#never been more glad I work from home and I don’t have to answer phones anymore

[doginprogress]

nothing like having a quick menty b at your work desk on a Monday morning

[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you run into daniel at a race, completely oblivious to who he is and what he does ━━ or ━━ a spilled coffee turns into a lot more than you thought it would

warnings: readers job is a crime scene investigator (it’s important, i promise), some awkward moments (i know nothing about flirting), some swearing, violence, sexual innuendos | may not be the best writing as it is my first time writing for f1 and i’m still new, first time trying instagram dm’s and things like that so let me know what you think!

The sound of the apartment door opening fills your senses as you wake your way into the apartment, pulling your shoes off and putting your keys in the bowl. You brush a hand through your hair as you breathe out a big sigh. When you get home, you finally let the days stress hit you, then you brush it off, and separate yourself from your work. It’s important not to bring home what you do. It would be damaging. As you make your way to the kitchen to refill your water-bottle, your phone rings from inside your pocket.

Setting your bottle down, you answer it without checking who it is. “Hey!” Your friends voice chimes out. By the sound of it, she needs a favour. “Hey. What do you need?” You ask her, lightly laughing as she gets out a “what do you mean?” “I know your voice. Now spit it out before I reconsider.”

“You know how I was going with Kayla to the Miami Grand Prix?” You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “Yeah ━━ what was that again?” “It’s a formula one race being held.” You hum in response. “Well, she came down with a cold, no one else is available, and these paddock passes were too expensive to not use. Will you go with me?” You can hear her smile over the phone. “I don’t know . . .” “Come on y/n, you never go out unless it’s grocery shopping, work, or when I drag you out. This will be good for you. Plus, it may get you into formula one so I have another person to talk about it to.” You chuckle at that.

“First of all ━━ you are dragging me out, and second of all you do talk to me about it.” She lets put a huff that you know means “you know what I mean”. You do never really go out. It’s not that you’re a hermit and don’t want to, you just don’t get a lot of opportunities to and when you do, you can’t help but remember places you’ve been to at work and what happened there. At least at these Grand Prix thing nothing bad has happened as you know. “Fine.” She squeals and says thank you a million times before telling you when it is and when she’ll pick you up.

That’s how you end up in the paddock at the Miami International Autrodrome, following your friend around as she explains different things to you and fangirls over people. You remember some names that she had told you during one of her rants, and you smile when you see the smile on her face. You’re glad that she’s having fun, that makes you happy and makes this more enjoyable. During your walk, you stop at a coffee bar and grab an iced coffee while she gets a redbull coffee ━━ whatever that means ━━ and explains how the redbull team has it at every race. “You’ve wanted to try that since forever right?” You ask her, trading coffees and taking a sip. “Yeah. It’s supposed to taste amazing and also gives me the boost of caffeine coffee is supposed because it doesn’t from how much I drink.”

As you sip and she chugs her drink, you stop in front of a bathroom and she instructs you to wait as she goes in. You wait a little ways away, tucked out of the way and scrolling through your phone. It seems the person coming your way was also doing that as he accidentally bumped into you. You drop your phone, coffee lid opening and spilling down your shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

The first thing you note is that this coffee is incredibly cold, and that the man who bumped into you has an Australian accent. You bring yourself back and out of the cold feeling, facing the man. He must work here because he has a RB racing shirt on and a lanyard. “It’s alright.” You politely smile and pick up your phone. It’s not. It’s cold as fuck and it’s wet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and,” his voice trails off as you look around for an area to get something to clean you up.

There’s a pause before “I have an extra shirt in my room if you want.” The man offers. You’re a bit puzzled as to why he has his own room but you’re too concerned on the feeling of coffee in your shirt. “You sure you wont murder me?” You asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.” You stare at him for a little longer before you nod and tell him to lead the way. “I’m Daniel,” he tells you. You introduce yourself as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling self conscious at the way people are staring at you two.

“Straight to murder, eh?” He joked as you followed him. You shrugged, “it’s my first instinct. My job revolves around it.” He looked at you with a puzzled look, as if asking you to explain. “I’m a crime scene investigator,” you revealed as you got to a door and he led you in. You take in the surroundings as he opens a closet and digs around to find you a clean shirt. “My job is to determine ━━ well, more like make an educated guess ━━ on if the person was assaulted and how.” You thank him as he passes you a shirt he finds. He stands waiting for you to continue until he lets out an “oh!” and turns around, blush on his cheeks as he apologizes.

“How do you do that?” He seemed genuinely interested in your conversation, not just making small talk to cover the fact that a woman he’s just met is changing behind him. “The main thing I do is blood pattern analysis,” you start, voice slightly muffled as you skip your shirt off, “blood behaves to specific scientific principles as all liquids do, and so i use that information and what blood there is at a crime scene to do that.” You grab the RB shirt from between your legs and slip it on, telling him he can turn around.

“So we can analyze the size, shape, distribution, location and use the behaviour of blood, physics like the velocity and capillary action, math to determine things such as where did it come from, what caused the wounds, and how were they positioned to make a guess or determine what happened.” Daniel makes a slightly shocked face. “You can do all that from a blood splatter?” “Yeah, just like any other pattern,” you shrug while smiling, you feel proud, “I took a course on it. It’s really just looking at what’s around you. It takes a trained eye.”

“I think you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met.” He tells you, and you blush. “Thanks.” You mumble. You both stand there before you mumble about having to get back. “Oh right, of course. I’m sorry.” Daniel apologies as he reaches for the door and opens it, allowing you to go first. You walk side by side as you continue to talk about your work. When you get to the end of the garage, you say goodbye and you head to try and find your friend.

You eventually bump into her at the same coffee station. “Where were you?” she almost yells, “I was so worried!” “A guy spilled coffee on me and then offered to get me another shirt. I think he worked her. His name was Daniel.” Your friend finally notices the shirt you’re wearing and a look comes across her face. “Daniel Ricciardo?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get his last name.” You shrug, not realizing what the big deal is. Who’s this Daniel Ricciardo and why is he so important.

“What did he look like?” She pestered. “Tall, curly brunette, Australian,” she interrupts you with a gasp. You look at her confused. “That was Daniel Ricciardo, the F1 driver?” You look confused until you remember how she was talking about him a couple weeks ago. “Oh . . . Cool.” “I can’t believe you’re being so chill about this.” She shakes her head with a small smile. “I just don’t know that much about this, and don’t really care if he’s famous. He bumped into me and ruined my good shirt.” You tell her, lifting up the shirt. You laughs and let’s put a “true.”

You continue the day as you would’ve, her telling you more about Daniel Ricciardo, and pointing out his car during the race, as well as the other drivers. You’re starting to understand a little more. She gets a couple photos signed from other drivers and you both leave happy. You happy that you learned some new things and got a break from being inside your house and her happy that she got to do this. You knew it had been something she wanted to do forever.

When you go to bed that night after throwing your dirty shirt in the laundry with another load, you hang up the shirt that Daniel gave you and went to bed thinking about what happened that day, and that you also didn’t get a refund for your coffee.

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, kayla.k, and 238 others

yourusername had a fun weekend! thank you @yourfriend for the tickets and to the guy who spilled my coffee: you are forgiven because of the new shirt you got me, but i want a refund for my coffee 😌

view all 27 comments

yourfriend can’t believe you met daniel ricciardo and yet you want a refund for your coffee

↳ yourusername that was a good shirt :((

↳ kayla.k you met daniel ricciardo?!

kayla.k never been more mad at myself for being sick

user1 rip coffee

user2 so jealous

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 556,927 others

danielricciardo miami was great. not sure if he is alive but very happy for lando norris. and to the girl who’s coffee i spilled: i am very sorry but at least you got a t-shirt out of it 😄

view all 1,763 comments

landonorris i’m not sure if i’m alive either but thanks mate

↳ danielricciardo always

user3 that last photo 💀 you know he messed up something

user4 you spilled someone’s coffee? how’d that happen?

charles_leclerc from the videos i have, i’m not sure he’s alive either 😂

yourfriend @yourusername

↳ yourusername what?

↳ yourfriend he talked about you!

