#i’m hoping that the flight there will give me time to relax and catch up on things

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝚃𝚘𝚙𝙶𝚞𝚗!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔’𝚜��𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: Skype sex, mentions of a sex tape, mutual masterbation, use of sex toys, cum tasting, getting caught, swearing, name calling, pet names, long-distance relationship, ownership kink, dirty talk, praise

📖 Spoilers: All of my asks got deleted 😭💕, so I’m not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you have been secretly dating Rafe for 6 months, and you finally get caught.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The first time, you told yourself it was a mistake. A one-time-thing. A moment of weakness between you and the man that everyone seemed to hate for one reason or another. After all, Rafe Cameron was trouble—a notorious fuckboy, arrogant, abrasive, and rude, just to name a few of his negative attributes that got shit-talked in the château anytime his name got brought up. But you couldn’t stay away…

There was just something about him—the quiet moments. The moments that he reserved for you and you alone. When he let his guard down. And now here you are, six months into a secret relationship with the man your brother and friends despised. Exchanging I love you’s with your best friend's brother, putting that friendship at risk, but it was worth it for him.

You sit in front of your laptop, crisscross on your bed, your phone in hand as you scroll social media, trying to distract yourself. Rafe was gonna call at 8 o’clock sharp— he was rarely late. His new lifestyle making him a little more punctual than usual.

You steal glances at yourself in the reflection of your laptop, unsure of how to feel as you see yourself. The two of you usually talk on FaceTime, leaving you feeling slightly distorted from the lens. But it would be worth it. You couldn’t wait to watch that little video you sent him earlier. The video you captured on your phone before he left for pilot training school— the video you took for moments just like this.

8:30… You look at the time in the corner of your laptop, feeling your heart flutter. You could hear the muffled sound of the movie playing from behind the door, thankful that they were still committed to relaxing instead of going out, just hoping one of them wouldn’t knock on the door for something from the room; your fingers crossed that Rafe would show up any second so you could at least have 30-minutes and the group wouldn’t question why your “online class” was going so long.

Ding. Your eyes brighten as you hear the unfamiliar notification, making butterflies swirl in your stomach as you see his beautiful face pop up on your screen. He’s breathless, the fringe of his toffee-colored hair falling messily across his sweat-glistened forehead. Rafe, most likely running from the flight line all the way to his apartment.

He huffs out a deep breath through a wide smile. His Navy flight suit hangs half-open, revealing his skin-tight shirt underneath— just a glimpse of his gold chain poking out the top. He lowers his head, catching his breath, giving you the perfect glimpse of his sharp jawline. His beautiful blue eyes rest on the screen as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in place.

“Hey, baby,” he pants as a smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “I kept you waitin’, princess. I’m sorry.” He softens his voice for you.

“It’s alright, handsome,” you say sweetly as you lean in a little closer— your heart already racing for the boy on the other side of the screen, somehow making you feel giddy on the other side of the country as always, without fail.

Rafe leans back on his couch, adjusting the camera slightly, lifting his phone with a smile. “Got that video you sent me, sweetheart.”

”You did,” you giggle as you bite your lip, watching his smile spread a little wider.

”Mhmm… At lunch. In front of everyone. And I had to act like I wasn’t lookin’ at the sexiest thing I had ever fuckin’ seen…” He drawls, his voice husky and warm. “Couldn’t concentrate on shit for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you breathe, and you do mean it, knowing the risks of his position.

“Don’t be… No way you’re apologizing for that, princess. You are the best distraction.” You feel your cheeks warm up at the compliment and the look in his eyes. Your mind races away to what the two of you would do if you were there right now. “You’re thinkin’ about it too, aren’t you?” Rafe smirks as he tilts forward, moving closer to the screen, resting his elbow on his thighs.

Rafe’s arm muscles flex unintentionally—his gold chain tumbling out of his shirt, dangling from his neck, bringing you back to all those moments you were underneath him, watching it swing in front of you with each thrust.

“I am… You wanna watch it with me?”

”Oh my god,” he laughs lustfully as he pulls the rest of the top of his flight suit off. “Yeah, baby… I wanna watch the video of me pounding into that sweet pussy of yours,” he chuckles sinfully. “Let me see your outfit first. Yeah?”

“Mhmm… Yeah. Only if you take off your shirt for me,” you counter, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile grows.

“Yes, ma'am,” he hums as he stands up from the couch, pulling his uniform the rest of the way down his thighs. He sits on the edge of the couch, ripping his shirt over his head, making you dizzy.

“Rafe…” You swoon as you crawl a little closer to the camera to get a better look; your satin cami draws away from your breasts, giving him a taste of your tits underneath. “You look so good, baby.” He lounges back on the couch in his white Calvin Klein boxers, his abs even more cut than the last time you saw him, his big, broad chest on full display.

“Take it off, princess,” he rasps with a subtle dominance.

You step off the bed, letting him see the satin cami and shorts he had sent you a few days back. You turn to the side slightly as he drinks you in, the high-cut sides showing off your thighs and hips just right, the draping on the sides of the top showing off the curves of your tits. “Fuck, you look good,” he praises, and you smile. You lift your fingers as he watches you carefully, brushing off one strap, then the other, letting the top fall around your hips before pulling it all the way off, leaving you in his favorite lace panties.

Rafe’s eyes roll back at the sight of you, a hungry moan falling from his perfect lips. You watch his hands squeeze his muscular thighs, fighting back the urge to palm his thick bulge, but the desire is too strong. You loop your fingers around your panties, and it’s all over. Rafe’s lip tucks between his teeth as he rests his hand against his cock, already rock-hard, rubbing himself over the thin white cotton.

“You ready, Daddy?” You ask, using that pet name that drives him insane as you walk toward the camera.

“Love when you call me that. Fuck, you’re drivin’ me crazy,” he sighs. You grab your phone, looking at the thumbnail of the video you captured. Lifting your finger, you push it as Rafe does the same.

You can hear the two of you on Rafe’s end, frowning at your phone when nothing comes out. You turn your phone to the side, checking if it is silenced, pressing the volume button rapidly, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“You havin’ trouble, baby?” Rafe asks, tilting his head in concern.

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” you mutter frustratedly.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You hear your brother’s voice bellow from outside the door, feet pounding down the hall the next moment. JJ’s fists bang against the entry, bolts rattling with the impact, sending a surge of panic through you.

Your eyes widen in horror as you check the settings on your phone, the Bluetooth icon illuminated and connected to the living room speakers. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Rafe, everyone heard,” you whisper, seeing the panic in his eyes too.

You turn the laptop towards the wall as JJ continues to fight against the wooden door, threatening to break it down. You scramble around your room, finding a random hoodie before opening the door.

“JJ, it’s fine! I-” You pant as he barges in, his face beet-red with anger.

“Who the fuck are you talkin to, huh? ‘Cause I know it ain’t Rafe Cameron,” he spits as he scans the room. His frantic eyes look down at your phone, catching a quick glance at the paused video. His eyes slam shut in disgust before his expression twists in disbelief. “That video,” he points at your phone. “Everyone fuckin’ heard it… E v e r y o n e.”

Your body trembles with adrenaline as you look back into his wild blue eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you stammer as the blood drains from your face. Your embarrassment peaks as you look over JJ’s shoulder, seeing your friends gathered in the hall.

There’s a slight rustle from your computer—the most minor sound—but JJ immediately catches it. His eyes narrow on your laptop, and he walks toward it slowly. Turning around, he sees your boyfriend in a Navy hoodie and white boxers, confirming all his fears.

”You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” JJ snarls. “You’re fuckin’ with him? HIM? Are you serious right now?”

“JJ,” Rafe calls him firmly from the other end of the computer. “You gotta back off, man.”

JJ sucks his teeth and smiles maniacally at you before turning it around. “Stay away from her, Rafe,” JJ snaps, his voice deep and dangerous.

“She’s my girlfriend, Maybank. I’m not gonna do that,” Rafe keeps calm for the moment.

“Your girlfriend? My sister is your girlfriend? What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Calm down,” Rafe warns but it does nothing but piss him off more.

“You’re tellin’ me to calm down? Do you know who you are? You’re a piece of shit, man. She’s not just some Pogue girl you can collect, alright?”

“I’m not like that with her,” Rafe shoots back. “I’m good to her. I love her.”

JJ scoffs and laughs as he leans into the camera. “Like hell you do. You treat everyone like shit—”

“Not her,” Rafe stops him before he can finish. “She’s different. And I’ve been different because of her. This ain’t the same shit, man. We’ve been together for months, and she didn’t want to say anything because she knew this shit would happen and so did I.”

JJ hesitates, his jaw coiling, the weight of Rafe’s words hanging heavy in the air. JJ looks back at you, a silent conversation shared as you affirm Rafe’s words with a glance.

“I need to know you’re alright…”

“I love him, Jayj,” you reply, loud enough for Rafe to hear, too. “He’s really good to me-” JJ turns toward Rafe, not wanting to hear more than he has to.

“If you hurt her, Rafe, you’re done. Got it?” He snaps. “I don’t give a fuck where you are or how far away it is, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Rafe assures. As soon as the last word leaves his lips, JJ storms out.

You run toward the door, taking a deep breath as you relax your back into it, feeling more relieved in this moment than you had in months, even after everything that’d just happened. 

You smile weakly, looking toward the camera as you walk toward Rafe.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” you respire.

He hangs his head, nodding in agreement. “Considering it’s him and I, I’ll take it as a win, princess. No more sneakin’ around.”

“No more sneaking around… Finally,” you throw your voice, inviting Rafe back to the previous conversation with a look.

“Shit, you’re still up for it, baby?” He laughs as he reaches for the bottom of his sweatshirt, pulling it off, revving you up even more.

“I am,” you breathe, feeling the weight lifted off your shoulders.

“So you’re tellin’ me I get all night with you, princess? Now that everyone knows you’re mine, I get you whenever I’d like. Yeah?”

“Anytime you'd like,” you whisper as you tug your sweatshirt over your head.

“It’s about time…” He licks his lips as he looks back at you.

“I want you so bad, Rafe,” you sigh. He pitches his hips, pulling his boxers down as he looks at you, his hard dick slapping against his tanned skin.

Rafe lets out a throaty moan as he wraps his fingers around his cock, hissing at the sudden contact, tugging a few times before circling his thumb on his tip, spreading around his precum as you’d do with your tongue.

“Just wanna look at you, sweetheart. We don’t need that video. Aight? Not yet. I can't take my eyes off you. I want you to focus on me… Can you do that, princess?”

You climb on the bed, moving closer to the screen. “I can do that for you, Daddy.”

“Mpfhh…” He grunts as he fists his cock a little quicker, dreaming about all the things he’d do to you. “If I were there, I’d be buried in your pussy—start slow, get you off a few times with my mouth, pushing my tongue deep before stuffing you full of my cock, princess.”

“I don’t get to suck you off?” You ask breathily as you arch your back for him, showing off your ass.

“You want that, baby?” He asks through a smile.

“I need that, Rafe,” you flirt as you shift slightly, reaching under your pillow to grab your pink, sparkly toy.

“Fuck yeah. I want it all. I want you here,” he chuckles. “Baby… Shittt,” he buzzes as he realizes what you have in your hand, yet another gift from him.

You tap the tip against your pillowy lips before laying out your tongue, doing the same as his breathing quickens, his opposite hand gripping his thigh tight.

“Jesus fuck… Put it in your mouth, baby. All the way in. Suck on it for me,” he rasps.

“Anything for you…”

“Atta girl…”

His muscles stutter, that little video you sent him earlier edging his mind all day with thoughts of fucking you senseless. “Look what you do to me… Been thinkin’ about you all goddamn day. M’gonna bust before I even get to watch you put it in…” Rafe affirms your thoughts, and you giggle deviously. “You little brat… This is what you wanted didn't you.”

You poke your tongue in your cheek nodding in reply.

Rafe looks at you half-lidded; his bottom lip swollen and red from biting down so hard. He breathes heavily, his muscular arm flexing— bicep strained as he pumps his thick cock.

“Jealous as fuck, princess... Fuck, that should be me,” he rasps as he stretches his arm back on the back of the couch, relaxing a little more. “Love watching those pretty lips wrapped around a cock, regardless,”

Rafe smirks as you suck off the dildo, pulling it out of your mouth, a string of saliva lined from the tip to your soft lips. “So fuckin’ filthy for me, pretty.”

“How do you want me?” You smile as you rise up on your knees, resting it straight up and down on the bed.

“Just like that, baby…”

"Now what?" You ask coyly as you hover above it, teasing your drooling hole with the tip.

“Take it all, princess… I know you can,” he smirks. Your lips part as you widen your thighs, dropping down on the big silicone cock inch by in. You gasp and moan— fully sat with your head tossed back, using your free hand to grope your tits.

The moans that pours through your speakers from Rafe sends chills down your spine. Rafe watches as you slowly lift yourself off, dragging the dildo out before your greedy cunt swallows it up again.

You start to bounce on the mattress, placing the other hand over your mouth to dampen your whines and pleas as Rafe keeps your pace with his strokes. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he groans, his voice hoarse and raspy, getting off at the sight of you and the sounds of your warm, wet pussy; your muffled whimpers and cries slipping past your hand from time to time is almost too much for him to take.

“Show me your pussy,” he breathes.

You pull out of the toy, whimpering at the loss of it, rolling to your back, giving Rafe the perfect shot of the wet mess between your thighs. You plunge the cock in your glossy hole, propping yourself up slightly to see him, not wanting to miss a thing.

The dildo reaches that special spot, making the knot tighten in your stomach, toes curling as you get closer and closer.

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, landing on his heavy cock, his reddened tip shiny with precum, swollen and throbbing. “Need you to cum for me… Cum with me, baby,” he pants.

"Gonna cum, baby…" You mewl, face scrunched slightly to keep your eyes from shutting or rolling back. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as you dissolve in pleasure, pussy gushing around the dildo as you continue to work it in and out. Rafe pulls off his big cock, losing all control—white ropes of cum painting his abs and thick, pulsing length.

Rafe watches you draw the toy out of your fluttering hole as he pulls off his dick, milking the last bits of pleasure from his body as he watches you close.

You sigh deeply, satisfied, as you crawl toward the camera. Rafe throws his head back, smiling all too wide, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “What am I gonna tell you to do, princess?” He mumbles, still riding his high, not quite ready to come down just yet.

You giggle, cheeks warming up as you show him the toy glistening with your climax. “Suck that shit, pretty,” he smiles. You wrap your lips around it, taking as much as you can get, sucking it off to the tip before smiling dreamily at him. “That’s my girl.”

“That was good,” you sigh as you wrap yourself up in a fuzzy blanket. Rafe cleans himself off, throwing his boxers back on for the moment.

“Better than me?” He quips with his eyebrow cocked.

“Not a fuckin’ chance, baby.”

“We’re watchin’ that video, sweetheart. Don’t get too comfortable,” he hums.

“I can’t wait.”

Rafe looks at you lovingly— the two of you sharing a moment of silence, just happy to be together. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how much I hate bein’ away from you. And I can’t imagine spending Christmas apart…” Rafe’s words get lost on his lips as he takes out his phone and types up a message, your phone dinging a moment later.

Happy tears gather as you look down at the gift from Rafe, a flight confirmation from Charleston, straight to him. “I wanna spend Christmas with you, princess. Just you and me. What do you say?”

You look up at the handsome man on the other side of the screen, letting your happy tears slip down your cheeks.

“I’d love to.”

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 5 - You Should Always Check Your Sources

CW: Angst, language, mentions of torture

Previous parts - masterlist - next

When you enter the room with John, Kate stands up looking over at you. She picks her laptop up like she’s packing to leave.

“Stay.” You say. You don’t want to be alone in a room with John. She looks at John waiting for his nod of approval before sitting back down. He walks over to a drawer pulling a file out. He hands it to you. You open it, the first pages are just generic report stuff. You flick through it until you come across some pictures.

Pictures, well CCTV screenshots of you. In London, you have no idea where they were taken or when but it looks like you. The same hair, even the same coat you wear. You’re meeting up with someone for coffee from the looks of it. You don’t recognise the other person though. 

“What's this?” You ask confused. The next page shows the transcript of a call between you and someone else. 

“A phone call between you and a man called; Andrei Nolan. He’s Makarovs right hand man.” John says you look up at him frowning. 

“I’m assuming he’s the man in the photos too?” You ask flicking back to them. You look up at John who nods. You don’t even recognise the guy, he could have been someone you just hooked up with or bumped into. You try to think back but the date on the CCTV screenshot is marked out. 

You hand the folder back to John. 

“I don’t even recognise the guy.” You say. You cross your arms, you don’t expect him to believe you.  

“We caught him in Russia about a week ago. He was more than happy to talk about your meetings.” John says.

“Meetings?” You question raising an eyebrow. You don’t like this, this is feeling all too familiar to the last few days. You’re one step away from having a rag pressed on your face again. 

“We assumed you were selling secrets to him.” Jon says. You scoff, looking over at Kate who tips her head slightly watching you both. 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Our mole in Konni gave us intel that exonerated you.” Kate says.

“That’s why it took so long, we had to assume the worst until we could prove any different.” He sighs, you look at him. “We had to do our job. If we didn’t we could have been accused of harboring a traitor, giving you special exemptions.” 

You laugh, you can't believe what he's saying. You can feel tears welling back up in your eyes. You turn away. You won’t let him see you cry. You hear him take a step towards you, you freeze. He sighs almost like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“I really am sorry. I never thought it would come to this but our hands were tied we-” 

“You had a choice.” You snap, turning back to look at him. “You always have a choice. You told me that once.” 

“I-” 

“No! You had a choice and you chose this. You could have let me rot in a cell for a few days. Or suspended me, hell I would have taken a flight back to the UK as a traitor. Instead you-” The words catch in your throat tears escape your eyes. You step back away from him, swallowing hard. 

“I want a transfer.” You say finally trying to keep your voice level. You wait for his response, your eyes digging into him. He straightens up, now he looks like he’s about to cry. Good, you hope they feel horrible for what they did. 

“Why don’t you think about it for a few days. You don’t have anywhere to be, you can take some time to rest.” Kate says. You look over at her.

“Rest?” You scoff, looking back at John. “I can’t sleep without being back in that room over and over  again. I can’t wash my hands or take a shower without having flashbacks. Everytime I see you I panic, thinking something new will happen, more ‘evidence’ against me and I’ll be back in that room again.” 

John doesn’t say anything, his eyes are relaxed, his lips pressed together. You hope the guilt is eating him alive. You can see the dark circles under his eyes, the way he clenches his fists when you talk to him. 

“I want a transfer.” You say again holding your ground. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, just nods his head slightly. You let out a shaky breath. You nod back at him and turn to leave, you thought it would feel like a weight has been lifted but instead you feel worse. 

You’re turning your back on the people you love, the people you spent the last 2 years with. The people you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. It hurts. Maybe more then the torture at least the physical part. The betrayal, the emotional toll of having the people you love hurt you so much.  

“Johnny knows by the way.” You say as you open the door and you leave without looking back.

—--------------

“You need to calm down Johnny.” Simon says as Johnny’s trying to get out of bed. 

“He’s right Soap, you’re no good to anyone like this, you've just had major surgery.” Kyle says trying to help Simon get control of the situation. 

“Fuck you.” Johnny snaps, pulling his arm out of Simon's grip and swinging his legs out the bed. 

“What’s going on?” John asks as he enters the room taking in the scene. 

“You tortured her. For 4 days you made her suffer, what were you thinking?” Johnny asks John in almost disbelief. “The snakes really? Low even for you.” 

“Does it matter?” John asks, coming into the room sighing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Johnny asks scoffing and looking between Simon and John. 

“Of course it fuckin’ matters. She’s our girl cap. Or did you forget that?” There's spite in Johnny’s voice as he digs his eyes into John. 

“Get back into bed.” John says walking up to the bed.

“Fuck no. I want to see her.” Kyle pushes Johnny back, keeping him in the bed. 

“You know she’ll just drag you back here.” Kyle says. Johnny grunts, giving up pushing against him, he’s too weak anyway. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“You really thought it was her?” He asks. 

“The intel we had was solid.” John says. Kyle scoffs this time, Johnny looks up at him raising an eyebrow. 

“Does it justify 4 days of torture though?” Kyle says, there’s spite in his voice too. John sighs, he can regret it all he wants but it happened and that's on him and Simon. 

“Regardless, we had to act on it.” Simon says coming round to the end of the bed. 

“We should have done it differently.” John says.

“You think?” Johnny snaps looking over at him. Johnny shakes his head again. He swings his legs back into the bed, Kyle lets out a breath of release. 

“I can’t believe it. You fucking broke her. The person we’re supposed to love. 4 days, 4 fucking days.” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s silence in the room, tension thick in the air. 

“What are we going to do?” Johnny asks no one in particular. 

“Nothing.” John says, everyones eyes turn to him. “She’s asked for a transfer.” 

—--------------

You walk into Johnny’s room around midnight. You couldn’t sleep again. You’re sick of sleeping. The pills don’t help, they just make you feel trapped in your dreams. You try to silently enter and pull a chair up to his bed but he stirs awake. 

“Hey lass,” he says, turning in the bed to face you. He looks sad, his face puffy. He’s been crying. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You whisper. 

“Come up.” He says shuffling in the bed and pulling the covers out the way. 

“I shouldn’t-” 

“You should.” He says cutting you off. You smile and reach town to take your boots off. He moves to get more comfortable as you climb into bed next to him. He immediately wraps his arms around you pulling the thin hospital blankets over you. 

You lay there for a few seconds, breathing him in. He smells of hospital, but there’s a hint of Johnny there, the lingering smell of gunpowder and whatever musky cologne he uses. It makes you smile as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. You hum. 

“Me too.” 

