupied staring at your friend you didn’t notice someone else approach.

Frankie lowers his shirt. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Joel!”

You glance between the two men, but neither of them offers an explanation. Instead, a heavy silence settles itself over this already muggy afternoon.

Finally, the stranger, Joel, speaks. “Is this a bad time or –?”

“No, no,” Frankie quickly assures him while you bite down a harsh, “Yes, it is”. Frankie runs his palms down his shirt, trying to smooth the creased fabric. “I just … I had no idea you were in town.

“Well, I am,” Joel replies in a tone of voice that rubs you the wrong way. “I thought I’d drive by, see if you’re home.”

Frankie glances at you, seemingly only now remembering your presence. “This is Joel Miller,” he says in an oddly formal voice. “We sometimes work together.”

“Hi.” You raise your hand out of the water to wave at Joel, the smile you put on not reaching your eyes.

If you had to guess, you’d say Joel was older than Frankie by at least five years, maybe even ten. He’s taller too, broad-shouldered where Frankie tends to fold in on himself. His graying hair is slightly too long, but his graying beard makes him look handsome, especially when he gives you a twisted half-smile as if he’s fully aware of what he just interrupted and is taking pleasure in your discomfort and annoyance. You want him to leave but with a clench of your stomach you realize you also want him to stay.

“She your girlfriend?” Joel asks without pretense, nodding at you in a way that makes you clench your fists.

Frankie chuckles awkwardly, a sound you only heard a few times before and always hated. He lifts his cap with one hand to scratch his scalp, then shakes his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Joel shifts, rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, just friend of Frankie’s.”

Can’t say the same about you, you want to say but if there’s one thing you learned from your years spent in the south is that there is nothing more important than hospitality. “You too,” you say instead, and start kicking the water, doing laps in the pool. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave soon.

But Frankie opens a beer bottle for him and Joel sits down in the lawn chair next to him, taking a big swig. You try to ignore them as best as you can, but you can’t keep your ears from straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“… between jobs … just a couple o’ nights …”

“… go out tomorrow … bar in town …”

“… broke up with me ‘cause she … her friend …”

Sometimes Frankie laughs in a way he only does when he wants to impress someone. Usually, you can see it too, usually you admire the same people but there is something about Joel that makes alarm bells ring in your head. And you don’t like the way Frankie behaves around him. You don’t want to call it submissive because you hate that word, but it feels as if he’s putting up a front for Joel, not saying what he really wants to say, not doing what he really wants to do.

But then sometimes Joel’s eyes are on you, his gaze hooded, and he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. There is something in the brazen way he does it that makes you crave more, and you’re a little bit disgusted with yourself for wanting that. You don’t know this man, and you don’t like what you glimpsed so far, but when he asks, “Any chance of you joinin’ us, sunshine?” you’re so very tempted to say yes.

“I wanna shower first,” you answer, pushing yourself up on the edge of the pool. Joel’s eyes immediately shoot to your chest while Frankie’s are glued to his bottle, his fingers busy picking at the label.

“Don’t keep us waitin’,” Joel says in a tone of voice that grates on you and makes you tighten your jaw. You want to flip him off, and he knows it too because he raises his half-empty bottle to you. You wish Frankie would say something, or at least acknowledge your presence, but a loose thread on his jeans has caught his attention now. Your chest tightens with annoyance and, even though you’re loath to admit it, hurt, and you huff at Joel before grabbing your towel and making your way toward Frankie’s house. You feel Joel’s eyes burn a searing mark into your back.  

You have no right to feel the way you do, you tell yourself as you work shampoo into your hair. Frankie can be friends with whomever he wants to. This is his house and he can let himself be treated however he sees fit. And you’re not dependent on him to defend you against a jerk like Joel, you can manage that all on your own. Besides, it’s not as if Joel is going to be around for long, he will most likely leave after another beer or two, so there really is no reason for you to get so worked up about it.

And yet …

You turn off the water with a quick jerk of your hand.

Stepping out of the shower, locating a fresh towel, it’s like second nature to you. You briefly bury the face in the soft fabric, inhaling the clean scent of Frankie’s detergent, a scent that will always bring you comfort. Then you pull one of the several dresses you keep at Frankie’s house over your head before using the towel to superficially dry your hair. It comes away smelling like him, which sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You’ve come to terms with it, you really have. Yes, you sometimes dream about kissing him, yes, you can’t stop fantasizing about what the two of you would be like as a couple, but what you have is nice. And it feels like it should be enough, which should count for something, right?

“Took your sweet time in there, sunshine.”

You jump, only registering Joel’s presence leaning against the opposite wall as you pull the bathroom door closed behind you.

“There’s a half bath next to the kitchen,” you tell him, avoiding his searing gaze. “You know, if you need to go.”

You try to scurry down the hallway and back out into the garden, but Joel pushes himself off the wall and steps into your way. “I don’t,” he answers. “I was looking for you.”

You sigh and look up at him, hoping he’ll notice your mild annoyance. “Why?”

“Frankie’s busy with dinner.” His gaze sweeps you from your damp hair down to your bare feet, widening as he notices your dress is slightly too tight at your chest. “And you look like good company.” Before you can come up with a snide remark, he’s two steps closer and his hand is suddenly resting on your waist, his palm hot to the touch even through the fabric. “You’re certainly prettier.”

The sudden contact, his brazen approach catches you off-guard. It’s been years since a man has treated you like this, and many years more since you were free to do with that whatever you wanted.

“Come on.” Why is his voice so low suddenly? “Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes. “N-”

But before you’re able to finish the second short sound, the thumb of his free hand is on your bottom lip and he starts to pull it down. “Let me check.”

Before your brain can consider all your options, you bite down on his finger, hard, out of reflex, drawing a hiss from him. He pulls back, steps away, shakes his hand. But that sleazy half-smile is still firmly fixed on his face. “Oh, you’re a little fighter, is that it?”

You take a step closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him, but he doesn’t budge. “I just don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

“I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is tellin’ a different tale.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shove him, both palms hitting his chest, and he loses some ground.

He tries to snatch your wrist but you’re too fast for him. “Careful, sunshine. Don’t irritate me.”

“Why?” You push your chin forward in defiance. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I have some ideas.” Joel reaches for your waist again, but you manage to step back quickly. He balls his hand into a fist. “I just ain’t sure you’d like them very much.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I’d like to teach you some,” he shoots back.

The sound of Frankie clearing his throat makes you jump. He’s standing behind Joel, just inside the sliding door that leads into the garden, a cocktail shaker in his hand, an apron covering his chest. “Drinks are ready,” he announces, his voice tense. Then he turns around, leaving you to wonder how long he’s been standing there and how much he heard.

Your stomach curls tightly with shame. Not because of anything he might have overheard or because of anything you did, but because you liked the way Joel talked to you, you liked that he decided he wanted you and went for it. You liked being close to him, feeling his uninvited touch on your body, hearing him say those lewd things. And all the while you forgot about Frankie, for the first time in months.

Joel glances at you and some of the shame must show on your face because he says, “If I kissed you right now, do you think he’d punch me?”

And just like that you’re back to feeling the slow grating of annoyance, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you huff before pushing past him and stepping back out into the garden.

The evening light is softer now, the heat feels less oppressive. The sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, and Frankie’s shadow is long against the grass as he waits for you to rejoin him by the pool. You want to put on your brightest smile for him, want to show him how much you appreciate everything he is doing for you, but with him you never have to pretend. Your face lights up when you see him whether you want it to or not, your steps quicken, your heart feels full of happiness. Even someone like Joel can’t ruin that, no matter how hard he might try.

“All clean?” Frankie has a lopsided grin on his face and a martini glass in his hand. When you nod, he hands it to you. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, honey,” you tease and playfully kiss his cheek.

“This one’s for you.” Frankie hands Joel a tumbler full of amber liquid.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Just whiskey?”

“You seem like a whiskey kinda guy,” Frankie answers with a shrug before taking off his apron and hanging it over the backrest of his lawn chair.

“What are you having?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sun loungers Frankie keeps next to the pool.

Frankie lightly shakes his beer bottle. “I’ll stick with this for now.”

You glance from him to Joel and then back to him as both men remain standing, clutching their drinks. “Well, this is nice and relaxing.”

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbles and lets himself fall back into his chair. “Long day.”

Joel chuckles and steps forward, but instead of choosing the chair next to Frankie’s, he sits down on the sunbed right next to you. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes against your naked thigh and you scoot away from him, clearing your throat. Joel doesn’t seem to have noticed; his eyes are fixed on Frankie.

“You never told me you had a nice place like this,” he says, vaguely waving his hand at the pool and the manicured lawn. “I would’ve come over much sooner.”

“Where do you live?” you ask before Frankie can say something.

Joel chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey. “You know what would go great with this?” He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans, conveniently having to lean against you to retrieve it. You push back, refusing to make yourself small. He holds the pack out to you first, but you shake your head. He doesn’t offer it to Frankie.

“She asked you a question.”

Your eyes snap from the sight of Joel lighting a cigarette, the filter hugged firmly between his lips, to Frankie, who has his elbows propped up on his knees, a thumb and forefinger wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, holding it precariously.

Joel takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke tickles your suddenly very dry throat. “I live here and there,” he finally replies. “Wherever work takes me.”

“Okay, so where do you currently live?” you probe.

Joel waves his hand around. “Y’know …”

“What he means to say is that he’s currently between houses,” Frankie clarifies, a slight tension in his voice you haven’t heard before.

“Oh, so you’re a bum?” Is Frankie’s face lighting up with satisfaction at your comment or are you only imagining that?

Joel takes another drag. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

It was bad enough that he had no regard for your boundaries when Frankie wasn’t right there next to you, but he can’t expect you to just take it now that Frankie is this close. You try to stand up, but his hand closes around yours and pulls you back down next to him, the force of it making some of your drink spill.

“Hey!” you protest loudly, but he only slings his arm around your shoulder.

“His girlfriend just kicked him out,” Frankie goes on, pretending he didn’t notice what just went down. “He cheated on her with her best friend.”

“Couldn’t have been a very good friend then.” You pick Joel’s heavy arm off your shoulders and let it fall down next to you.

Joel shrugs. “If I see somethin’ I want, I take it.”

“Must be lonely, going through life with that mindset,” you observe, watching him as he stubs out the cigarette against the tiles surrounding the pool.

“Depends on what you want out of life, I s’pose.”

You glance up at the slowly darkening evening sky, currently a soft, darkening blue, then take a sip from your very strong martini. “And what is that?” you ask, watching a bird glide across the sky.

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

AFTER

“Yes.” It comes out rough and breathless and eager, and suddenly your blood is rushing in your ears. You have no idea when the evening shifted to this, but you suppose it was inevitable from the moment Joel walked in. You just didn’t think Frankie would be the one to ask the question.

You glance at Frankie, sweet Frankie, who always respects you, always treats you like you’re royalty, and you see something in his gaze you’ve never seen before, a sort of strangled curiosity, like he’s desperate to find out where this might go, but unsure if he can handle the way there. You smile at him, and you nod, and his pupils dilate immediately, setting your heart pounding. That’s all he needs from you, and all you need from him.

Frankie puts his beer bottle on a small table next to his chair, leans back, crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting against his thigh. “Tough luck, pal,” he says, and next to you Joel stiffens. “You can kiss her though.”

For a moment, you’re right back there in high school, a bottle pointing at you, your friend Ines grinning at you from across the circle, Billy licking his lips nervously. But you’re all grown up now, you’ve played these games a million times, should know their rules by heart. Then why are your hands so sweaty?

Joel doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even wait for you to turn toward him. His hand is already at the back of your neck while your eyes are still on Frankie, and his lips have found yours while you’re still trying to decipher the look in Frankie’s gaze. The kiss is rough, almost unpleasantly so, and you can taste the nicotine and whiskey on Joel’s tongue that claims your mouth with hungry licks. Joel’s whole body is pushing against yours, and you push back, pressing your chest against his, making his concentration slip briefly. You use this moment of inattention to gain the upper hand and bite his lip, less violently than you bit his finger but hard enough for him to inhale sharply. Maybe even hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

Joel shifts, tightens his hold on your neck, and pushes up against you even more, like he’s trying to get you to lie down and submit to him. Resisting his efforts gives you a feeling of power you’re unable, maybe even unwilling, to control. You’re still trying to come to terms with the newness of the situation, with the shift that has taken place, but you know exactly what you want, and that is not to give up one inch to Joel without making him work hard for it.

Joel’s hand is on your naked thigh now, tough callouses rubbing against smooth skin. Just like his kisses, it almost feels too violent, but then you remember Frankie’s hands roaming your body in that hot tub, the way the water hadn’t managed to soften his skin. You remember how much you wanted him that night, and suddenly you wish Joel would touch you more.