↳ yourusername i guess so 🤷‍♀️ i still want my refund

user5 he’s too cute

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 62,947 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo was seen out for dinner last night in miami with mystery girl a couple days after the miami grand prix. who do you think she is? 👀

view all 2,286 comments

user1 maybe that’s the girl who he was talking about in his instagram caption

↳ user2 i doubt it. it’s not like their meeting was a big thing, he just spilt her coffee

user3 i’m just wondering why we’re still getting all up their personal lives

user4 you can tell it’s daniel from how tall he is . . . or the girl is incredibly short

↳ user5 i think it’s just daniel’s giant frame

user6 don’t crush my dreams 😩😩😩

yourfriend @yourusername girl what

yourfriend @yourusername text me asap

You didn’t even have time to see your friends comment on instagram before she’s calling you. “Hello?” You asked, making your way to your apartment. “Was that you in that post?” “What post?” You heard a scoff of disbelief. “The one with daniel and a girl who likes strikingly similar to you on a date last night? You just told me you were busy. Not busy with daniel ricciardo!” She yelled the last bit and you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

“I didnt know I had to! It was just a date.” You explained as you opened your apartment door and took off your shoes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just a date, and it doesn’t even matter that much about who it’s with, you haven’t been on a date in forever.” You could tell she was genuinely happy for you when she said that and you smiled and blushed. You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you. “You have to meet me at a coffee shop and spill.” “Alright. Twenty minutes?” You replied. “See you soon girlie.”

You were there within fifteen minutes and were greeted with your friend smiling at you. You hugged her as she got up to greet you and then you sat down, taking a sip of the coffee she ordered you. “Besides the fact that he’s a famous driver, i am really happy for you babe. It’s good to see you happy and taking some time for yourself.” She told you as she grabbed your hand across the table. You smiled at her as you thanked her. She gave you a look as if asking you to start talking. “He’s really nice.” You gushed.

Her smile got wider than you’ve ever seen. “That’s so good! What happened? Where did you go?” “He picked up from my apartment almost 10 minutes early,” “ooh he’s early, gentleman.” Your friend teased. “He held the door open to the car and the restaurant. We went to that place on the corner near the diner we always go to. It wasn’t too fancy, it was like he knew what I liked.” You continued to ramble, your friend becoming more and more excited. “Yeah, so, I think we might be doing it again.” You finished, your coffee almost done.

“Y/n. Oh my god. You have to text me after and let me know. I want to know if this works out. I really hope it does.” “I will text you immediately after, unless we end up watching a movie or something.” She winked at you when you said that.

yourusername posted to their story!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourfriend, and 23,294 others

yourusername all because of spilled coffee ☕️ p.s. i got my refund

view all 1,836 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend i’m a mastermind 🤷‍♀️

user1 is that daniel ricciardo

user2 so cute!

danielricciardo ❤️❤️

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user3 is this the coffee girl?

↳ user4 i think so, it has to be right?

user5 WE FOUND HER Y’ALL

kayla.k i’ve never been more jealous but also happy i couldn’t go to that race

danielriccarido

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 538,465 others

danielricciardo never been more glad to spill someone’s coffee

view all 20,719 comments

landonorris WHAT

user1 she’s an icon already, i can tell

yourusername you really outed me in the last one 😧😔

↳ danielricciardo that’s my job!

maxverstappen1 why didn’t i about know this??

↳ danielricciardo i’m sorry babe 😭😭

user2 y/n is really just a third wheel

↳ yourusername i love my boyfriend and his boyfriend

↳ user3 ICON

georgerussell63 next you’re going to announce that you’re secretly american and from texas

↳ yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

↳ user4 you’re joking.

user5 i don’t know if i want to be him or her

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying. 

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer. 

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm. 

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant. 

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines. 

John’s icon dims. 

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to. 

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you. 

He tried to call as often as he could. 

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down. 

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic. 

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.” 

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening. 

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind. 

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?” 

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work. 

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth. 

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together. 

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad? 

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears. 

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.” 

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted? 

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him. 

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind. 

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with. 

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present. 

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…” 

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear. 

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?” 

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring. 

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts. 

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor. 

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs. 

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.” 

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin. 

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing. 

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?” 

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation. 

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy��always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.” 

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords. 

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else. 

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences. 

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips. 

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends. 

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute. 

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later. 

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?” 

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?” 

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name. 

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed. 

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click. 

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms. 

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat. 

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening. 

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh. 

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.” 

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod. 

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused��his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.” 

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room. 

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.” 

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight. 

You steel yourself and raise the box. 

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair. 

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully. 

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm. 

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead. 

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders. 

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed. 

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship. 

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!” 

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly. 

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.” 

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it. 

Pregnant. 

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly. 

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts. 

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss. 

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold. 

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again. 

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.” 

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.” 

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.” 

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.” 

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second. 

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.” 

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child. 

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.” 

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.” 

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave. 

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[flemingsfreckles]

Better Boyfriend than Him (18+) pt. 5

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the 4 previous parts here

Warnings: SMUT (18+) frat boy Jessie vibes, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), masturbation, sexting but not really

WC: 5.6k (she’s a little long)

A/N: I got a little carried away and this one ended up a little long.

Jessie 🦖: feel free to dream about me tonight when you go to sleep

Jessie 🦖: or when you’re touching yourself, I don’t mind ;)

Those texts started back at you as you looked at your phone. You couldn’t help but follow both of her texts, about thinking about her while you touched yourself and while you dreamed. You got home and almost immediately moved into your bedroom.

For a second, you debate taking a photo to send to Jessie, show her what she was missing by claiming she doesn’t fuck on the first date. You weren’t sure if that was too forward now that the mood seemed to shift from just sex to something more between the two of you. You decide to meet your idea halfway. You take your phone, open the camera and slide your right hand under your panties, just cupping your hand around yourself, not trying to get yourself off yet.

You snap a photo, before pulling back your phone to admire it. It just showed your bare stomach, starting at just above your belly button showing your hand creeping into your underwear, your legs spread. It’s telling enough without showing her anything too explicit. Without thinking too much about it you put it in a message to Jessie and hit send.

You: glad you don’t mind ;)

Jessie 🦖: holy shit

Jessie 🦖: I should’ve gone against my rule of not fucking on the first date

Jessie 🦖: maybe I can change my dating rules and fuck on the second date

Jessie 🦖: I don’t even date I don’t know why I have “rules”

The last text makes you laugh to yourself. Satisfied with her reaction, you get back to what you were doing. You hook your thumbs into your panties and slide them off your legs. Your hand returns between your legs, you slowly slide a finger between your folds, feeling how wet you had become at the thought of Jessie. She didn’t take much to get you worked up.

A couple minutes and a lot of thoughts about Jessie later, your orgasm takes over, lasting a few seconds, a whisper of Jessie’s name coming from your mouth. Sure, an orgasm was an orgasm but doing it yourself wasn't nearly as satisfying as letting Jessie do it.

Having followed one of her two instructions to think about her, you figured you may as well follow her second text and fall asleep thinking of her. Getting up you move to the bathroom, washing your hands before getting ready for bed.

Before you climb into bed you send her a quick goodnight text, you don’t get an immediate response and assume she has already fallen asleep. When you lay your head down on the pillow, thoughts of Jessie fill your mind. You wished she was next to you, her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. Instead of listening to your fan, you wish it was the sound of her breathing putting you to sleep.

The next morning you’re woken up by a call from Jessie.

“Hi.” You’re half asleep when you answer the phone, voice still full of sleep. You clear your throat after hearing how your voice sounded.

“Hey, want coffee?” She sounded far too awake on a weekend, as if she had been up for hours already. It was Saturday so you both didn’t have any commitments to attend to. You glanced at the time, seeing it was still early part of you wanted to go back to sleep, fall back into your warm bed and into your dreams of Jessie. But seeing the girl in person would be even better, even if it meant dragging yourself out from the warmth of bed.

“You already know the answer to that.” You never turned down coffee.

“Okay. Can I pick you up in 20?”

“Is this your way of asking me on a date Fleming?”

“Maybe? Is that okay?” Her voice changes as she asks for confirmation.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you in a bit.” Before you let her respond to you, you hang up and the line goes dead and you scramble out of bed throwing on a pair of jeans and pulling out a sweatshirt. It was cold out and you wanted to just throw on sweatpants and you would have on a regular trip to coffee with Jessie. Except now this was a date, you had to look nice.