You’re comfortable laying up against him. Suddenly you feel bad for leaving, you don’t know how you’re going to tell Kyle and Johnny. You need to go though, it's better for everyone. You can’t work with them again, not after what they did. 

Johnny and Kyle will understand. You’re sure they will. 

“I’m sorry you got shot.” You say, it feels like something you have to say. 

“Shh, you saved my life love. I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you.” He says kissing your head again. His hands are running over you like it’s the first time he’s touching you. You know that’s a lie, you have to convince yourself they can save themselves. They would be lost without each other, they wouldn’t be lost without you. 

You’re going to miss him. You close your eyes, breathing him in relaxing your arm over his stomach while he strokes you. 

You’ll see them again, keep in contact with Kyle and Johnny at least. You just can’t work with them anymore. 

“I love you Johnny.” You say, it hurts. For the first time ever it hurts to say it. 

“I know love. I love you too.” You smile letting him hug you tighter. You try to stay away but your eyes are heavy, the sounds of the machines lulling you to sleep. 

You’ll tell them tomorrow you promise yourself.

next

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[adrienneleclerc]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles spends his 27th birthday on a flight to Austin, Texas, and without his girlfriend

Warning: the usual, you know the drill

Charles woke up early in the morning so he could be able to catch his 7am flight to Austin for the Grand Prix. When he woke up, he frowned when he saw that Y/N wasn’t beside him. Logically, he knew that Y/N was visiting her friend in the states, but it still hurt him to not see her on his birthday. She wasn’t even awake yet, New York being 6 hours behind and all, but he still text her to let her know that he was going to Texas and that he hopes she’ll watch the race. He made himself a quick breakfast, showered, and got dressed with a few minutes to spare. He had his luggage and carry-on ready when he got the text notification that the driver was downstairs to take him to the airport.

Once at the airport, he spotted Carlos on his phone. But when Carlos lifted his head, he put the phone down and gave charles a hug and a hair tug.

“Happy birthday, Cabrón. You’re 27 now, isn’t that crazy?” Carlos asked.

“Definitely crazy, i think im starting to get wrinkles.” Charles replied laughing.

“That’s because you let yourself burn! I don’t know how Y/N isn’t behind you all the time to remind you to put on your sunscreen.” Carlos said.

“I think she just gave up. How long is the flight, you think?” Charles asked?

“It’s about 12 hours, gentlemen. You might as well get comfy on the jet, let’s get you two sorted while we wait for your trainers and photographers.” A flight attendant said before leading them to the tarmac where a jet from Ferrari’s partner was.

Once on the jet, they waited until Joris and Andrea made it, then waited for Carlos’s (does he have a “team” like Charles? Let’s pretend he does), and Charles was viewing his notifications from social media and text messages from friends, but not a single one from Y/N. Logically, he knows she’s not awake, but it’s still sad. Once everyone was one the jet, it took off and Charles tried to get some sleep on the plane.

Charles felt himself being shaken awake.

“Mate, wake up, the flight landed.” Joris said. Charles rubbed his eyes.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, man, Let’s go, im starving.” Joris said. Charles nodded and unlocked his phone to still see no notification from Y/N. “Dude, I know it’s your birthday but we really need to get going if we’re going to make the hotel check in on time.”

“I’m coming, just relax, man.” Charles said and Joris nodded before leaving the jet. Charles gathered his things and thanked the pilot before leaving. As he was entering the airport, he saw a sign that made him do a double take. The sign said “Happy Birthday, Muñeco” in light blue letters, only person who called him ‘Muñeco’ was.. “Y/N?” Charles asked.

The sign was lowered and it revealed the face of his beautiful girlfriend, Charles was now smiling ear to ear, laughing because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Charles dropped his backpack on the floor as he saw Y/N give the sign to someone next to her and she ran to give him a hug and he lifted her off the ground, twirling her, and then kissing her.

“I Can’t believe you’re here, how are you here? I thought you were visiting a friend in the states.” Charles said, putting her on the ground but still having his hands on her waist, not wanting to let her go. He’s clingy, okay?

“Yeah, my friend Mariana lives in Texas.” Y/N said, pointing to the girl holding the sign and she waved, charles waved back. “How was your flight, muñeco?”

“It was so long and boring. I slept the whole way here.” Charles said.

“That’s good that you slept on your flight. Are you up to spend the day with me? I mean, it is your birthday after all, you should decide what you want to do.” Y/N said. Charles’s hands left her waist to go to her cheeks.

“There is nothing I want more than to spend the day with you.” Charles said, giving her another long and lingering kiss. “What did you want to do?”

“First, Let’s get out of this airport. Will Joris mind if you come with Mariana and I?” Y/N asked, walking to where Mariana was.

“I’ll text him on the car.” Charles said, picking up his backpack and grabbing his suitcase to follow Y/N.

“Mariana, what���s the most Texas thing to do here?” Y/N asked, once next to Mariana.

“Well almost everyone goes to a barbecue joint, but you have to go to the food truck parks.” Mariana said, waiting for Charles to catch up before they left the airport.

“There are park just for food trucks?” Charles asked.

“Yeah! It a place where all the food trucks are and sometimes there’s love music. There are so many different food trucks, Y/N likes the crepe one. There’s one at a park not too far from here, I’m thinking you might want something to eat after a long flight.” Mariana said.

“That sounds nice, let’s go.” Charles said. Once they make it to Mariana’s car, Charles puts his stuff in the back and sits in the back, he insists that Y/N should still ride shotgun since she is here to visit her friend, of course. Y/N told Charles what She’s been up to for the past few days until they made it to the park.

As Mariana said, there were lots of food trucks. There was a Mexican food truck, Vietnamese food, ramen, crepes, barbecue, they had everything. Charles decided to sit at a table while Y/N and Mariana got the food, 10 minutes later, Y/N came back with a tray and so did Mariana.

“Okay, muñeco, i know you Don’t like spicy, BUT, i brought birria ramen and of course ice water if you can’t handle the spiciness.” Y/N said. Charles looks at the bowl in front of him.

“It looks Good.” He said.

“Oh it’s the best.” Mariana said before taking a bite of her burger. Charles tried the birria ramen, it was good, but then as he ate more he felt the spiciness and drank a lot of water.

“Do you like It?” Y/N asked.

“It’s really Good.” Charles said as he fanned his tongue.

“We’ll get ice cream after, okay, bebé.” Y/N said, kissing his nose.

“Y’all are so cute it’s nauseating.” Mariana said, making a face.

“Don’t be like that, It’s his birthday.” Y/N said, as she began eating her own bowl of birria ramen.

“Yeah, It’s my birthday.” Charles said.

“I just met you, man, I think I’m allowed to tease. Anyway, are we going to be here all day?” Mariana asked. Charles checked his phone.

“Fuck, we can’t, I think after eating, I have to check in at my hotel, I’ll give you the address.” Charles said, Mariana nodded but Y/N looked sad. “Hey, I promise after I check in, I’ll spend the rest of the day with you, okay? There’s no person I would rather spend my birthday with than you.” Charles kissed her sweetly.

“Okay. Let’s hurry before Joris and Andrea send a search party for you.” Y/N said, charles laughing at her joke. After throwing away their trash and getting in Mariana’s car, charles was thinking about how he couldn’t have asked for a better surprise, this might be his favorite birthday yet.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! I thought it was cute.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Love strategy p.3

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy part 3, here's part 2 if you've missed it :)

The next morning arrives quicker than you expected, and before you know it, you're rolling your suitcase through the hotel lobby, your mind racing with the events from the day before. It all feels surreal—the kiss, the plan, Carlos’ indifference. It’s a lot to process.

As you step outside, the cool morning air hits your face. You spot Lando leaning casually against the side of a black car, phone in hand, his luggage already stowed away in the trunk. He looks up as you approach, his expression softening into a playful smile.

"Ready for our grand escape?" he teases.

You chuckle, though there’s a hint of nervousness in your laugh. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Lando straightens up, grabbing your suitcase and lifting it into the car with ease. "Don’t worry," he says, glancing over at you as he closes the trunk, "this will all be worth it once people start talking."

"I hope so," you murmur, climbing into the passenger seat.

Lando slides into the driver’s side, adjusting his sunglasses before starting the car. He turns to you with a grin. "I mean, we’re going to make headlines. I can already see the gossip: ‘Are Lando Norris and his mystery girl getting serious?’"

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. "Just remember, no over-the-top dramatics. We’re aiming for ‘believable,’ not a full-blown tabloid scandal."

"Right, right," Lando says with mock seriousness, then smirks. "Though I wouldn’t mind a little drama."

When you reach the airport, Lando parks the car, turning to you with a relaxed smile. "I’ll see you on the plane," he says, his voice soft but carrying a hint of excitement.

You nod, feeling a flutter in your chest that you try to ignore. "See you on the plane."

As you both step out, you give each other a brief nod before heading in separate directions—Lando through the VIP entrance and you through the main one.

You board the plane, still carrying a sense of unease from Carlos’ indifference. Normally, when you flew with him, he’d sit with his friends, leaving you on your own for most of the flight. It had become the norm, so you weren’t expecting much different this time, even with Lando.

But as you step onto the plane, Lando catches your eye from a few rows ahead. He’s already sitting down, an easy grin spreading across his face when he spots you. To your surprise, instead of sitting with the other drivers or disappearing into his usual crowd, he gestures toward the empty seat beside him. You hesitate for a second, not used to this sort of attention mid-flight, but his encouraging smile leaves you with little choice.

Taking your seat next to him, you give him a playful glance. "What, no VIP treatment for you? Sitting with the common folk?"

Lando chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Thought I’d mix things up a bit. Besides," he leans in a little, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we’ve got a plan to discuss, don’t we?"

You smirk, nodding. "Right, the plan."

At first, the conversation sticks to the details—how you’ll post the photo, what you’ll do when people start to speculate. But soon enough, the playful side of Lando starts to slip through.

"Okay, so picture this," Lando begins, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "We post the picture, right? And immediately, people start speculating. They’ll probably think I’m whipped. And you? You’re obviously the mastermind behind all of it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Obviously?"

"Of course," he teases. "I mean, you’re the one calling the shots here. I’m just the poor, innocent driver who got swept off his feet."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Right, poor you. Must be terrible having to pretend you’re dating me."

Lando grins, leaning back in his seat with an exaggerated sigh. "The things I do for a good story."

Before you know it, the conversation flows into something more natural, the plan slowly fading into the background. Lando starts sharing random anecdotes about his life on the road—racing stories, inside jokes with the other drivers, and moments of chaos that only someone in his position could relate to.

"Okay, so get this," Lando says, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he recounts a story from a past race weekend. "Carlos and I were in this tiny restaurant in Italy, right? And somehow, I managed to order enough food for, like, a family of eight. Carlos, of course, being Carlos, dared me to eat it all. Let’s just say I’ve never been more full in my life, and I had to race the next day!"

You laugh, picturing the scene. "Let me guess—you won the race with a food coma?"

"Surprisingly, no," he chuckles, shaking his head. "But I didn’t throw up either, so I consider that a win."

The conversation keeps rolling, each story sparking a new one, and before you realize it, you’re telling Lando your own anecdotes—random moments from your childhood, funny travel mishaps, and awkward encounters. He listens intently, laughing at all the right moments, and it feels surprisingly… easy. Relaxed, even.

It’s different from flying with Carlos, who usually busies himself with his friends, leaving you to your thoughts. With Lando, there’s none of that distance. He’s fully present, engaging in the conversation with his usual charm and quick wit. He makes you feel seen.

At one point, mid-laugh, you realize how much fun you’re having. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Lando to be this comfortable to be around. You glance out of the window, noticing how far into the flight you are, time having flown by without you even noticing.

"You know," you say, turning to Lando with a small smile, "I’m kind of surprised. You’re a good travel companion."

He looks at you with mock offense. "Surprised? What, did you think I’d be boring?"

You shake your head, laughing softly. "No, just… I guess I’m used to Carlos doing his own thing."

Lando’s smile softens, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. "Well, I’m glad I could change that."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you. This whole thing might have started as a plan, a façade, but right now, sitting beside him, it feels a lot less like pretending.

The plane touches down smoothly, and you feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension as you start gathering your things. You and Lando have spent the entire flight talking, joking, and trading stories, and for a few hours, the world outside of the plane seemed to blur away. But as you prepare to step back into reality, the weight of the plan settles back in.

Lando stretches beside you, yawning slightly before turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You chuckle, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Not bad at all. Maybe I should fly with you more often."

His grin widens, but there’s something else in his expression—like he’s holding back a secret. As the two of you make your way off the plane and through the terminal, you notice Lando constantly glancing at his phone, his smile growing with each tap of the screen.

"You know," he begins casually, as you step out into the cool air outside the airport, "you don’t need to worry about how we’re going to announce this whole thing anymore."

You stop in your tracks, turning to look at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Lando bites his lip, holding up his phone to show you the screen. Your eyes widen as you take in the image—an article, complete with a photo of the two of you entering the airport together just hours ago. The headline blares in bold letters:

"Lando Norris’s Newest Catch? F1 Star Spotted With Mystery Girl at Airport!"

Your stomach drops, the air suddenly feeling heavier around you. "What? How did they…?"

Lando’s grin only grows as he scrolls through the article. "Looks like the paparazzi beat us to it. We didn’t even have to make an announcement. They did it for us."

You can’t help but laugh in disbelief. "We didn’t even post the café photo yet!"

He shrugs, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Guess we’re more convincing than we thought."

As you stare at the headline, a strange mix of nerves and excitement washes over you. This was all part of the plan, of course—but seeing it in print makes it feel so much more real. You glance up at Lando, who’s watching you with that same easy smile, clearly unfazed by the attention.

"Guess it’s official now," he says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "No going back."

You smirk, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. "I guess not."

With a final grin, Lando steps closer, his voice low and teasing. "Welcome to the spotlight."

Here's part 4

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs

[chelseypprimrose]

Handy With His Hands / handyman!negan x housewife!reader / 18+ / pre-apocalypse

Warnings ⚠️ : unprotected sex, adultery, oral (f receiving), rough sex elements

Summary: being a housewife is quite dull, especially when your husband is a corporate jackass- until a sexy handyman comes to fix your shower.

A/N: I got this little saucy story in my head while reading some handyman!joel miller stories and I just thought: Negan + handyman? so hot! my stories are always something out of a cheesy porno scenario but idec , i know i’m never going to have these fantasies happen to me in the real world so i believe it’s self care to let my dulu stories write out on paper 🤭 please enjoy 🤍

not proof read yet 🫣

“can you please just get someone to come and look at that thing? i’m sick of having to take cold showers!” you exclaimed, your voice travelling from the kitchen to the living room where your husband was on a phone call. “i’m on the phone, honey.” he replied back, hidden annoyance in his tone, recognisable to you but if anyone else was to hear, they’d think it to be cheerful. you cursed him out in your head, counting down the hours until he was going to be gone on his long business trip. finally, you’d be able to take a break from your expected housewife duties, one of your favourite things to do when your husband was away, catch a few rays in your back garden, take a dip naked in the swimming pool. you had to find thrills where you could as your life was a revolving door of the same boring routine, day in and day out. you craved for something, some sort of adventure to come into your life and completely turn it on its head, you were still waiting on that day unfortunately.

you’d been married to your husband for around three years now, even if it felt like forty. it had been a fairytale at the beginning, he’d get you flowers every week, freshly picked, take you out for dinner at least four times a month, he’d seemed like the perfect man to get married to, until you were locked in, bounded by the commitment and paperwork. he’d neglected those responsibilities, it was rare for him to even take you out for a date night anymore, it was usually just forcing you to go to dinner meetings so he could show you off to potential clients, having to spend your evening being hit on and leered over by slimy old men, your body used to close business deals. always buying you some diamond necklace or earrings after the fact, to keep you happy. you spent most of your time at home when not being used as a dress up doll for your husband, cooking, cleaning, keeping the house in perfect condition - not that he ever noticed.

“alright, i’ve got someone coming round to look at the shower, i’ve got to leave for my flight dear. i love you. i’ll give you a call when i land.” he says, his suitcase rolling on four wheels beside him, his head coming down for a peck on your lips, absolutely no spark or electricity through the kiss, not like it used to be. you mumbled a love you back, as you watched him walk out of the front door, a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. you took your apron off, placing it on the hook next to the cabinets in the kitchen. walking upstairs into your shared bedroom, you quickly changed out of your clothes, putting on a new two piece bikini you’d treated yourself to a couple weeks ago, topping it off with a pair of sunglasses to keep the sun out of your eyes. grabbing a towel on your way out, you slid the patio door open, folding out the towel and placing it on the sun lounger, sitting down on it and lounging out. connecting your phone to the bluetooth speaker outside, you decided to put on your relaxing mix, hoping it would help you get a small nap in before the repairman was here.

it was really hard to get one on such short notice, how your husband had been able to get one the same day baffled you, probably pulled some strings with one of his business buddies you thought. while you had good money in the bank, you despised how your husband would treat other people that weren’t in the same tax bracket as you both were. you were the more generous person in the relationship, giving to various charities when you could, even though it annoyed your husband to no end when you did. in a selfish way, you revealed in it, any subtle way you could piss him off without making it obvious that was your intention, you’d jump at the chance. giving money to those who needed it AND being able to make him angry - win win scenario.

you’d been sat in the back yard for around a hour, lightly snoring as you went in and out of a light sleep, you hadn’t heard the doorbell go the multiple times it had, being awoken when the wooden side gate hit the fence with a loud crash. “holy shit!” you shouted, pulling your sunglasses off your eyes to look towards the gate, seeing a man standing there with a large toolbox in his hand. “hey, didn’t mean to scare you doll. no one answered the doorbell and i saw the gate was unlocked so.” you got yourself up from the sun lounger, taking a couple steps towards the man so you could get a better look at him. damn he was fine, a tight white t-shirt with black cargo pants, covered in what looked like dust, white paint, other substances you could only assume he’d gotten from his line of work. a tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeve, one on his forearm as well, steel-toe capped boots making slight clink noises as he moved on the concrete path underneath him, you thought he was too attractive to be a handyman, a ‘magic mike’ dancer sure, you give over everything in your bank account to see that little fantasy come to life. his hair slicked back and beard trimmed neatly, your eyes couldn’t help naturally scanning over his muscular, dominating frame.

“hi! you must be the handyman my husband ordered?” you asked, eyebrow raising as you put your hand out for a handshake. “well, i work for the same company, i’m Negan.” he introduced himself as he grasped your hand, meeting yours. his hand felt slightly calloused, a side effect from his job you gathered, you couldn’t deny how sexy they made you feel, being used to the smoothness of your husbands, it was a unlikely turn on. “oh right! i’m y/n. thank you for coming on such short notice, i’m absolutely sick of having cold showers, don’t know how much more i can take of it.” you joked, a small smile sat on your face. “i’ll show you where it is so you can get cracking, i bet there’s more things you’d rather be doing, so hopefully it won’t take too long.” you motioned for him to follow you, walking through the patio door.

Negan followed you into the house, unbeknownst to you, his eyes glued to your small bikini bottoms, showing off your ass in what could only be described as gorgeous. he knew it was wrong, looking at the bosses wife in such a way but he couldn’t help himself, becoming a recent single man again, he hadn’t had the time to get back into the dating scene which in turn meant he wasn’t getting any action and it was driving him nuts. he was only a man, when he’d got the call from your husband, he wasn’t expecting his wife to be home alone, dressed in a bikini, looking good enough to devour.

you got to the en suite bathroom, opening the door, showing him where the controls were. “here it is, i have no clue what’s wrong with it, it just won’t let any hot water through.” you stated, you’d never been good with stuff like this, your husband had always had people on call to fix problems around the house. “i’ll be fine doll, i’ve dealt with this problem loads of times before.” he waved it off with a laugh. “would you like anything to drink? to eat?” you questioned, putting on your best innocent smile. “i wouldn’t mind a coffee, doll but don’t make one on my account.” he beamed back at you, turning away to grab something from his toolbox, you took a look at his tight cargos as he bent down, they shaped the muscularity of his thighs perfectly, his ass looking perfect in them. “i’m sure i can rustle something up for you, how do you take it?” you asked, a slight smirk on your face from how you’d worded the question to him. “no milk, two sugars please. i like it sweet.” he bantered back, leaving you to saunter off to the kitchen.

you returned back to him, slightly boiling coffee in hand, placing it on the large counter where the sink and mirror were placed. “so, how long have you worked with my husband? i don’t think i’ve heard about you before?” you quizzed, knowing the names of your husbands many business partners and staff, you’d have remembered a unique name like Negan, you were sure. “ah not long, used to be a gym teacher before this job, needed a change and i’ve always been good with my hands.” you laughed, the image of Negan bossing around a load of pre teens making you smile. “i wouldn’t have pegged you as a gym teacher, to be honest with you!” he laughed right back at you, turning his head to look towards you. “yeah, a lot of people have told me that, i loved working with the little shits all day, gave them a run for their money, i can tell you that much.” he grimaced, realising what he’d done. “sorry doll, don’t mean to swear, pretty unprofessional of me.” you giggled again, shaking your head at him. “i don’t mind, stop worrying! it’s nice to be in the company of a man who doesn’t change himself to suit other people.” Negan took notice of that, wondering if you were talking about your husband. “well, that’s fucking me all over doll. so, what do you do?” you sighed, knowing how what you said next would come across. “housewife, i stay at home, look after the house and get taken to business dinners when i’m needed.” he noticed your drop in tone, he could sense that you weren’t really happy with that but he didn’t want to speak out of turn. “well your doing a bang up job, this place is immaculate.” you blushed, your husband had never complimented your hard work, always just expecting the house to be sorted, never thinking to thank you for your efforts. “thanks, it’s nice to hear that. i’ll let you get on, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

it was about a hour later when Negan had finally finished the shower, it now letting out hot water again. “you are a angel, finally i can have a nice shower!” you exclaimed, hands clapping enthusiastically, Negan laughing at your actions. “absolutely no problem doll.” he smiled at you, trying to escape his thoughts of you taking said shower, the bubbles dripping down your body as you washed them away, how good you’d look naked. “so, stop me if you have somewhere to be but i just got finished making dinner, i forgot i was alone so there is more than enough if you wanted to stay for some?” you asked sheepishly, expecting him to decline, a young single man probably had better things to do on a friday night than sit in with a boring housewife for dinner. “i’d love that doll. let me just take my tools back to my truck.” you freaked out internally, you were excited to spend some more time with this devilishly charming man, he was a breath of fresh air compared to the people you had to hang around with when you were with your husband. always other couples that were all business talk, how many sales they’d made that year and how much they were getting for their bonuses, it became exhausting over time.

you plated up the chicken florentine, along with some vegetables and sauce, bring the plate from the counter to the dining room table, the dimmed lights almost highlighting your body, you’d changed into a pretty sundress while he’d gone out to the truck, deciding a bikini wasn’t proper dinner attire, not bothering with underwear, if your plan was to go your way. placing the plates on the table, you grabbed a bottle of wine from the vast array of choice from the wine cooler and glasses for you both. you took a seat just as Negan walked back through the door, his eyes rising up as he smelt the food from the table. “fuck me doll, that smells good!” he clapped his hands together as he sat down beside you, starting to eat. “i hope you like it, i didn’t know if you ate meat but…” you trailed off. “no i do, i’m not one of those vegan pussies, don’t worry.” you laughed, his vulgar language causing a stir from within you. you poured out a glass of wine for you each before tucking in yourself. “i’ve got to say, i’ve never had such hospitality from anyone before, i’m always called to clients houses but the most i’m offered is a drink and then they leave me alone to work, this is a nice change.” you smiled, hoping you hadn’t been too much in his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself, you wanted to know more about the intriguing man. “well, i aim to please. hospitality gets drilled into you as a housewife, it’s sort of all i’m good for.” you said, taking a sip of your wine, feeling like you were softly venting a little due to feeling comfortable in Negan’s company. “i’m sure your good at other things doll, better than the shitheads i normally encounter in this job.”