As if he can read your thoughts, Joel’s hand is suddenly at the underside of your breast, cupping it through the fabric of your dress, his thumb finding the nipple so confidently as if he has touched you a million times before. Your body responds to the touch immediately and you lean into it, your lips parting in a stifled moan. The pad of his thumb rubs across your hardening nipple, rolls it through the dress and the bra you’re wearing, and you should push him away, make him feel like his efforts are futile and he has no effect on you whatsoever, but it’s been too long. Too fucking long. You’re on fire, unpleasantly so, feeling like you’re burning up too fast, like the flames have barely touched you and you’re already turning to ash. You press yourself into Joel’s touch as your jaw slackens, and he grabs your breast and squeezes it roughly while pushing his tongue into your mouth with the sole intent of making you gag.

“Hey!” Frankie’s voice is sharp, but when you flinch away from Joel and glance over at him, he’s still sitting in his chair holding his bottle of beer.

Your ears feel hot with shame as you refuse to acknowledge Joel’s presence and avoid Frankie’s gaze. Frankie was the one to suggest the kiss, Joel made the first move – then why do you feel such shame? Like you’ve been caught cheating? Why do you feel it’s wrong to –

“What?” Joel asks, interrupting the spiral you’re about to slide down.

Frankie squeezes the neck of the bottle, his skin making a wet sound against the glass. “We said kiss.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that sleazy smirk return to Joel’s lips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little second base.”

Frankie seems to consider this, his eyes fixed to the ground beneath his feet. You wish you could tell what was going on in his mind, but your heart is still racing like you’re being hunted for sport and your body is screaming for Joel to put his hands on you again, and all of that is too much to read Frankie.

Frankie holds out a hand to Joel. “Cigarette,” he says, and Joel obliges. You watch Frankie light it up and take a deep drag, a sight so unfamiliar it makes you eager to commit it to memory. “So you really wanna fuck her then?” he finally asks.

There is a pressure low in your abdomen that makes you shift against the lounger.

Joel only laughs, crude and hoarse, as if deigning that question with an answer is below him. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Frankie takes another drag, a short one this time, before glancing directly at Joel’s crotch. You follow his gaze to find a bulge there, one that definitely wasn’t there before, straining against the stiff fabric. When Joel’s eyes find yours, you make sure he sees you lick your lips. His jaw twitches.

Frankie leans back comfortably in his chair, some of the ash from the cigarette landing on his pants. He brushes it off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll let you fuck her. But you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

You think you must have entered a parallel universe or another dimension. For a short while at least. None of it makes sense: the cigarette in Frankie’s hand, the way he talks and what he says, that man next to you who is nothing more than a stranger, who had his tongue in your mouth two minutes ago, and that all of this makes you wetter than you can ever remember being. But then Frankie’s eyes meet yours, dark pupils blown unfamiliarly wide, and yet there is something in them you recognize – this isn’t a stranger who is looking at you, this is your best friend. No matter what happens next, he’s going to look out for you. All you need to do is trust him.

Next to you, Joel shifts, adjusting his crotch. He licks his lips. “Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.”

Your eyes are on Frankie now, heart racing in your chest, mouth completely dry, as you wait for what comes next. Your brain is running hot trying to go through all the possibilities of what Frankie could have Joel do to you, but all you come back to is Frankie kneeling in front of you, spreading your legs. Joel is nothing more than a shadow beside you, watching with a hungry gaze.

Frankie leans forward and reaches out his hand as if he means to touch you, but then stops himself and leans back. “You don’t have to do as you’re told.” The softness in his voice catches you by surprise, but he goes on before you can analyze it. “To start, do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glance at Joel, at how stiff his shoulders are, and you face him, trembling fingers pulling his shirt up where it is tugged into his jeans. Up and up you pull it until he has to raise his arms for you to get it off, and then you finally see his body betray his nerves as his chest flushes a deep red. There is a scar on his left collarbone, old and slightly brighter than the skin around it, there are some sparse, dark gray hairs on his chest, and his stomach is so much firmer than Frankie’s, so much less inviting.

Joel huffs and your gaze shoots back up to his face. “Kinda boring, don’t ya think? Pullin’ off my shirt when you could’ve done anythin’ to me?”

You won’t let him get to you, not like that, not when Frankie’s eyes are on you. “There’s no shame in me enjoying myself by taking things slow,” you retort. “I know your first move would’ve been to stuff two fingers into me but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see where the fun in that is when you’re comin’ ‘round ‘em,” he replies with that infuriatingly sleazy smile darkening his face.

You lean in just a tiny bit closer. “Only if Frankie lets you.” God, that thought turns you on so much your head starts to spin.

Once you recover, Joel’s right hand is cupping your jaw, his grip firm, while his thumb rests against your lips. “Someone should stuff that mouth o’ yours.”

You open your mouth then, until his thumb is only pressing against your bottom lip. You let it slide in past your teeth until you can feel it on your tongue, heavy, tasting like nicotine. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue massaging it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. Somewhere to your right, you hear Frankie’s chair groan.

The sound of Frankie’s voice interrupts you. “I want you to take off her dress.”

With a wet plop, Joel pulls his thumb out of your mouth and then starts pulling at the straps of your sundress, pushing them down your shoulders.

“Slowly,” Frankie adds, his voice calm as if he’s talking to a semi-feral animal.

Joel moves you so both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, then shifts so he’s behind you. He finds the zipper at the back of your dress and begins to pull it down, torturously slowly as if there is something he wants to prove to Frankie. As more and more of your skin is revealed, he brushes over it, calloused fingers making you shiver. His hands feel so much like Frankie’s, and yet not at all like him. Frankie would be soft and gentle too, but he wouldn’t scrape you with his short nails, he wouldn’t tremble like it takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

The fabric of your dress glides down your shoulders and back, and comes to rest around your hips. It isn’t anything Frankie hasn’t seen before – your breasts are still covered, after all – and yet there is something in his gaze when you look at him, a strange kind of longing, like desire that has been kept in check for so long it has become second nature to him. You can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the darkening of his eyes, in the way his bottom lip trembles briefly before he darts out his tongue to wet it. And yet he sits there, watching, his body unmoving like it has been trained not to give in.

“Take off her bra.”

Even Frankie’s voice is controlled and even. You shift, pulling back your shoulders and pushing out your chest in an attempt to get him to break, but his gaze shifts from you to Joel as he waits for the other man to follow his orders. Joel doesn’t need to be told twice. He flicks open the clasp at your back with one hand and your bra falls away. You push out your chin, willing your face not to heat up.

Frankie’s throat works as he swallows, a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he has put up. “You’re perfect …” His voice, too, cracks on the second syllable and he coughs. “Wouldn’t you agree, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply. Instead, he cups one of your breasts again and squeezes the nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch you back as a small stab of pain shoots through you. Now that the protective barrier of fabric is gone, you can feel just how rough his skin is against your sensitive spots, how his callouses catch in places your own fingers smoothly glide over. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches your nipple again, as he begins to roll it roughly, pull on it from time to time to hear you hiss.

Joel’s chest rises and falls against your back, hot skin pressing into hot skin, his breath caressing the back of your neck. He runs his nose from your earlobe all the way down to your shoulder, then back up again, but before he reaches the starting point, he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites down, drawing a shivering gasp from you. And then he doesn’t let go. He bites down harder, holding you in place, while cupping your breast with his entire hand, kneading it until your world tilts.

You’re not aware of how desperate you are to find purchase, but the garden and the pool and the sky above right themselves when your hand finds Joel’s thigh. The denim is rough beneath your palm, but he is a rough man so it doesn’t surprise you. What does surprise you though is how hard you have to fight to keep yourself from bucking your hips.

“Joel, stop.”

For just a short little while you had forgot Frankie is there with you, but his voice reminds you with brute force. And when Joel does as he’s told and you are left with nothing to distract you, all you can do is look at your best friend, at his fingers wrapped around that cigarette, and wonder what it would feel like to have him play with your nipple instead of Joel. The painful way your heart constricts at that thought utterly catches you by surprise.

Frankie takes a final drag on his cigarette, flicks the butt away, and clears his throat. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do.”

You shift, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit sending a bolt of desperation through you, mixing with that unbearable longing to create a heady, dangerous cocktail. “Frankie, please.”

Frankie takes you in, and you have no idea what he sees, but he runs his thumb across his bottom lip and asks, “Do you want him to touch you?”

Joel runs his fingers up and down your arm, his touch so light it feels like torture. You try to squirm away but he keeps you trapped against his chest.

You exhale shakily. “Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of hesitation, one that makes your heart flutter as you decide whether you should keep going. You do. “God, I’m so wet.”

Joel’s wandering fingers close around your upper arm like a vise.

But Frankie keeps up his walls. “Show me how wet she is, Joel.”

You don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you were more turned on, a single moment where you were less in control of your body and your desires. You try to stand up, your legs trembling like you just finished a marathon, hands wrapped around your dress, ready to pull it all the way down. Joel doesn’t even let you straighten your back. He pulls you back against his chest and wraps an arm around yours before running his free hand down your stomach, not seductively or teasingly but as if he has a task to fulfill. You’ve barely registered the sensation of his fingers against your lower stomach before he has pushed them past the fabric bunched around you hips and into your underwear, and this time you lose the battle against your own body. You roll your hips into his touch as your eyes flutter shut, you push and push, moans and whimpers urging him on. He doesn’t need to be encouraged – he rolls your clit beneath his index finger, just like he rolled your nipple, before dipping it lower, pushing past the muscles at your opening and up into you.

Before you can make sense of it all, he removes his hand and holds up two fingers right in front of your eyes, glistening with your slick. Your chest heaving, you try to catch your breath.

Frankie’s eyes are wide open. “What does she taste like?” he asks, his voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time.

Joel rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger, toying with your slick. “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Frankie nods so slightly you can’t be sure it really happens, then hides behind a smirk, and you feel something unbearably insisting curl up tightly in the pit of your stomach. “You tell me.”

Suddenly, Joel’s fingers are at your lips, pushing into your mouth. You open up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, and then his thick digits are pressing down against your tongue, making you gag. Tears are filling your eyes, and spit drips out of your mouth as you feel Joel’s hot breath against the shell of your ear.

“Tell him.”

You can’t, not even if you wanted to. Not because you can’t taste yourself on Joel’s skin, not because you can’t talk with his fingers filling up your mouth, but because Frankie flies out of his chair, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Before he can come to your aid, you close your hand around Joel’s wrist and push his fingers even deeper into your mouth, not breaking eye contact with Frankie, not even for a split second.

Joel presses down against your tongue and you suck on his fingers eagerly, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you care about is the red flush creeping up Frankie’s neck and into his cheeks, and the way he keeps closing the distance between the three of you until he’s standing right there, close enough for you to reach out and run your hands up and down his thigh.

Frankie’s hand is warm and heavy as it closes around yours, pulling Joel’s fingers out of your mouth. You gasp, unable to prevent a thin thread of spit from connecting your lips to Joel’s hand. It winks out of existence a second later when Frankie’s mouth clashes against yours, drawing another gasp from you, one that releases months and months of pent-up longing, one that originates deep in your chest but almost dies on your lips, stifled by wonder.

It isn’t a soft kiss, it isn’t even particularly well executed since your teeth clash painfully and Frankie pushes too hard too quickly. He also tastes more like Joel than himself, of beer and cigarettes, but none of that matters. He could have given you a small peck on the cheek and it would have been the greatest kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You feel his breath against your cheek, a shaky exhale, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself fisting his shirt, fingers clenched so tightly you will never be able to let go again. That is all you ever wanted, all you ever prayed for, and now that you have it, you never want to lose it again.

Eventually, Frankie pulls back ever so slightly and whispers against your lips, “Summer, that’s what you taste like,” and it’s such a corny line it should have you rolling your eyes, but instead you crane your neck and seal your lips to his again, high from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth. He huffs and pushes up against you, but he’s not close enough – there’s still so much space between you. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him even closer, but suddenly rough hands grab your arms and hold you back forcefully.

“I wanna go first.” It isn’t a request, that much is clear.

Frankie pulls back and smiles down at you, his face soft and open, searching for any indication you don’t want to do this anymore. Even though you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now, the thought of him watching while Joel fucks you, utterly in control of the situation, makes you clench around nothing. Frankie can tell – he switches back to his neutral mask in the matter of a second. “You didn’t do as you were told …”

It isn’t a threat, but it might as well be.

Joel hooks a thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip. You try to bite him again, but he is prepared this time, holding you in place. “Let me come in her mouth at least.”

Frankie grabs Joel’s wrist again and pulls his hand away from your face. “No.”