You get distracted by brushing your teeth and hair, tidying up your room a bit. You end up forgetting to finish getting dressed. You had half a mind to make your bed, knowing there was a chance you’d be bringing back a guest later.

You hear, said expected guest, come through the door as you were still getting ready. Cursing yourself for not being ready you continue to rush around cleaning while yelling a greeting to her.

“Hi Jess!”

“Hi, can I come in?” You can hear her voice coming through your bedroom door. You open the door instead of answering. You’re only half dressed but you don’t care. Her eyes draw to your chest for a second where you had on a simple bra, nothing compared to the one you had worn the other day to tease her, she then looks up to your eyes. She realizes she was caught looking and just gives you a smile and greeting.

“Hi.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “Are you saying hi to me or to my boobs?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” She argues your point. She’s wearing a red flannel over a plain sweatshirt and jeans. You half wish she had shown up in sweats and given you an excuse to also put them on but you also were pleased to see she was treating this as a date.

You grab your shirt and finish pulling it over your head and down your torso. “Considering someone doesn’t fuck on the first date, I don’t think you have the right to say hi to them.” You finish by throwing on your sweatshirt and walk past her out of your room and into the living room.

The two of you decide against walking to the coffee shop, usually you would if it wasn't too far but with the temperature and wind, you decided to hop in Jessie’s car and drive. A few minutes into the drive, Jessie’s hand comes across the center console, finding its place on your thigh. That’s new, you think to yourself but you don’t comment fearing you’ll scare her into moving her hand.

You walk into the coffee shop, it’s quiet, the majority of college students not yet awake at this hour on a Saturday. You both ordered your usual coffees, Jessie adding an extra shot of espresso to hers before offering to pay. It wasn’t uncommon for her to buy your coffee or for you to buy hers, you both traded off paying, it was easier than ordering separately. Knowing this was a date made watching her offer to pay feel different.

Watching Jessie as she sat across from you you could tell something was up with her. She wasn’t one to add extra caffeine into her coffee besides the standard, claiming anymore made her feel like she was vibrating. She usually wasn’t one to be up before 10 on the weekends. It was noticeable she was zoning out as well, staring off behind your head for periods of time before snapping back to focus on the two of you. She leaned back in her chair covering her mouth as she let out a big yawn.

“What's up with you today? Late night fucking your other girlfriend yesterday?” The sentence comes out more serious than you intended, your attempt at sarcasm completely missing.

“My other girlfriend? Are you claiming to be my first girlfriend?” She’s got one eyebrow raised at your sentence.

“Um. I didn't mean it like that,” You definitely didn't mean to call yourself her girlfriend, sure it had crossed your mind but now was not the time for that conversation. “I just meant that we’re dating.” That didn't help the point you were trying to make, you realize how much of a fool you were making of yourself. “Not that we're dating, like officially dating, but we’ve done on dates, well one date, besides today, this is two. I just meant, it was a joke.”

“Okayyy.” Jessie looks as if she's about to laugh. “Are you good?”

“Perfect, just we’re not girlfriends, I didn't mean for it to come off that way, I know we aren't anything officially.” If this was happening with anyone besides Jessie you would have ran out of the coffee shop by now and never shown your face again.

“We could be?” The words come out of Jessie’s mouth as both a question and a statement. For a second you think you must have heard her wrong. There’s no way miss ‘i dont date’ was already willing to commit to the girlfriend label after one official date.

“What?”

“Yeah that's actually what kept me up last night. It was you, not my other girlfriend.” she kicks you softly under the table. “I was just thinking. Thinking about you, well us.” She pauses, taking a sip of coffee, you can tell she has more to say. Staying silent you just watch her, giving her the space to talk.

“I’m going to need help though, I still really don't know what I’m doing as far as dating. I can't promise that I’ll be perfect, but I couldn't stop thinking about you last night and I haven't had that happen in years. And I’m still scared, not of you, just of how badly she messed me up, and I know you're not her, but I think I’m ready to try again.”

You knew what Jessie meant, bringing up her ex girlfriend and how she had messed her up. For the first few months of your friendship you never heard much about the girl, Lauren. Jessie would occasionally reference her ex, but never giving much detail. She finally spilled all of the details to you on the couch after a long night of drinking. Jessie told you all about the girl, how she was her first everything. First proper date, first kiss, first relationship, first sexual experience, first person she brought home to meet her parents, first and only person she had said I love you to, first person she pictured a future with, and ultimately her first heartbreak.

Lauren was older by a year and when she went off to college, they agreed to do long distance. It lasted for a couple months, going well, facetime calls and texts keeping the couple in touch and happily in a relationship. Or at least that's what Jessie thought until she took a surprise visit to see her then girlfriend. Jessie told you how Lauren had not seemed super excited to see her but she was still young and naive and thought nothing of it. She noticed Lauren’s behavior was different but figured that's just what happens when you go to college and get a taste of adulthood. Jessie only learned the truth when the two found themselves in bed later that day and Jessie removed Lauren’s shirt to find her then girlfriend covered in hickeys. It quickly came to light that Lauren had been cheating on Jessie since quite literally the first day she arrived at school. Their relationship ended following a screaming match between the two, breaking Jessie’s heart and wrecking her ability to trust people and future partners.

When she went to college a year later, Jessie wanted nothing to do with relationships, only wanting to have the same “fun” her ex had behind her back for months. She started sleeping around, enjoying her no strings attached lifestyle for the first few years, until now.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect.” Reaching across the table you put her hand on hers. You didn't want her to think you had insanely high expectations for this relationship. “I expect you to be how you already are, that's why I like you in the first place, because of how you are already, you don't need to change anything just because we change this from friendship to relationship. Except maybe more kissing than when we were just friends.”

“Okay.”

“So are you and I-”

“Does that me we-”

You both start your sentences only to fall silent once the other starts talking. You just sit and look at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

“Go ahead.” Jessie gestures toward you.

“So are you and I, like, dating then? Are we girlfriends?” This felt like the least romantic way you could be asking her to be your girlfriend but you weren’t sure Jessie would be interested in some form of big gesture to ask her.

“That’s what I was going to ask.” Part of you is relieved hearing she was on the same page. She didn’t date, you didn’t want to make her feel pressured.

“Is two dates too soon? I mean for someone who doesn’t date, that seems fast.”

“I don’t know, is it too fast?” Jessie gives you a shrug when she asks.

“I don’t know. It’s confusing. Because I already know you so well, so it feels different.” It was true you didn’t have to do all the pleasantries like you normally would on the first few dates. You didn’t have to ask if she had siblings, where she grew up, what major she was, what her favorite food was. All those details were already ingrained in your brain and that was nice but it was throwing off the usual dating timeline.

“I mean you said we could just do this how we want to, trial and error and all.”

“I’m gonna let you take the lead, if you want to make this formal, say we’re dating, that we’re a couple, I’m comfortable with that. But I’m also comfortable if you’re not ready for that, that’s okay, we can just keep doing what we’re doing.”

Jessie takes a second to ponder your options. Her hands spin her empty coffee cup around, she’s looking down at it. It’s as if she zones out for a minute, her eyes not blinking as she stares down. After what feels like an hour to you, she gives her head a shake and blinks a couple of times before looking up at you from across the table.

“I’m ready to make it formal.” She gives a soft nod with her response.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You both sit, grinning at each other from across the table. You’re filled with a warm, glowing feeling looking at her. Someone who was just your best friend a few weeks ago had suddenly become so much more than that, it was perfect.

You finish up for coffee, putting out your hand to take Jessie’s empty from her. You throw out your empty cups and return to the table.

“Do you want to come over for the rest of the day?” It’s silly to ask, Jessie probably already assumed she’d be coming over like she usually did but you felt the need to ask her anyway.

With a nod and a quiet “yes” Jessie stands up, grabbing her keys from the table and follows you out of the coffee shop and to her car. Almost immediately after sitting down in the car, Jessie’s hand is back on your thigh, this time it sits more on the inside and higher up. Her hand on the ride to coffee had sat in a more appropriate location, more of a reassuring touch. Now her hand gripped your thigh in a more possessive, bordering sexual manner. You could feel her fingers flex and tighten on you as she drove.

When you got home you told Jessie you were going to change, not wanting to be in jeans all day. You throw on some soft shorts, made out of an old pair of sweatpants that you had cut. They weren’t the most flattering for your figure but they were comfortable. When you emerge from your bedroom Jessie is on the couch. She looks up at you, giving you a glance head to toe and a quick smile. You move over to the couch, picking up a book on the way over.