“well i understand that, i’ve met my husband’s clientele and they aren’t my type of people. always boasting about themselves, not caring about others, i hate it really.” you confessed, knowing you were opening up to much to a man you didn’t really know but you felt at ease, like you could speak freely, unlike when you were in your husbands company. you and Negan had finished eating, you finished the last of your wine, taking your plates to the dishwasher, bending down to place them inside, not remembering you had no panties on, fully on show for Negan and he’d definitely noticed. he’d almost done a double take, seeing your pretty pussy on display, a grin widening on his face as he understood the message. he got up, walking towards you as you raised up again, going to put the cooking utensils in the dishwasher when his large hands wrapped around your waist, you turned to look at him.

“you know doll, i think i should thank you for such a lovely evening. don’t you?” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your chest heaving up and down with deep breaths as your heart began to beat irregularly at the closeness of such a gorgeous man. “i don’t know… what did you have in mind?” you questioned, your arms coming to meet at the top of his neck, wrapping around to pull him closer as your faces were inches away from each other. “i think it would be fair payment to screw your pretty little brains out, right over this countertop.” you moaned out at his statement, his hand coming to tug at your hair softly, before yanking harder, testing the waters. “i think, you should put your money where your mouth is, Negan.”

he growled, backing you up to the countertop that was behind your back, slightly pushing you against it. he captured your lips in a heated kiss, his hand still pulling at your hair as you whimpered into the kiss, silently begging for his hard touch. no one had ever been so rough with you, husband included. “i know how much you’ve wanted this, don’t think i didn’t notice how you aren’t wearing any panties, you were planning for this, weren’t you doll?” he whispered against your lips, his other hand now going underneath your skirt, dancing on your thighs before he got to your wet heat. “i don’t just offer dinner to anyone that comes to the house, you know.” you whimpered out, feeling his finger tips on your clit, moving small circles on top of it. “i’m hungry for dessert now doll, open those pretty thighs for me sweetheart.” he lifted you up onto the counter, your legs sat on his shoulders as you lifted your dress up enough for your whole pussy on display for Negan. his tongue met your hot skin, licking a stripe up your core, starting slow. your hand came down to meet his hair, gripping tightly around the strands that had fallen loose from his slicked back style. you moaned out, not used to the feeling of having such a skilled man between your legs, savouring every movement you felt him make. so methodical and well thought.

he sucked on your clit harshly, you squeezing his head slightly as your thighs contorted together, trying desperately to grind yourself closer to his tongue, chasing the blissfully sinful feeling that was racing through your body. “fuck-fuck! Negan, i’m not- going to last much longer if you keep doing that! fuck!” you panted and whined at the impending arrival of your orgasm, he chuckled at your confession, pulling away from you to back up. “i want to feel you doll, i want to feel you clench around my dick, turn around for me.” he purred, letting your stumbling legs fall back onto the ground as you turned to face the counter, your nipples standing erected through the thin material of the dress, contrasting against the cold marble.

he dropped his cargo pants, letting them fall down to his ankles, his impressively large piece now hanging out, you felt the bulbous tip playing around on your entrance, running up and down your folds at Negan’s movements. he finally entered you, holding a tight grip on your hips, nails slightly digging into your soft flesh, letting your pussy stretch out to accommodate his girth. he pulls out, and slides back in with little to no hesitation, finding a happy pace between rough and soft. you moan out, one hand coming to wrap around your throat as he moved his pace to more rough. “fuck doll, you fit me so well- taking me so good baby.” you whined out again. “please, please! harder! i need you, Negan- fuck!” he grinned at your begging, leaving your lips like a pretty song. he obliged, upping the ante to absolutely rock you.

“RING! RING!”

you gasped, pulling your head up from the counter to see the light illuminating from the landline phone situated near the window, your husbands name on the caller id.

“fuck, fuck! stop i need to answer him!” you tried to manoeuvre your body to grab the phone that was finger tips away from you, pushing your body closer before negan reached out over you to grab it.

“better answer it before he gets suspicious dollface.” he clicked the green button, passing it down to you, your face bright red with nervousness.

“hey-hey honey.” you breathed out, finding it hard not to make pleasurable sounds while Negan was still fucking you rough, you could barely talk with his hand still grasped around your throat. he showed no mercy.

“i just got to my hotel, did Negan manage to fix the shower?” your husband asked, you allowed a small grin to peak out on your face, thanking god your husband couldn’t see you right now. “yeah, he did a really good job, such a nice guy!” you drabbled on, hoping he wouldn’t ask many more questions, fearing you couldn’t stay quiet for much longer. “that’s great, so i’m going to try and get some sleep before the big meeting tomorrow. just wanted to let you know i got here okay. i love you.” he said, you almost dropped the phone from how rough your stomach was hitting the side of the counter, Negan relishing in the predicament you’d found yourself in. “ok-okay honey. i love you t-too.” you gasped as Negan proceeded to smack your ass hard, the sting catching you off guard, making it harder to find your words for your husband. “are you okay? you don’t sound too well?” you rolled your eyes into the back of your head, wishing he’d just fuck off so you didn’t have the anxiety of having to string sentences together. “yeah i’m fine, think i’m just a bit ill. i’ll l-let you get some sleep. love you. bye.” you quickly got out, pressing the red end call button, slinging the phone off the counter, the object hitting the ground with a smack. “you are such a bastard.” you slightly laughed with another moan. “didn’t want him worrying about his dear wife now did we doll? thank you for the five star review though, i appreciate it.”

the wet sounds still echoed around the room, you could feel yourself getting ever so closer to what you knew would be a world shattering climax. “fuck, i’m so so close, please! fuck!” Negan held you firmer in place, his hips snapping against your behind, his dick filling you up to the brim. “let go doll, come all over my dick.” that was all the permission you needed, you let yourself climax, sobbing in pleasure, waves of pleasure rippling through you, nearly too intense for your body to handle it. you cried out his name, your fingernails digging into your own palms as you circled your hips, riding out your orgasm.

Negan wasn’t too far behind, he couldn’t help but spill inside you, quickly pulling out to finish the rest on your now red glistening ass, from the countless spankings he’d given you. you both almost collapsed, breathless, unable to get your heart rates back to normal for the time being. Negan held you to his chest, your back meeting his torso in a warm embrace, chests heaving. you felt the sticky ropes of his seed on your dress, making it stick to your ass as you licked your lips to regain some moisture back as they’d gone dry from all your moaning and whining. his hands ran up and down your body, coming to play with your breasts over the material.

“fuck doll, do you have any more repairs for me to do? because i would gladly fix every goddamn thing in this house for this again.” you laughed, turning around to look at him, face beat red from the strenuous actions you’d both participated in. you reached behind him and pulled open one of the cabinets behind his head, the wood snapping with the force, taking it off its hinges so it hung off.

“whoops. you might need to take a look at that.”

[reminiscingtonight]

champagne - turbulence - laughs

Love At First Flight (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

A/N: There was no player attached so I decided to write for Leila!

[WOSO Masterlist]

“Champagne for you, ma’am.”

The soft drawl of the flight attendant has you pulling your eyes away from the movie you’re not even paying attention to. You only put it on in hopes of distracting yourself, but so far it hasn’t done a thing.

“I-- I didn’t order one,” you grit out between clenched teeth. 

The flight attendant seems apologetic, clearly attuned to the way you’re nearly jumping out of your skin. “The woman over there wanted to send you something for your nerves.”

You follow her finger to the row in front of yours. There’s a gorgeous woman across the aisle giving you a sympathetic look. 

You raise a shaky hand in thanks, trying to breathe in long and deep to calm yourself. It doesn’t work. Downing the whole flute in one doesn’t seem to work either. 

It draws a low chuckle from the charitable woman though. 

“That bad, huh.” 

“That obvious?”

It took some serious convincing on the part of your friends to vacation in Ibiza during the holiday. With most of them flying in from places all over the world, this meant a solo flight for you from your hometown of Manchester. Flying has always been your last choice of transportation, not one for the skies, so you already knew it was going to be a rough ride. You had debated taking some medicine right before the flight, but the frazzle brain that you are, you managed to misplace them right before you left.

If it wasn’t for the generosity of your nearby passenger, you were already seriously debating ordering some alcohol for yourself.

“Do you mind if I…” She gestures to the empty seat next to you. 

You nod, turning your body so she can slip in beside you.

“Leila,” she supplies without any prompting. 

You’re halfway through introducing yourself when the plane hits a sudden rough patch, shaking you in your seat. An embarrassing squawk leaves your lips and you latch onto the closest thing you can.

Leila winces at the strength of your grip.

It isn’t until a good half minute later, when your heart rate finally starts to settle that you realize what you’ve done. “Sorry,” you whisper, slowly easing your hand off hers.

“It’s okay,” she chuckles. She flips her hand over, quick to catch yours before you can fully pull away. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Something about her confidence has you blushing a bit. She lets you take comfort from her hand, your body slowly relaxing the longer your hand stays in hers. 

It’s almost strange, the way you find comfort in someone you don’t even know. If Leila minds, she doesn’t seem to show it. If anything, there’s a smug sort of look on her face as she makes herself at home beside you.

When the silence persists and it’s clear that Leila is content to just sit in the quiet, you muster up the courage to say something. “Whatcha going over to Spain for?”

She gives you a look. “Accent doesn’t give me away?”

You blush again. “Well I didn’t want to assume.”

Leila laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “I’m just going back to see some friends. Haven’t been able to see them much since I moved over to Manchester.”

“Oh, what did you move here for?”

By the time you hear the ding of the seatbelt light, the captain garbling some announcement about landing soon, you and Leila have become well acquainted. It’s almost as if you’ve known each other for years, laughing and trading stories one after another. 

She looks almost a bit disappointed that your time together has come to an end. 

You’re feeling pretty much the same. 

You pause to let her grab her bag first, but Leila waits for you before the two of you start your slow trek off the plane and into the airport. Your hands slowly bump, brushing the entire way off, but something about your bubble being broken has you hesitant to take her hand into yours again.

The closer you get to the luggage claim, the more you realize you want to see Leila again. What are the chances that you’ve run into such a beautiful woman who’s caring enough to sit with a stranger for an entire flight? And what are your chances that the two of you would ever run into each other again? It isn’t like Manchester is small enough for you to hedge your bets on chance bringing you back into her orbit once you’re both back home.

“Would you maybe like to meet up again when we’re both back in England?” 

Leila doesn’t miss a step, sending you a wink as she gestures towards your pocket.

Frowning, you reach into your pocket. You’re surprised when you pull out a piece of paper, nine digits neatly written with a little note on the side. 

[Call me if you need someone to hold your hand on the way home]

When you look up, the Spaniard is nowhere to be seen.

But with her number in your hand, you know it won’t be long until you see her again.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Girl

This is my submission for the Eras fic challenge graciously organized by @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston. The song assigned to me was "Getaway Car" I had a really hard time coming up with a player and an idea that I could build on. So for those that might be less familiar with this song (like me), from what I read, the lyrics can be tied to Taylor's relationship ending with Calvin Harris and her romance with Tom Hiddleston. Using this as the foundation, in this fic, the player I chose - Jeremy Swayman will be "Taylor" in the story. The fic itself heavily showcases a Canadian group called City and Colour. When I heard Jeremy sing and play guitar in the Face Off docuseries, I likened him to Dallas Green, the lead singer. This is my first time writing for Jeremy so I hope you like it, and thank you again for organizing such an awesome challenge.

Warnings - none other than profanity. Alludes to a partner cheating. Apologies if I missed anything.

Word Count - approx 6k

For anyone wanting to hear the City and Colour songs noted in the story: The Girl Waiting

Jeremy’s hubcaps grazed the curb as he slowed, squinting at the row of elegant houses lining the quiet street. He double-checked the address showing on his GPS, then shifted his gaze back to the home in front of him. It had to be the right place. His eyes took in the towering Victorian style mansion, its brick work, tan in colour accented by ornate gray-green trim, and he shifted uneasily in his seat. He hadn’t expected anything quite like this—a recording studio tucked away among the historic mansions of Boston’s Beacon Hill neighborhood.

The house loomed over him as he stepped out, guitar case in hand, its weathered charm giving off the look of a travelling musician. He fidgeted and tried to shake off the nerves prickling under his skin. This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He should’ve gone somewhere more modern, more professional—or maybe not at all.

Before he could tuck tail and run, the front door swung open. A woman stepped out onto the porch, her loose sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder, her sandy-brown hair catching the autumn afternoon sunlight. She smiled—a natural, easy smile that disarmed him almost immediately.

“Jeremy Swayman - so nice to meet you” she said, her voice light and friendly. “I’m Rowan. Come on in.”

He paused, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for—thanks for squeezing me in.”

She waved him off as if it were no trouble at all. “Not a problem. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

As she led him up the steps and through the wide wooden door, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere. Her voice, her face—something about her triggered an odd familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. But when she caught him sneaking a glance at her, her expression stayed neutral. If she noticed his curiosity, she didn’t let on.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of aged wood and a light scent of fresh linens. The checkerboard floor in the main entrance lead to a grand staircase, and beyond that was the recording space just down a flight of stairs. The studio was intimate but well-equipped, with a mix of modern gear and vintage touches. Rowan moved through it with an effortless confidence, and Jeremy found himself relaxing despite his earlier hesitation.

“So,” she said, motioning for him to take a seat on the worn leather couch by the wall. “What brings you here today?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s, uh, for my girlfriend. Our anniversary’s coming up, and I wanted to do something special. Record a song for her. We’re uh - going through…well, something. I guess I just want something to say that I get how hard her life is sometimes - being with, well - me.”

Rowan’s eyebrows lifted, her lips curving into a smile. “That’s a really beautiful gesture. Do you have a song in mind?”

Jeremy hesitated. “Not… really. I mean, I had a couple ideas, but…” He sighed. “Honestly, my brain’s kind of fried right now. It’s been a rough few weeks.”

Rowan nodded, her expression shifting to something softer. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” She crossed the room and grabbed an acoustic guitar propped against a corner. “Let’s start simple.”

She sat on the edge of a stool, fingers dancing over the strings as she flipped through a worn catalogue of song titles. “Any particular vibe you’re going for? Romantic? Upbeat? Nostalgic?”

“Nostalgic, I guess,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Something meaningful but… not too cheesy.”

Rowan chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “Got it. Let’s see…” She played a few opening chords of ‘Patience’ by Guns ‘n Roses, then another, ‘You and Me’ by Lifehouse, humming softly as she tested the waters. Jeremy listened, but nothing clicked. His mind was too cluttered, too distracted by the pressure of his collapsing relationship and everything else that had gone on recently with his newly signed contract weighing him down.

And then Rowan shifted, her head tilting slightly as if an idea had just occurred to her. “How about this one?” she asked, her fingers brushing over the strings.

The melody was soft, almost haunting, and then she began to sing:

“I wish I could do better by you, 'cause that's what you deserve…”

Jeremy froze. Her voice wasn’t just good—it was incredible. Rich and soulful, with a sweetness that made the lyrics feel like they were meant for this song. He barely heard the words; all he could focus on was her, the way she poured herself into the song as if it came straight from her heart.

By the time she finished the verse, he realized he’d been staring. She caught his gaze, her lips quirking into a smile.

“City and Colour,” she said, breaking the silence. “The Girl. I think the lyrics fit your situation perfectly. I’m sure it’s not an easy balancing act between your career and your lives together.”

He blinked, his voice catching in his throat. “Yeah,” he managed, though his thoughts were spinning.

The song was beautiful—the lyrics were perfect… if only they actually applied to his girlfriend, Aileen. Jeremy had uncovered her duplicity in their relationship, a more troubling side of her personality revealed during his difficult salary arbitration the year before. At a time when he needed support, Aileen’s comments throughout the summer of 2023 had done nothing but highlight her true colors. Now, with his signature inked on an eight-year contract—negotiated publicly at times in the media—Aileen acted as though she were owed something simply for her presence during the standoff between Jeremy and the Boston Bruins.

Jeremy had hoped that doing something to remind her of the times that were loving and fun—rather than riddled with angst and harsh words—might help them get through this low point.

Rowan set her guitar aside, resting it gently against the stool, and tilted her head at Jeremy. “Alright, I think I’ve got a good sense of the style you’re going for. But now, it’s your turn.”

Jeremy blinked, looking slightly panicked. “My turn?”

She smiled, reassuring but firm. “Yeah. I need to hear what I’m working with. No pressure—I just want to get a feel for your range.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his unease evident. “I mean, I play guitar… but singing’s not really my thing. I’m just a goalie, you know?”

Rowan laughed softly, leaning back on the stool. “I think you’re selling yourself short. Dallas Green’s style is about pure emotion, not perfection - even though I think his voice is as close to perfection as they come. Besides, you don’t have to be a pro—you just have to mean it.”

Jeremy hesitated, shifting in his seat. His fingers drummed against his knees. “What do you want me to sing?”

She thought for a moment, then picked up her guitar again. “How about this? I’ll play the chords for ‘The Girl.’ You just follow along. No one’s judging here—it’s just the two of us.”

He gave a reluctant nod, his grip tightening slightly on the armrest before he stood. “Alright… but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As Rowan started strumming, Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The first note came out hesitant, barely above a whisper, but soon his voice steadied. It wasn’t polished, but it was honest and filled with a depth Rowan hadn’t expected. By the time he hit the chorus, his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She was definitely impressed.

When he finished, Jeremy looked up, half-expecting her to laugh or offer some fake version of applause. Reactions that reminded him of Aileen. Instead, she stared at him, her eyes wide and sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve got something - I’m just floored here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Got what?” he asked, shifting awkwardly.

“That thing,” she said, gesturing vaguely but enthusiastically. “Your tone, your emotion— it’s beautiful. You might not realize it, but your voice can tell a story.”

Jeremy’s ears reddened. “I don’t know about that…”

“I do,” she countered supportively. “Trust me. We can work with this. If you give yourself a chance - just breathe, you’ll surprise yourself. Plus, then I get to do my job and make any adjustments when I produce the final version.”

For the first time since arriving, Jeremy felt a flicker of pride. He wasn’t sure if it was her words or the way she said them, but something about Rowan made him believe she meant it.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to reply, the soft clicking of claws on hardwood interrupted her. He glanced over her shoulder just as a graying dog ambled into the room, tail wagging lazily. His soulful eyes locked onto Jeremy, who immediately brightened.

“This is Arty,” Rowan said, sliding off the stool to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “He’s an old boy, but he runs the place.”

Jeremy crouched down, letting Arty sniff his hand before giving him a gentle pat. “Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re a good-looking guy, huh?”

As if on cue, another dog trotted in—this one bigger, younger, and distinctly more mischievous. His tail wagged furiously as he bounded up to Jeremy.

“And this troublemaker,” she said with a laugh, “is Paulie. I’m sort of a Sopranos fan - not sure if you could tell. Arty’s the straight laced guy and Paulie - well, he means well but he’s nothing but trouble.”

“Paulie, huh?” Jeremy chuckled, sitting cross-legged on the floor as both dogs circled him. “You’re not gonna take me out back if I don’t perform well, are you?” He pointed two fingers at his temple as he glanced toward Rowan.

Rowan laughed, her voice light and genuine. “They’re my shadows - I guess the worst that they’ll do is walk out if they don’t like what they hear. But they’ll listen if you don’t want them around you…some people aren’t comfortable around them.”

Jeremy rubbed Arty’s ears, grinning as the dog leaned into his touch. “I don’t mind. This guy’s already my favorite.”