You have never heard him use that voice before, that kind of voice that makes you snap to attention, that voice that commands people to follow him. You shift, trying to rub your thighs together, but it’s just a primal reaction you have no control over. All your attention is on Joel trying to pull his wrist out of Frankie’s grip, and on Frankie holding him in place, the muscles in his arm straining.

“I’m going to sit back down, and you’re going to fuck her.” Frankie’s voice is so calm it sends a shiver down your spine. “Slowly,” he adds, letting go of Joel’s wrist. “And if you make her come before I tell you to, there’ll be consequences.”

Every muscle in your body tightens. You’re too wound up to rationally consider what Frankie is proposing, too wound up to think about how much you want this and what that might mean. You glance behind you to catch Joel’s reaction, to see if he’s just as affected by Frankie’s proposition as you are, just in time to watch him lick his lips.

“And I get to fuck her however I want?”

Frankie’s gaze shifts to you. It’s nothing more than a glance, a quick check-in, and you nod, just as quickly, just as imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Frankie answers.

Next thing you know, you’re up on the lounger, knees and hands braced against the soft pillows, faded from long summers under the hot Texan sun, focusing on the sounds of Joel unbuckling his belt. You feel your throat tighten at those sounds, leather scraping against skin, metal clicking against metal, but your mouth is too dry to swallow. Joel unzips his jeans, then there’s a rustling sound, followed by a deep, needy groan. It’s enough to make your heartbeat stumble over itself with excitement. You try to turn your head and glance behind you to see what he is doing, but Joel catches your movement and forces your head down, firm grip at the back of your skull.

“Stay.”

To your right, you hear the sound of Frankie shifting in his chair. He doesn’t intervene.

Joel grabs the bunched-up fabric of your dress with both hands and begins to tear it with quick, jerking movements, ruining it. It falls away and glides down to the ground where it comes to rest next to the lounger, leaving you almost completely exposed to Joel. And Joel doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the thin fabric of your underwear aside and sinks into you with one deep, calculated thrust you can feel in your chest.

Your fists clenched, your head hanging low, you try to take it, but his thrusts send shudders of pain up and down your body. It’s not unbearable, and it shouldn’t surprise you; he fucks like he does everything else – rough and with an edge of violence to it – but the stretch is uncomfortable, and the thrusts are greedy, so much so you wish he had surprised you after all.

“Slow down,” Frankie orders, and you lift your eyes to him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and when Joel does as he’s told, he watches you closely, searching your face for any signs of the discomfort lessening. You shift, your body adjusting to the feeling of being so full, and when Frankie asks, his voice low, “You okay?” you realize that you are. You’re more than okay, actually. Two more shallow thrusts from Joel and you’re completely relaxed.

“Yeah,” you answer, just for Frankie to hear and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’re good,” he tells Joel.

Joel’s open palm lands against your ass cheek catching you unawares, as does the moan you let loose at the sudden burst of pain. Frankie swallows, or at least you think he does – you can’t be sure with your eyes flutterin shut. You push back against Joel, eager for more, pulling him deeper inside of you with a greedy clench.

“The way you’re clenchin’ ‘round me makes me think you’ve never had dick before.”

Joel’s voice comes out restrained, the words are punctuated by more slaps, one harder than the last. Their meaning is lost on you as you are reduced to a babbling mess, unable to retain anything that is happening outside of your desire for him. You gush around his cock, hot and wet and wanton, and somewhere between the thrusts and the grunts, you hear a chortle.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya.”

That chortle is what pulls you back into yourself, and you risk another glance behind you, hoping that this time he will let you see. He does, and you watch him pound into you, both hands on your hips, denim pulled just low enough to free his cock, dark hairs curling just above it, streaked with bulging veins. He has one knee braced against the lounger, one foot firmly planted on the ground. You almost hate yourself for being so affected by that sight, but you can feel everything tighten, your body begging for release.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna –”

With a condescending smirk, Joel reaches for your clit. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

You close your eyes, focusing on how you’re clenching around him. You’re so, so close, you can almost taste the release on your tongue. Your mouth hangs open, a moan begins to emerge from someplace deep inside your chest and –

Joel’s hips falter and still, and you can feel yourself flutter desperately around him, but it’s not enough. You glide along his length, coming down from the edge, frustration blossoming in the pit of your stomach. Joel’s fingers rest uselessly against your swollen clit, still as the rest of him, and whenever you try to grind yourself against them, his touch lessens.

“Joel …,” you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him.

It’s not Joel your gaze lands on. It’s Frankie, standing right there next to the lounger, one hand on Joel’s head, fisting his hair, pulling on it so his chin is raised high, his neck exposed, a thick vein pulsing near its base. Joel is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to free himself, while Frankie looks down at him, darkness clouding his features.

“You’ll do as I tell you or I won’t let you come inside of her.”

Frankie lets go of Joel’s hair with a shove to drive home the point. Even now, freed from his restraint, Joel doesn’t fight back. He glares at Frankie as if he’s imagining beating him bloody, but he does like he’s told, removing his fingers from your clit to dig them back into your hip. He picks up the pace again, thrusts a little shallower than before, drawing a sigh of relief from you, scratching that undefinable itch Frankie restraining Joel like that triggered in you. That itch you don’t want to examine too closely right now but that you know you’ll return to.

Frankie pats Joel’s shoulder, two firm raps against the straining muscles. “Good boy.”

You clench so hard around Joel he must notice, but he doesn’t remark on it. He resumes the steady snapping of his hips while your eyes fall shut and drop down to your elbows, those two words floating around your mind like an echo.

Good boy.

A desperate little whimper escapes you, one at least Frankie seems to hear, because he runs two knuckles up and down your spine in a movement that is meant to calm you but shoves you toward the edge with a violent jolt. He must know what he’s doing to you, there is no way he hasn’t noticed. And it should fill you with shame, it should make you resent him, the way you lie bare before him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, but it only makes you want him more. You open your eyes to find him standing right next to you. This close, you can see how tight his pants stretch over the bulge you hadn’t noticed before, how you think you can even make out a dark spot of precum forming against the fabric. You lick your lips.

“Frankie, please.” Your voice is rough and broken, laced with desperation.

Joel shoves into you so violently you feel the thrust in your throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

Frankie leans down and places a soft kiss against your temple, then runs his thumb across your furrowed brow. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You whish you could tell him you’ve been ready ever since he suggested Joel should fuck you, but you can only laugh, a broken sound followed by a hard swallow.

Frankie straightens his back, his eyes bright with excitement. “I see.” He makes his way back over to his chair and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Joel picks up the pace, making every thought, every doubt you might have, instantly disappear from your head. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing you hard, and after that it doesn’t take long at all. After that, you let out a deep moan and push back against Joel so hard it makes him lose his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. You’re coming, pulling him deeper into you as he fucks you through it, letting you squeeze him as you sink deep into pleasure, losing track of your body’s movements.

You come back to the surface when you’re spent, and everything feels sore and tender, but Joel doesn’t stop. There is a burning between your legs now and you hiss, reaching back for him.

Frankie is there next to you again, cupping your cheek. You have no idea when he approached, what made him leave his role as spectator this time, but you instantly relax when you feel his touch on him. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, calming you. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You watch him squeeze the bulge in his pants, and giving it another, harder squeeze when Joel grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back. The proof of how much he’s affected by you is enough to chase away the discomfort and rekindle the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes glued to the bulge in Frankie’s pants you wonder what it would be like to feel him thrust into you, chasing his release, to feel him take what he needed from your body, fueled by how much you want him in return.

Finally, Joel stills and spills into you, groaning as his orgasm sparks through him. But your eyes are locked to Frankie’s, as neither of you dares to look away.

THE OUTCOME

The neon sign of the motel casts deep shadows into the cabin of Frankie’s pickup. Your gaze is fixed to the flashing letters, promising vacancy. A car rushes past, its tires whispering against the concrete, still hot from the Texan summer day. You try to ignore the tightness in your stomach, but when a door falls shut with a rattling bang somewhere nearby, you feel that sound like a punch to your gut.

“That was fun,” Joel says from the backseat. He stretches his legs, kicking his foot against your backrest. “If you ever wanna repeat that …” He lets the offer hang there in the air between you.

Frankie grabs the steering wheel tightly, the wood groaning under his skin. “We’ll know where to find you,” he finishes the sentence.

Joel braces both hands against your backrest and leans forward so his lips are close to your ear. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, so if you ever wanna grab some drinks, sunshine …”

Only half-listening, you reply, “Whatever,” fighting down the nausea you’ve been feeling ever since you climbed into Frankie’s truck.

“Whatever,” Joel echoes with a huff, opens the backdoor, and climbs out. “You know, I’ve had better,” he adds, before shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Hey!” Frankie barks, but you shake your head, and Frankie lets him walk away.

It doesn’t matter what Joel says to you. You couldn’t care less. Because as soon as Frankie starts the car, he’ll drive it straight over to your place, say goodnight without really looking at you, and tomorrow, he’ll pretend that none of this happened. Just like he did before. And as much as you hate that thought, you’re going to have to live with it.

As Joel climbs the stairs to the second-floor landing of the motel, you say, “You’ll want to take me home now, right?” It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The wood groans again, but this time from Frankie loosening his grip. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his ruffled curls. You don’t look at him, but you study him out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his face. He puts the cap back on, then slings his arm across the backrest of your seat. “Actually … I was hopin’ you’d come back to my place.”

The nausea you’ve been feeling pricks up its ears with interest and then curls up into a tiny ball, tugged away in a corner of your stomach. “Oh?” you say. And that’s all you manage before he closes the distance between you, his left hand cupping your jaw, his lips brushing against yours, tentatively, asking for permission. You give it to him by fisting his shirt, pulling him toward you, by smiling against his lips, exhaling all the tension in one short giggle, full of relief. He strokes his thumb across your cheek at the same time as you open up for him so he can brush his tongue against yours. You find yourself mirroring him, hand on his cheek, thumb running over the stubble there, relishing the feeling of him being so close.

You pull away first, and he follows you, mouth slightly open, chasing another taste. “What are we gonna do at your place? Do you have more friends who want to fuck me while you watch?” you ask, high from the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, from that promise that he won’t forget about any of this in the morning.

A neon flash lights up Frankie’s face, once, twice, as you watch his cheeks darken with a flush. He takes his time, studying your face closely. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble, so unfamiliar it draws a smile from him, “I want to fuck you myself.”

If you enjoyed the fic, I'd love to hear from you 🥰 feel free to leave a comment or drop into my inbox anytime ...

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[saturnznct]

best kind of nap | jks

➸ word count; 549 words

➸ ella; aged 3

➸ warning(s); none

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

‘Jake? El?’ 

You’d just arrived home from a late night at work to a seemingly deserted apartment. The TV is on in your living room, midway through an episode of Pororo, and Ella’s toys are littered across the floor. Despite this, your husband and daughter are nowhere to be found.

‘Hello?’

Ella’s bedroom is also empty, so you continue down the corridor. When you round the corner into your own bedroom, your heart nearly explodes.

Jake is laying on your bed, fast asleep, arm wrapped around an also sleeping Ella. 

The two of them are the spitting image of each other, faces smushed against the pillows, mouths slightly open and snoring softly.

You smile widely at the sight, immediately itching to be beside them.

Peeling off your formal work clothes, you grab a pair of sweatpants and pull them on, before crawling into bed with them.

You brush away some hair that’s fallen over her face, savouring how sweet and angelic she looks.

Jake stirs, sensing your movements.

‘Oh, hey,’ his voice is deep and raspy, ‘when did you get in?’

‘Few minutes ago,’ you whisper, ‘didn’t expect to come back to the most adorable looking nap ever.’

Jake smiles, ‘didn’t even mean to go to sleep. I guess we played too hard.’

‘I can tell by the mess in the living room.’

‘Shit, sorry baby. I’ll clean it in the morning.’

‘It’s okay. As long as you had a good day.’

The two of you are quiet for a few moments.

‘She’s just the best, isn’t she?’ Jake practically has heart eyes as he looks at her, ‘she’s growing up so beautifully. But I wish she’d slow down a little bit.’

‘I know. One more year and she’ll be starting school.’

Jake looks almost wounded, ‘nah, she’s not allowed to leave me. We will stay at home and play Barbie Dreamhouse until she’s eighteen.’

You laugh, but Jake looks genuinely dejected.

‘It’s okay, Jakey,’ you rest a hand on his arm, ‘she’ll always be your little girl. Her growing up is just a part of life.’

‘I know,’ he sighs, ‘I just- I miss when she was a little baby.’

‘Me too,’ you admit, ‘but I must say, she’s much more entertaining now.’

Jake grins, and a few more moments pass before he shakily asks you a question.