You sat in a comfortable silence with Jessie on the couch, your calves and feet placed comfortably in her lap. She sat on her phone, probably playing some mind numbing game, while you read. It wasn’t anything special but having the peaceful morning with her was the best start to a weekend you had had in a while.

With a sigh Jessie put down her phone, her hands coming to rest on your shins instead. Peering over the book you look at her, confused if the sigh she gave was one of content or unrest. She looked relaxed, looking forward out the window, a small smile on her face, so you went back to reading. You were only able to focus for a couple more paragraphs before you felt her hands start to move.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of how easily she could affect you, you kept your eyes down at the text in front of you. You weren’t able to actually focus on the words but you could pretend for a bit. Jessie’s hands crept up, making it past your knees and onto your thighs. She was having to lean over slightly in your direction to keep moving her hand upward.

She shifts again, taking away one hand and leaving the one closest to you, her movement allowing her to have even further reach, dipping between your shorts and your skin.

“Jessie,” you say as her hand creeps up your thigh even higher, her fingers finding where the edge of your underwear sat in the crease of your thigh and hip.

“What?” She gives you a smile playing dumb.

“You know what, don’t play dumb with me, I know you’re trying to tease me, so just do it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As she says it she lets her hand slide into the inner most part of your thigh, her pinky moves out to slide across your core with feather light pressure you barely even notice her movement.

“Your girlfriend is asking you to fuck her, are you going to do something or not?”

Uncharacteristically, Jessie’s face turns bright red at your comment. Her hand freezes against you.

“Um, yeah, right.” You notice an uncertainty in her voice, her eyes no longer meet yours, she looks off behind your head to the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah just, girlfriend, isn't something I’m used to hearing.”

“If you’re having second thoughts about this, we really can wait on labeling it Jessie. I don't mind waiting. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s just new for us. Not bad, just different. I haven’t heard that word used since… Lauren.” Jessie lets her name fall from her lips as if it’s poisoned, she says it quickly and quietly.

You cringe slightly at the mention of her ex, not really an ideal thing to be brought up when she’s got her hand touching your pussy through your panties.

Jessie must have noticed your reaction to the mention of Lauren. “Sorry I don’t mean to keep bringing her up, it’s just the only comparison I have.”

“No I know, it’s okay, I understand, just I don’t want to necessarily hear about another girl you’ve fucked while your hand is between my legs.”

“I’m sorry, let me make it up to you?” As she says the words she moves her head, letting her lips meet your neck, placing open mouth kisses down from just behind your ear to where your neck meets your shoulder. Your mouth falls open at the feeling of hers on your neck, a breathy sigh leaving your body.

Jessie stands up from the couch, pulling you to stand with her. She turns to face you and picks you up, her hands roughly gripping the back of your thighs as she moves the two of you to your bedroom. She places you softly on the bed, climbing to place herself above you.

She’s hovering close, holding herself up on her forearms so her face is just inches from yours. She hovers above you for just a second before sitting back and moving her hands to your shirt.

“Off?” You loved that even though it was very clear you wanted her, Jessie still took the time to check with you before she would undress you or do anything to your body.

You sit up, throwing your arms up above your head to let Jessie know you wanted your top off. You get your arms out of the shirt and while Jessie pulls it over your head, your own hand moves to your back finding your bra clasp and releasing it. You slide the straps down your arms. Jessie’s hand comes up, resting the valet of your breasts and she gives you a push, making you lay back down. She moves her hand to cup your chest, her thumb and index finger making their way to your nipple, giving it a soft touch before a firm pinch. Her other hand moves to support her body and she moves back to being face to face with you, she just looks at you, a cocky smile on her face.

“Kiss me!” Sick of her teasing you decide to just tell her what you want. She obliges, bringing her lips to yours in a searing kiss. It doesn’t take long for her tongue to brush against your lips. You feel her grind her hips against yours, causing a moan to find its way out between kisses.

Wanting to take a bit of control for once, you gently bite on Jessie’s bottom lip, pulling away from the kiss, her lip still between your teeth. You give it a firmer bite before releasing it, letting it pop back against her teeth. Her fingers pinch your nipple harder out of reaction to your bite.

You open your eyes to see her surprised reaction.

“That was hot.” Her eyes are wide as she stares down at you, her own teeth now biting her bottom lip.

“Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” You try to give her your best innocent look, as if you didn’t know you were turning her on.

She switches her hands, giving your other nipple the same treatment. Feeling a loss from her hand, you bring your own hand up to your chest, mimicking her actions on the nipple she had abandoned.

“No.” Jessie is quick to grab your wrist, pinning it to the pillow above your head. “You don’t get to touch right now, let me please you.” She moves down so her lips brush your ear. “You can show me how you touch yourself another time.” That sends a wave of heat through your body, the thought of showing Jessie how you had touched yourself all the times you thought of her. You get lost in the thought of that fantasy for a minute before you’re brought back to reality with Jessie’s mouth closing around your right nipple, her hand still playing with your left. She stays focused on your chest, biting, squeezing, kissing, sucking until you’re practically thrusting up at her with your hips, desperate for contact. You knew when she took off your shorts there would be a noticeable wetness in your underwear, you could feel it dripping from where you needed Jessie the most.

“Someone’s getting impatient.” Jessie laughs to herself, you give her a scowl, but she gives in, her hands finding where your shorts sat on your hips and she hooks her fingers in the waistband, looking up at you for consent. You lift your hips, nonverbally telling her to take them off. Much to your disappointment she only starts to remove your shorts. She has them just at your knees when you figure you may as well ask.

“Take it all off please.”

“Wow, really impatient aren’t we?”

“Yes, I need you Jessie.”

You hear a soft mutter of “fuck” leave Jessie mouth, you’re not entirely sure she meant to say it, more that it was the reaction to you using her name. You’re not sure she’s going to give in, her hand stalling where they held your shorts. She starts moving again, finishing pulling off your shorts. Before you can protest that she left your panties, the thumbs are in the waistband of them, pulling them down quickly.

Once she finishes removing your underwear she sits back. Her hands find your inner thighs and she spreads your legs, leaving you fully exposed under her gaze. As if she hadn’t just exposed your dripping pussy, she looks away from where you desperately needed her. Jessie’s hands come up to hold you right above your waist. Her thumbs caress the skin where they sat, rubbing back and forth. Her gaze is all over your body, looking at every inch of your exposed skin.

“You look so pretty like this.” You feel a blush start at your cheeks and move down your chest as she studies your naked body. She’d seen you like this before, but it felt like the first time she was really looking at you, seeing you. There was a different admiration in her eyes, mixed with the lust you had come to know. “All mine.”

“Only yours.” You tell her when her eyes make their way up from your navel to your chest and to meet your own gaze.

Jessie pulls her hand from your waist, letting her fingers trail a path down to the apex of your legs. Despite your legs already being open, you spread them further, encouraging Jessie to touch you.

“Fuck, baby.” The noise comes out deep and raspy from her mouth as Jessie’s fingers finally feel between your legs where your arousal had pooled. Jessie then looks at you, her fingers stalling their movements, her voice returning to her regular voice, not the same husky voice form before. “Is baby okay? We didn’t really talk about that.”

“Yeah, I like it.” You did, you liked it when she called you her’s a second ago and you liked the pet names.

Jessie fingers get back to their movements. She moves two fingers down to your entrance, gathering some of your slick and pulling it upward before she starts circling your clit. Her touch has you throwing back your head against the pillow.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Jessie hums in your ear and her fingers continue to tease your clit, circling around it and down to your opening.

“All because of you babe.” You groan back in her ear. It was true, you were never this wet when you touched yourself, or when anyone else had ever touched you, you were only like this with her, because of her.

Each time she would move her fingers toward your entrance she’d dip into you, just barley letting her fingers inside before she’d pull back and move up to where you were most sensitive.

Getting impatient again, when her hand makes the move back down to your entrance you try grabbing her hand, trying to push her fingers further inside of you.

“What are you doing?” Jessie stalls her hand, she was stronger than you and as much as you were trying, you weren’t able to overpower her and her fingers remained just outside.

“You’re taking too long.”