Rowan watched the scene unfold, her heart softening as Jeremy shifted effortlessly into this quieter, more relaxed version of himself. The tension he’d carried in with him seemed to dissolve under Arty’s gentle nudge and Paulie’s playfulness. For a moment, she simply let it happen, the room filled with the sound of paws padding across the wooden floor and easy conversation.

“Alright,” Rowan said after a while, sitting back on the couch. “So, now that you’ve won over my protectors, what’s next? Do you want to keep searching for a song or are we sticking with City and Colour?”

Jeremy leaned back, scratching Arty’s head. “Let’s stick with City and Colour for now. I had never heard of them and I’m already wanting to hear more of their songs.”

“Let’s start there then - you can hear the original…you’ll hear the similarities in your voices. Or, that’s what I hear anyway.”

Rowan queued the song and the now familiar tune streamed through the open space. Jeremy sat silently, smiling as he visualized playing the chords on his acoustic guitar. He loved the lyrics. He loved the sentiment of the song. It was the perfect song to sing for a supportive partner, to recognize their sacrifices as he lives out his dreams. It was the perfect song, just not for Aileen.

—

Throughout the next week, Jeremy found himself back at Rowan’s house, each time with his guitar slung over his shoulder as he climbed the familiar steps. The air had turned colder, the crispness of late fall settling into Boston, but the warmth of Rowan’s home hadn’t changed.

During the time he spent at her studio, he had learned why she looked so familiar to Jeremy. Rowan, formerly known as ‘Shea’ as in her last name, had hit the big time with an epic album released when she was only 19 years old. The record went triple platinum with hit after hit with music that fused together pop/rock and alternative genres. She was slated as one of the most exciting up and coming artists, and then she simply vanished from the scene. There was the usual speculation - everything from substance abuse to affairs with notable celebrities - all of which were wildly untrue. Rowan had been exposed to the seamy underbelly of the entertainment industry and desperately clung onto her sensibilities, squirreling away whatever funds she had access to. She wanted to simply make music but the powers that be saw her only as a physically beautiful commodity. Every party she was told to attend made her die a little inside. This path was not her path and she stepped away broken hearted and jaded. She set about making wise investments, and soon bought her home in Boston, with the hopes of helping burgeoning musicians and singers begin their professional journeys. Jeremy was fascinated as Rowan walked him through her experiences and somehow felt so lucky that he stumbled across her studio in the first place.

Inside, Rowan was already setting up the equipment, her usual ease and efficiency making him feel like this was just another day. But for Jeremy, it was starting to feel like much more. He hadn’t told her how bad things had gotten—not about the Bruins’ lackluster start to the season, not about Aileen’s constant ultimatums—but he suspected she could see it anyway. Somehow, she always seemed to know when to give him space or when to fill it with music and conversation.

“Alright,” Rowan said, looking up from her setup. “Ready to lay down the first take?”

Jeremy hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

He sat on the stool she’d adjusted for him, his fingers brushing over the strings of his acoustic guitar. Rowan adjusted the mic stand, stepping back to the mixing board as she donned her headphones.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said softly, her voice encouraging.

Jeremy exhaled, then began to play. The familiar chords flowed easily, but as he sang the first line, his voice cracked slightly. He paused, frustrated, but Rowan didn’t flinch.

“That’s okay,” she said calmly. “Take it from the top. Feel the words—don’t force them.”

He nodded and tried again. This time, his voice carried more weight, more emotion. As he poured himself into the lyrics, he closed his eyes, realizing the person he should have been singing about never came to mind. His crumbling relationship felt distant, replaced by an unexpected feeling of gratitude—toward Rowan. Thinking of her as ‘The Girl’ made everything suddenly click.

Rowan didn’t interrupt, letting him finish the entire song. When the last chord faded, Jeremy looked up, as he tried to gauge if she could see right through him and how he was feeling.

“That,” she said, pulling off her headphones, “was incredible. You’ve got the heart of this song, Jeremy. It’s all there.”

He managed a small smile. If only she knew. “Thanks, Rowan. I just… started to really feel something. I don’t know if I have ever felt…whatever this is inside of me right now.”

Rowan tilted her head, studying him. “I know it’s been a tough go lately with your team. You’re carrying a lot. I can hear it in your voice.”

Jeremy shifted, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, well, life’s been a bit of a mess - not just with the team…but in other areas too.”

She didn’t press, instead she raised an eyebrow and flashed a knowing smile. “You know, the last part of this song has a group vocal—it’s a big moment right at the end. Think you can bring in a few teammates? I don’t want to insinuate anything about your recent - hmmm - play….but maybe you could call it a little team-building exercise.”

Jeremy let out a short laugh. “You think anyone on the Bruins can carry a tune?”

Rowan grinned. “I’ll fix whatever comes out of them - I’ll use some Autotune and work some of my magic and have them sounding like Dean Martin in no time.”

He chuckled - but he warmed to the idea. “I’ll see what I can do. They’re gonna fuckin chirp me to no end for this, though.”

“Yeah - maybe,” Rowan said with a shrug. “But I’m telling you, if you invite Marchand, you better tell him to keep his hands and his tongue to himself.”

—

The sound of voices and heavy footsteps shuffled up the path to Rowan’s front door, growing louder with each passing second. Jeremy pushed open the gate, followed by a crowd of grinning teammates. Rowan opened the door, raising an eyebrow as she took in the scene.

“Uh, hey,” Jeremy said sheepishly, gesturing to the group. “I might’ve brought a few of the guys.”

“A few…Jesus, I see more than a few and see nothing but trouble,” she said wryly.

David Pastrnak stepped forward, offering his hand. “We’re here to make music—or noise - or at least make Sway look good.”

Rowan laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. Shoes off, no shit-talking or fighting, and try not to knock over the equipment.”

Everyone looked back at Brad Marchand as the usual suspect - who scoffed and offered a subtle “Fuck off” in response.

The guys filed into the studio, some looking around curiously while others settled in, tossing good-natured jabs Jeremy’s way.

“So, what’s the plan, Rockstar?” Charlie McAvoy teased, nudging Jeremy. “You gonna serenade us first?”

“Something like that,” Jeremy muttered, adjusting his guitar. “Let’s just… see how it goes.”

Rowan handed out lyric sheets and lined them up around a few microphones. “Okay, so this is the chorus. It’s pretty simple—just follow Jeremy’s lead and try to stay in tune. I’ll clean it up in post if I have to.”

Marchand, already leaning into the mic with a cheeky grin, said, “Stay in tune? You’re asking a lot.”

“Just don’t scare the dogs,” Rowan quipped, followed by a round of laughter.

As the session began, the guys started off exactly as expected—laughing, chirping, and singing off-key. But as Jeremy’s voice filled the studio, something shifted. His vocals echoed in the studio and immediately grounded the group in the song’s meaning. One by one, their teasing faded, replaced by an intense and silent focus. By the second take, they were all invested, their voices sounding surprisingly sincere.

When the final note faded, Rowan removed her headphones, a satisfied smile on her face. “You guys nailed that. Seriously.”

The room erupted in laughter and high-fives, but it wasn’t until David spoke up that the mood turned reflective.

“You know,” he said, leaning back against the wall, “this isn’t just about Sway’s girl. This song—it’s for all of them. Wives, girlfriends… they deal with a lot, putting up with us.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, nodding. “Can we get some extra copies? As a thank-you to the ladies?”

Jeremy looked around, seeing the agreement on their faces. After feeling pretty low about how things had started this season, feeling like the locker room was against him, all of that seemed to dissolve in that moment.

He glanced at Rowan, who gave him a little wink. “Alright, looks like we’ve got a plan. Let’s make this thing perfect,” she said.

Jeremy slowly packed up his guitar, dragging out the process longer than necessary. The studio was quieter now, most of the guys chatting amongst themselves and seemingly in no hurry to leave. Rowan stood near the mixing board, talking with Brendan Carlo and Andrew Peeke. Her soft laugh carried across the room, and Jeremy couldn’t help but glance over at her.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that letting himself think about Rowan this way—about how she made him feel—wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to Aileen, and not to himself. She had her own world, and he was just… a client. She’d been kind to him, shared her talent and her time, but that didn’t mean there was anything more to it. Still, the thought of leaving, of this being the last time he saw her, tied his insides into knots.

What would Rowan even think if she knew how much he’d come to rely on these moments with her? How he felt like himself in a way he hadn’t in months—or maybe even years? She deserved better than to be pulled into his mess, and yet, the idea of walking away felt impossible.

He stared at the latches on his guitar case. He knew it was time to go, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. His stomach tightened as he looked at her, so naturally beautiful and at ease. Some of the guys had wandered down the hall, checking out the framed photos on the wall with Arty and Paulie meandering after them, but Jeremy stayed frozen in place.

This felt like it could be the last moment. In the short time since Jeremy had been coming here, it had become his escape, a refuge into music and incredible company with Rowan. Aileen had all but deserted Jeremy, claiming to be visiting relatives but then subsequently being tagged in a group photo taken in Cancun.

After that day, there’d be no reason to come back except to pick up the final version of the recording. He might not see Rowan again. That thought twisted his insides. If he stayed, it meant he was admitting—at least to himself—that he felt more for her than he should. But if he left… leaving felt worse. It felt like closing a door he didn’t want to close.

Rowan glanced over and smiled warmly. “You all set?”

Jeremy nodded, forcing himself to move even though his chest felt heavy. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

But as he walked toward the door, he knew he wasn’t good. Not at all.

Jeremy’s teammates all filed out the door after saying their goodbye’s to Rowan and her two companions, leaving Jeremy still standing at the entrance. He now wished he had driven alone instead of with Peeke and McAvoy.

Rowan smiled at Jeremy. “You sure made the past little while very interesting for me. It was truly a pleasure working with you - I hope you and your girlfriend will like the finished version. I think I can have it ready for you this week if you’re in a rush for it?”

“No - no rush for it,” Jeremy said, all the while thinking that he wasn’t sure he even had a girlfriend to give it to anymore.

Two Weeks Later

The message from Rowan had come late the night before: The recordings are ready. I even had them pressed onto vinyl for keepsakes—hope that’s okay. Let me know when you want to swing by to grab them.

Now, standing on her front steps again, Jeremy hesitated before knocking. His heart felt heavier with the gnawing ache of uncertainty pounding in his chest. The last two weeks had been nothing but chaos—poor games, relentless media scrutiny, and the inevitable breakup with Aileen, who enjoyed the company of another man during and after her trip to Cancun. Although the writing had been on the wall with their relationship, it still broke him to think of the Aileen he first loved versus the woman that turned on him in the end.

Rowan’s message acted like a glimmer of calm amid the noise. He just wasn’t sure what to expect—was it only a pick-up, or was it a goodbye for good?

When Rowan opened the door, she immediately noticed Jeremy’s forced smile and the exhaustion in his eyes. She invited him in, calling for the dogs, who eagerly bounded over, tails wagging. Jeremy crouched to greet them, his hand lingering on Arty’s graying head as if grounding himself.

They talked for a while, their conversation light at first—about hockey, the team, anything but what was really weighing on him. But eventually, Jeremy opened up, revealing the unraveling of his relationship with Aileen. He didn’t go into all the details, but he shared enough for Rowan to understand why the polished recording felt like too much to face right now.

Rowan listened quietly, her heart sinking a little more with each word. She had worked hard on the recording, pouring everything she could into making it perfect. But it wasn’t disappointment in her work that weighed on her; it was the ache of watching Jeremy struggle, his usual steady presence fractured.

As he stood to leave, Jeremy hesitated near the door. “Thanks for… everything,” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan said gently. “If anything, I’m glad you trusted me enough to talk.”

He gave her a small, genuine smile, and she took a step closer. “Before you go,” she said, her voice soft, “I want you to listen to another song. It’s by City and Colour, called ‘Waiting.’ It might… help. Or at least make you feel less alone.”

Jeremy nodded, taking the suggestion to heart. “I’ll check it out.”

They said their goodbyes, hesitant and drawn out, as though neither wanted the moment to end. But eventually, Jeremy made his way back to his car, the recording and her words weighing heavily in his mind.

Once he settled into the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, searching for the song. The opening notes played softly through the speakers, followed by the first line: “A coma might feel better than this.”

Jeremy couldn’t help it—he laughed, a sound that felt both strange and relieving in the quiet of the car. “She really gets it,” he murmured, shaking his head as the rest of the song unfolded. For the first time in a while, he felt like someone truly understood what he was going through.

Jeremy’s laughter faded as the song played on, the haunting lyrics sinking deeper into his thoughts. He didn’t start the car right away, just sat there, letting Waiting loop again and again. Each line felt like it was all about the life he was living in that moment and it somehow offered him comfort.

The opening words hit harder with each repetition. Jeremy leaned back against the headrest, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. The ache in his chest swelled as the next line played: You're weighed down, you're full of something… of sickness, and desertion.

Finally, he started the engine and pulled out onto the quiet street. He wasn’t sure where he was going—not home, not to the rink. Maybe nowhere in particular. The city passed by in a blur of lights as the song repeated, with Jeremy getting lost in lyrics and his thoughts over and over again.

Saying goodbye to love, and holding your head up high… He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his breath catching at the sheer gut punch of it. The words felt like they were ripping apart everything inside him—his failed relationship, the weight of his career, the absolute loneliness he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

As the next verse played, the ache in his chest twisted deeper: All your friends seem like enemies when you’re broken down and empty. The truth of it hit too close to home. Aileen had made him feel that way too—isolated, unworthy, alone. And yet… there was something about Rowan’s presence, her ease and warmth, that had started to chip away at the weight of it all.

Before he realized it, Jeremy found himself turning down Rowan’s street. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. But as he slowed in front of her house, his hands rested on the wheel, and his heart thudded in his chest.

What was he doing? He didn’t have a reason to be here, not again, not so soon. And yet, sitting there in the dark, with her house glowing softly against the night, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just about the music or the comfort she’d given him. It was her—Rowan. The way she understood him without him having to explain. The way her presence made everything feel just a little less heavy.

Jeremy stared at the house, the song still playing quietly through the car speakers. So say goodbye to love, and hold your head up high… there’s no need to rush, we’re all just waiting, waiting to die. He sighed, his hands tightening briefly on the wheel before he shut off the engine.

He didn’t know what he was going to say, but as he stepped out of the car and walked up the path to her door, he realized it didn’t matter. He just needed to see her.

The sound of Paulie suddenly barking from his perch at the front window prompted Rowan to step away from her piano. His low, excited woof and wagging tail signaled something unusual. She moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Her eyes widened as she spotted Jeremy standing at the bottom of the steps, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking uncertain but hopeful… maybe?

Without hesitating, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “Jeremy?” she called softly, the cool night air brushing against her skin. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He looked up, and she was struck by how different he seemed. The tension that had gripped him earlier was gone, replaced by something raw and alive, as though he had been completely resuscitated. He climbed the steps, stopping just in front of her.

“That song,” he began, his voice low and almost breathless. “It felt like it bore into my soul. How… how did you know? How did you know that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling?”

Rowan blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice and the emotion in his eyes. “I didn’t know—not exactly,” she admitted. “I just… saw something in you. It just came into my head, and it felt right.”

Jeremy let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “In such a short time, you’ve… I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy, but it feels like you give me everything I didn’t even know I needed. Everything I could possibly want.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Rowan’s heart raced, her breath catching at the weight of his confession, but she forced herself to stay grounded. “Jeremy,” she said carefully, “let’s talk inside, okay?”

Jeremy hesitated for just a moment before nodding. As he stepped past her, the warmth of the house wrapped around him, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe.

Inside, Rowan guided him to the couch, sitting opposite him. Paulie climbed onto Jeremy’s lap, his wagging tail thumping softly against the cushions, while Arty settled at Rowan’s feet. For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the dogs’ sighs, their lips flapping as they exhaled.

“Jeremy,” Rowan began gently, her hands resting on her knees, “what you said outside… it’s a lot. I won’t lie—I feel…something too. But this… it’s fast. It’s not logical, and it’s… complicated.”

“I know it’s fast,” Jeremy said, his voice quiet but firm. “But I can’t ignore this. Rowan, I haven’t felt this alive, this… right, in years. Not even close.”

She met his gaze, her heart aching his total vulnerability in that moment. “I’m not saying no,” she said softly. “I’m saying we need to take small steps. You just got out of a relationship. You’re carrying so much, and I don’t want to be….considered like your escape. I don’t want to be your getaway car from everything in your life.”

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged slightly, her words both grounding and sobering him. “I don’t see you that way,” he said earnestly. “I know it’s more than that. I feel it.”

Rowan offered him a small, understanding smile. “I’m leaving for New York tomorrow for a couple of weeks,” she said. “Maybe we can use that time to figure this out—to see if what we’re feeling is real.”

He nodded slowly, taking it in. “And if it is?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I’ll message you when I get back,” she said, her smile softening. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jeremy’s lips quirked into a small, subdued smile. “Yeah. It’s okay. I’ll wait. Whatever it takes—I’ll wait.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, easing into something more hopeful from the expressions on their faces. Finally, Rowan stood, motioning toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

As he stepped onto the porch, the crisp night air hit him, but it didn’t feel as heavy as before. He turned back to look at Rowan, her silhouette framed in the warm glow of the house behind her. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jeremy,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jeremy walked down the steps, his heart lighter than it had been in months. He didn’t know where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind waiting to find out.

BONUS SCENE

Three weeks later, Jeremy stood on Rowan’s porch again, his heart thudding with nervous excitement. He adjusted the strap of the small bag slung over his shoulder, which contained the vinyl of "The Girl" he’d brought with him. He had thought of her every idle moment during her time away, and when her message finally came, it felt like he could breathe again.

Rowan had kept her word, messaging him as soon as she returned from New York. Jeremy had been on a road trip when it came through, but he had responded immediately, and the moment he could, he called her. Her voice, warm and familiar, had filled him with a lightness he hadn’t felt in weeks.

Now, standing here, he could hardly wait to see her.

The door opened, and there she was, her smile as radiant as he remembered. “Hey,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “It’s good to see you. Come on in.”

He stepped into the house, the warmth and familiar scent wrapping around him like a favorite blanket. The dogs trotted over, Paulie practically bouncing, and Jeremy crouched to greet them, laughing as Paulie licked his face.

“I missed this guy,” he said, scratching behind Paulie’s ears before standing.

Rowan watched him with an amused smile as Arty strolled in after a long stretch. “I think they both did.”

Jeremy straightened, holding up the bag. “I brought something,” he said, his voice softening. “I haven’t listened to the recording yet. I couldn’t bring myself to want to hear it. But when you messaged me….I don’t know…I just needed to hear it for the first time with you. I even made all the guys wait until I heard it first,” he chuckled.

Rowan’s cheeks flushed as she looked at him in slight disbelief. “Well,” she said, gesturing toward the sitting room, “let’s play it, then.”

They moved to the record player Rowan kept in the corner of the room, and she carefully set the vinyl on the turntable. The needle dropped, and the familiar, haunting chords of "The Girl" began to play. Jeremy sat back on the couch beside Rowan, his hands resting on his knees as his voice filled the room.

Jeremy was stunned. He could not believe that was his voice singing, and his guitar playing. The sheer pride he felt was one thing, but hearing how Rowan had perfected every single sound - he was completely in awe of her.

Rowan turned to him. “So, what do you think?” she asked, trying to stifle her smirk, as it was more than apparent what he thought. She stepped toward the player to lift the needle off the record.

But as she sat, the space between them seemed to shrink. Her heart began to race as he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“My beautiful girl,” he said, barely above a whisper, his voice filled with affection.

Rowan leaned in and kissed him softly - it was the slow and quiet beginnings of something they both knew would be worth waiting for.

[danikamariewrites]

So first just finished Fourth Wing and I would just like to say the ending was disgusting wonderful. That’s all imma say about it. And second, could you do one with Xaden and reader where they just go for a night time flight?

I know you did the picnic but a nightly flight of them and their dragons having fun and relaxing sounds wonderful after the headache this book has given me.

Night Flight

Xaden x reader

A/n: I loved the cliffhanger and I can’t wait for book 2 in November! Enjoy this fluffy fic anon I hope it helps ur headache 😭 in this fic Tairn chose reader so reader and Xaden have that mind to mind connection

Warnings: none

After you finished dinner you excused yourself from the table. Liam rose with you but you shook your head, “Take the night off buddy.” He sat back down, hands raised in front of him. You walk past the leadership table and lock eyes with Xaden. He gives you a slight tilt of his head and you wink at him.

About forty minutes later with your cloak clasped around you, you waited in the shadows by the secret entrance to the flight field. You feel shadows twine around your legs and arms. Xaden steps out of the darkness, a smirk dancing on his full lips.

He pulls you by your waist for a kiss. Leaning his forehead on yours he whispers, “I'm happy you wanted to come with me tonight.”

“Me too.” Xaden’s hand slides to yours as he leads you down the passage.

Exiting onto the field you spot Tairn and Sgaeyl nuzzling each other. It always shocked you to see the two dragons in love. You’d find it sweet if they weren’t terrifying.

“I can hear you, girl.” Tairn said in your head. “I know that’s why I thought it.” You shot back.

You laughed at Tairn and he let out an annoyed huff. Xaden chuckles, “Aww you think they’re cute.” Blush covers the apples of your cheeks. You playfully push at his chest. “Shut up,” you laugh.

Xaden gives you a playful look. “Oh, you’ve done it now.” Your eyes widen and you try to run to Tairn but Xaden catches you first. Letting out a playful screech, he throws you over his shoulder and spins.

Xaden brings you to face him, clutching you to his chest, your feet hovering above the ground. “Come on man, let me go.” He shakes his head. “Nope. Not until you say sorry.” You let your head fall back. “Fine. I’m…not sorry.” He feigns shock. “Wow. I can’t believe this. My girlfriend hurt me and she won’t apologize.”