‘Do you want to have another baby?’

You lift your head up, ‘what, now?’

‘Yeah, is that so crazy? I just keep thinking about cuddling a little baby. When I’m with Ella I just imagine what she’d be like as a big sister, how she would interact with the baby. I miss the tiny clothes, the baby smell, even being up all night..’

You mull over his words, remembering that newborn bubble you had with Ella.

‘Okay,’ you hum.

‘Really?’ Jake looks ecstatic, ‘we’re going to try?’

‘I’ll make a doctors appointment in the morning.’

‘Amazing,’ he beams, ‘I love you. I love you and Ella so so so much.’

‘We love you too,’ you twirl Ella’s hair between your fingers.

‘Maybe we should put her in her own bed?’ Jake suggests, conscious that it’s now past her bedtime.

‘Nah, let’s let her sleep here tonight. Just this once.’

‘Alright,’ Jake kisses the back of her head, ‘goodnight my babies.’

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 21] The Right Decision

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The rest of your trip runs smoothly. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t try to pull another stunt that made you want to gouge his eyes out. Ren is over the moon by going to the beach daily, going to new places to explore, trying new delicious food, and what matters the most, spending time with his mother and father. Sadly, his vacation can’t last forever.

Ren is gloomy the day before you’re supposed to leave, begging you and his father to stay a little longer. Satoru wants to say yes, and he would in a heartbeat if he didn’t have to work. As much as it pains him, he can’t give up everything to be a father. The next best solution is wait for Ren to leave you alone for a minute just to ask, 

“How about I extend your vacation for another week? I’ll leave, and Sayo probably won’t stay either. Just you and Ren.” And it’s tempting. You really want to say yes, but you also want to go back and resolve other issues. Plus, Ren is getting accustomed to getting whatever he wants, and you’re worried that he might become more like his father which is something that you definitely don’t want.

“We can come back some other time. It’s about time I go home.” You answer, and he nods in response. And as selfish as it sounds, Satoru is happy that you declined because he hates the idea of spending a week without seeing his son. It’s crazy to think that he lived a whole life before Ren, and the moment the little boy came into his life, Ren became everything to Satoru.

“Alright… Guess we have to make the most out of today so Ren cheers up.” Satoru says, glancing at his baby boy who’s plopped down on the couch, lamenting himself because he has to leave soon. Unluckily for everyone, it’s a rainy day outside. 

“There’s really not much we can do.” You tell him, and Satoru sighs. He wishes there was something he could do to make the sun come out, but no amount of money can control that. Satoru ponders, wondering what he can do to cheer his son up.

“I got it.” His eyes light up, and he runs upstairs. You furrow your brows in confusion before walking over to sit beside Ren. Your hand runs up and down his back, attempting to soothe him.

“I don’t wanna go home. I like it here.” He kicks his feet into the couch, and you make sure to keep your distance. Ren doesn’t want to go home, he likes it here. He’s with both of you the entire day, and you’re giving him all of your attention, how can he not like it? He knows the moment you go back, things will go back to normal. He’s gotten used to this, he doesn’t want to go back to normal.

“We have to, Ren. Your granny and grammy miss you, and I have to get back to my job.” You tell him, hoping that mentioning his grandmothers will make him reconsider. He loves them with all his heart, but truthfully, he prefers spending the entire day with you.

“I want to stay!” He yells, and a sigh escapes your lips as you pinch the bridge of your nose. He needs to let it out, you know he’s upset. But he shouldn’t be using his voice like that. 

“We’re not coming back if you keep throwing a tantrum.” You warn him before standing up and going to your bedroom. You don’t want to yell at him, so removing yourself from the situation is the best thing to do. Ren is still going to throw his tantrum, and you can only talk about the situation after. 

“I’m here!” You hear Satoru yell from the living room. You’re going to leave him to handle it, not making an effort to get up from bed. Until Satoru calls out your name, and you groan before getting up and walking over to the living room. You smile, seeing how Ren’s demeanor has changed, kneeling down on the floor in front of the coffee table, waiting for his father to open up the box that he brought down. “I remembered I had a board game here.”

“Is this the home you used to come to as a kid?” You ask, wondering why he has the board game with him. Satoru nods in response, sitting down beside the coffee table to open the old box.

 He used to play this game with his dad after getting home from the beach. It’s a game that’s more fun when played with more than two people, but Satoru didn’t really have that option. Regardless, he still had fun with his dad. Growing up, the only time that Satoru actually spent with his parents was the little vacations that they had yearly. He has very fond memories of this place, and of the board game that he opens.

“I haven’t played this in years, I have to read the rules again.” Satoru can’t help but laugh as he takes out every piece. He remembers every time being so excited to tell you about the game, begging his father to take the game back home or buy a new one for his house so he could play with you, but both of them always forgot. Luckily, he gets to play with you for the first time, and with your son as well.

“Take all the time you need.” You answer. Your eyes fall on your son, noting his somewhat puffy eyes. You ask him, “Are you better, Ren?”

“I am.” He nods. Pulling out the game completely changed his attitude. You can’t get too mad at him, he just got into this world. He’s just figuring things out, slowly learning that he can’t get everything even if his father wants to give him the world. 

Like father, like son. Both are sore losers. After losing to you, both have pouty faces and you swear Ren is on the verge of tears. Ren doesn’t nap anymore, but you decide that after all his crying, you’ll put him to bed. You cuddle with him until Ren falls asleep, and once you’re sure he’s dreaming, you get up from bed and leave your bedroom. 

Satoru’s in the living room, going through his phone. You don’t want to be alone with him so you hope that going to the kitchen and getting yourself a glass of water will give him the hint. He can go to his bedroom and scroll through his phone there. However, when he hears you, he says, “Come join me!”

You sigh, but you still walk over to the couch and take a seat on the other end. You pull out your phone, while he turns his off. It’s completely silent for a minute before he clears his throat and asks, “Are you still talking to Suguru?”

“Does it concern you?” You quickly reply. It’s not his business, especially when he doesn’t tell you what’s going on with him and Sayo.

“I want to know if he’s the possible stepfather to my son.” Satoru answers, and you furrow your eyebrows. You put your phone down and look at him before tilting your head to the side.

“What about you and Sayo? She’s the stepmother to my son and you have yet to tell me a thing about your relationship with her.” You respond, and he purses his lips together. You’re right, you’re absolutely right, but this isn’t about him. “I have no idea about your arrangement with her either… The one that she mentioned.”

“We don’t have an arrangement.” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, clearly nervous about the question. He’s not with her out of love, he’s made that clear. Yet… Why is he denying it?

“The same way Suguru and I have nothing going on.” You answer, hoping that’ll make him speak. Although you aren’t lying, you feel as if you have nothing going on with Suguru right now. You’re avoiding his calls and texts, you definitely don’t have a future together after this. “Look, Satoru. I just want the truth, an explanation to everything. Maybe some closure.” 

The man takes a deep breath, and you know that he’s about to tell you the truth. You can read him like a book. Satoru bites down his lip before confessing, “I didn’t marry her out of love but out of convenience.”

That’s certainly a start, although you aren’t too shocked. Maybe you are a bit surprised since you assumed they fell out of love instead of straight up thinking it was arranged. He takes another deep breath before he says,

“When my father died, my mom knew that I wouldn’t be trusted with his spot… Since I was considered too immature. Also for other business purposes, merging the company that Sayo’s family owns with our own.” He begins, and you feel a pain that you haven’t felt in years. A sudden pain that consumes your body in a matter of seconds, and it only gets worse with his words. “There was another promising candidate that would’ve handled the job while I finished my studies, and my mom was scared that we would lose control. I’ve never been too well liked by them.”

You look down at the couch, feeling your eyes getting glossy as he speaks. You thought you were over this, you really were. He continues speaking, “Getting married to Sayo was my mom’s great solution… Getting married to a woman with status would show how mature I was, ready to take the spot.”

“And… I agreed. We would get married and stay like that until I had my job. I could show that I was great at what I was entrusted to do, and then I would get a divorce.” He explains, and you exhale. Your nails dig into the fabric of your pants, trying your best not to cry… This is why he did it. Money. Money was more important to him than your relationship.

He changed his number and completely blocked you out of his life. He treated you like he always did when you weren’t convenient to him. With contempt and superiority. As he speaks, you realize that you will never manage to be together without some kind of issue.

“I– I’m sorry.” He says, as his hand goes to your hand, but you jerk it out. It’s no surprise that he didn’t want to tell you, he’s right for not telling you. You almost would’ve preferred to hear that he left you because of love for someone else. 

You try not to let a single tear slip even though your heart breaks again. You would’ve left anything and everything behind for him, yet he didn’t even think twice before leaving you. And Satoru feels speechless as you’re on the verge of tears. He tells you, “It was a dumb decision, and given the option again, I would leave everything behind for you and for Ren.”

You stand up from the couch. You suddenly feel suffocated in the room. He wouldn’t choose you if he had the option, he’s only do it for Ren, and that realization makes it hard for you to breathe. But you’re glad he did it. It wasn’t his first time, just this time you realized you would never be his first option.

“No, you made the right decision.” You try to smile at him, attempting to hide the fact that tears are streaming down your cheeks. “Thank you for picking right.”

[jallerentrags]

Better than him.

James Potter x Reader, based on 'Boyfriend' by Dove Cameron.

James Potter thought of himself as a lucky man.

He had everything he wanted: Good grades, good friends, a good life. The only thing he wanted, which he worried he might never have, was you.

Y/n Cassiopeia Black, twin sister to the elusive and handsome Regulus Black. But despite being at the same school, and being best mates with your older brother, the space between the both of you was almost impossible to cross. You were cold and indifferent - sticking with your friends and Regulus - and avoided James like the plague. You rarely spoke, supposedly scorned by his theft of your older brother, and when you did converse, it was usually under the watchful eyes of Charles Nott, your betrothed.

At the age of 16, you had been auctioned and sold to the highest bidder, wrapped in his vice like grip. James watched from the side-lines as the eyes that used to shine like her brother's name-sake, faded.

He had tried to become besotted with Lily, a beautiful and intelligent girl, but it was futile. Your power over him was strong, his urge to move on with Lily too weak. But a strong friendship between the Head Boy and Girl did blossom, so James ended up ranting to Lily about his situation.

“James I don’t know what to say. Y/n is one of the most prized girls in school and her circle is small. Your best bet to get her attention is to ask Sirius to introduce you,” Lily paused to brush her long hair out of her eyes and behind her shoulder with a thoughtful look, “Of course, that’s if she’s willing to speak to Sirius, I don’t think I’ve seen them together since last year.”

James sighed. He already knew that you had closed yourself off after losing your brother, and he grimaced thinking about how hurt you must feel. He knew that Sirius was still mourning his loss as heir to the House of Black, and heard him crying at night when his ache for his little siblings grew too heavy.

“I know,” James fiddled with his glasses, face heating up. “Maybe it’s best if I just leave it. It’s a pipe dream that a girl like that would ever go for a guy like me.” James moved to pick up his books from the library table and head to his dorm, mood low. Lily gasped and slapped his hand away.

“Definitely not! I remember Remus telling me that you two were completely smitten and oblivious to it despite belonging to rival houses. The James Potter should definitely not give up this easily,” Lily’s brows were lowered in an expression of seriousness, her lips thin, “I’ve got an idea. You know the Christmas Ball is this weekend?”

Of course James knew the Christmas Ball was this weekend. The whole school had been preparing for it since it was announced early November, a night of bliss and relaxation to temporarily ignore the deteriorating state of the outside World. James’ parents had already sent him his dress robes, and he saw that last Tuesday you had received a large parcel in the mail which he guessed must of been your dress.

“Yes, but I don’t see why that matters? She’ll be going with Charles. He proposed in August.” James spat, anger lacing into his words. Lily merely rolled her eyes and huffed.

“So? Steal her away! Ask her to dance and charm her! I’m sure it won’t be that difficult, it’s not as if she’s in love with Nott,” Lily placed her hands on the table and leaned towards him, “She’ll definitely leave him for you, she’s always been sympathetic towards muggle-born’s and I heard her talking about how she wishes she didn’t have to marry Nott. Give her a reason, Be her reason, and she’ll leave her supremacist family and be with you.” James scoffed and leaned back in his chair, watching as Lily reclined also.

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy. She loves Regulus and she fits the role as ‘Slytherin’s Princess’ perfectly. I don’t want to put myself out there for her if she’s already too far gone.”

“Believe me. She’s not. People don’t look at each other like you two do.” Lily smiled at him, certainty blazing in her emerald eyes, “You could be her new beginning, and I really think she wants that. She loves Regulus and she always will, but I know that he would value her happiness and I doubt that she wouldn’t love to have a reason to escape,” Lily’s hand reached over to James’ and clasped it, “I really believe that you two would work. I want to see you happy James, please trust me.”