“You could’ve just said something.” You rolled your eyes at her, you knew she was joking, you hadn’t explicitly said you wanted her fingers in you but you figured the displeased moans every time she pulled back and the bucking of your hips when she’d get close was enough to give the hint.

You go to make a smart comment back but as you open your mouth, two of Jessie’s fingers slide into you, she pushes in until her fingers are fully inside. Instead of a sentence, a loud moan comes out.

“Is that what you wanted?” Jessie moves so that she’s laying between your legs now, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, her eyes look between where her fingers were buried in your pussy and where your mouth was hung open, your eyes closed in pleasure.

“Mmhm.” The murmur is all you’re able to get out, overwhelmed from the sudden sensation of her fingers opening you.

Jessie begins to move her fingers the same methodical curling she had done to you before. Already worked up from the teasing you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were clenching on her fingers. You have your eyes closed, focusing on the feeling of her fingers, both trying not to cum too quickly but also wanting to let the feeling fully take over your body.

With your eyes closed you don’t see Jessie moving to place her mouth on your clit, you only feel it once her tongue is lapping against you. Instinctively your hand moves to her head, gripping her hair as you sit up slightly to look at her. Her eyes are closed, as if she’s fully concentrating on making you feel good. The sight of her so focused between your legs makes your stomach clench and you feel yourself tighten on her fingers.

“Jessie, please.”

She hums in response against your pussy, that’s all you need as you feel your legs tense and your grip in her hair tightening.

“Fuck babe.” You groan as you cum on her fingers and lips. Her fingers continue pumping inside of you, working you through your orgasm until your own fingers come to push on her wrist silently telling her you were done. She slowly pulls her fingers from you, you watch as a string on your arousal connects them to you for a second before it breaks. Looking at you then to her fingers Jessie spreads them slightly, you can see the wetness that connect her fingers. She makes sure you’re watching as she brings her fingers to her lips, sucking them slowly between her lips.

It’s an erotic sight, your newly named girlfriend, sucking off her own fingers that were covered in your orgasm. It stirred something deep inside of you. You wanted to fuck Jessie, you wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be sucking her arousal off your fingers, but you weren’t sure how.

You weren’t sure how to ask, and even if you found the courage to ask, you weren’t sure what to do. You had always thought about sleeping with a girl, girls were hot, you were attracted to women, you just had never gotten around to acting on it, the fear of being considered a “virgin” as far as sleeping with women had kept you from trying any casual hookups. But now you were dating Jessie, that was different than a casual hookup.

While you were too busy hyper fixated on your lack of sexual experience with women, Jessie had made her way up to lay next to you. She was watching your face and you were staring off to the wall.

She placed a kiss to your forehead. You could smell the strong smell of yourself still on her face. She pulled back looking down at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?” Here it was the perfect time to bring it up, she was asking, there was no pressure, no expectations.

“Nothing.” That was the easy route, not telling her, letting your concerns and fears stay in the back of your mind. You could fake like you knew what you were doing.

“Seriously? You weren’t allowed to lie to me when we were just friends, we’re dating now so you’re really not allowed to lie to me.” She knew you too well, knew when you were lying, she knew when you were overthinking.

“Are you ever going to want me to touch you?” For the second time today your words come out not in the way you wanted. You meant to ask differently, in a way that was less accusatory, less hostile.

“Oh.” Jessie looks like she regrets pushing on the lie before. “I, yes, I just, I haven’t let anyone touch me besides…” you get the hint that she was referring to Lauren as she lets her sentence trail off.

“Oh.” You don’t mean for it to come off negatively, that was just your initial reaction.

“Yeah, and then after her I just, I didn’t want to trust anyone with my body like that again, I was, I’m worried about giving that vulnerability to someone just for them to ruin me again, to betray my trust.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” It’s all you can think to say. You now felt like a dick for wanting to see her naked. While you were too caught up in never having been on the giving side of sapphic sex, here was your girlfriend with more real, genuine concerns.

“It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s embarrassing.” Her eyes move from your face to the blanket covering the both of you.

You reach a hand out to her cheek. “It’s not embarrassing babe.” You place a kiss on her nose. “We can do this at whatever pace you want, you just tell me.”

“Okay.” Jessie gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I’m going to go shower, is that okay?” You start to move from the bed, still completely naked. You’re about to move into the bathroom when you hear Jessie speak up from behind you.

“Can I join you?”

[theotherbuckley]

Im in love with this fic and i need more

🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵🦵

You're an amazing writer btw 🩷🪱

Thank you! I'm glad people are liking this fic 🥰

Here's 900 more words just for you <3

🦵 - Buck and Tommy meet at physio after the truck bombing

Tommy isn’t there at his next physio appointment — now only seeing his physiotherapist once every two weeks, unlike Buck who still has to see her every week. The session feels slower than normal; it always does when he’s alone. Bobby promised him that next time he would be able to come with, but today, there’s no one, not even Tommy, to chat with afterwards. 

Dr Mistry seems to sense his subdued mood and has taken to being far more cheerful than he can ever recall.

“Why are you so happy?” he asks, slumping down into his chair after she had given his leg a deep and rather unpleasant massage. 

Dr Mistry turns to him, shooting him a look which he doesn’t care to decipher. “You are quiet. It’s unsettling.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, staring at his doctor. “Hey, I don’t talk that much.”

“You haven’t even complained one time.”

And okay, that’s fair, but still. 

“I’m just tired,” Buck tells her. It’s not even a lie. He is tired. He’s always tired. He’s just a little spacey today. He’s been feeling quite defeated lately. Sometimes, it feels like all of his hard work is for nothing. His leg still aches like bitch whenever the weather changes, and he only just managed to complete the full length of the bar unaided last session, far behind where he should have been at this point. He’s trying so hard to get better, to work again, but it doesn’t matter how much effort he puts in, it’s never enough. He’s never enough. 

And when there’s nobody with him to tell his brain to shut up, he gets stuck inside his head, and he doesn’t quite know how to get out of it. 

It’s exhausting. 

So he’s tired. He really, really is. 

It’s just a type of tiredness that he doesn’t think he can recover from. Not until his leg is recovered, at least. 

Dr Mistry looks at him for a moment, her eyes scanning over his face, hyperanalysing his expressions as though she can see right down into his soul, see all of those helpless thoughts running around in his head. “There’s doctors for that,” she says, and Buck doesn’t have to ask what she means. 

“I don’t need therapy,” Buck says back, a little too defensively. He’s probably lying, but he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’s fine. He will be. It just takes time, isn’t that what everyone keeps saying?

“It’s not healthy to keep everything stuck inside. Sometimes it is good to let it all out,” she continues, ignoring his slight outburst. 

“I have people. It’s just— It’s hard when they’re not around.”

She nods in understanding but hands him a card anyway. “Just think about it.”

He takes the card begrudgingly and sticks it in his wallet, where he knows he’s not going to touch it again. He doesn’t need help. He just needs to be able to walk— to work. He’ll be fine after that. 

As soon as he gets home, he takes the card out of his wallet and stares at it. 

And then he texts Tommy. 

Buck: Have you ever seen a therapist?

Tommy: Hi Tommy how are you

I’m great thank you for asking

Buck: Yeah yeah

Answer the question

Tommy: I have

Buck: And? 

My doctor wants me to see one

But I don’t want to

Especially not after last time

I’m not that guy anymore

Tommy: Not what guy?

Buck: Not the guy who sleeps with his therapist

Tommy: I’m not sure if I should ask

Buck: Probably best

So..?

Tommy: Therapy helped me

I wasn’t a great guy before

Buck almost scoffs at his phone. Tommy the guy who drove him home and helped him up multiple flights of stairs, whilst injured, on their first meeting, wasn’t a good guy?

Buck: You? Be honest

Tommy: I wasn’t

Turns out repressing my sexuality and listening to what my father taught me is not a good combination

Hurt a lot of people because of it

But therapy helped

I’m comfortable being myself now

Buck has to pause at that. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with it, he just didn’t really expect it. Maybe that’s not a good thing to say. He’s an ally, actually. The rainbow flag in his bio every June proves that. 

Buck: Wait

You’re gay?

Tommy: I am, yeah. Is that a problem?

Buck: No of course not! Men are hot.

Tommy: Mmhmm  

Buck: So you think I should do it?

Tommy: Do what?