You scoff at the accusation. “Oh please. Like I could break through this muscle.” Prodding at his chest to prove your point. Xaden puts you down. You walk over to your dragons and mount, ready for your late night flying date.

A few months into your relationship Xaden was still a little reserved. You understood and trusted him. But one night you were particularly pushy and demanded to know where he had been.

Xaden had been disappearing a few nights a week, by himself, which freaked you out. You had went to Liam with your concerns and he told you Xaden was fine. After seeing how worried you were Xaden finally told you his secret.

It wasn't a big deal, he just liked to go night flying alone sometimes. After you both talked about it you felt relieved that he wasn't doing something stupid or dangerous.

After that, he started to open up more about things he liked to do or just random facts about him. He wanted to share things with you. You fell more in love with him. It meant he trusted you as you trusted him. And you would never betray that trust.

Flying across the lake you felt Xaden tapping on your mind. “Wanna do something fun?” You look at him across Tairn’s wings and nod.

He shoots you a wicked grin as Sgaeyl shoots upward. Tairn is quick to follow. They climb and climb at breakneck speed, heading straight through the clouds blocking out the stars.

You let out an uncontrolled laugh, gripping onto Tairn for dear life. As you start to cut through the clouds you lose sight of Xaden. You tuck your head in, attempting to lay flat to Tairn.

You feel him in your mind still, “It’s ok, I’m right ahead of you.” “I know.” You send him a smile, “I love you Xaden.” “I love you too y/n.”

Feeling the cool mist of the clouds was refreshing. You took in the moment and felt lucky to be able to touch the sky with the man you love flying next to you.

Breaking through the clouds Tairn evens out as he and Sgaeyl circle each other. Looking up, your breath catches at the beauty of the night sky. The stars glitter and the full moon is bright. Smiling, you look over to Xaden.

He's watching you take in the view. His lips are set in a genuine loving smile. He's grateful to be here with you. To share parts of himself with you.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter six | i wish you would come back

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 1.8k

summary: ben's in ibiza with his friends, and he can't stop thinking about you...he just needs a little help figuring out why

A/N: long time no see! it's been a crazy few weeks - i moved, then i got sick, then work got super busy - so i'm sorry i haven't had time to update! i'm going on a little holiday this weekend so i wanted to get this out before i did 🩵 i hope you enjoy the switch up to ben's pov ;) xx

previous chapter | view all chapters

-

Ben should be feeling like he’s on top of the world. He’s staying at a luxury villa in Ibiza with his best mates, coming off a big win and a goal for his country. He’s young, healthy, and successful. He should be enjoying life at the moment.

Instead, he just feels like shit.

He’s felt like shit from the moment you walked away from him at Wembley, declaring the end of your fake relationship. It felt like a knife to the gut when you left him standing there, unaware of what he did wrong, wanting so badly to chase after you but knowing he shouldn’t. 

He sat through an entire, agonizingly long dinner full of people celebrating and congratulating him on the goal, and all he wanted was to pull out his phone and call you to make sure you were okay. 

The next morning, Mason, Harvey, Tom and Woody practically dragged him to the airport and onto the private plane they’d booked weeks ago. It’s a rare week off for both Ben and Mason, so they wanted to make the most of it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In the past, a boys week in Ibiza was his idea of paradise. It meant days spent poolside catching up with the lads and relaxing before returning to his busy schedule. And the nights were usually dedicated to going to some swanky club and leaving with a hot girl.

This time, it’s been three days of their five-day holiday, and Ben hasn’t left the villa once. He’s been sulking in his bedroom half the time, and generally bringing down the mood even when he tries to force himself to have fun with the boys. 

He’s sent you a few texts to no response, and he would’ve been genuinely concerned for your safety if it weren’t for the fact that he could still see your Instagram stories - specifically one of you out drinking with some coworkers, including a good-looking guy apparently named Matt, who Ben may or may not have stalked on social media. The bastard - who Ben’s never met - may only have three photos, none of which are particularly offensive, but Ben knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve you.

The morning of the fourth day, he comes out of his room around ten looking for something to eat for breakfast, which he’s slept through every other morning so far, and is instead served with what can only be described as an intervention. 

All the guys are sat around the table, drinking coffee and staring him down as he trudges out in just his boxers - perks of a lads trip - still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“You need to tell us what happened with you and Y/N,” Tom says firmly as soon as Ben sits down at the table and pours himself a cup of coffee.

He just groans and takes a long sip before answering. It’s way too early for this.

“I already told you, I kissed her in front of the cameras, then she got weird and ran off,” Ben repeats the exact same brief recap he gave them on the flight here. “I followed her out and she said she couldn’t pretend to date me anymore and that she needed space.”

“Yeah, we know that part,” Harvey says. “And I get that you’re disappointed she’s bailing on the PR thing-“

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Ben interrupts, a bit dramatically clanking his mug down on the table. “Look, I’m sorry I’m bringing down the holiday vibe, but my best friend isn’t returning my calls and I’m worried about her.”

Although most of the people at this table could make a case for being Ben’s best friend, and under better circumstances would probably joke offense at his statement, there’s nothing but silence. They all know what you mean to Ben, the place that you occupy in his life and in his heart. It’s…different.

“She’s fine, mate,” Mason says softly after a minute. He’s always the calm, level-headed one in these situations, and although Ben is typically grateful for his presence, he feels white hot rage within himself right now. 

“You talked to her?”

“She texted me back yesterday and said she’s alright and she’s just taking a beat,” Mason responds, speaking carefully as if he’s afraid of saying too much. “Look, I know you feel shitty because you and Y/N got into a fight and she’s not talking to you. But have you thought about why she might have ended this thing?”

Ben runs a hand over his face. “I told you, Mase, I have no bloody idea-“

“Just think about it, Ben,” Tom chimes in. “She agreed to be your fake girlfriend, basically giving up any chance of having her own dating life during that time. Then she gets upset and bails right after you kissed her for show, in front of a bunch of people?”

Ben’s chest tightens as he realizes what his friends are implying, but he immediately shakes his head. It’s ridiculous. There’s no way you, his best friend, have feelings for him.

“No,” he says simply. “That’s not…she doesn’t…she would’ve said something.”

“Why would she?” Harvey asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you’ve told her.”

Everyone goes silent again as all eyes fall on Ben, who just nearly choked on his coffee as he processed Harvey’s words. 

“What are you-I’m not-“

“Mate, I say this because I care about you,” Harvey continues. “You need to get your head out of your arse and just admit that you’re in love with her already.”

Of course he loves you. His best friend since the age of six, his rock, his favourite person on the planet. He’s loved you since before he knew what love was.

Except he can’t be in love with you, because that kind of love ends. He’s seen it end, when his parents got divorced and when his friends have had devastating breakups. He’s seen people fall in love and fall out just as quickly. And that can’t be you and him. He can’t lose you.

“Harvey, it’s not like that,” Ben says quietly. “She’s…Y/N. She’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, but she’s always been more than that, hasn’t she?” Mason says. “I mean, the bond between you guys, it’s not like what you have with any of us, right?”

“Well, no, but-“

“When I first met you I thought you were already dating her,” Nathan admits. “I told Mase I’d never seen a guy so whipped and when he told me you weren’t together, I was shocked.”

“And you’ve hated all of her boyfriends,” Tom adds. “Even the nice ones.”

“They’ve all been dickheads,” Ben replies, though he knows that’s not entirely true.

“You two have always been more than friends,” Mason continues. “I love you, bro, but she literally took weeks off work to take care of you after you did your ACL. She moved in with you and drove you to every physio appointment until you were on your feet again. And then last year when you realized you were gonna be out for the World Cup and you felt like shit, she was the only person you would talk to. I think that’s when I knew for sure how you felt about her.”

Ben still remembers that night like it was yesterday - he was in the treatment room at Stamford Bridge, icing his leg, already knowing tomorrow’s scans would confirm what he felt the moment he landed wrong, and he was so upset about missing Qatar that he barely spoke when the coach and some of his teammates came to see him. And then he heard your voice in the hall, grilling the medical team to ensure he was receiving proper care, and he smiled for the first time since he limped off the pitch that night. 

You ran in, pushing past Mason to wrap Ben up in a tight hug and tell him everything would be okay, and despite how terrible things were at the moment, he felt so at peace in your arms.

“Mason’s right,” Tom says sincerely. “And it’s probably why none of these girls you hook up with feel right. You’ve already got your heart somewhere else.”

Ben feels his head spinning as he replays every meaningless one night stand he’s had, how something had always been missing.

He thinks about how it feels when he sees you in the stands at the Bridge, especially when you’re wearing his kit, and the way just seeing you gives him the confidence to be a better player. 

And, more importantly, how you make him a better person - how he’s constantly in awe of your career and how you help people, how it inspires him to try to do more to make the world a better place. How you’ve turned down expensive Christmas and birthday gifts from him every year and directed him to a charity worth donating to instead. 

He thinks about how you’ve stood by his side all these years, even when he was a cocky kid coming up in the Premier League and when he’s been a bit of a dick, you’ve always kept him from straying too far from himself. Through all the injuries, through every win and loss, you’ve been there. 

He thinks about how you literally agreed to this ridiculous, elaborate PR scheme just because he asked you to, sacrificing your own free time and privacy to help him out. 

Finally, he thinks about how right it’s felt pretending to be your boyfriend. It’s been almost second nature holding your hand and telling people how wonderful you are. It felt as easy as breathing to kiss you, and though he knows he shouldn’t have done it in a room full of people, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Kissing you was pretty much the best moment of his life, which means seeing you walk away from him on the verge of tears minutes later was probably the worst. 

But while he’s been beating himself up this entire holiday over the fact that he kissed you and the fact that he dragged you into this fake relationship, he now realizes that wasn’t his mistake.

The issue is that he should have done it a long time ago, and it should’ve been for real. 

“Shit,” Ben mutters under his breath. “I’m in love with Y/N.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Harvey grins, patting Ben on the back firmly. 

The rest of the boys grin and chime in with their agreement, but Ben is already rising from the table and pulling up flights on his phone.

“Where you going, mate?” Mason asks with a smug grin on his face.

“Home, I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,” Ben says with a nervous smile. “Wish me luck, boys.”

As he begins to jog back to his bedroom so he can quickly pack and get to the airport in time for the next flight, he hears Harvey call out from the kitchen.

“Don’t forget trousers!”

-

a/n: and off he goes!! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but i hope you guys liked this one, as you can imagine i'm very excited to share the next (and last, except for the epilogue) part and am already working on it!! let me know what you thought of ben's pov and any predictions for the ending! tag list: @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @ncentic​@lunamelona @kathb59 @cinderellawithashoe @batmansb1tch @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @chilwellspulisic @maraudersmap123 @evelinapurmale @freekoalakryptonite (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Night By The Fireplace

Summary/Prompt - SPN Pond Secret Santa: Stuck home because of a snowstorm

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Christmas Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: This one goes out to @little-diable you said you like to read angst and smut so I tried to give you a bit of both along with some fluff to balance it out. I hope it’s ok. Merry Christmas!

Also, Thank you so much to @spnfanficpond for organising this fun, festive event. I had a lot of fun writing this!

Warnings: angst and SMUT

The notification you have been dreading all day pops up on your phone: All Flights Departing Austin, Texas Cancelled - Pending Weather Conditions

You sigh as you look out your shared bedroom window at the blizzard blowing past outside. Having watched the local weather last night you knew it was coming, not that your native-Texan husband believed you at the time. You dump your packed suitcase on the ground beside the bed and stomp out of the room in search of your husband to pass along the news. 

Hearing your footsteps, he interjects quickly holding his phone up with the same alert. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Let me have it, you told me so.”

“I did tell you so! We should have moved the flights up! I told you!”

“I know. But in my defence, when have we ever had a white Christmas in Austin?”

“The other year, when this exact same thing happened! When we first got married!”

“Apart from that?”

“Jensen!”

“I know, Honey. I’m so sorry.” He walks closer to you to pull you into a hug but you push his hands away.

“No, I’m too busy now. I’ve gotta call everyone and let them know we’re not gonna make Christmas because my husband is a colossal dick and wouldn’t listen to his wife!”

“You think I wanted to get stranded here in Austin? I just didn’t expect it to actually blizzard!”

You roll your eyes at him and dump your phone down on the bench. “No, you know what? You call everyone and let them down!”

With that, you storm out of the room and back upstairs to try and destress. You decide to run a bath to warm up from the unusual cold and relax your body and mind. 

After a while, you hear a soft knock on the door. Before your husband steps inside with an apologetic look. He kneels beside the tub dipping his fingertips in the warm water. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you and changed the flights. I called everyone and let them know what happened and took full blame.”

“I’m sorry too, the snowstorm isn’t your fault.”

“This feels like it’s getting cold. How about you come downstairs?” He leans down and kisses you before standing up and holding your towel out for you. Once you stand up he wraps you up in it and then pulls you into his arms. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed and meet you in the lounge.”

You quickly slip on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and then hurry downstairs to catch up with Jensen. Downstairs you’re met with a beautiful picnic mat spread out on the floor in front of the crackling electric fireplace with two hot chocolates, popcorn, chocolate-coated strawberries and some pasta carbonara from your favourite Italian restaurant. He pats the spot on the floor next to him and you take a seat. He wraps one arm around your shoulders, grabs a strawberry with his free hand and holds it up to your lips. You take a big bite and let out a small involuntary moan at the sweet mix of the juice and rich dark chocolate. 

“A quiet Christmas with just the two of us wouldn’t be so bad,” you admit when you finish chewing. 

“I know I’m away for work so often. So I always want to make the most of the time when I’m with you.”

“You definitely know how to do that.”

“Well, there’s one more treat for you. You get to pick the movie, no complaints from me, I promise.”

“Really? Even a chick flick?”

“Whatever you want.” He hands you the remote.

You flick through Netflix before settling on a sappy Christmas movie. As the movie fills the background you tuck into the array of delicious food Jensen collected for you. You take turns feeding each other the strawberries until they’re all gone. Then you lay back on the cushions he scattered around and cuddle as you enjoy the movie.

After a few minutes, you can tell he’s getting bored as he starts to leave kisses all down the side of your neck as his hands drift south, massaging your sides until they slip under the hem of your (his) hoodie. You tip your head back exposing more skin to him which he promptly takes advantage of as he climbs on top of you. He works his way back up with his lips and nibbles on your earlobe before whispering, “I thought you were watching the movie?”

“You’re blocking it,” you reply with a moan as he nips you again. 

“Want me to stop?”

You wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you dare.”

He chuckles lowly before grinding his lower half against yours causing you both to moan. He slides the hoodie off your body and throws it off to the side. “Really, baby? Are you just as bare under these sweats?”

“Maybe…” you say teasingly before being cut off by a moan as he slides a hand up to squeeze your boobs, lightly running his thumb over your erect nipples. 

“So sexy…right here with you is so much better than being stuck in a plane or with family where I have to control myself around you. This right here is all I want and need for Christmas.” He kisses your lips quickly, not letting you deeper it, as he pulls away and works his way back across your cheek, down the centre of your neck, onto your chest, circling your breasts before finally kissing over each of your nipples. You moan out loudly and buck your hips into his at the stimulation, but he pins your hips down with a strong hand on your waist as he takes his time licking, nipping and sucking each nipple and breast until he’s left satisfactory marks all over them. 

“Baby! Jensen, please! I need more!” You groan out, not completely sure what you even want apart from just more of him. You claw at his shirt-covered back trying to pull it up. After a moment he gets the message and sits up a little to yank it off and throw it over with yours. 

When he leans back down he kisses you again before asking, “How are you? Want me to take you up to bed?”

You shake your head as you glance over at the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree you’re now glad you insisted on setting up and decorating early despite your holiday plans. You look back into his forest-green eyes and smile. “I’m perfect right here.”

That’s all the reassurance he needs to continue his pleasurable assault on your body. Working his way down to your belly button and waistband, leaving a trail of wet kisses all the way. When he finally dips his fingers under the elastic he pulls it up and then lets it snap back against your hips causing them to jolt up. With little exploring needed, he can already tell you’re commando underneath which has him straining against his jeans even more than before, if that were even possible. 

“Stop teasing!” You beg desperately, which he finds so sexy. It spurs him on to finally slip your sweats down your legs gently and onto the floor with the rest of your discarded clothing. But much to your dismay he continues to tease; kissing along your hips and down to your thighs, skipping over where you want him most, he kisses all the way down to your ankles and even leaves a featherlight kiss on each instep before working his way back up the other leg until he’s face-to-face with your core. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he softly orders. Only when your eyes flutter open and meet his, does he finally kiss your clit. You try to fight against your eyelids, but as his tongue darts out to draw patterns you lose the battle and squeeze them shut, throwing your head back again moaning his name and a collection of profanities. As his tongue and mouth continue to work their magic on you he brings one hand up spreading your labia open before sliding one finger inside you easily. Thanks to his attentive foreplay you’re already so wet and ready for him. He easily slides in two more and curls his three fingers up and forward to reach the spongy spot inside that has you crying out even louder and trying to buck your hips against him for more. He continues to work his fingers and mouth against your sex until he finally feels the familiar clenching on his fingers. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well! Come all over my fingers.”

Without much extra effort necessary he pushes you over the edge, causing you to follow his instructions. He works you through it, not stopping his movements until you’re completely limp and exhausted beneath him. You shutter as he pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, moaning at the taste. 

Once you catch your breath a little you slide your hands down his chest and stomach to his waistband, but he captures your hands, stopping you. “Tonight’s not about me. That was my apology for not listening to you. You just lay back and relax. I’ll tidy up here and then we can go to bed.” He kisses you tenderly before standing up, stretching and gathering all the empty food containers and mugs and taking them to the kitchen. Leaving you alone, exhausted and blissed out on the rug in front of the fireplace.

[like-a-bantha]

Sleep Study

Summary: When there's no time for piloting lessons, you suggest a sort of learning-by-osmosis experiment to Tech. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Tech/GN Reader (No Y/N)

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, not beta-read

Word Count: 6.2K

AO3 | Masterlist

Now, this might sound weird – maybe even a tad disrespectful – but bear with me.

I’ve recently begun piloting lessons with Tech and I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. He knows, while I am a proficient mechanic, I’m a total novice when it comes to actually flying, and the man deserves a medal for his patience with me. I’ll ask the same question five times and he only gets mildly agitated around the third, but he’s always been understanding. Not everyone can be a certified genius, after all.

So lessons have been going pretty not bad, I’d say; it’s the workload that’s been causing problems. Cid’s got us going from job to job with almost no breaks. Lately we’re lucky if we get half a rotation to stop and refuel, let alone catch our breath. We’re all exhausted. We’re all on edge. It’s gotten to the point where we’ve had to put a pause on the lessons for a few days just to keep up with general maintenance on top of the back-to-back missions. Thankfully, in those few quiet moments where we can get to that maintenance, I’ve been able to sort of keep up on my lessons thanks to Tech’s rants. And maybe, for whatever reason, my brain decided these rants were incredibly soothing on one particular sleepless flight. And maybe, who knows why, I may have fallen asleep just a bit. It didn’t seem like Tech was angry, or even upset. He was almost apologetic when he gently nudged me awake.

Today, after landing on Ord Mantell for an incredibly brief pit stop, Tech and I work in silence below the ship. He’s been quiet with me since my last accidental nap and I just can’t figure out how to voice how sorry I am without sounding — I don’t know. Disingenuous? And if I’m honest, how do I avoid sounding like a total creep? But we’re just working next to each other, neither of us saying a word, and it’s nice but it’s not us and there’s this massive knot in my gut saying well, it’s your own fault, don’t you remember? 

This silence is awfully comfortable. It really would be such a shame if something were to change that.

“Hey, Tech,” I jumped in without a plan and I’ve given up hope on this being eloquent in any way, at this point I’ll be glad if my question is at least somewhat coherent, “I’m sorry about,” I trail off a bit, I don’t want to finish that sentence actually, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I just, I had this idea — weird idea — and maybe a request? Feel free to shoot it down, I mean, if it’s too much. Would you mind sending me the audio files of your lessons? Sorry, just, they’re really interesting but also relaxing and, and, maybe it can be a sort of experiment, y’know? If I fall asleep listening will I retain the information? Strange idea, sorry.”

Tech stares blankly, and when I turn to meet his gaze after giving myself a moment to reboot, he continues to stare blankly. His head is just barely tilted, and he wears a look somewhere between genuine confusion and borderline concern. With a slight shake of his head he finally responds, “Forgive me, I’m afraid I do not follow.”

If only there was a way to smash your head into a wall a few times without doing any real damage. I’d kill for that right about now. I could’ve just kept my mouth shut but no. Real bang-up job on my part.

“I, uh, I fell asleep the other day because – well, because I was tired, mainly – I don’t know, I just find your voice really soothing? Like, everything’s been really chaotic lately but listening to you talk about paralight systems made it,” I take a deep breath, no going back now, “ah, it made it a lot less chaotic. Like everything was quiet for a minute. Safe.”

Another long exhale. Tech’s still silent, processing, but his brows are raised now and his eyes have gone a bit wide behind his goggles. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet. It’s probably best to go against my gut and keep my mouth shut for a few minutes, but now the minutes feel longer than usual. Karked this one up a bit, I think.

“So you would like the audio files to… study?” I nod before he even finishes his sentence. “Or will you be using them to fall asleep?” I’m still nodding and it certainly isn’t helping his confusion at all.

“Both?” I shrug.