James’ lips formed a smile, and he felt hope blare in his chest. If Lily, the smartest girl he knew, believed that he stood a chance, then he had faith. He squeezed her hand and stood up, collecting his books and shoving them into his bag.

“I trust you, now watch me get my girl.”

————————————————————————-

The Great Hall looked beautiful, you thought, as you entered. The ceiling showcased a clear starry sky, and the decorations shone and sparkled in the candle light. Ice sculptures decorated the corners, and 12 great circle tables surrounded a square dance floor and far off, adjacent the teachers table, was a long buffet and drinks table laden with Honeydukes delights and crisp pumpkin juice. Charles, your financeé, gripped your hand tighter and dragged you to a table with his friends, only slightly admitting how beautiful you looked in your F/c gown. Charles' friends briefly acknowledged you (with a few appreciative eyebrow raises) before ignoring your presence entirely. Across the room, you spotted your older brother and his friends, who hadn't seemed to notice your entrance just yet. Sirius looked remarkable like always, a classic example of the Black families striking looks. Even Remus looked quite handsome in his robes, and Peter had cleaned up nicely. Admittedly, you thought, James looked incredibly good in his robes and had caught your eye as soon as you entered the Great Hall. His robes were tailored to his fit physique perfectly, and his hazel eyes shone with excitement. Although he hadn't managed to tame his hair, you secretly appreciated how well it framed his face.

"Admiring the blood traitor, Y/n?" Rosier, one of Charles' close friends, scoffed. You turned back to the table, missing James' look your way, and shot a smile in Rosier's direction.

"Of course not," you replied, entangling your arm from Charles' grip, "But you have to admit that he does look very enjoyable in his robes." you smirked, watching as Charles' face contorted into a sneer. He made to grab for you, already muttering about your incompetence with an extremely angry look on his face. He wrapped his hand around your arm hard, pulling you close enough to whisper in your ear. Despite being pulled into his side, his body still angled away from you, like you didn't matter at all. From across the hall, you wondered whether it looked like it was a lover's embrace. It was anything but. You spared no love for Charles, and it was no secret. Rosier and the others all sniggered, slurs tumbling from their lips and their faces a mixture of disgust and outrage.

"Y/n, you should watch your mouth. You don't want people thinking that you agree with your mutt of a brother, do you?" Charles asked, his face settling into a blank stare. Your brows lowered and your lips curled, before quickly schooling features once more. You simply hummed, avoiding Charles' eyes. "Now run along to Regulus. I'll come to you when I need you." He unwrapped his hand from your arm and pushed you away, before turning back to his group. You wondered through Hall, greeting friends, before making a bee-line for your twin. The dancing had begun, a light tempo that sent couples soaring over the floor. You watched in admiration, the way they held each other, looking into each others eyes like no one else existed, souls mingling and stretching across the floor. You wished you could be swept along the floor, lost in the steps and the feel of your partners hands. The partner you imagined never had the Nott green eyes and cigar scented yellowed palms, he always had the face of your older brother's best friend.

From behind you, you heard somebody cough to catch your attention, and you turned on your heel to come face to face with James Potter, watching his already huge smile grow wider. His hands were in his trouser pockets, his body angled towards you so completely that you couldn't even acknowledge other's brushing up against you.

"I can't believe we're finally alone, I've been trying to catch you since you arrived, you look so beautiful," James revealed, blush drifting across his cheeks, "I almost went back up to the dorm."

"Well that would've been a shame, Potter" you smiled back, easing towards him, "I was hoping to see you on the dance floor."

James laughed, a sound that sent shudders down your spine and took his hand out of his pocket to push up his glasses that had fallen down his nose. "What are the chances? I wanted to see you on the dance floor too," James squared his shoulders and cleared his throat "Everyone's dancing, yet you aren't, somebody that I know is stuck by dance fever frequently, and he's not with you," James leaned forward and smirked, "the Universe must of divined us, little Black, it looks like we're destined to dance together tonight."

You could almost see the thoughts fly across his face as he grabbed your wrist before you could even object, pulling you towards the dance floor. The music had changed to a sweet, mouldable beat, sweeping partners across the floor in unique waltzes and dips. James positioned you on the floor, a large hand leaving a burning touch on you waist and the other slipping into you awaiting hand as you breathlessly laughed. Your hands fit together perfectly, just like his hand rested so perfectly on the curve of your waist. He started leading, smiling down at you as though you placed the stars in the sky, a twinkle in his bespectacled eyes. You followed readily, returning his smile and placing you hand on his shoulder, heat building and spreading under your dress at your close contact.

You were flying, soaring, just two people in a sea of revellers. You didn't slip from his gaze, totally unfettered, lost in him. You never stumbled, never faltered, you recalled every conversation, every lingering glance, every lasting touch, knowing you were utterly enthralled. James looked the same, captivated by your presence, stuck in your energy. You saw the words bubble in him, and your heart soared when he stopped biting his tongue.

"Y/n," he whispered, drawing you closer, his face a picture intimacy, "I could be a better boyfriend than him," you sucked in air, but didn't draw from his arms. James tightened his grip on your hip as you looked deeply into his eyes, "I could do all the shit that he never does," he flared his fingers against your waist, "I'll stay up all night for you, I won't quit. I'm thinking that I'm going to steal you from him," he dropped his head to press against your forehead, your joined hands tight as you still manoeuvred around the floor, "I could be such a gentleman, plus all my clothes would look so good on you." You slowed to a stop, dancers fluttering around you as you ended up at a loss for words, mouth agape and your heart singing. "I could be so much better for you than him."

"James..." you unlaced your joined hands, already missing his touch, as he stared at you desperately. You knew that everything he said was true, and James was nothing if not an honest man. He made you smile, kept you safe, always thought of you as the prettiest girl in the room. You were in love with James Potter, but it wasn't as easy as that. You had to worry about your brother, Regulus, and the future of your family. While your parents were definitely not kind and nurturing, they were all you had. You didn't have James Potter to whisk you away if Sirius didn't allow him too. You wanted James, more than you'd ever want Charles and his prejudice. Your eyes watered, and you suddenly felt lost.

"I don't need to tell you twice all the ways he can't suffice, he wouldn't care about your happiness, or your dancing or your smile," James' unwavering hope warmed you, cocooning you in a safety net when you felt like you were falling from the Astronomy Tower. James wanted to be your new beginning, your second chance. He wanted to cuddle you on cold nights and to show you the beauty of the muggle world and all its secrets, "If I could give you some advice, baby, I'd leave with me tonight." His desperation slipped from his face, replaced with a confident smirk, as if he saw your facade melting, as if he could see you melting in his arms, as if he knew that you were going to choose him, just like you would every single time.

"You'll help me get through it?" you asked, and James immediately knew that you meant the sparking fall out between you and your parents, and the Nott family. James took your face in his hands, love shining in his eyes, before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"I'd give you my heart if you asked, darling, of course I'll help. Besides, what's another Black sibling in my house? if your brother comes I'll have the full set." you shared a laugh, biting back the tears that threatened to spill.

"You'd like that." you said between laughs.

"I'd love it." he answered, leaning back and taking your hand in his once again. He led you back off the dance floor, both of you blushing madly and smiling merrily. Towards the left of the hall, you spotted James' friends watching you both intently, glasses raised. Lily Evans seemed particularly excited, emerald eyes aglow with excitement as she waved enthusiastically and gave James a thumbs up. Sirius and Regulus stood further away, small smiles on their faces as they watched their little sister walk out of the hall with the resident trouble maker. No complaints rose up their throats, just unbridled joy for their sister who finally looked happy. James and Y/n didn't look at anyone else as they left hand in hand, not even at a furious Charles Nott, hands balled in tight fists. They ignored the open mouthed stares and muttered remarks, completely absorbed in each other.

The next day, Charles would arrive at his dorm to an owl waiting by the open window. Tied to his leg was a envelope, and Charles reached for it immediately. Ripping it open, he tore the piece of paper out and dumped its contents on his bed. Gleaming back at his sneering face was the ring he gave Y/n when he proposed, and scribbled on the letter was one sentence:

'I suppose you were right Charles, I do have a taste for blood-traitors.’

- Y/n Black and James Potter

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

My baby, my baby…

Summary: Leon is a man pushing 40 and you’re a girl in her early 20s. You confessed your feelings but things went south.

Warning: age gap. literally any older version of Leon. reader is young. female reader. haha guess what? it’s sad again.

a/n: I love mitski <3 still mad I didn’t go to her concert. Guys I love writing, I feel like I’m god waiting for shit to happen. TEEHEE.🤭 also, should I make a part two with smut?

(pt.1) (pt.2)

“You're my baby, say it to me” - Mitski, I Bet On Losing Dogs

You hated him. Well not really. You just hated the way he made you feel when you two were in the same room. Your heart beat faster and you felt your face grow hot. You had butterflies in your stomach every time he did something. And you felt stupid because he’s a man twice your age.

You did what you always think is best, avoid him. To which you failed miserably. You both worked on the same team on the DSO, of course you were bound to be next to him. It was as if the universe was mocking you. You couldn’t help but feel guilty. This man, poor innocent man, probably doesn’t know that he has someone so much younger after him. He must be worried about missions and not dying, while you were here crushing over him.

It didn’t help the way he would talk to you, distant but polite. He didn’t hate you, he just thought you were too young to experience such a miserable life the DSO puts on its agents. He wants you to live life. To be a normal girl in her early 20s. He wanted you to have the life he wished he had. He wished you would live your 21st year way differently than when he was 21.

But those thoughts remained unspoken. Neither of you actually spoke about anything besides work and missions. You tried to find excuses to talk to him but he would just stare at you in silence as you talked. He wasn’t mad, he just stood there. (Like this lol🧍‍♂️)

Professional and polite conversations turned into jokes. One time, during a meeting, you were sitting next to Leon and the poor man looked like he didn’t get an ounce of sleep. Chris was talking about some mission in Antarctica and Leon couldn’t help but grumble a stupid joke about all the penguin shit roaming around. It was such a stupid joke but you laughed. When Leon heard you laugh, he turned his head your direction and stared at you with a raised brow. He smirked to himself and laughed a little bit. It was funny to both of you.

From that moment, he became more warm towards you. When he saw you, he would nod at him. And you being you, a delusional lover, gushed about how much he is in love with you.

You managed to break the ice exterior he had because he would look at you with soft eyes every time you got near him.

-

But things changed when you confessed your feelings to him. The softness in his eyes disappeared and he looked at you with the same distant look he had. “I’m too old for you, y/n…” He spoke with a quiet but firm tone. The two of you were currently alone in some room inside the DSO building. You thought this was the perfect time to let your feelings out.

He took a step towards you and stood in front of you, “You should focus on someone your age, sweetheart,” He mumbled as he brought his hand to your face and brushed some strands of hair behind your ear. He then ran his hand down your cheek with a gentle touch. You couldn’t help but lean into it. His thumb gently grazes against your bottom lip as he ran his fingers around your side of your face.

You were upset, you wanted him despite the age gap. “Please… I only want you,” you whispered and leaned into the palm of his hand.

Leon stared at you and then sighed as he brought his hand down your chin to lift it up more. He wanted to see those beautiful eyes of yours, even if they began to show how sad you were. “It’s wrong for me to have you,” he whispered gently as he examines your face.

You felt your eyes become full of emotion, “It’s not fair…” your voice came out strained and barely audible, it was a miracle Leon still understood you.

"I know." Leon sighed, unable to keep himself from looking you with a soft look. You were his soft spot after all, "Trust me; nothing would please me more than to be with you..."

“Then let me have this one chance…please?” You begged with pleading eyes. "I shouldn't," he breathed, eyes traveling down to your lips before returning to scan your face, "It wouldn't be right for me to take advantage of you..."

“I want you to take advantage of me, to use me… I just want to be yours,” you whispered as your eyes shifted down to his lips and then back to his eyes.

"You're sure about this?" His breathing quickened as his eyelids drew heavy, his gaze locked onto the soft curve of your lips. You nodded, “I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t sure,” you whispered as your hand intertwined with his.

He squeezed your hand, and with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he leaned down until your faces were just mere inches apart.

He breathed slowly, eyes scanning your gaze, "Promise me one thing..."

You stared at his eyes and nodded, “yeah?”

"Promise me..." He breathed out slowly, allowing himself to lean in closer to you until his breathing was near whisper. "...That you will not regret this.”