Buck: See a therapist

Tommy: I don’t know, Evan

That’s up to you

But if your doctor suggested it, maybe you should listen

Buck: And I don’t need to sleep with them?

Tommy: You definitely do not.

Even after the conversation, Buck can’t bring himself to dial the number on the card. His stomach rumbles after a while, and Buck looks at his watch, mildly surprised to find it past 3 pm. He drops the card on the coffee table, and hobbles to the kitchen with his cane to make himself some food. 

When he sits back down, his mind is focused on queer history, and he finds himself googling pride and forgetting all about therapy. It wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

______________________________________________________________

It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved. 

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making your skin prickle. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park. 

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.” 

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back. 

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” 

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne. 

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red. 

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.” 

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from. 

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.” 

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.” 

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…” 

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. 

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?” 

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”  

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.  

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?” 

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California. 

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. ��Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home. 

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart." 

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?” 

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver. 

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively. 

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently. 

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters. 

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent? 

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you. 

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.” 

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul. 

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard. 

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?” 

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.  

“I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you. 

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?” 

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up. 

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face. 

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.” 

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.” 

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 2

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lil bit of angst with a sprinkle of fluff and not edited im sorry lol word count: 2.1k authors note: *screams internally* thank you guys so much for the love on this story so far. I was super hesitant to post it at first but I am glad you guys like it! I'm posting this a little early but updates will be every sunday from now on. This chapter is kinda sad but happy times are on the way <3 thanks for the feedback, and if you like part 2, let me know!

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Sitting across from Mat for the first time in almost eight years, doesn’t go exactly as planned. He’s waiting for you even though you arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, hoping to rid yourself of the anxiety you are feeling which means he’s been here even longer. So you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans and stride over to where he’s waiting and sit on the chair across from him. He’s staring at his phone so his head jerks up when he hears you.

The first words that come out of his mouth are: “are you sure she’s mine?”

Which, okay, that’s a fair question because you did tell everybody and their grandmother who asked that Mat was not the one who knocked you up. Of course, nobody actually believed you but there were a few people from your high school that believed it. Most girls who had always had a crush on Mat, would say that you cheated on him and obviously Nora couldn’t be his child because for some reason, they never actually accepted that you and Mat were a couple. 

So yeah, his question is fair and you did know he would ask. 

“Yeah, we can do a paternity test if you don’t believe me,” you say quietly. It’s not something you necessarily want to do, because then you’d have to come up with some reason to tell Nora why she needs to go get her cheek swabbed or blood tested. She’s as stubborn as Mat, and you would probably have to hold her down to get whatever the doctors needed unless she agreed. 

“No, I believe you.” 

His words take a huge weight off your shoulders but also replace it with a new one. You know Mat, he’s the kindest soul and has the biggest heart and he’s going to want to at least properly meet Nora and might ask to be in her life. In the first few years of her life, there wouldn’t have been anything you wanted more in the world. However, you’ve grown now and so has she. Your number one priority has to be what is best for Nora, and turning her life upside by introducing her to Mat is scary. For both you and her. 

And Mat? Despite what he might think, he’s nowhere near prepared to jump into being her dad.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. 

“Sure,” you say even though you know what he’s going to ask. It’s a question you’re nowhere near ready to answer but you have no choice now.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He doesn’t sound as angry as you were expecting, maybe thanks to his dad talking to him but there’s underlying hurt. You try to put yourself in his shoes, trying to think if there was anything in the world that would have stopped you from wanting Nora. You know for a fact that if Mat knew, he would have been in her life somehow but you’re not sure if he would have given up the NHL to do it, and that’s exactly why you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” you say softly, watching his facial expression change. He just looked confused before but now he looks sad almost. His eyes close for a moment and when he opens them, you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. 

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I did! I do,” you argue. “If you knew about her, it would have kept you away from everything you worked hard for. Your dream was the NHL, Mat. If I told you about her, it would’ve crushed that dream. We didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Who’s we? You and my parents? You shouldn’t have made that choice for me, it wasn’t right.”

“This is a child we’re talking about Mat. Were you really ready at eighteen to drop everything and raise one?” 

“Were you?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “But I didn’t have a jersey with my name on the back waiting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment, it’s silent between the two of you with background chatter from the cafe. You’re sure that he’s just going to get up and storm out but he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, knotting his fingers together.

“I wish you’d told me,” he mumbles before looking up at you. “I would’ve stayed.”

“I know,” you whisper but you can’t meet his gaze.

. . .

You’re picking Nora up from her day camp a couple of days later when you get a message from Mat asking if he can meet up with you. There’s been no contact since the two of you last met, having left with a short goodbye to pick up Nora. He hadn’t asked to see her and you hadn’t offered so you thought maybe he would leave it but you should’ve known better.

You fire off a sure, see you in twenty, and debate on whether to bring Nora with you or drop her off with your mom. Mat might not even want to see her, but if he’s reaching out to you again it’s probably about her. 

“Wanna go meet my friend?” you ask, looking back at her to gauge her reaction. She might just want to go home after all day at camp, but she perks up immediately when you ask.

“The one from the grocery store?” she squeals but narrows her eyes and gives you a suspicious look. “Hey, I thought you said he was a stranger.”

Shoot.

“Well, he was to you,” you try to explain. “I knew him when I was younger.”

“As young as me?”

“As young as you,” you tell her and she grins, nodding her head and shouting an excited yes, so you pull out of the parking-lot and start towards Mat’s parents house. You’re a little nervous to be around his family after dancing around them for so long after Nora was born. Meeting up with Liana wasn’t as hard as you were expecting, but you’re not so sure about his parents. Aside from the occasional awkward greeting, you haven’t properly spoken to them since before Nora and you’re starting to think maybe bringing her will just make things worse but before you can change your mind, you’re parking your car in the driveway. 

He’s sitting outside on the porch swing when you step out, and his eyes widen in surprise when Nora climbs out of the car. He definitely wasn’t expecting you to bring her but this could be a good test. If he decides he wants to be part of her life, having all their interactions scheduled wouldn’t be a good start so you decide to just jump in the deep end.

“Hey,” you call out before grabbing Nora’s hand and making your way towards him. He’s already making his way down the pathway and meets you about half way, pulling you into a surprising hug before crouching down to Nora’s level.

“Hey Nora,” he says, smiling gently and offering her his hand to shake just like last time. “Do you remember me?”

She bobs her head once, accepting his hand but tries to hide her face in your leg. Of course now, she’s practicing Stranger Danger, instead of blurting out her full name. 

“Mom made dinner, if you guys are hungry?” 

Family dinner is just about the last thing you want to do but Nora perks up at the idea of food so you agree, following Mat into the all too familiar home you spent so much time in as a kid. Not much has changed, you realize as you look around the foyer. It feels a bit like coming home but you’re not sure if you were missed. 

“Smells good,” you say, trying to make conversation and Mat smiles awkwardly. 

“Yeah, mom is making your favorite.” 

How she can remember your favorite meal is beyond you, but you’re not about to miss a peace offering and this is certainly one.

“My favorite food is spaghetti,” Nora informs him and you watch Mat nod seriously, taking in anything she says. You try not to look too deep into it because even though he knows she’s biologically his, Nora is still just a cute kid talking a mile a minute about anything and Mat has probably been trained on how to handle excited children. 

When the three of you make your way to the living room, with Nora still chatting excitedly, you stop short when you see a picture frame on the wall. 

It’s you. Well, it’s you and Mat at graduation. Arms wrapped around each other and Mat kissing your forehead. If you look close enough, you can see past your smile and see the sadness in your eyes. This was before you were pregnant but you were already grieving the loss of Mat. He left for hockey shortly after and your only reminder was the brown haired little girl still talking to Mat. 

“Is that you, mama?” Nora asks suddenly, standing on the tips of her toes so she can get a better view. Her nose scrunches up and she looks at the photo, then Mat, and then the photo again.

“Oh,” she says and you sigh. 

“Let’s go see Mat’s parents.”

Nadia and Mike are waiting in the kitchen, trying to make it seem like they weren’t listening in on the conversation. Liana is sitting at the table, reading a book casually but you know she was probably listening too.

“This is Mike, Nadia, and Liana,” you tell Nora who lights up at Nadia’s name.