He raises his gloved hand inquisitively to his chin, and his face is blank aside from the visible pondering, and now I’m really starting to think I’ve karked it all up. I could’ve put more thought into it, taken my time both in the apology and easing him into the idea of sharing his pre-recorded knowledge, but instead I sloppily tossed all my cards on the table knowing I had a shit hand. And not just any shit hand, no, it’s an alarmingly weird hand. Just as I’m about to start spewing apologies his hand drops slightly from his chin, index finger extended, “An interesting experiment indeed. I shall transfer the files of our previous lessons as well as my own personal recordings.”

Huh.

Wait. “Personal recordings?” Why do my ears feel warm?

Luckily for me his face is buried too deep in his datapad to notice the tinge of red creeping up my neck. “Yes, before you joined our squad and long before our schedule became so hectic, I kept an audio diary of sorts. Detailed accounts of my findings on missions.”

“Cool,” Yes, I can feel how wide and dopey my grin is but I’m still riding the high of my botched opener somehow working and couldn’t care less. “I feel like I remember seeing you telling a bug facts about itself way back when I met you guys. Makes sense now.”

His brows immediately furrow as he finally pulls his gaze away from the glowing screen in his hands. “You assumed I was talking to the insect?”

Straight faced, I raise both my hands like I’m pleading innocent. “Hey, I don’t judge.”

I break first. My shoulders begin to shake, then my still-raised hands, as the laughter bubbles up. Tech isn’t far behind. We look at each other as we laugh and I can’t help thinking that if it were anyone else I’d hide my face, but it’s like I’ve just now realized turning away would mean missing this uncharacteristically uncontained joy. 

Normally I hate sleeping in my helmet. I know it’s for protection or whatever, but there are few things worse than waking up with a crick in your neck and the gnarly one-two punch that is the bed-head-helmet hair hybrid. Alas, I am dedicated to not only my experiment but also not getting mocked by Wrecker for the next week for listening to Tech’s lecture on, let’s see… “Botanical Symbolism in Folklore Across Kashyyyk”? Sounds interesting. But since I’m not on watch for another seven hours, I can actually take my time choosing rather than scrolling a few pages ahead to the B’s and picking the first one that stands out. I kept scrolling and skimming for a while, he must’ve sent his entire audio library to me; there are hundreds of pages and I’m barely halfway through the aurebesh. Then I’m suddenly scrolling rapidly back to the top of the page as if my subconscious just had a great idea that I’m simply too conscious to understand, and that great idea is to sort the files in chronological order.

I don’t have to scroll back very far at all, Tech wasn’t kidding when he said he only stopped his audio diary when the work started. There’s one titled “The mountainous planet of Guntcania 5” from a few days before we last left Ord Mantell. We’d been sent to loot a newly abandoned Imperial shipyard, driven out by a group of formidable freedom fighters whom we were told were not in it for the profit but the valiant cause. Turns out it was both. I remember Tech quietly commenting on the geological formations to no one in particular. I remember standing a bit closer to hear his comments. I fell asleep just shy of eleven minutes after hitting play.

He caught me in the kitchen not long after I woke up, both of us beelining to the instant caf.

“Thought your shift was over,” I grab two packets from the drawer as Tech retrieves two mugs from the cupboard, “Want some of that herbal tea instead? Get some rest, maybe?”

It’s nice, these quiet moments with him. I’ll watch the kettle, if that old saying is true maybe I can buy us a few more of those moments.

“I have yet to decrypt the schematics from the refinery,” With a heavy sigh he sets the datapad down on the countertop, his shoulders hang and his exhaustion is visible, “Once I’ve completed that and analyze the data I will rest. Until then, I will stick with caf.”

I give a sympathetic smile, “Y’know, I’d offer to help but I think that isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“I would more than appreciate the company,” Tech interjects, and by the look on his face I think it took us both by surprise. “If you would be so kind as to join me, that is. Though, if you have duties you must attend to I completely understand and–”

My surprise quickly melts into a warm smile. “‘Course, Tech. I’d love to.” And his face softens in turn. And then there’s a beat where we’re just standing there smiling at each other. Then another. And another. Have you ever seen a tooka knock a cup off of a table and jump at the sound of the crash? Now, imagine that but instead of a tooka it’s two mercenaries, and instead of the clatter of a cup it’s the kettle coming to a boil with an abrupt screech. I think we’d find it much funnier if we weren’t still in the vast realm of half-asleep. Right now, it’s just enough to elicit a soft chuckle at most.

Tech retrieves his datapad as I fix the caf. “Have you begun conducting your experiment? I’m sure you’ve already seen, but I have transferred all of my files from the past year or so, I’m interested to hear your findings.”

It’s enough to slow my movements, brain power diverted to processing his question as I reach for the milk at half speed. “Oh. I, uh, I played the one from Guntcania 5. Didn’t last long, though, I was out by the time you got to regional climates.”

“You were with us for that mission. Perhaps choosing a mission or topic you are unfamiliar with would better prove your theory.”

I nod once before turning to join him, a steaming mug in each hand, carefully placing the caf in front of him as I sit. “Realized as soon as I woke up. Any recommendations for tonight's file?”

He names several from memory as he works on his own task, giving brief descriptions of each without giving away too much — that could skew the results. I add them all to a separate folder, sorting them in order of how excited Tech seemed at the topic.

Of course, things got hectic again and I didn’t have time for experiments – I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been listening to those files, though. Five rotations, a standard week’s worth of sleeps and dreams in the tune of Tech’s voice. I’m waking up well-rested despite sleeping only a handful of hours at a time. I’m practically begging the force to fry some wiring or call off a job to spend even just a few minutes with him. I’m starting to think I may have a problem.

Cid called while we were out hunting down puffer pigs for one of her clients. Hunter walked away with the holoprojector about halfway through the conversation, he later told Omega this was to avoid scaring the animals but Echo and I overheard the real reason. That’s another ten credits in the swear jar. When we get one, that is; right now it’s sort of just an honor system. Next mission – big client, big payout, big enough to hack away a good chunk of our debt and take a couple days off – was called off at the last second, she’d try talking to the client again but, right now, and I quote, “He ain’t budgin’.” We’re still on call, though, and flat broke after our last refuel, so this is really just the galaxy’s worst vacation. Hunter’s hushed and extensive vocabulary perfectly summed up our feelings on the matter.

I was going to try to get some rest on the way back to Ord Mantell but puffer pigs are noisy enough in a relaxed state, toss six of them in a cramped starship and toss that starship into hyperspace and you’ll start to realize noisy doesn’t even begin describe it. Poor Hunter’s locked himself in the ‘fresher, of course Tech installed some sound dampening element to the audio relay in his helmet, but that can only do so much. Omega and Wrecker tried calming the animals to no avail, they’ve resorted to tossing bits of ration bars at them as – I’d say tasty, but eugh – edible bribes. Echo and Tech are arguing over something; it’s small, I think, but I’m too tired to step in and mediate right now. What was supposed to be a short flight felt like years.

“Never thought I’d be happy to be back here, but it sure beats being stuck in hyperspace with these things,” Echo says quietly, carefully lowering the crate in his arms, making sure not to wake the puffer pig that had just fallen asleep. I gently placed the crate I was holding right next to it, maybe when they wake up in this new place seeing one another will calm them down. Or they’ll freak out together.

“Between you and the puffer pigs, I must choose the latter,” Tech mutters, still snippy after the long journey, Echo and I turn to look at him in unison.

Echo’s expression is that of a brother who’s accustomed to that sort of teasing, flat and unphased. Mine, however…

“Hey,” I do my best to keep my voice down, “Not cool.”

Echo’s expression is no longer unphased. It is phased. There’s confusion, surprise, the hint of a smile; he seemed as tired as the rest of us before, but this clearly perked him up. Usually when I step in on these little disagreements I remain as unbiased as I can but I am now, very clearly, taking Echo’s side and now he’s visibly interested in seeing how this plays out. I know I still look hurt by the comment that wasn’t even about me. And Tech, his shift in emotion is visible, I could see him process his remark and my reaction, and his furrowed brows loosen as he looks between the two of us.

“You are correct,” Tech nods once, looking to his brother, “Apologies, Echo, I did not mean that.”

After a moment, a smile graces Echo’s face, “I’ll accept that apology.” And gives his brother a solid pat on the shoulder on his way over to the bar.

“I get grumpy-tired, too, I know how it is,” I bump him with my shoulder, an attempt to break a tension that was not there.

“You do not seem grumpy right now,” Tech breathes out a laugh.

I shrug, “Well maybe I’m not tired right now. Maybe I’m just–” My body decides this is the perfect time for an unsuppressable yawn. “Maybe I’m too tired to be grumpy-tired.”

Tech hums, “A valid theory, it seems.” With a tired chuckle and lazy nod I glance around the near-empty bar. Wrecker and Echo sit at the counter with their drinks while they recount the mission to Cid. Hunter’s setting up the cot for Omega, who is already beginning to fall asleep at Cid’s desk, before he joins his brothers. “I am going to head back to the Marauder and get some rest if you care to accompany me.”

“Yes, please, a quiet ship and sleep sounds like heaven right now,” He stands aside, allowing me to lead the way out of the parlor after saying goodnight to our squadmates.

The cool air of Ord Mantell is enough to keep me awake just long enough to carry myself back to the ship. I hear the ghost of a laugh beside me as another yawn takes hold of me. “I fear you may have conditioned yourself, the sound of my voice alone seems to be putting you to sleep.”

Turns out I’m not too tired for a good laugh, “Yeah, keep talking and you’re gonna have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“I assure you, I was trained to carry men twice my size across the battlefield, I can manage.”

“Right,” I nod, later I’ll blame my dopey smile on exhaustion, “Hey, wait, why men twice your size?”

“It is standard protocol.”

“No, like, isn’t it a one size type of deal? Clones and all, y’know,” He stares blankly at me. “Well, yeah, a few exceptions, but broadly speaking it’s just the one size.”

“I see,” Tech says, and I’ve got this look like I just beat a holochess master, “Your exhaustion has caused a state of delirium. Perhaps this means I’m forced to carry you the rest of the way to best keep you safe.” A barked laugh escapes me at that. “Very well.”

Wait. “Wait! No, no, I’m good! I’m up! I’m awake!” And I am, very much so now as I pick up my pace to evade capture. After my laughter subsides I slow my steps to a walk, and Tech quickly catches up, as we traverse the familiar streets of Ord Mantell.

The Marauder’s ramp lowers with a hiss as we approach. “Dibs on the sonic,” I call over my shoulder as I scurry towards the refresher, Tech makes no protest and takes his time boarding the starship. Our water supply, while it is thankfully abundant these days, always seems to be stuck at the average human body temperature – no warmer, no colder – but at least the cycle itself doesn’t last long at all. A full-body shower only takes about three minutes in the sonic, Republic standard for conservation of resources and time between missions according to Tech. While it is efficient, I do miss a good boiling hot, thirty minute shower to tell the truth; I’d never tell the squad that, though, I’m grateful for what we’ve got.

The chime of my datapad sounded halfway through the sonic’s cycle and I emerge to find a message from Tech. A new audio file and a handful of recommendations. I dress myself with an all-too-giddy smile. After hastily gathering up my things from the ‘fresher I elbow the door control, ready to shout my thanks to the clone and surrender the now warm ‘fresher to him. Instead, however, I am met with the clone himself, standing in front of the doorway, datapad in one hand while the other is in position to knock on the now open door.

He retracts that hand quickly, though, he still looks as if he’s about to say something but nothing has come out yet.

I decide to take the lead. “Hey, thanks for the message. ‘Fresher’s all yours.” 

His parted lips form a smile. “I- you are welcome.” But when I exit the refresher and step to the side he makes no move to enter. “After reviewing a handful of files I found those to be most interesting, I hope this helps your experiment.”

My grin widens, “Thank you, Tech, it’ll definitely help.” He nods just once with a smile before retreating into the ‘fresher. Maybe I stared at the door just a second too long. Maybe I even let out a quiet little giggle before heading over to my bunk.

I can hear the sonic start as I finally turn in, scrolling through highlighted files on my datapad while I try to get comfortable on the flat old mattress pad which always proves to be an impossible task. My sights lock in on a file between two of Tech’s suggestions labeled “Repairs and Maintenance”. Do I already know the in’s and out’s of most starships? Of course. Do I still learn something new everytime Tech talks about the in’s and out’s of the Marauder? Of kriffing course. Perfect.

The sonic’s still running when I put my helmet on and hit play, and I’m promptly out like a light.

I wake with a stir when I feel something plush fall on my helmeted head and open my eyes to see a large hand reach down and grab the offending object. Wrecker whispers an apology as he gingerly retrieves his Lula after dropping her into my bunk. Still half asleep, I can’t decide if that sorry was for me or the doll. The guys are back.

With a quiet, sleepy groan, I roll onto my side and pull my knees to my chest, blindly reaching for the datapad behind me. Waking the device is a mistake as I am instantly shocked by its brightness, my eyes snap shut and I dim the screen. I’ve moved onto a new recording, it seems. This one is titled “Atmospheric Changes of Taccoh”, about five minutes in. Taccoh was one of my first missions with them, I remember my excitement at how well we worked together as a team. I’m not usually good on a team, but clicking with these guys was just easy. It just felt right.

“—they seem to be adjusting rather well to mercenary work. I must say, they are quite the knowledgeable mechanic and are proving to be a great asset to the squad. Wrecker’s comments on their romantic interest in me are, in my opinion, absurd. Though I would not be opposed to such interest, I find the probability highly unlikely. Their interest, as I’ve observed, lies both in their work and the pursuit of knowledge. Qualities I find most admirable, as well as —“

Pause.

The heart rate monitor on my dimmed HUD glows an ominous red as the number rises.

Oh god. Kriff. I found Tech’s kriffing diary.

I pry the helmet from my head, foregoing any attempt to fix my surely frazzled hair, still damp from the fresher, and swing my legs over the side of my bunk to sit up. My whole body is tense, my knuckles pale from the force of my grip on the durasteel frame. Fresh air. Yes. Fresh air would do me good right now, I’d say.

The room seems to spin as I fumble for my boots and the sheer volume at which my mind screams nearly drowns out Echo, half-asleep and confused, staring at me through squinted eyes from his bunk.

“You alright?” His tired voice repeats.

“Yes, yeah,” I answer, all too quickly, “just need some air, is all. You okay? You good? Sleeping okay?”

Echo’s brows furrow, he shifts slightly to face me properly, “I was,” he suppresses a yawn and I hurry up with my boots, “but then you shot up like you saw a ghost.”

My laughter is quiet but crazed, and I can barely hear it, “Ship’s not haunted, Echo, go back to sleep.” 

I stand to leave but the quiet call of my name stops me in my tracks, I turn to face the sleepy clone. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine,” I try to make it sound convincing but I know it’s a sorry attempt, “really, get some rest. Be back soon.” His gaze remains fixed on me for a moment longer before he shuts his eyes, nodding before settling his head on the pillow once again. I let out a portion of a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding as I hurry out of the ship and into the crisp night air of Ord Mantel.

My feet take me to Cid’s. She shut the sign off but I can hear the jukebox from the street, no luck kicking out the regulars for the night, it seems. My feet then decide to take me down the stairs. Then to the bar.

“Great, I try to kick two out and a third appears,” the trandoshan huffs from behind the bar, “If you’re looking for dark and broody and the kid, they’re sleeping. Not sure how, these two bozos won’t shut up.” She shouts in the direction of the booming jukebox and patrons as she pours two drinks before sliding one to me.

“Hey, can I get your take on something?” I down the drink, extending the cup in a silent request. 

She glances tentatively first at my now empty cup, then at her own drink, before quickly finishing it to pour us each a second round. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Tell ya after I hear it.”

I laugh into my drink. “This stays between us.” She laughs into her drink. “Or I can just finish my free drink and leave.”

“Fine, fine. Between us.” She waves a dismissive hand. “But it better be interesting or these are going on your tab.”

My brows furrow, I nod just once before finishing my second drink, and the second the empty cup makes contact with the sticky countertop I blurt it out, “I listened to Tech’s diary.”

She waits for me to go on, I wait for her to be a voice of reason. Neither of us get what we’re looking for. “Alright, you found Goggles’ diary. And?”

“And?” I echo, incredulously. “I accidentally listened to some really, really personal stuff that I can’t un-listen to, what do I do? Do I tell him? What, do I say ‘Hey, Tech, so the learning by osmosis experiment was a bust but a little birdie — you, you’re the birdie — told me you had a big ol’ crush on me, for, like a while, so I just wanted to —‘ I don’t know what I want. Kriff, this is bad, isn’t it?”

Cid stares at me like I’m a three-headed mythosaur for what feels like hours, I try to calm my breathing, try to take a sip from my already empty cup. I’m only pulled out of my thought loop by the howl of Cid’s laughter. It even manages to pull Bolo and Ketch’s attention away from the jukebox, if only for a second. In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never heard Cid laugh so hard. My look of shock remains even as her laughter subsides.

“Good one, kid. You almost had me for a second there.” She gently wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, but the laughter returns when she notices my expression is unchanged. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Obviously I’m kriffing serious! Cid, I’m kind of in deep shit here, I need advice, I don’t need you laughing in my face!”

“Oh, relax, it’s not like you didn’t know. You idiots have been pining over each other from day one. Didn’t think Goggles would make the first move, though, I owe Muscles ten credits.” She mutters, though clearly still amused.

“I didn’t know! Force, how would I have known!” I put my head down on the bar with a sigh. “So, what, everyone knows and I’m just the last to find out?”

“Got it.”

All I can manage is a dramatic groan.

“Just talk to him, what’s the worst that can happen?”

I don’t even need to think about it, “I say exactly what I said before, weird him out, and go back to working by myself because he never wants to see me again.”

“Yeesh, try living a little sometime, kid. It’ll do you good,” Cid cringes into her cup, “Talk to him. Trust me.”

With a roll of my eyes I extend my empty cup one last time, Cid fills it without a word and I down the drink before leaving the empty glass on the bar as I stand, “Those were on you, I could’ve gotten better advice from Bolo and Ketch.”

“Can’t argue with you there, they’ve been together as long as I’ve known them,” She rinses out the empty cup and tosses it into the washer. “He’s crazy about you, kid. Just tell him how you feel.”

Cid’s words play on repeat in my mind as I wander the now empty city streets. Talk to him right, easier said than done. What if he’s not ready for a relationship? What if I’m not? We’re already so busy, will we really have the time? What if this changes our dynamic irreparably? What if I lose my closest friend?

It takes hearing someone call my name to pull me from what could’ve been an eternal thought loop. I’m back at Cid’s, a weary Hunter stands below the glowing sign, his arms crossed and he somehow looks both concerned and amused, “Going for a fourth lap around the block?” My lips part as if I could form a response but I come up short, opting to shrug instead. “Care if I join you?” I nod and we walk side by side, allowing silence to settle between us.

“Thought you were asleep,” I break that silence. Better to get it out of the way now, I figure I know where this is going.

“Not with all that noise,” Hunter lets out a deep sigh, he must know he could just power the damn jukebox down and get some rest. “I don’t know how Omega does it, that kid can sleep through anything.”

“She’s exhausted,” I let out a sigh of my own, “We all are.”

“Cid’s focused in on this puffer pig client, that’ll buy us some time to regroup, rest up.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Hunter nods, the silence that follows is not as easy or relaxed as earlier. He breaks it first, “I’m assuming you know what I’m about to say.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Talk, I guess. Can’t not now, huh?”

“That’s your choice,” He stops walking, catching me off guard, I stop a few paces ahead and turn to face him, “Never thought I’d say it, but I’m with Cid. The happiest I’ve ever seen him is when he’s talking to you. I get the feeling the same goes for you.”

I bite the inside of my lip, suppressing the smile that threatens to light up my face. Not the time. I nod, crossing my arms, “It does.”

“Good,” He smiles this warm, genuine smile before his serious sergeant demeanor returns, “Don’t let it get in the way of the job.”

“Copy that.” I give him a mock salute, to which his head drops with a tired laugh before his ears perk up. I raise my eyebrows in question as he turns his head in the direction of the parlor.

“Music’s stopped,” Hunter takes a step forward, extending an arm to pat my shoulder before retreating. “Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Hunter.” I give a little wave and watch as he retreats to the now quiet bar down the dimly lit street.

I begin my walk back to the ship, my mind still racing but not nearly as catastrophically quick as before my chat with Hunter. He’s probably still asleep, and I’m not planning on going back to the ship to wake him up and talk about this. My best bet would be to shoot him a message, ask if we could talk when he wakes up. Word travels too fast with these guys and the last thing I want is Wrecker bragging to his brothers about how he put his money on Tech and won. When I reach for my datapad I find the pocket is empty. Of course. I pick up the pace, almost frantically trying to recall whether or not I locked the device in my hasty departure. Odds aren’t looking great, though.

I take my boots off at the bottom of the ramp and tip-toe up in bare feet. Two out of the three men aboard are light sleepers and the last thing I want is to wake them as if I’m some teen sneaking back home after a party. Quiet as a mouse droid, I make my way back to my bunk as Wrecker’s snores reverberate through the durasteel walls. I’m greeted by my helmet, tossed haphazardly next to my pillow, but no datapad. Uh-oh. I glance into Echo’s bunk and find him sleeping, but the bunk above his, Tech’s bunk, remains empty. You’ve gotta be kriffing kidding me. Back to my tip-toes, I make my way to the kitchenette first, also empty, then the cockpit. The control panel is dimmed and all of the seats turned forward, if it weren’t for the tell-tale glow of a datapad screen I’d have thought Tech had simply vanished.

Without a word I join him, only releasing a quiet sigh as I sit in the copilot’s seat. He doesn’t look up from the datapad, its screen displaying the evidence of my discovery in bold text. “I didn’t intend to include such personal files.”

“Yeah, I didn’t intend to listen.” He nods before handing me my device, our gazes still not meeting. I take a turn staring at the display, rereading the title of the file over and over as I continue, “I fell asleep listening to ‘Repairs and Maintenance’, woke up to this one.”