“I won’t,” you whispered as you closed your eyes and felt Leon's lips finally make contact with yours, kissing for the very first time. It was a gentle, tender caress that made your cheeks flush with color, his broad hands gently resting on your hips while the tips of his fingers grazed the skin of your waist. You brought your hands to his broad shoulders and rested them there. You felt your knees grow weak from the gentleness of the kiss. His lips felt so soft against yours, he tasted the flavor of your chapstick and he couldn’t help but love it even more.

He sighed against your lips as the gentleness of the kiss began to build into something more passionate. His lips pressed against yours firmly, a hand cupping your chin to keep your face closer. His lips parted slowly, urging your lips to part as well. When you felt his lips part and his tongue press on your bottom lip, you gasped and he dived his tongue right into your mouth. His tongue finally danced against your tongue, inviting a response back from you. Your grip on his shoulders increased ever so slightly as you moaned in the kiss, sending the vibrations to his tongue as both your tongues danced passionately.

He moaned softly in response, his hands sliding around to your back once more holding you as close to him as he could. His tongue continued to swirl around your mouth, gently sucking at your bottom lip. His hold on you was strong and firm, a silent command to stay pressed against him. His hold on you only grew stronger as he kept you pressed up against his body. A hand ran through your hair, keeping your head held in place. His tongue and lips continued the dance of teasing and pleasing, your own lips responding in kind. The passion built within his embrace, his breath growing labored and his heart beating rapidly against his chest. It felt so surreal.

You moved your hands down to his chest and gently pulled back to catch your breath. You panted as you tried to breathe and remain focused. Your brain felt mushy from how good the kiss was. You finally got the chance to taste his lips.

His lips parted from yours, and he breathed out slowly, his breathing rapid and throat parched. His hand slid to your lower back as he kept you pressed close to him. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face, then gently tucked it back behind your ear. "Are you ok?" He whispered, voice still strained, but his body relaxing slightly.

You nodded and breathed out a small “yes,”

Leon let his grip on you loosen slightly, allowing a small distance to form between the two of you. He brushed the side of your face, and his hand moved to grasp yours.

"Good," He whispered slowly, his gaze falling to your lips, "So very good..." he sighed and let his hand slid back down your back before letting go, "Forgive me if I got a little carried away..." He took in a deep breath, his voice now returning to a normal tone, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time..."

You eyes nestled bulged out of their sockets after he said that, “You did?” You asked softly in disbelief.

He nodded slowly, his gaze flicking between yours, “Yes. Ever since the moment we first met, I was attracted to you, even though I knew it was wrong. I wanted you, wanted to hold you close, kiss you, and make you mine…” his eyes growing distant, "I've wanted you..." He took a deep breath, then gently caressed your chin with a hand, his lips gently grazing your forehead.

You closed your eyes and felt the softness of his lips plant a kiss on your forehead. A gesture so gentle and soft it could bring anyone to their knees.

He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes for a second before opening them to peek at you through his lids. He raised a brow and sighed, adjusting the hold on your chin to gently tip your head up.

"But as I said, I'm too old for you," he brushed his fingers across your jawline, "And I fear that our relationship would be met with judgment and ridicule..." he looked at you with saddened eyes. He wished he could kiss you anytime, to be with you in public and not have to worry about the judgment. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman to ever step foot on earth. It was sad, really. How much love he had for you but he hid it for your sake. He loves you so much he didn’t want you to get hurt.

You furrowed your brows together and looked at him with those sad eyes of yours. But his heart ached the most with the strain of your voice, “I don’t care what anyone says…”

"But you should," he replied softly, "You're still young... You should find someone closer to your age,” he caressed your cheek once again as he looked into your eyes "What about your family?" He sighed, "What if your parents disagree with us? They'd say that I'm taking advantage of you and manipulating you because you're young..."

“Leon, please, I’m an adult. I can make my own choices…” you whispered with a sad tone, “I don’t care if you’re 20 years older than me. I want you… dare I say I love you…”

Leon fell silent as your words sank into him. He froze in place, for a few moments, he was speechless, his facial expressions shifting through multiple emotions.

"Love me?" He whispered, leaning down towards you, "Y/n… you don’t love me. You love the idea of me you have in your head.” He whispered softly as he caressed your cheek once again. His voice so soft and tender and full of sadness.

Your throat was caught up into a knot. Did you screw things over already? Or were they already screwed up before this began?

You bit your bottom lip to contain the threatening tears that were about to spill. He saw this and gently brought his thumb over to the corner of your eyes and wiped them for you.

“I love you…” you nodded and felt your eyes get glossy, “I love you, Leon…” you whispered, “This feeling I have… it’s controlling me. I can’t breathe when I’m not with you. I need you…”

“Don’t cry, angel,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead again and gave you a sad smile. “How do you know this is not just infatuation?”

You stared into his blue eyes deeply, “Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone before..”

His eyes were locked onto yours, a million thoughts running through his head. As much as he wanted to be with you, this was never meant to happen. You’re way too young. You needed someone else, someone better than him. He sighed and looked out the window. What was once a sunny day became a rainy one. He looked back down at you.

"Go home, y/n…" he whispered.

He let go of your face and took a step back. You watched him go with sad eyes, you wanted to chase after him so badly but you felt frozen in place. It was bittersweet. You got the kiss you wanted but at the cost of him leaving you.

You sniffled and cried silently as you walked out of the building and to the bus stop. You put on your headphones and began to listen to some music while you watched the raindrops race down the window.

Leon watched you from the second floor window. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart. He knew you’d cry but he couldn’t let you get too attached to someone like him. He was broken, never meant to be fixed again. While you were everything. In another universe, maybe the two of you could’ve been together.

[formulawolff]

xiii. show the world - t.w.

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, angst, lots of angst to be completely honest, pining, age gap relationship, toto being down bad per usual, two idiots in love but won't admit it, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“be honest with me. are you seeing someone?”

daniel brings a wine glass to his lips, tilting it back as you sit across from him, your fork clattering against the table. heat radiates off of your cheeks, flourishing into your neck as your eyes snap away from his intense stare. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the sun was starting to set over the water, casting a tangerine glow across its surface. fluffy clouds float along, the sky bursting with lavender, fuschia, and cerulean hues. yachts drifted along, their lights beginning to glimmer as the sky grew dimmer and dimmer. on your left, it was almost like the city was given its first breath of night life, locals strolling along the streets, their conversations and the growl of engines as they zoomed along the streets merely white noise. 

it was truly a breathtaking view, distracting you for just a moment, taking your focus away from the conversation at hand.

yet, you remember he’s awaiting your answer, arms folded across his chest, brows knit together. scrambling to formulate some sort of response, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, shoulders slumping. 

“what if i told you i was?”

“hmm,” daniel hums, downing the rest of his wine, “then i would say good for you, i guess.”

“oh come on,” your regain your composure, frustration brewing in the pit of your stomach, “i thought we consensually agreed that we wouldn’t explore a relationship because we needed to keep things professional.”

“i did that because that’s what you wanted,” daniel swivels his head, glancing out at the water, “i never agreed to that. i only respected your wishes because that was what you wanted. i never wanted that. i wanted you.”

“but you never told me,” you protest, absentmindedly picking at your ratatouille, “that night in jeddah, i vividly remember you telling me that you never acted on your feelings because you knew that it was one-sided.”

daniel huffs, shaking his head, “i didn’t think i would’ve had to spell it out for you. i was under the impression you knew that i had feelings for you. and actually, i thought you reciprocated those same feelings. thank you for reminding me of the cold hard truth. i feel so much better about this. thanks for that.”

“you’re not being very mature about this. what happened to staying emotionally mature about the matter?”

“i was doing that until i heard from alex that you were dating someone,” daniel retorts, his tone seething with fiery anger, “you couldn’t just tell me yourself? also, how long were you going to keep that from me? were you just not going to mention it until i found out?”

“i didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, shrinking in your seat as pairs of eyes sear into you, the stares becoming more and more prominent as daniel’s voice carries throughout the patio.

“starting a relationship with someone isn’t important?”

“daniel,” you hiss, desperately wishing you were wearing a cap or some sunglasses, “people are starting to stare.”

“okay and?” he cocks his head, “i don’t give a fuck. you have no fucking idea how heartbroken i’ve been these last few weeks. i feel like my entire world has been turned upside down. meanwhile you’re frolicking around with some douchebag from st. louis. obviously the dick is must have you in a chokehold because you’ve been a completely different person.” 

“daniel, please,” the notes in your tone raise an octave as your lower lip trembles, “stop, please. people are listening. can we talk about this some other time–”

“well luckily for you,” daniel inhales sharply, rising to his feet, “i don’t want to discuss it any further. i’m done here. see you around, america’s princess.”

tossing his napkin on the table, the australian snatches the keys to his rental, muttering under his breath. you remain at the table, people resuming back to their previous conversations as the waitress comes by, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“is everything all right, madame?” 

“i just need the check please,” you mumble, tears threatening to spill over as you reach for your purse, “i’ll pay for it all. i am so sorry about that.

“no worries madame,” the waitress chirps, “would you care for a free dessert for your troubles?”

you know what? free dessert didn’t seem too bad after all. 

“oui, s’il vous plait.”

at your response, the waitress’ lips curve into a wide grin, “tu es le bienvenu.”

letting out a shaky breath, you wipe away a tear, pulling your phone out of your purse. swallowing the lump in your throat, you message the one person you needed most.

i hope things are going well on your end tonight. is there any chance you can come by my hotel room, or i swing by yours? it would be later tonight. i want my sexy, smoochable, handsome boyfriend. :’((((( 

the moment you send the message, three little bubbles appear, signaling that he had received it, and was crafting a reply.

i take it the dinner didn’t go well? what happened, meine liebe? ich vermisse dich auch. 

wrinkling your nose, you highlight the text, tapping the copy option. thumb gliding across the screen, you click on the google translate app, pasting it into the textbox. 

what happened, my love? i miss you too. 

i can explain more later. you type, are you busy? 

never too busy for you. remember, we’re in monaco. i own a place here. 😘 you can just come by whenever you need. i’m at home. do you need the address?

yes please. i’ll be there as soon as possible. 

i can’t wait to see your beautiful face. here’s the address. i’ll be waiting impatiently. 

the second you type his address in your phone, the waitress comes by your table, a box in one hand, billfold in the other. placing the box on the table, you anticipate her to do the same with the check. yet, she doesn’t keeping it in her grasp. 

“madame, your meals have been taken care. a gentleman called, inquiring if he could foot the bill. he stated he did not want you to worry about anything else this evening. is that all right?”

your heart flutters, “did he say a name, by chance?”

“no madame,” the waitress flashes you a quaint smile, “again, i am so sorry if your evening has been ruined in any sort of way. i hope the dessert helps in some fashion!”

“thank you,” you reciprocate the gesture, “and again, thank you for the dessert.”

“it is no problem,” the waitress dips her head, “have a great evening, madame!”

rising to your feet, you push in your chair, ensuring that you don’t forget the plain white box that was placed on the table. carrying it under your arm, you pull up your maps app, feeling a grin form.

maybe tonight will not end as poorly as it began. 

you could thank toto wolff for that.

ever since miami, you felt as if the weight of the world was off your shoulders. the stress was alleviated, dissolving almost completely. you could go about your day without that ever-present thought in the back of your mind, gnawing away at you. 

however, there were more mountains to climb. more obstacles to face. 

you had yet to sit down with james, alex, or anyone else really, to discuss your decision to depart from williams at the end of the 2024 season. 

toto was the only one who knew. 

and for the time being, you were okay with that. 

but you were running out of time. the days were soaring by. you would blink and suddenly it would be time to board that flight. it would be time to get behind the wheel, adrenaline coursing through your veins. it would be time to step on that podium, raising that gleaming trophy above your head, your team roaring below. 

with four grand prixs wins, three of which were back-to-back, you were unstopabble. 

a force to be reckoned with. 

max tried to catch you, he really did. 

but you were too fast, fueled by the thrill of victory. 

it was intoxicating, sending an electric, exhilarating buzz throughout your entire being every time you breezed across that finish line.

and with a man like toto by your side, how could you possibly lose? 

with the monaco grand prix on the docket for the weekend, you were preparing for a challenging race. the circuit was extremely tight, the track interweaving through the buildings and sights the city. it was an infamous track, known for its rich history and well, the accidents. 

additionally, there was little to no room for overtakes. so if you wanted to be on that podium on sunday, you had to execute a stellar qualifying lap. with that added pressure, you were a little apprehensive for what was to come. 

yet, you couldn’t let that anxiety creep in. you had to maintain your composure. it was crucial that you kept a calm, cool outlook on the race. 

and as you found yourself at that massive gate, pressing the button to your left, you couldn’t help but feel peace of mind. 

you could thank toto wolff for that as well. 

with every moment spent with the team principal, you couldn’t help but shake this aching, nagging feeling. 

it was a pure, innocent feeling. one that filled you to the brim with bliss, a cozy warmth blossoming in your chest, your heart swelling with joy. one that had you beaming from ear to ear, your once gloomy days now shining with this golden, rich light. 

you were in love with him. 

hopelessly in love, your whole heart resting in his tender hands. 

you couldn’t tell him that though. you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

at least, not yet. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“all right,” james’ sucks in a breath, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in the commotion all around. 