“My middle name is Nadia!” She squeals and you stare at the floor, not wanting to meet any of their eyes. Someone - probably Nadia - inhales sharply and then lets out what sounds like a sob. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” Liana says and you look up to see her looking at Nora with a soft smile on her face. Mike has an arm wrapped around Nadia who’s trying, and failing, to hide tears. You’re glad Liana is trying to distract Nora because you’re about two seconds away from crying and Mat must be able to tell because you feel his hand lightly touch your back. His hand lingers for a moment until you take a deep breath and blow it out steadily. 

Then his hand is gone and you feel the loss right away.

“Hey, we have a swing outside in the backyard,” Mat tells Nora. “Wanna go check it out while dinner finishes cooking?” 

He looks at you for permission so you nod, smiling at Nora when he takes her hand and leads her outside. Liana follows shortly after and then it’s just you, Nadia and Mike. Both their eyes are red rimmed and Nadia only hesitates for a moment before striding over and pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, my girl,” she whispers and all you can manage is a nod because you’ll probably cry now if you try to talk. The two of you just stand there for a couple minutes until Mike chuckles. You pull away, wiping your eyes to see him standing in front of the patio door so you make your way over to see what he’s looking at and almost start crying again. 

Mat and Nora are playing what looks like a game of tag, Liana laughing at them while trying to film. It’s exactly the kind of thing you had sometimes allowed yourself to imagine.

“Would you look at that,” Mike says softly. 

“He’s a natural,” Nadia agrees. “Always was.”

Then she turns to you with a small smile on her face. “I know the struggles of being a mom. You have to do what’s best for your kids…” she hesitates, gazing outside before looking back at you. “He wants to try, if you’ll give him the chance. We’d all love to get to know Nora.”

You would love nothing more than to have Mat’s family in Nora’s life. For her to get to know her other grandparents but you can’t help but be scared of what could happen if you let Mat into her life. She could get attached only to have him ripped away when he has to go back to New York but you can’t have Nora in Nadia, Mike, and Liana’s life and not Mat’s. 

But maybe you owe it to Mat, to give him a chance at having a place in her life after not telling him about her all this time. You were doing what you thought was right - what was right - but if Mat really wants to be part of her life, maybe it’s time. 

You look outside and see Nora on Mat’s shoulders with Liana chasing them, before looking back at the woman in front of you and smiling softly.

“I think Nora would love that.”

tag list: @dasiysthings

[dabuggh3]

ugh i need an imagine of you n hamzah at a house party and yall meet for the first time, n he's trying to spit game🫣🫣 and maybeee he takes u homeeeee 🙏🏽😫

PLEASE AND THANK YOU😖

HIIII I LOVED THIS IDEA SO MUCHH. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!😫🫶

It’s Halloween and you get invited to a party of a close friend. You spent the whole day before trying to chose a costume and end up going with Betty boop. Not your first choice but it’s was simple so oh well.

You arrive you with a friend, then meet up with your other friends. It was a house party so things weren’t too crazy. You sit down on the couch with your friends as you catch up with what’s been going on with your lives recently. You slowly see more and more people coming in, some you recognized and some you didn’t. You decided to get yourself some food, you excuse yourself.

You’re getting yourself some food as you reach for the spoon and someone next to you bumps into you reaching for the bowl too. “ Oh shit my bad, sorry” says a tall Frankenstein with curly hair. “ Dudeeee, I’m so sorry about my friend” says a tall vampire. “ It’s okay, did you want to get some?” you say with a smile. Frankenstein stares at you, “ Oh no no it’s okay you can go first, all you” he says with a smile gesturing to the bowl. “Thank you uhhh??” “ Hamzah” “ Thanks Hamzah, here you go” you hand him the spoon. He smiles and you walk away.

You head back to your friends and finish your food. “ Do you guys want to go play beer pong” “ Yesssss” you say. You guys all walk into the next room and set up to play. You and your friends are playing, as you go to pick up your ping pong ball, someone picks it up for you. You look up and it’s Hamzah, you smile kinda blushing.

You walk back to your friends, “ who was thattttt” “ask him if he wants to play” “ he’s cutee ” they all say giggling and teasing. “ NO STOP”, you knew what was coming,“ HEYYY FRANKENSTEIN DO YOU WANNA PLAY?” Hamzah looks over at them then you, “ Yea”. “ Great you can play with y/n”, you stare at them in disbelief.

You and Hamzah set up the game refilling the cups. “How many rounds?” he asks ending the silence. “Huh!?, oh as many as you want” you say. “ How many can you handle?”, he says looking up at you, you stare at him, “ Didn’t mean for it to sound like that sorry, y/n was it?” he says chuckling. “ You’re good and yea y/n” you says laughing nervously.

You guys begin the game, and later on you win. “ AHHHHHHH” you scream in excitement with your friends. Hamzah leans on the table, head down, as Martin pats him on the back, “ bro it’s okay”. You laugh staring at him defeated, “it’s okay Frankenstein, here “ you walk over to him with open arms. He accepts the hug and you pat his back.

You and Hamzah end up talking more and sit on the couch together. You sit down and Hamzah hands you a pillow, “ for your lap, I saw you fixing your dress”. You smile ,“ so observant, thank you”. “I like your costume by the way” “Thanks me too, you don’t see too many Frankensteins” “ Yea huh, sooo do you live by here”. “Yea not too far like 15 mins, I’m close friends with the host, how about you?” “ I’m about the same, like 18 mins away from here, I was invited so I don’t really know many people but I’m glad I came” he says staring at you.

You giggle, “Is this you trying to flirt with me?” He smiles tilting his head, “If its working, yea”. “ Never thought I’d have Frankenstein flirting with me but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide” “ Yea?!” “ Yea” you smile making eye contact with him. You and Hamzah keep talking about different things, your interest, what you do as a job, your dreams, just getting to know each other.

It’s getting late now and you’re ready to go home. You call your friend that you carpooled with and she doesn’t answer and appears to have left. “ Fuck” you say as the phone call goes to voicemail. “ What’s wrong” Hamzah says. “ My friend that gave me a ride here isn’t answering her phone and I don’t see her anywhere” “ I could give you a ride if you want” “ Really!?” “ Yea, I don’t mind”

You say goodbye to your close friend and thank her for inviting you. You and Hamzah walk outside to his car and get in. As your driving Hamzah gives you the aux and you blast your music. You guys arrive to your apartment. “Thank you Hamzah” you smile at him. “ No problem” You exit his car and start walking toward your apartment but then you walk back ,” Wait I just realized we didn’t exchange contacts” “ I was just about to tell you that too” you both laugh and exchange phone numbers. “ Well thank you again,I hope we can hang out soon” “ Me too, I’ll see you soon” You walk back to your apartment and look back seeing he’s waiting for you to walk in. You wave goodbye and walk inside.

Hope this lived up to your expectations 😭🙏

[hungermakesmonsters]

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions of child abuse. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

Master List

Chapter Ten

You knew from the moment Billy left that there was nothing stopping you from going into the bathroom and removing your cum-stained panties. But you didn’t. In fact it only crossed your mind as a fleeting thought, not because you were scared Billy might find out and certainly not because you felt like you had to obey him, but for some other third, more nebulous reason.

As uncomfortable as you were, as much as you hated it, some part of you... enjoyed it.

It was that same strange and conflicting mix of emotions that you’d felt the morning after sleeping with him; that feeling that you weren’t supposed to enjoy rough sex as much as you had. Shame. That was it. You felt ashamed, but every time you thought about your panties, you remembered the way you’d felt, bent over the table and at his mercy. You remembered how good it had felt.

So, you didn’t remove your panties and you didn’t think twice about slipping into the bathroom after closing while Jenna emptied the cash register. 

It took you a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to stand in front of the mirror and pull up your skirt to snap a picture, though it took you a lot less time to grip your phone in such a way that you could flip him off in the process. When it was done and sent, you deleted the photo from your phone and, once again, found yourself glad that you still had Billy’s number blocked.

That feeling of conflict, of knowing how you should feel versus how you did feel, followed you home and had your stomach tying itself in knots when you thought about his other demand.

At first you told yourself that you wouldn’t call him, slipping out of your clothes and straight under a hot shower, but the longer you were left to think about, the more your stomach seemed to coil itself in knots. 

Did you want him to show up? Did you want to finish what you’d started with him earlier? 

No.

Yes.

Fuck.

Finally, you settled on calling him - but you were only going to allow it to ring three times before you hung up. If Billy missed the call, that was his own fault.