“I, again, must sincerely apologize for any discomfort this finding has brought you, I was not planning to tell you in such an impersonal manner.”

“How did you…” I trail off, he was fast asleep when I left, I never pegged him for the type to pretend to be asleep and his quiet snores sounded so real.

“Echo woke me up, it was shortly after you had left. He said you appeared to be in a state of shock, I found you’d left your datapad open on your bunk.”

“That checks out.” Now that I’m here with him I can almost find the humor in the situation, I even manage a quiet laugh, “I’m sorry I flipped out, I just wasn’t expecting to wake up to that, I guess.”

He finally turns to face me, “You have nothing to apologize for.” “Neither do you,” I retort, meeting his gaze with a smile. I can almost see his thought process before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as he realizes the meaning behind my words. I continue, regardless, I heard him spill his guts, it’s only fair I do the same for him, “I feel the same way, Tech. I have for a while. Come to think of it, maybe I always have. Your feelings didn’t scare me, the possibilities did.”

He cocks his head in question, “Possibilities?”

“I’m scared of our dynamic changing, I’m scared I’ll kriff it all up and lose you. I’m no good at this kind of stuff and the last thing I want is for our relationship to suffer because of me,” I ignore the tears beginning to form in my eyes, turning my attention back to the viewport. Tech’s gaze, however, remains locked on me.

A hand reaches out, resting gently on mine, his thumb ghosting across my shaking fingers, “My darling, the fact that you are willing to voice these fears should be evidence enough that you have nothing to worry about. You contain a level of emotional intelligence that will never cease to amaze me. Should you choose to act upon these feelings, I assure you, we will be just fine.”

My eyes meet his, I don’t notice a tear has fallen until he reaches his hand up to wipe it away. When he notices how I lean into his touch, he cradles my cheek ever so gently, and I shut my eyes to savor the feeling, letting a warm smile wash away my worried frown. I rest a still-shaky hand upon his, opening my eyes to meet his once again, “What do you say we figure it out together, then?”

“A wonderful idea, darling,” Tech closes the small distance between us, placing a kiss upon my forehead. I can feel his smile. “However, I’ll need to review my files before you continue your experiment.”

I pull back, a look of faux shock on my face, too giddy to feel the real thing right now, “You mean there’s more?”

“Frankly, an embarrassing amount, perhaps we will review them someday but I’ve taken the liberty of deleting the more… risque files from your library.”

I’m glad the door to the cockpit is closed, otherwise the volume of my laugh surely would’ve woken both Echo and Wrecker, “Risque?!”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from mocking me,” Tech sighs, the mirth in his tone evident.

“Maybe that can be the next experiment,” I laugh with a smirk.

“Mocking me does not sound like an experiment I would have any interest in partaking in, thank you very–” His mild offense fades away in realization, “Oh. An interesting experiment, indeed.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your feedback! Part two will be posted soon <3

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 15 - Wait

More blue and purple text for you as that seemed to work last time :) A dash of The Commander & The Murderbot and a sprinkle of Earth&Sky.

And yes, I laughed longer at that line than I should have.

(Previous… Prologue - Stars are Only Visible in Darkness, Estera - 1 - Colour, 2 - Dinosaur, 3 - Shoes, 4 - Thunderbird, 5 - Lesson, 6 - Safe, 7 - Gull, 8 - Deliver, 9 - Coffee, 10 - Flight, 11 - Run, 12 - Fall, 13 - Trying, 14 - Hide)

(Sofasurf’s Recrudescence which is the foundation for all of this)

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Hey, I’m up your way for a meeting next week. Maybe we could catch up? S

Oh I’m sorry, I’m taking the sleeper train to see my sister and her family.

Treviso, right? Hope you have a wonderful time!

Well remembered! I’m sorry to miss you, really bad timing.

I’m sorry!

Stop apologising! Have a Tiramisu for me 😋

Will do!

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Scott double-checked the date then closed the app and leaned on the balcony, watching the gulls land on Mateo to roost. His forehead creased with worry.

“EOS, could you look up the term dates for Estera’s school for me?”

“The current term ends in 4 weeks. Would you like the dates of the holidays and teacher training days for the next 6 years?”

“No, that’ll do. Thanks EOS.”

“I have also established that Estera Hermaszewska is marked as on sick leave and a substitute teacher has been engaged for 3 weeks starting two days ago.”

“EOS! No! You can’t just… I shouldn’t know that!”

“I thought you would want to know because you are displaying concern for her well-being. The school does not have particularly robust security on its staff records. There is a wealth of information here.”

“Stop. EOS. Please stop looking.”

“I have closed the connection. I am sorry, Scott Tracy, I did not intend to cause you distress. John will be displeased.”

Scott paused. There was a lot to unpack there, but he’d return to it later.

“I should have been more clear, it’s my fault. In future, when I ask you to find something out please would you limit your search to publicly available information unless I specifically ask otherwise?”

“Certainly. May I ask why you wish to restrict your knowledge about your friend’s welfare?”

Scott twitched slightly. “I don’t want to, exactly, but… has John discussed the concept of privacy with you?”

“He has explained we need to protect certain types of data. But I was only telling you and you are her friend.”

“Not really EOS, we barely know each other.” Another pause as he pondered how to explain. “But even if we were very good friends… part of human relationships is finding out about each other FROM each other. I should only know what she wants to tell me. To do otherwise is an invasion of privacy and would just make things… strange.”

“John knows a great deal of information about Estera Hermaszewska and they are not friends.”

Scott sighed. “John is a special case.”

“He has also informed Virgil Tracy, Tanusha Kyrano and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

“He has, has he?”

“Yes. Perhaps this is a fact he did not intend me to share with you at this time.”

“I suspect so EOS. But thank you for telling me.”

Scott headed indoors, suddenly deeply weary. Sleep was unlikely until he’d figured this one out though, so he turned his back on his own bedroom and made his way to his brother’s studio.

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His big brother had several distinct ways of knocking on his door. All were the same rhythm - Tap-te-TAP-tap - but the volume and speed would give Virgil advanced notice of what kind of mood he was in and a split second to prepare. Right now Scott was… unsure, worried about something. He made sure to add as much warmth and encouragement to his “come in Scotty” as he could.

“You always know it’s me.”

“Yep, it’s all the spy cameras I have set up… I’m kidding, Scott.” The brotherly eyebrows relaxed back into merely confused mode. “What’s up?”

“Can’t I just want to hang out?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. Scott sighed.

“I have a bit of a…. Quandary.”

He watched his brother’s face as he explained. When he wasn’t deliberately shutting himself down, or focusing on his board meeting poker face, Scott was an open book. To Virgil at least. His expression and the intonation of his voice could provide more detail than the words did.

“It sounds like you made it clear to EOS, it shouldn’t happen again?”

“But that’s not the point. I know now. She’s sick, Virg, and I’m sure it’s something to do with… well… the same as I was. Because of meeting me. What if I made her dig all that stuff up but she doesn’t have a… a you to keep her sane while she figures it out?”

Scott paced, gesticulating wildly, and Virgil caught his arm as he passed, pulling him in for a hug. His brother was trembling with pent up energy.

“Well first off, well done for not leaping in a plane and rushing to try to fix her.”

His brother let out an explosive laugh. “You know me so well.” A pause, then more quietly “I really want to. But I know that would be weird and counter-productive. I just feel so…” he sagged “Responsible. I can’t just ignore this. I can’t just abandon her!”

“I don’t think you have to.” He pulled back a little to look up into his brother’s face. “Scott, when you were struggling but not ready to talk to us, what helped?”

“Hugs.”

Virgil squeezed him a little tighter. “What else?”

Scott broke away to recommence the pacing, palming the miniature rubix cube Virgil kept handy for him on a shelf and rattling through the algorithm to solve it. Reaching the far end of the room he spun on his heel and met Virgil’s eye.

“Two things I think. Distraction. Things to help me stay grounded. And then… knowing you were there if and when I did want to talk… but you weren’t going to force me.”

Virgil nodded.

“Can you do the same for her?”

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Why are elevator jokes so good?

Hi! Err, are they?

Because they work on so many levels!

…

That was awful.

Seriously, I hear better from the 6 year olds.

Aww, that was one of my best.

That does not bode well.

I am deeply wounded. 😭

Oops 🤣

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Scott shed his overcoat and face planted on to the hotel bed, well aware of the expression the overwrought Italian designer of his suit would sport if he could see such abuse. Wrinkles be damned. The way that board meeting had gone it was a miracle he’d not wrecked this latest one with blood stains. Again.

His comm pinged with a picture message. Unusual… he swiped it open.

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Here is your Tiramisu. I’m afraid I ate it. I would apologise but you told me to stop doing that. Bad luck! Estera

Excellent work! 😋

Ah, now I’m hungry and have no dessert 😭

Oops 😂

You’re on the espressos?

You can’t drink cappuccino after 11am here. They’ll arrest you.

Good intel, I’ll bear that in mind next time I visit.

Have you been to Italy a lot?

Outside of rescues? No, actually! There’s no TI branch there and I guess we don’t get a lot of time to travel for pleasure.

Oh you should, it’s an incredible country.

Where would you recommend I start?

I’ll make you a list.

I look forward to it.

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Scott smiled to himself. Then changed into his civvies, adding a baseball cap and his signature aviators and ventured outside.

Surely somewhere in London sold tiramisu…

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On the train back. Finished my book already but still 9 hours to go!

Thunderbird One would do it in 3 minutes…

You just did the maths didn’t you?

Yep.

I’m guessing no restaurant carriage though? Whereas I am now going to go sit and enjoy the view with a coffee and some kind of delicious pastry.

… TB One does lack pastries.

I bet your brother has plenty of room for pastries in Two… 😈

Be right back.

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Scott, did Thunderbird One just fly over my train?

… maybe 😁

?????

Alan needed to get some more flight hours…

And I wanted pastries.

So we are in Paris getting takeaway.

The fuel for those things is cheap right?

Sure.

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Back at school today - the kids say hi :) I don’t know why they think I have some kind of hotline to the head of International Rescue but they won’t be dissuaded.

Hi right back atcha kids 👋

Atcha? What kind of a word is that?

An… American… one?

I don’t think it’s valid here.

Let me try again.

Good afternoon, esteemed juvenile citizens. I extend my compliments for your respective health and happiness.

You are no longer allowed to talk to the children 😏

Aw shucks 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

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Chapter 16…

[sophie1973]

London Boy

Or the evolution of Henry's name in Alex's phone.

It is February 17 and Henry has been ghosting him for 6 fucking weeks.

Alex is in his room at the Residence, lying on his bed with his phone in his hand, abusing his bottom lip with his teeth and wondering what went so horribly wrong that Henry, after weeks of talking, laughing, exchanging jokes and insults and yes, one earth shattering kiss, seems to have erased Alex from his life.

Alex isn’t even angry. He is frustrated. Disappointed. There are millions of questions battling in his head, and no answer to any of them. He closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

One more try.

By the way, I upgraded you in my phone. You are now Prince Henry YUK. Remind me what the Y stands for again?

If Henry ignores this one, Alex might have to resign himself to write him off his life. The idea leaves him with a cold knot in his stomach, but what else can he do ?

He figures that staring at his phone won’t make Henry replies faster (or at all…) so he goes take a shower, hoping against all odds that this is the message that will make a difference. That Henry will read between the lines. Even though at this point Alex doesn’t even know himself what he’s trying to say.

 But when he comes back 10 minutes later, there is no answer. The message doesn’t even appeared to be read.

Another piece of Alex’s heart breaks.

*****

It is the evening after the State dinner, and Alex and Henry are in Alex’s room. Henry was just supposed to hang out with Alex for the day, before catching his flight the next morning. The  official plan was to relax and watch some TV or share some conversation, but in the privacy of Alex’s bedroom, the boys had other ideas.

Now they are both sitting in bed, naked, and enjoying a pint of salted caramel ice cream, childishly battling with their spoon for the last morsel.

When Alex puts the container back on the nightstand, Henry leans against the pillows and gives him a fond look.

“It’s Prince Henry UK. There is no Y and you know it, you insufferable twat.”

Alex laughs happily. “Haha ! So you have been reading my messages.”

Henry shrugs but doesn’t reply. He had told Alex last night what had gone through his head the whole time and how he had tortured himself over that kiss.

Alex takes his phone. “Guess it’s time for another upgrade.” He types something with a smirk on his face and Henry leans in and places his head on his shoulder.

“There,” Alex says, shoving the phone in Henry's face, nearly hitting his nose. Henry squints at the phone first, before a smile lights his face.

“Henry the Maypole”, he reads with a chuckle. “And they say romance is dead.’

Alex turns on his side, facing the young Prince. “But I’m a romantic.One of the many reasons why you like me.”

“I do, actually,” Henry replies, a soft smile on his lips but a serious look in his eyes.

Alex throws his phone away on the bed, his hand coming to stroke Henry’s hair, taking an immense pleasure at such a simple gesture.

“I still don’t know what a maypole is.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Just Google it. That is, if you know how to use Google.”

Alex sticks out his tongue at him, sliding his hand under the cover and resting it on Henry’s hip. A shiver runs through his body, and Alex is filled with both smugness and elation at the power his touch has on him. Especially since it goes both ways.

“I’d rather Google you,” he says with a suggestive wink as his mouth comes to cover what he knows now is a very sensitive spot on Henry’s neck.

The young man sighs, closing his eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense, but I’m fine with it.”

*****

A phone starts ringing on the other side of the room.

“Alex, I think it’s yours,” Nora  says and he raises his head from behind the pile of binders and papers he was busy with. It’s been 3 weeks of campaigning in Austin, and he feels more and more optimistic about the outcome.

“I’ll get it.” He gets up and quickly jogs to the table but the phone has stopped ringing.

“It read “Henry” with three little red, white and blue hearts”, Nora supplies with a knowing smile. She has come for a few days to give him a hand, and has not grilled him too much so far about the young British Royal.

Alex  clears his throat. “Right. It’s a private joke between us. Because he’s from England, and I’m from…here, and our flags are the same colors…” he finishes lamely.

Nora chuckles. “Relax. I know you’ll spill the good stuff soon. I can be patient.”

Alex smiles and shakes his head. She’s right, and they are overdue for a nice bonding evening.

He presses the call back button with some trepidation.. “Baby, hey.”

“Alex ! Is this a bad time, love?”

Alex almost scoffs at that. Hearing Henry’s voice always provokes a deep feeling of peace and tranquility in the midst of the craziness that is his life right now.

“Not at all. Hearing your voice is exactly what I needed.”

“Listen, I’m trying very hard to clear my schedule and come to see you for a few days. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m able, ok? I miss you.”

“I miss you too sweetheart. I can’t wait for you to be here.”

******

“I can’t find my stupid phone,” Alex grumbles while pulling at the covers and pillows, putting the bed in even more disarray than it already was. It was a few days after the election, and they were still staying at Alex’s family house in Austin.

“You used it last night in bed, so it can’t be far, “Henry says while buttoning his shirt. “Let me call you before you completely trash the place, you vandal,” He offers and takes his own phone from the nightstand.

They immediately hear the familiar ringtone from under the bed, next to where Henry is standing. He looks under it and picks it up. “Here you go,” he tells Alex, before his eyes fall on the screen and a pleased smile curves his lips.

“Really?” he asks, showing the screen that reads  ’Love of my life’.

Alex blushes, taking his phone back. “Yes, so, what of it? You are.” 

“Hey, I think it’s sweet. And adorable. And I love it,” Henry says, leaning to put a kiss on Alex’s lips. Alex hums his pleasure against his mouth, acutely aware of his nerve’s ending every time Henry and him touch.

“What am I in your phone?” he asks, curious.

Henry’ smile dimmed slightly. “Erm…Alex ?”

He takes a step back, crossing his arm,trying for his best offended look.“Alex? That’s just it? Alex ??”

“Well, it came to my understanding that it was, indeed, your name, love.”

“Don’t try and distract me by using fancy British turn of phrases, Fox.” he growls, stabbing his finger in Henry’s chest.

“There is nothing particularly British or fancy in that sentence, but ok. And you are right. I’ll find something more suitable,” Henry replies in a soothing tone, catching Alex’s hand and bringing his knuckles to his lips.

“Suitable,” Alex mimicks, rolling his eyes and pushing him on the bed before straddling him. 

“So…what sounds suitable for you, your Majesty ?”

Henry frowns, biting his lips as if he was in a business meeting and not sprawled on his bed while his boyfriend is slowly unbuttoning the shirt he's just put on a few minutes ago.

“Well, this is an extremely serious matter. I have to think about it. Long and hard,” he finishes with a smirk.

“You’d better,” Alex whispers with a laugh in his ear, before capturing his lips, and soon the phone situation is the last thing on their mind.

*****

A few days later, as Henry is in the shower, curiosity gets the better of Alex and he calls himself on Henry's phone.

The words that appear on the screen make his heart melt.

Future husband

Henry gets out of the shower a few minutes later, drying his hair with a towel. “Did I hear my phone ringing?”

Alex makes a dismissal gesture. “Wrong number. But it doesn’t matter. The answer is yes. I’ll marry you.”

Henry opens his mouth before closing it, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. “What ? I didn’t…Alex….”

Alex laughs and kisses him.

[masonmtxo]

HIYAAAAAA, SO EXCITED TO READ SOMETHING OF YOURS, YOU HAVE NO IDEA🥹🩷

Mason had been quiet all day, his loud laugh and terrible jokes had been noticeably absent as the evening drew in closer. OH SOMEONE IS SAD😭

All that had left his mouth had been soft ‘I love you’s and ‘I’m going to miss you’s, whispered into your ear so gently you nearly didn’t catch them. OH, SHE WON’T GO WITH HIMMMM,NOOOO

“C’mon Mase, you need to get packed,” you murmured when the lock screen of your phone showed the time was nearing 8pm, gently scratching his scalp as he laid on your chest, snuggled as close to you as he physically could be, legs tangled together as a film neither of you had been paying much attention to played in the background. OH POOR BABY BOY

“What’s got into you baby?” You soothed, “talk to me.” Sitting up slightly, forcing him to lift his head from the safety of your chest, you cupped your hand around his cheek, catching the gaze of his brown eyes. He shrugged, trying to duck away from you, but you held firm, “I don't want to go.” OH, Y/N, GO WITH HIM OR I’LL BE SAD TOO🤨

You frowned softly, sensing his anxieties about going to America tomorrow for pre season were more than just to do with the flight itself and something else was bothering him. Although he traveled often for matches, he never looked forward to flying, especially without you to keep him company, but after coming back from training earlier in the week to excitedly announce Rasmus had been assigned to sit next to him, he had seemed a lot more relaxed. OMG POOR BABY IS SCARED ABOUT FLYING WITHOUT HIS WOMAN BY HIS SIDE😭🤏🏻

“I wanted you to come,” his voice was almost a whisper when he finally spoke, red flushing over his cheeks letting you know he was embarrassed to admit that had been tormenting him all day. HE IS ACTING LIKE A LITTLE BABY ON FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL😂

“Come help?” His voice was soft, shrouded in sadness. Holding out a hand he carefully pulled you up, refusing to let go as he guided you upstairs to your room. HE IS A CUTIE PIE

Mason gave you a sweet kiss in thanks before mumbling he was going to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. His head was hung low making your heart break at the obvious sadness radiating off of him. OMG Y/N, HOW CAN YOU LEAVE HIM GO ALONEE, LOOK AT HIM

You sat from a moment, racking your brain for anything you could put in his case to make him smile once he arrived in LA. Mason always left a worn jumper or tshirt of his on the bed whenever he went away, knowing that it would make you smile when you found it before bed the first night he was away. It was something thoughtful that you very much appreciated, this time wanting to do the same for him hoping to give him comfort the way he always did for you. OHHHH, THIS IS SO CUTE, HE LEAVES HER SOMETHING OF HIS SO SHE CAN FEEL HIS PRESENCE🥹🥹

Opening up his case, keeping your eyes firmly on the bathroom door as you did so, you tucked Ted under Mason’s favorite hoodie, knowing it would be the first item he reached for upon arriving at the hotel in California. You zipped it back up and propped it up by the door ready for Mason to grab in the morning. OMGGG SHE PUT THE TEDDY BEAR IN HIS CASE, I’LL CRY

He was already in bed when you returned to the room, laying on his back staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes falling to you as he felt the bed dip beside him. You laid next to him, smiling knowingly as he shuffled towards you, carefully flopping his body on top of yours, head placed over your chest so he could hear your steady heartbeat. It wasn't often you cuddled like this, most of the time it was you being babied and loved on by Mason, but tonight he was the one in need of comfort and proximity to calm his anxieties. Hooking one leg around his, you pressed him as tightly into your body as you could, the weight of him on top of you brought you as much comfort as it did him. HE IS BEING SOOOOOO CLINGYYYY

“I rang the dog trainers earlier, they’re gonna drop Ace off tomorrow late morning,” he whispered into your skin, running the tip of his nose against your neck as he snuggled impossibly further into your body. OH, HE MADE SURE ACE WAS HOME TO TAKE CARE OF HER🤭🥹

When you awoke that morning the first thing you noticed was your proximity to the edge of the bed, opening your eyes to see the corner of your bedside table directly in front of your face having shifted onto your side in the night. Your boyfriend's body was still flush against you, looking over your shoulder to see the back of his head on your pillow beside you. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself, sitting up carefully to look at the other side of your super king bed, Mason’s side untouched as even in his unconscious state he had opted to stay as close to you as he physically could be. THE FACT HIS SIDE OF THE BED IS UNTOUCHED CAUSE THEY SLEEP ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER

Mason didn’t wake until your alarm sounded, groaning as he instinctively pulled your arm further around his chest making you giggle, “Mase I need my hand to turn the alarm off.” THIS MAN IS SO CLINGY

“Morning,” his voice when he first woke up always had you melting into a puddle, the raspiness so sexy to you it made you shiver as you cuddled into his back, feather like kisses being pressed over his spine and shoulder blades, making sure to pay special attention to the smattering of moles and freckles dotted along his soft skin. I WOULD PAY BILLIONS TO HEAR HIS MORNING VOICE AND SEE HIM AS SOON AS HE WAKES UP💰💰💰💰

He hummed in response, his eyes slowly blinking open as you stood straight, making your way to the door to head down to the kitchen. GIRL…JUMP IN THE SHOWER WITH YOUR MAN, BREAKFAST ISN’T IMPORTANT

“Baby, wait,” you heard Mason speak through a yawn, turning back to see him shuffling himself out of bed, “come shower with me?” GOOD QUESTION MASON🤭

You undressed in silence, letting him lead you into the shower once he deemed it warm enough, instantly falling into his embrace under the cascading water. Showering with Mason never got old, it was something you both loved to do, the intimacy of holding each other's naked bodies and washing each other down in a comfortable silence. You took it in turns, both taking time to gently caress and massage each other as a guise for washing each other down, both desperate to be as close as possible in the little time you had left. THIS IS SO SOFT, I’LL MELT

“Mase,” you moaned lowly, hand coming up to grip on his forearm in an attempt to get his attention, “we don’t have time baby, I need to go make breakfast.” Mason grunted in response, his attack on your neck getting more heated by the second, “we’re skipping breakfast today,” his words were pointed, leaving no room for debate. HE HAS MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO!