“are you ready?” 

“come on,” you wave a hand, “you know the drill. i was born ready.” 

“i know,” the team principal’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, “but this is a pretty significant race. there’s a lot of history and heartbreak on this track.” 

“are you saying that you don’t think i can win?” you tease, your voice muffled slightly by the thick exterior of the helmet, “james, i can do this. believe me, i can do this.” 

“there’s a lot at stake here,” he places a hand on the top of your head, patting it, “just remember, whatever happens, i believe in you. always.” 

i believe in you. always. 

your lower lip trembles, and in that moment, you want to confess right there. you almost blurt out the words that had been lingering on your tongue for weeks now. 

james, after this race, we need to to talk. 

however, you don’t. you simply nod, drumming your hands against the steering wheel, “i’ll make you guys proud, i promise.”

“oh, you already do,” his eyes glimmer, bursting with pride, “you’ve made us so fucking proud these last few weeks. and you know what? i know you’re going to continue to make williams racing proud. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.” 

fuck. 

that conversation was going to absolutely destroy you, splitting your heart into two. 

you couldn’t think about that, though. 

the race was about to start. 

on the grid, you were behind charles leclerc and oscar piastri. it wasn’t terrible positioning, but with the limited space, you knew that getting ahead would be nearly impossible. it would be a miracle if you were able to cross that finish line in first place. 

yet, you were more than willing to take the risks involved to get to that position. 

all you needed was a little bit of luck. 

which, these days, it seemed like you were full of it. like you were carrying a four leaf clover in your pocket at all times. 

as rays of sunshine filter through the clouds, a gold streak of light dances in your peripheral vision. 

nestled on your wrist was the charm bracelet toto had gifted you that fateful night in jeddah. the charm gleams, reminding you of two things. 

one, your very first grand prix victory.  

two, that he was always with you. 

perhaps he was that good luck charm you were desperately searching for.

maybe. just maybe. 

in about seventy-eight laps, you would have that answer. 

“and she has done the impossible! she has shattered yet another record! miss america has won monaco! she has won her fifth grand prix!” 

“fuck yes!” you shout, “we won! we won monaco!” 

“brilliant fucking job,” james’ voice trembles, thready with excitement, “bloody good job!” 

euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless as it sucks the air out of your lungs. burying your head in your hands, your shoulders shake as you sob. 

never, in your wildest dreams would you have expected to have made it this far. 

never would you even imagined racing as a little girl, let alone racing at this caliber. 

and winning races? five of them?

little you, cheesing with her toothy five-year-old smile, standing next to a kart, helmet under her arm, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of this moment. 

you had improved miles upon miles from the driver you were last season. you made history. time and time again. you had shattered records, obliterating barriers in the world of formula one racing as a twenty-two year old woman. 

and fuck, you weren’t even done yet. 

you still had a world title to chase after. 

“holy shit. holy shit. holy motherfucking shit.” 

stepping out of the car, your heart races, your team nearly sprinting to congratulate you. picking out james, you flash him a thumbs up. the crowd raves, whooping, whistling, and hollering your newfound nickname. 

“miss america! miss america! miss america!” 

cameras appear out of thin air, recording as you step down, james and alex swathing you with their embrace. alex rattles your helmet, james’ grin shining bright as the cameras flash. 

“what a bloody brilliant day!” james shouts, a glossy sheen over his eyes, “what a fucking day!” 

“what place did you finish, alex?” your voice rises above the noise, “what did you get?” 

“ninth!” he chirps, “two drivers in the top ten? that’s a pretty fucking good day!” 

“a very fucking good day,” laughter rises in your chest, spilling out, “fuck, that nearly took everything out of me!” 

“well you better shape up,” alex pats your back, “because you have a podium that’s calling your name.” 

as the team gathers, making their way to the finish line, your heart yearns for one thing. well, one person. 

toto. 

pursing your lips, your eyes scan through the garages, attempting to make out the mercedes paddock. yet, there is too much movement in your line of sight as the crew members assemble, circling around their respective drivers. 

the euphoria lingers as your step onto the podium, the crowd below applauding. there are shouts that rise above the clapping, yet you can barely make them out. 

surveying the mass, your heart skips a beat as you locate him. 

his eyes lock with yours, pure, radiant adoration painted across his features. 

that’s my girl. he mouths, dimples apparent with every word. 

a few strands of hair flutter in his face, the top button of his shirt un-done, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the chaos of race day. 

yet, he was as gorgeous as ever. 

as charles and oscar pop open the champagne, you hesitate, fingers trembling as they wrap around the neck of the bottle.

you know what? 

fuck this. 

“hey!” charles calls out as you step down from the platform, “where are you going?”

there’s a brief moment of confusion from the crowd, a few gasps ringing out as you shoulder your way down the stairs, muttering numerous apologies as you accidentally elbow several people along the way. 

there was only one thing on your mind as you nudged your way through the throng of people gathered beneath the podium. although your skin burned beneath your suit, sweat clinging to every part of you, there was this tugging sensation at your heart. it urged you to keep going. to keep searching. 

you were face-to-face now, his brow furrowing with concern, arms folded across his chest as you take another step forward. 

“what are you–"

that’s when toto wolff found your lips colliding with his, the entire world crumbling away as he found himself lost in you.

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[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ Home, For Christmas

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.3K

☆ ━ warnings: subtle talks of dani’s bitchass homophobic dad what’s new

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: in honor of gameday 🫡sorry this took so long you guys!!!! hopefully the next one won’t lol ALSO! y’all i wrote julia in for a reason, she will end up being important :)

CHRISTMAS DAY at her grandparents’ house is always cozy and warm, filled with laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine. Dani’s family fills the living room, sprawled across couches, perched on armchairs, and gathered around the fireplace. Her aunts and uncles are trading stories, her little cousins are running around in holiday pajamas, and there’s a pile of presents under the tree, each one wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Dani sits in the corner of the couch, balancing her youngest aunt Julia’s newborn, Grey, in her lap. She’s been fawning over him all day, enchanted by his tiny fingers and the little yawns he lets out every now and then. His downy dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and his soft little hands rest against her arm as she holds him, his eyes drifting closed with that peaceful look babies seem to have mastered.

Julia, who’s only twenty-five and just as warm and lovely as Dani remembers from her childhood, sits beside her, watching Dani with a smile. “You’ve got the magic touch, Dani,” she says, nudging her gently. “He hasn’t fallen asleep for anyone else yet today.”

Dani grins, glancing down at Grey as he lets out a tiny sigh. “Guess he knows I’m his favorite already,” she jokes, stroking the baby’s soft cheek.

Julia shifts a little, leaning back against the couch, and after a moment, she glances sideways at Dani. “How’s your dad been doing?” she asks quietly, her tone careful.

Dani rolls her eyes, her expression slipping into something neutral. “It’s… whatever,” she says, keeping her voice low. “We don’t really talk much.”

Julia nods, understanding written all over her face. “Yeah. Me neither.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, and Dani knows why. Julia is certainly not married to Grey’s father, him having left long before Grey was born. It’s something that Dani’s dad has shamed Julia for, his conservative views casting his half sister as some kind of disgrace. Dani’s heard the things he’s said about her—heard him scoff at Julia’s life choices like they were some kind of moral failure.

She looks at Julia, her heart aching for her. “I’m sorry,” Dani says quietly. “He’s like that with everything, not just you.”

Julia lets out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to Grey, who’s now fully asleep, his little face relaxed and peaceful. “I know,” she murmurs. “But it still sucks. I just wish he could see… it’s not like I planned for things to turn out this way. But I love Grey. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She smiles down at her son, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s just a difficult situation.”

Dani nods, her throat tight. “Yeah. I get it.” She glances down at Grey, feeling the familiar warmth in her chest. She doesn’t understand why her dad has to be so harsh, so unwilling to forgive. She’s been on that side of things when her own secret came to light, and when that same judgment had been turned on her, it was terrible.

Dani adjusts her grip on Grey, who shifts a little in his sleep, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her sweater.

After a moment, Julia speaks again, her voice soft. “So… are you and Paige still not talking?” she asks, her tone careful, but curious. “Last I heard, you two weren’t friends anymore.”

Dani’s stomach tightens a little, her gaze shifting to the floor. Julia’s met Paige plenty of times—Paige was practically family, as far as her grandparents and aunts were concerned. Dani can still remember how much her mom adored Paige, how her mom used to say that Paige was the best thing to happen to her, that Paige brought out this light in her daughter that she hadn’t seen in anyone else. It’s something that, in her quiet moments, Dani clings to—thinking that maybe her mom really would have understood her situation.

“Paige was always so sweet,” Julia continues, almost wistfully. “And I remember how much your mom loved her, Dani. She always said Paige was the best friend you could ever have.”

Dani sighs, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her chest tightens with the urge to spill everything—to tell Julia about how it was so much more than just friendship, how Paige is basically her entire world, how they love each other in a much different way than most know. Dani knows Julia isn’t homophobic, and she can’t imagine Julia judging her, especially after everything Julia herself has been through with her dad and such.

But the words catch in her throat. Her fear is too strong, a familiar, icy weight. She imagines what would happen if anything she said got back to her dad, even by accident. She remembers the camp, the isolation, the way it felt like she was being slowly erased. The thought of going back there makes her stomach twist with dread.

She takes a slow breath, then finally says, “No, we’re still not friends.” Her voice is flat, and she hates how empty it sounds. “And we’re… we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

Julia frowns, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Dani’s arm. “I’m sorry, Dani. That must be so hard. Losing a friend like that… I can only imagine.”

Dani just nods, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Grey, who’s still blissfully asleep. “It is.”

Julia gives her a soft smile, a silent offer of comfort, but Dani barely notices, her mind drifting to thoughts of Paige. She feels like she’s buried that love as deeply as she can—hidden it away in a place where her dad and the church can’t touch it.

And she’s going to stay that way. Because that is what is going to keep it safe.

DANI SINKS into her blankets, watching Christmas Vacation play on her laptop, the warmth of the bed comforting against the bite of winter outside. She’d asked her dad to watch the movie with her, hoping for at least a little shared Christmas cheer, but he’d just brushed her off with a brief mutter of how tired he was. So here she is, alone, her room dimly lit, a quiet feeling of loneliness settling in.

The Griswold family is just finishing fitting their huge Christmas tree in their living room when Dani’s phone lights up beside her. She glances down and finds Paige’s name on her screen. Her heart does a little flip as she picks it up, biting back a smile.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

You home yet?

Dani ❤️‍🔥

yeah i got home like an hour ago

Paige ❤️‍🔥

you doing anything?

Dani pauses, glancing at her screen.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

watching christmas vacation in my bed

She sends the message and internally cringes a little as she realizes how lonely it sounds.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

By yourself?

Come over and watch it with me and my fam

Dani laughs softly, rolling her eyes. Of course Paige wouldn’t let her stay alone, not tonight. Paige always has that unwavering energy, that impulsive streak that Dani has never been able to resist.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

paige my dad’s home

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Sneak out!!!

I’ll come get you by your window

Dani stares at the screen, a little stunned, a little thrilled. Her fingers hover over the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

you’re insane

Paige ❤️‍🔥

And yet ur not saying no 😁😁

A grin tugs at Dani’s lips, and she feels her pulse quicken. She glances at her door, hoping and praying for her sake that her dad was true on his word and that he’s asleep, then quietly swings her legs off the bed. Closing her laptop, she grabs her thickest hoodie from her chair, pulling it over her head. She finds her Uggs under the bed, slipping them on and making her way to the window, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers fumble a bit as she undoes the lock, the cold air hitting her face the moment she slides it open.

Peering outside, she feels her heart skip as she spots Paige standing below. Paige is bundled up in her coat, hands deep in her pockets, and despite the shivering, she’s grinning up at Dani like this is the most natural thing in the world. Snow has started to fall again, gentle flakes catching in Paige’s hair and dusting her shoulders. She looks really pretty.

“Hey!” Paige calls up softly, her voice a mix of excitement and impatience. “You comin’ down, or what?”

Dani can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She leans out a little, gripping the window frame for balance. “This is so stupid, you know that?” she whispers, trying not to laugh too loud.

Paige just shrugs, her grin undeterred. “Live a little!”

Dani laughs softly, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. She glances down, assessing the climb, feeling a pang of nervousness when she sees just how far the ground looks. Her window isn’t exactly low, and she can’t be sure the snow is soft. She swallows, feeling her pulse quicken as she considers her next move.

“Paige,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down but still sounding panicked, “I’m going to fall!”

“If you do, I’ll catch you!” Paige whispers back, her voice carrying a confidence that only makes Dani’s heart beat faster. “Besides, there’s like a foot of fresh snow down here. You’ll be fine.”

Paige waves, motioning for her to climb down. Dani takes a deep breath, telling herself she’s done more dangerous things in her life than sneaking out of her own house. She slowly climbs through the window, her fingers gripping the cold edges of the siding as she carefully makes her way down. She’s almost to the bottom, just a couple of feet away from the ground, when her foot slips on the last ledge.

She lets out a small yelp, her fingers losing their grip, and she starts to tumble. There’s a split second of weightlessness, her heart in her throat, and then Paige’s arms are around her, just enough to slow her fall before they both collapse into the snow in a heap. The impact sends a puff of snow up around them, freezing and soft at the same time. Dani’s breath catches as she feels Paige’s arms around her, the warmth of her body cutting through the biting cold.

For a moment, they just lie there in the snow, laughing softly, breathless and tangled together. Their faces are close, so close that Dani can feel Paige’s breath against her cheek, warm and sweet, mingling with the cold night air. Paige’s cheeks are flushed pink, her nose red from the cold, and there’s a light in her eyes that makes Dani’s heart skip a beat.

Paige reaches up, brushing a few stray snowflakes from Dani’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You good?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dani nods, her own cheeks flushed. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—their knees, their hands, the faint tremor in Paige’s touch as her fingers trace along Dani’s cheek. She shivers, but this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

Paige nods back, looking thoughtful, her hand dropping to swipe a bit of snow off Dani’s shoulder. She glances around, making sure no one’s watching, before leaning in. Her eyes search Dani’s face for a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, before she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against Dani’s.

The kiss is barely more than a whisper, a featherlight touch that’s over almost as soon as it begins. But it leaves Dani breathless, her heart racing in her chest as she looks up at Paige. There’s a warmth in Paige’s eyes that makes Dani’s stomach flutter, a tenderness that feels like the best Christmas gift she’s ever received.

Paige pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice warm, filled with a quiet joy that Dani feels mirrored in her own chest. Paige helps her to her feet, brushing snow off their coats as they stand together, grinning like conspirators in the snowy silence.

They link arms, Paige’s hand slipping into Dani’s pocket to hold her hand, the feeling of Paige’s fingers warming her whole body up. Together, they start making their way toward Paige’s house, the snow crunching beneath their feet, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

They go through the back door of Paige’s house, each of them letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth surrounds them, chasing away the icy chill of the Minnesota night. Dani takes a moment to close her eyes, basking in the feeling of warmth creeping back into her fingers and toes, the familiar smell of cookies, cinnamon, and evergreen filling the air.

There in the kitchen, Drew is perched on a stool by the island, his legs swinging idly as he chews on a Christmas cookie dusted with red and green sprinkles. Bob, Paige’s dad, stands near the stove, pulling sprinkles out of a cabinet. A tray of freshly baked cookies cools on the counter, the sweet scent drifting through the room. Bob’s face lights up when he sees Dani and Paige sneaking in, a broad grin stretching across his face.

“Dani! Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, waving her over as if she were his own daughter. “I saved a couple cookies for you, but they almost fell victim to that creature—” he points to Drew, who giggles at the wording, frosting dusting the corners of his mouth “—over there.”

Dani laughs, an easy grin drifting to her face as she says, “I can see that. Thanks for letting me come over; I didn’t mean to intrude on family Christmas.”

Paige rolls her eyes, her hand on Dani’s hip as she pushes her toward the island. “Shut up, Dan, you’re never intruding.”

“She’s right,” Bob says cheerily, grabbing a couple plain cookies from the tray and placing them in front of the two empty stools next to Drew. “You’re family, Dani.”

Dani feels her face flush at his words, and her chest warms, too. It’s nice to know that they’re glad she’s here, that they don’t feel as though she’s intruding, that maybe she really belongs in this corner of her world. She’d really, really like to.

Dani sits on the bar stool next to Drew, and Paige sits on the other one so the brunette girl is in between the two Bueckers siblings. However, it seems as though the small distance between Dani and Paige is too much, because Dani feels Paige’s hand graze her thigh as she grabs hold of the stool Dani’s sat on, pulling it so close to her own that the two of them are practically sharing a seat. Their shoulders press against each other, as do the sides of their legs, and it’s enough to send a warm jolt through Dani.

Dani sends a little look to Paige, her brows raised ever so slightly, smirk playing her lips.

“What?” Paige asks, though she’s got a look that mirrors the Callan girl’s. “You were too far.”

Dani just shakes her head at the blonde’s words, watching as she grabs the remote and flicks through the Christmas movies until she finds Christmas Vacation, having told Dani that she should watch it with them instead and holding onto her word.

Dani feels a smile lifting her lips as she reaches for a cookie in the tray in front of her, placing it on her plate. She grabs a piping bag, too, squeezing a tiny bit of green icing onto her finger just to get a taste.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ into the icing already?” Paige teases, leaning in with an arched brow. She grabs her own piping bag and, without warning, dabs a bit of red frosting on the tip of Dani’s nose, laughing as Dani’s eyes widen.

Dani gasps, swatting at her with a laugh. “Paige!” she exclaims, grabbing her green icing before leaning over and spreading some onto Paige’s cheek in retaliation.

Paige’s mouth open in mock outrage, but before she can protest herself, Drew interrupts with a grin, reaching for another piping bag, and asking, “Are we having an icing fight?”

The seven-year-old’s words seem to catch Bob’s attention, who turns from where he was watching the movie to see what’s happening behind him. Dani watches his eyes trail over the green on her nose and the red on his daughter’s cheek and he gives them a playfully stern look before telling Drew, “No, buddy, no icing fight. You’ll get on Santa’s Naughty List next year if you do.”

Drew laughs a little, pointing at the two girls sitting next to him and saying, “Ooh, Naughty List.”

Paige just playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother before grabbing a napkin. She dramatically uses it to wipe the red icing off of her cheek, before balling it up and tossing it back onto the island. Dani rolls her eyes at the blonde’s dramatics, reaching to grab her own napkin to clean up her nose. But Paige swats at the hand Dani was reaching. Dani sends Paige a look, watching as the girl beside her cautiously glances at her dad and Drew—whose attention’s have both been captured by the movie—before leaning in and grinning as she kisses the tip of Dani’s nose and then sticks her tongue out to lick the icing away. She pulls back and Dani’s sure her face is red—especially due to the proximity of Paige’s family—but Paige is just smiling mischievously, using her tongue to swipe away any remaining frosting on her lips.

Dani finally takes the liberty to actually decorate her cookie, deciding for the traditional Christmas tree route. She’s spreading the green icing along the sugar cookie carefully, her eyes occasionally flicking between Christmas Vacation and Paige decorating her own cookie. It’s more endearing to watch the latter—she’s decorating with exaggerated precision (though if Dani’s honest, she can’t tell what the glob of frosting is meant to look like… it might be an ornament), her tongue sticking out in concentration, her hair falling into her face ever so slightly. Dani flicks her eyes away, back to her own handiwork.

At one point, Paige leans over to whisper to Dani, “Look at Drew’s cookie… the sprinkles…”

Dani does as the blonde says, her gaze finding Drew, to the left of her. He’s humming quietly to himself, concentrating on drowning his cookie in red and green sprinkles, his fingers sticky and his cheeks dusted with sugar. Dani stifles a giggle as she leans in even closer to see the cookie piled high with so many sprinkles that it’s almost unrecognizable. She catches Paige’s eye, and they both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to let Drew hear.

“Hey, it’s nice!” Drew defends, noticing their stifled laughter.

From where he’s standing, Bob chuckles, watching the exchange with a fond smile. “You’re doing great, Drew,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair, eyes flicking across the three cookies the kids before him are making. “Though, I think you and Paige both have some competition in Dani here.”

Dani watches as Paige looks at her dad in betrayal, though it’s true—her cookie is terrible. Dani just grins, nodding, nudging Paige’s knee under the counter. “Years of practice,” the brunette says in a mock-serious tone before carefully adding a few more sprinkles to her cookie.

Paige rolls her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever. Mine tastes better.”

CHRISTMAS VACATION ended not too long ago, and Drew and Bob went upstairs to bed, leaving Dani and Paige alone. The warm glow of the tree casts a soft light over the living room, and Home Alone now plays quietly on the screen, adding to the late-night comfort. Dani’s curled up against Paige, the two of them snuggled under a thick fleece blanket, Paige’s arm wrapped securely around her. Dani lets herself drift, lulled by the movie, the warmth, the way Paige’s fingers trace soft circles over her shoulder.

But then Paige shifts slightly beneath her, murmuring, “So… I know we promised not to get each other anything…”

Dani’s eyes immediately flick from the TV to Paige, her brow furrowing as she pulls back slightly, a hint of accusation in her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t get me something.”

Paige, looking a little sheepish, averts her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, mumbling, “Well…”

“Paige!” Dani sits up fully now, her voice holding a mixture of surprise and mild reproach. “We promised not to!”

“I know, I know!” Paige protests, her face flushed as she tries to defend herself. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear! But then I was at the mall literally yesterday, just doing some last-minute shopping for my family, and—” She pauses, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to explain. “I saw this thing that really reminded me of you…”

Dani sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as she shakes her head. “Paige…”

“I know,” Paige says quickly, hands lifted in a half-hearted attempt at appeasement. “But it was on sale because of the holidays! I hardly spent any money on it.”

Dani narrows her eyes, trying not to let the affection she feels soften her mock glare. “Still. I feel bad. If I’d known you’d gotten me something, I would’ve gotten you something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Paige says, shaking her head earnestly. “I was the one who went against our promise, not you.”

They fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the movie on the TV. Dani’s gaze flickers to Paige, whose face is shadowed in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in the way Paige looks at her, something almost tentative, and it makes Dani’s heart ache in a way she can’t quite name.

Finally, Paige speaks up again, her voice soft. “Can I go get it?”

Dani nods, and Paige disentangles herself from their cozy nest of blankets, slipping upstairs while Dani stays on the couch, her mind racing a little. She knows Paige put thought into this, that whatever it is, it’s going to mean something.

Moments later, Paige is bounding down the stairs again, a tiny jewelry box held carefully in her hand. She pauses by the couch, her gaze flickering between the box and Dani, and Dani watches her, heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

“Here,” Paige says softly, holding out the box as she sits back down beside Dani, even closer than before, their entire sides pressed up against each other.

Dani takes the box, feeling the slight weight of it in her hands, and slowly lifts the lid. Inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant small and simple—almost nondescript, but close up she can see the engraving on it, the tiny, intricate letters that spell out a single word: home.

Dani’s breath catches as she stares down at the pendant, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifts it. She can feel her throat tighten, emotion welling up inside her as the weight of the word hits her fully. It’s more than a necklace; it’s a message, a reminder of everything Paige has been to her, a promise that wherever Paige is, she’ll always have a place to belong.

She glances up at Paige, her eyes stinging, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you really thought of me when you saw this?”

Paige nods, her gaze soft and steady, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against Dani’s. “Yeah,” she says, her voice equally soft, almost like she’s afraid of breaking the moment. “I know things have been… hard, with your dad and everything. I just… I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’ll always have a home with me. No matter what.”

Dani feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She just lets the words sink in, lets herself feel the weight of Paige’s thoughtfulness, her kindness, the unwavering support Paige always seems to offer, even when Dani feels like she doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Paige moves closer, pulling Dani into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her. She rests her chin on top of Dani’s head, her fingers gently stroking her back, and Dani melts into her, closing her eyes and breathing in Paige’s familiar scent.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs into her hair, her voice soft and steady, filled with a warmth that wraps around Dani like a blanket.

Dani’s own arms tighten around Paige, and she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Then, slowly, Paige pulls back, her gaze meeting Dani’s, and there’s a question in her eyes, one Dani answers by leaning in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative at first, a quiet meeting of emotions unspoken. But as the seconds stretch, Dani lets herself get lost in it, her hand slipping up to rest against Paige’s cheek, her fingers brushing along her jaw. Paige’s hand finds the small of Dani’s back, pulling her in closer, and Dani feels her heart pounding, the warmth of Paige’s touch grounding her, steadying her.

When they finally pull back, their faces are close, their breaths mingling, and Dani can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s soft and true, filled with a happiness she rarely allows herself to feel.

Paige grins back, her fingers brushing over Dani’s cheek as she murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

Dani’s voice is quiet, but full of warmth. “Merry Christmas, Paige.”