BEL???’ THIS SMUT? SO SOFT? SO ROMANTIC? SO SWEET? SO MORNING LOVE SESSION CODED? SO WOW?🥵🥵🥵🥵

Mason could read you like a book though and pulled away, placing his hands on your hips and gracing you with the first proper smile on his face in the past 24 hours, “now I’ve reminded you of what you’ll be missing, I think it may be time to get dressed.” SILLY BOY

You shook your head with a grin, happy to see that the dark cloud that had been surrounding him had started to lift. He was smiling, and that's all that mattered to you. OMG, YESSS PRETTY PRETTY, SMILEY BOY IS BACK

He appeared at the door as you were pulling up your panties, giving your bum a cheeky squeeze, “coffee is made and waiting for you at the front door angel.” SILLY NAUGHTY BOY

Hopping into the passenger side, you couldn't help but feel the tears prickle again, but you kept a brave face for Mason’s sake, “got your phone? Wallet? Headphones? Passport?” “Yes, yes, yes, anddddd,” he furrowed his brows, turning to grab his travel bag from the back seat and rifling through the front pocket, “yes!” SHE IS LIKE A MUM SENDING HIS BABIES ON A SCHOOL TRIP😂

“Text me when you're home, and when Ace arrives,” Mason requested, thumb slowly brushing over your cheek, “and promise me you will call me straight away if you need anything?” HE IS SO PRECIOUS

“Thank you sweetheart,” he pulled you against his body for a goodbye hug, leaning back to press a final deep peck to your lips, “don't crash my car and don't miss me too much.” “No promises to either,” you winked. Loving that despite your track record, he let you drive his beloved Defender whenever he was away. THEY ARE SO SILLY I LOVE IT

OMG THE TEXTS ABOUT THE TEDDY, SO CUTEEEEE😭😭

BELLLL

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS

POOR BOY IS SO SAD, BUT HIS GIRLY MADE SURE TO MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER🤭🤭🤭

THIS SMUT WAS TOP TIER, SO SOFT BUT HOT AT THE SAME TIME

I LOVE HOW THEY BOTH MADE SURE TO TAKE CARE OF WACH OTHER EVEN.WITH THE DISTANCE, HIM WITH ACE AND HER WITH THE TEDDY BEAR

THEY ARE JUST SO SWEET

WOW, YOU ARE SO AMAZING GIRLY, I FELT ALL HIS AND HERS SADNESS, POOR BABIES, BUT ALSO THE LOVE THEY SHARE🥹

AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR THSI WORK OF ART🩷🩷

Your feedback and excitement over fics always makes my day 🥹🫶🏻 thank you for this and im so glad you loved it 🩷🩷🩷

[iamumbra195]

So I just came across a post about Pavitr in the comics having an existential crisis about not being white like all the other different variations of Peter Parker (I’m definitely reading his comics at some point).

But now I’m remembering something from when I was a kid and I was wondering if this was like a universal POC experience from before you actually understood the concept of race and discrimination or if it was a just a weird fucked up thing my mind came up with.

See when I was younger, I was in an arab predominated school, there were like two other black girls but one of them was lightskin (I didn’t even know she was black until like second grade XD) and I hated the other for... various reasons (she was my bully for like six years but we ain’t gonna talk about that) so like I had no sense of kinship with like anyone in my class or school 

Because of that environment and the fact that I didn’t know why the racist secratary always got me in trouble while letting the other girls get away with not wearing the proper uniform until like fifth grade, I had so much fucked up self esteem like when I tell you all my memories of looking in the mirror as a little kid were so messed up-- I straight up hated my appreance and would see like this warped monster thing, I’m being completely honest. When I look back at pictures of five/six year old me I’m like ‘I was cute, why the hell do my memories look so different?’

Not to mention all the colourism and older people who looked like me telling me not to stand in the sun too much so I wouldn’t get any darker. I wanted straight hair for soooo long-- like all the way until I was thirteen and relaxed my hair for the first time and ended up ruining it for like five years after that.

Here comes the fucked up part. 

I never actually met a lot of my extended family when I was younger, so when I would imagine them, I would imagine them looking nothing like me because my mom always told me they looked pretty-- I would imagine them as ARAB, like with dark wavy/straight hair and all their predominate features. 

Anyways, I was a little tiny bit surprised when I met them and they looked nothing like my imagination. But the worse part was perhaps the fact that literally every single one of them had naturally straight/wavy hair or they relaxed it every few months so it would stay that way. I was still obsessed with straight hair at that point so when they offered to get the lady who does their hair to relax my hair I was super happy and excited about it but guess what??? 

She ruined my hair. I lost so much of it, it became dry and tangly because she didn’t bother doing it properly because I was catching a flight in like three days and I needed to leave the thing in for like two days so by the time I got the results it would be too late for me to ask her to fix it or give us our money back.

For the next like three years I kept cutting my hair until all the damage grew out completely and now I don’t have a lot of hair and it’s doesn’t grow as much as it used to.

So yeah.  

I wasn’t around white ppl a lot as a kid, no public school or anything so I think experience was different and my ‘beauty standards’ were more arab beauty standards but Idk tell me if you guys had a similar experience.

Circling back to the thing I said about Pavitr, I felt like that period of my life was the time where I really related to Pavitr’s existential crisis because I constantly felt ugly or that I wasn’t good enough because I didn’t look like the girls around me. I was also kinda (?) bullied for being chubby so that did nothing to help.  

So yeah, I have a lot of feelings about this. UGH.

I really hope they explore that part of Pavitr’s life a little bit in BTSV

P.S.: does anyone else feel really disconnected from their ethnicity and culture and feels really awkward at barbeques with distant cousins and their extended family because you feel like you don’t belong or that they’re judging you because you can’t speak your native language and have grown up mostly around judgy, racist old arab people as your teachers so you adopted a lot of arab mannerisms and.... yeah, I’m gonna talk about this another day

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 14

Joanna finds out about your affair. Something special arrives for you.

Chapter list

Over seven weeks, nearly two months, go by without any news from Capernaum - not from Quintus, nor from Atticus. The first of the two you had expected it from, but the fact that you haven’t received a message from your secret lover in such a long time stings. 

The days start to grow dull despite your blooming friendship with Joanna. Every other day, you spend time with her in either the gardens or one of your rooms. You sometimes catch her reading parts from your journal when she thinks you aren’t looking and are both flattered and troubled by it, for the danger remains that she will realise that the confessions of love are not directed towards the man you’ve married.

One day, when Joanna invites you to go to the bathhouse with her, you agree under the condition that you can wear a sleeveless robe, which she understands. You’re not used to people seeing you fully naked and don’t intend on changing that any time soon.

You stand in front of the mirror, tugging and pulling at the opaque yet thin drape you’ve pulled around your body in order to hide all the bits of skin you’d be uncomfortable with showing. With a few pins here and there, you hold it into place and tuck your hair up into a neat braid, fixing it to the back of your head to prevent it from becoming too wet. 

Whilst smoothing your hands down your body for a final check, you suddenly flinch at an uncomfortable jolt shunting through your chest. You grit your teeth and frown deeply, bringing your hands back up to poke and feel around a bit. For some reason, the area is extremely sensitive in a negative way and worry settles in your gut. 

Perhaps that you’re lacking certain important nutrients now that you’ve been eating very different things than you’re accustomed to, or that your body cannot quite handle it properly. Whatever it might be, you aren’t exactly knowledgeable when it comes to dietary needs, so you shake it off in the hopes the soreness will decrease soon.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. “Coming!” you call out to Joanna, who is waiting for you patiently. You slip your feet into your sandals and head over to her with an extra stole wrapped around your shoulders, meeting her in the hallway.

“Ready to go?” You nod and smile.

“Yes,” you tell her, “I must say that I haven’t ever gone to a bathhouse before.”

“Not even back in Rome?” You’ve told her about your life before Capernaum. You give a small shake of your head and smile.

“It just makes me a little uncomfortable to go there by myself, I suppose. With a friend, it might be different.”

“You’ve got a sister-in-law, no? Perhaps she would like to go.”

Shrugging, you follow her downstairs. “I’m not sure. She is very busy with my niece.”

The air is humid in this part of the palace and you find yourself short of breath immediately. You squint through the slight fog that hangs around and take a towel from the outstretched arms of a servant.

Joanna starts to undress as do you, putting your belongings on the side of the pool. She has no trouble letting herself sink into the water, but you dip in an apprehensive toe to get acclimated to the temperature.

The material of your garb flows around you when you step down the small flight of stairs, the hot water almost scorching off your skin. Joanna smiles at you, cheeks already flushed from the heat, and puts her arms on the side of the pool to support herself and float a little. You swim over next to her and sigh deeply, for the sensation is indeed relaxing.

“When you get back to Capernaum,” Joanna muses, “You definitely should convince your husband to get you one of these. They come in smaller sizes and seeing that he’s sent you here , I’m certain that he won’t be shy about the cost.

A bitter comment crawls up your throat about how you don’t care about Quintus’ money, but she means well, so you swallow it. “Perhaps,” you instead breathe, exhaling and resting the back of your head against the side of the pool. You close your eyes and enjoy the momentary weightlessness. “I must admit that this is very nice.”

She smiles and looks at you. “We could get a massage or pop into the steam room for a bit. It will do wonders for your skin.”

You hum, which is no true answer to her proposal, and allow your mind to wander to Atticus. For all you knew, he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Immediate guilt tugged at your heart for letting yourself unwind at all in these uncertain times, despite the Cohortes’ insistence that you’d enjoy your stay here.

A servant asks if she needs to wash you, but you refuse. Someone whistles her over from the other bathhouse area, where you know the men’s section to be. Your stomach twists at the idea of her having to serve one of those creepy, leering soldiers with whatever whims they might need satisfied. Something flickers within the young woman’s eyes that you can only define as fear. Reluctantly, she moves to the door.

“Wait!” comes from your lips before you realise it, causing her to stop and look at you expectantly. “I-I don’t need a wash, but… A back massage would be nice.”

Joanna, looking at you somewhat confused, agrees with your statement. “Yes, you could help us out with that.” Her voice is inquisitive, as if she’s interested to know why you have suddenly changed your mind.

“Of course, ma’am,” the servant says, her eyes softening as she dares to relax more. The man who called her over to the other area sighs and saunters away in search of another victim. You hoist yourself out of the bath and wait for Joanna to do the same. “Follow me,” the servant says.

You go after her towards a smaller room where a few massage tables stand, a patron’s shoulders currently being kneaded with a strong-smelling oil.

“Please, get comfortable. I will fetch someone else to serve you, my lady,” she tells Joanna. She disappears, your friend immediately turning to you. 

“That was… Interesting. Why did you change your mind?”

You sigh and sit down on the table, your Palla clinging to your skin. “I saw fear in her eyes,” you whisper, careful to not let the other two people in the room hear, “I felt bad to send her in there.” 

She takes the other surface and gets comfortable, thinking over your words. “I… Suppose you’re right.”

“You said the other day that us women should speak up more for ourselves. How come we don’t speak up for the women who don’t have a voice?”

Joanna’s gaze darkens. “Be very careful with your words right now (Y/n). Saying things like that in a place like these can be very dangerous. I am not saying that I disagree with you, but please keep things like that to yourself whenever we’re in public, okay?”

You nod, understanding her concern, and lay down. The servant returns with at her side another woman who carries a bucket of hot stones. “My lady,” she tells you, “Please undress and lay down on your stomach.”

Despite your hesitance, at least there are no men in the room, so you peel off the damp cloth to stand more naked in front of total strangers than you’ve ever been. You attempt to lay down on top of the table so that the servant can start her work, but you wince when you lower your sore chest on the surface. “Oh, sorry,” you huff, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather lay on my back.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” 

Joanna frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you truthfully say, “Just a little… Anxious, I suppose.”

She hums. “I get that. Try to relax now, alright? Enjoy the massage.”

“I’ll try,” you tell her, and even though you’re tense when the servant first starts to massage your arms and calves, you slowly ease into it.

_ 

Your head is painfully drumming the very moment the massage is over. Joanna deeply sighs, appearing way more tranquil than you. 

“That was nice, don’t you think so?”

You take a dry robe the servant hands you and you take it with a soft word of gratitude, pulling it over your shoulders. “It was, but that strong scent around here makes my head ache so bad…”

“Strong scent?” Joanna queries, “It’s just a bit of lavender oil they used on you. Are you sensitive to smells?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffing and flinching a bit, for it stings in your nose, “Perhaps I’m allergic to one of the ingredients, that might be it.”

“If you say you’re alright, then I believe you, but be mindful that you keep your health in mind, (Y/n). Come on, let’s head back upstairs and enjoy some wine, why don’t we?”

You agree, even though you consider skipping on the wine, and head back up to her chamber to unwind and let the heat of the air settle into your skin, which tingles pleasantly. Your cheeks are flushed when you lay down on the same chaise longue you’ve shared drinks and deep conversations on a few times now, and you hum appreciatively when Joanna puts a bowl of fresh grapes in between you. 

“I’m going to quickly check for correspondence, alright?” Joanna offers after dressing up again, “You stay here to try and get that headache of yours down.”

You nod and smile at her. “Thank you.”

She heads downstairs, the heavy door falling shut behind her. You put a hand on your clammy forehead, deeply sighing. “I’m not getting ill, am I?” you whisper to yourself, a wave of nausea clawing its way up your throat. You sit up and lay a hand on your heart, which is suddenly burning inside your chest. 

You’ve been exposed to a new environment and new foods lately, and you’re worried about Atticus’ wellbeing. No wonder you’re feeling agitated despite your attempts to calm down your nerves.

After swallowing a few times and taking some grapes, you manage to settle down again as the heartburn fades away. There is a moment of silence before Joanna enters through the door again without knocking, the pad of her sandals headed your way. 

She tosses a small pile of letters onto her own chaise longue before reaching for you. “This arrived for you,” she says, “It’s pretty heavy.” 

You open your eyes and frown at the rectangular, thick package that she hands you. “Thank you.” 

“Pardon me for my nosiness, but I saw that the seal is not from your husband.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and panic builds inside your chest. “Oh?” you squeak, “I wonder who it might be from, then. Perhaps my brother.”

Of course, the engraving in the wax is familiar to you. You just hope that he hasn’t enclosed something you cannot explain to Joanna. 

You rip off the paper and are met with a blue book, which you flip over in your hands to read what it says. “Romantic poetry.” you whisper, “Let’s see… A bundle of poems by different authors. Is this handmade?” Your voice wavers and Joanna looks at you with widened eyes.

“It seems like it. What’s in there?”

You flip through the pages and read a few names that catch your eye. “Catullus, Ovid, Horace.” They are names you’ve spoken about with Atticus. “There is no note attached to it.”

Joanna hums and sits down, leaning towards you. “You could track down who it is from by asking the courier.”

“I’ll look into it,” you breathe, knowing very well who it came from, hence the lack of a name. However, your eye falls on something lodged betwixt two pages - a small slip of paper, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Is it from your secret lover?”

You nearly choke on your own saliva as you look up at her with wide blown eyes. “Beg your pardon?”

She grins. “Your secret lover.”

You can feel your neck turn red as shame spreads over your skin. 

“My secret lover?” you pipe up, barely brave enough to look at her. “I don’t have a–”

“Oh, you cannot fool me, (Y/n). Whenever you speak of your husband, your gaze hardens, but when you saw that wax seal on the book I just gave you, your face spoke volumes of how that is not from him.”

“I-I said it might be from my brother!” you tried to excuse yourself, but Joanna slightly tilted her head with a knowing grin.

“I know a woman in love when I see one. Come on, who is it? Is it the Cohortes who dropped you off here two months ago?”

The silence that follows is deafening. Embarrassment burns behind your eyes and you take a sharp breath, looking at your folded hands that lay inside your lap. “I-I-I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” you whisper, even your own voice not convinced of the lie. 

“(Y/n).” Joanna states seriously, sitting down across from you. She reaches over to take your hands in hers and gives you a reassuring smile. “I’ve seen the way you two looked at one another. I didn’t know either of you back then but even I as a total stranger could see that it is no ordinary friendship.”

A hot tear rolls down your cheek and you swallow the lump in your throat to no avail. “Do you-Do you hate me now? I’ve been unfaithful to my husband and have failed both him and the gods. You must reject me as your friend now!”

You bury your face in your hands to sob. “Everything is so miserable,” you wail, your shoulders shaking. Joanna shushes you softly, sitting closer to wrap you in a tight embrace, “Quintus is not a good man. Atticus he-he-he, he treats me well!” you hiccup, “And he holds me in such a high regard I’ve never experienced from a man ever before!”

The words pour out with no chance of stopping them. It’s both a relief to get it off your chest and a looming threat closing in on you - you have no idea what Joanna will say, nor what she will report to the court now that you’re admitting to your adultery, but you cannot stop confessing. 

“Whenever I am with him, I feel like I’m alive. He sees me, Joanna! And-And-And I just… I just… Oh, I think I love him. ”

The words that you had never even considered saying out loud leave your tongue before you realise they had crept up on you. You put a hand on your chest and inhale heavily, trying to catch your breath. 

“Calm now, (Y/n),” Joanna whispers, rubbing circles over your back gently. “I understand your point of view. A man who sends you a book full of poems he’s bundled himself is obviously someone who is very serious about you. Especially when he’s busy fighting an impending civil war.”

You give her a watery smile and rub your cheeks dry to your best ability, but more keep coming. “I’m– I’m not ashamed, about it all, and that is what makes me feel guilty. Quintus is a horrible husband, Joanna! I never chose to marry him!”

She presses her finger against her lips to have you lower the volume of your voice and she puts a hand on your arm, giving you a determined look.

“I’ve told you my husband isn’t faithful to me.” Joanna begins, “But what I see happening with you is something far more than just a simple affair out of boredom.” Your cheeks flush. “He gives you what Quintus cannot give you.”

“It’s not in my husband’s nature,” you say with a trembling bottom lip, “All I am is a vessel to carry his child.”

Joanna gives a small nod and sighs. “I wish there was a way I could help you.” she whispers, “Sadly, there isn’t anything I can do. However, I want you to know that I am here for you, alright?” 

You sniffle and hug her tightly. “Thank you,” you whimper against her shoulder, “Thank you for not telling me I’m a fool for pursuing him.”

“Of course you aren’t a fool, (Y/n),” she earnestly says, “You’re just a woman in love with the right person at the wrong time. All you can do is see where it goes and try to enjoy it while it lasts. As much as it pains me to say it, you’re stuck with Quintus, unless he divorces you.”

You pull away with a deep frown on your face. “Have him divorce me… I’ve never thought about that. I-I mean I cannot do that myself, but if I keep rejecting him, he’ll have no choice but to…” 

The words get stuck in your throat whilst your thoughts keep running wild.

“But my family.” you say with a whisper, “I’ll be known as the whore who refused to carry a child for one of the most prominent Praetors known to man. The name of (L/n) would be in shambles, I cannot… I cannot be that selfish. My brother is all I have, I cannot ruin him and his family due to my own stupid decisions.”

Joanna smiles a little and tucks some hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, it is alright to go against the current.”

“Not when it means being egotistical.” you say. “Only when it matters.”

“But you matter.”

You shake your head. “I don’t count. All my life, everything has been settled for me. From the very moment I was born. This should be no different.” 

Your friend sighs and looks at you for a long moment of silence. 

“You matter.” she repeats, “That is all I can tell you. You can make your own choices.”

But you can’t. You really, truly can’t. Your heart feels heavy inside your chest.

“I’m…” You stand and step away. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Already? But we haven’t even had dinner yet.”

You shake your head slowly. “I’m not hungry. I ah, I need some time to myself. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, you run out of her room, the book you’ve received from Atticus tightly held against your stomach. Once inside your own chambers, you dare to finally take out the paper that had been tucked away between two pages, unfolding it with trembling fingers.

To (Y/n), a collection of works I’ve come across on my travels. I hope you like them as much as I do. Take care and stay safe, my Flower.

It blurs in your vision as new tears form, your upper body feeling tight with heartburn.

You can barely stand the butterflies that tear through your system, your whole form trembling with emotion. You collapse onto your bed and allow your mind to run rampant until exhaustion takes over.

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