Unfortunately, he answered on the second ring, as if he’d been sat there all night, just waiting for your call.

“Hey,” he said, and you could almost hear his smile in his voice, “you get home safe?”

“Yeah,” you answered, wanting to keep things short and sweet.

“You’re late.”

There wasn’t any accusation of malice to it, it was just a statement of fact; the bar had closed almost an hour ago and you only lived a few blocks away.

“I needed to take a shower.”

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Billy said.

You were grateful that he held back his laughter, but you didn’t know what to do with the silence that followed.

“How was your night?” He asked.

“Really? That’s really the game you want to play?” You said, unable to stop the irritation from filing your tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This - getting me to phone you, feeding your ego, thinking you can make me do whatever you want. I -”

“That’s not why I asked you to call.” He interrupted.

“You didn’t ask, Billy. You told me to. You threatened me.”

There was another few seconds of silence and then you heard a sigh from him.

“Fine, whatever, but that’s not why I wanted you to call me.”

“Then why?” You asked, barely biting back a sigh of your own.

“I wanted to know that you got home safe.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that strange feeling of butterflies taking flight in your stomach again, but you did your best to tamp it down. You were confused. More than that, you were still angry with him, even if you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reasons anymore. 

Because he kept pushing, kept taking you by surprise.

Because one minute he was sweet and gentle, and the next minute he left you wanting to strangle him.

“Why?”

“I told you. Because I care about you.”

The comment caused the feeling in your stomach to get worse.

“How can you care about me? You hardly know me...”

In the moment of silence that followed, you steeled yourself for whatever argument he’d try to make, hoping that you could finally take some control of the situation. 

“I’m trying to get to know you, kitten, but you’re not exactly making it easy,” he said. You remained silent, so Billy decided to push the matter. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

You let out a forced and particularly loud sigh, sinking back on your bed and staring up at the ceiling, not sure what you could tell him or if you even wanted to tell him anything at all. He’d been right earlier when he’d said you didn’t like honesty - you didn’t like anything that let people get too close.

The longer the silence dragged on, you knew you had to say something.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you felt the need to talk just to fill the silence and placate Billy, or if it was because you felt shitty for refusing to answer when he was making such an effort to get to know a little more about you.

You took a breath, not sure what you wanted to say until words started to pour from your mouth. And, by the time you realised what you were doing, it was too late to stop yourself.

“When I was twelve, my dad died. My mom had no money and there were debt collectors just waiting to take everything away, so she took my and my siblings back to her family home in Virginia.” You took a breath, stomach churning. “Her family was loaded but my mom had been cut off and taken out of the will for marrying my dad.”

Billy remained silent, as if he was hanging on your every word, so you continued.

“Our grandfather was a cruel old bastard - or so our mom told us. Her plan was to win him round, but she couldn’t do that with kids in tow. So, her and our grandmother hid us in the attic. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days while she fixed things with her father, but... we ended up stuck up there for three years, never allowed to leave the attic until we eventually managed to run away.”

You hated yourself as you finished speaking and, this time, allowed the silence to hang in the air. Billy let it linger for almost a minute before speaking again.

“Nice try, kitten, but that’s the plot to Flowers in the Attic.”

The worst part was that he didn’t even sound angry about catching you in another obvious lie. He just sounded resigned, almost hurt.

“You’ve read Flowers in the Attic?” You weren’t sure why that was the question you chose to ask. 

The feeling in your stomach continued to get worse, as if some part of you felt bad about lying to him and pushing him away. The worst part was you weren’t even sure why you did it, why you couldn’t just offer him some watered down version of your past, something that was true but only to a comfortable extent.

“What can I say? I’m a man of hidden depths.”

“Yeah?” You asked, doubling down on your course of action. “They have a lot of VC Andrews in the prison library.

“No, I came across a copy on base in Afghanistan,” he answered, pausing for a beat before; “... have you just been assuming I was an ex-con all this time?”

“Wouldn’t exactly be the only one to drink at Sam’s,” you offered, feeling a little silly at your assumptions. Military made more sense, though you supposed you’d only given fleeting consideration to him being an ex-con as yet another reason not to get close to him.

Again there was a silence and, then, another soft sigh.

“Why do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Lie like that?” When you didn’t answer he continued. “What is it about your past that has you so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you said automatically, like a reflex kicking in. You weren’t weak. You weren’t going to let him think you were weak.

“Then why have the go-bag?”

You felt a chill run through your body when you thought about the backpack nestled in your wardrobe. You still hated that he’d seen it, that he understood what it was.

“It’s in case I need to get away from my stalker who spent weeks breaking into my apartment without my knowledge,” you answered coldly. 

“Cute, but I know it’s been there longer than that.”

He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask him to explain, already knowing you wouldn’t like any answer that he had to give you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” he said softly after a few moments of quiet.

“I don’t need protecting, Billy. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He asked and you were sure his lips were pulling into a smirk on the other end of the call.

“I could kill someone if I had to.”

“Really?” His tone shifted and that hint of playfulness that you were used to started to creep back in.

“I’ve killed before,” you said casually, leaving him to guess if it was just another one of your lies.

“Did he deserve it?” Billy asked, not seeming at all bothered that you might potentially be a murderer.

“Who said it was a he?” 

“Educated guess. So, did he deserve it?”

“Yes.” 

“Did he hurt you?” 

You heard the sharpness slipping back into his voice as he asked the question.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to do it.”

Your mouth felt dry and you could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, practically knocking against your ribs. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a response like that.

Again, there was a pregnant pause while you tried to think of what to say.

“Is it really that black and white for you?” You asked.

“No one who hurts you should ever get away with it,” he said, quickly adding; “but you don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve got me for that.

“Right...” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. Honestly, you should have expected that answer from him.

“You never asked how I hurt my hand,” Billy said, seemingly changing the subject.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, taking the time to wonder if he was trying to set you up and walk you into a trap.

“How did you hurt your hand?” You finally, reluctantly, asked.

“I paid a visit to the guy that spiked your drink.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room, and a part of you worried that Billy could hear the way your heart was racing through the phone. Even though it had only been two days since it had happened, you didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about what had almost happened.

And, now, you didn’t want to think about what Billy might have done to protect you.

“Is he -” you started to ask, words coming out as little more than a whisper.

You weren’t even entirely sure what you were asking and, worryingly, you weren’t sure what you wanted his answer to be. It was hard to care too much about the fate of someone who’d spiked your drink, someone who might have done it to other women before you and planned to do it to other women after you. He didn’t deserve any sympathy. 

But that didn’t mean you wanted Billy to be hurting people in your name.

“He’s still alive,” Billy answered. “He might be eating through a tube for a while and, if he’s lucky, he might walk again, but I don’t think he’s ever going to think about messing with someone’s drink again.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice that sent a shiver down his spine and, when you didn’t respond immediately, Billy asked; “you okay, kitten?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he answered. “Besides, I couldn’t let him keep doing that to people. He needed to be stopped.”

There was that edge in his voice again, a pain that you were certain he didn’t realise gave so much away. Maybe it didn’t around other people, but to you it was a punch to your gut, a feeling of like recognising like.

“Someone hurt you,” you said softly. Again. 

All Billy offered was a grunt.

Another lull in the conversation had you rolling onto your side and letting out a sigh, the phone still clutched tightly to your ear - though when you’d started holding the phone like that, you honestly couldn’t say. Despite how you’d felt when you’d dialled his number, there was no part of you that wanted to hang up now.

Later you might blame it on exhaustion or loneliness, but right then, all you wanted to do was keep talking.

But Billy wasn’t saying anything and that left it to you to fill the void.

“When I was nine my mom started dating her dealer,” you offered quietly. “She moved us into his place. He used almost as much as my mom did, and when he was wasted...”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat, forcing you to stop.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Billy finally said.

“You said you wanted to know me.”

“I do, but not if it hurts you.”

Again, the butterflies took flight in your stomach, and the feeling was enough to prompt you to continue, to finally share a piece of you that was real.

“He was violent. With my mom and with me,” you continued, hearing the way Billy’s breath caught through the phone. “Then, one day, my mom went out and didn’t come back. She just upped and left me with him. About a week later, he got wasted and I... I hid from him in the basement.”

Billy didn’t say a word, you couldn’t even hear him breathing, but you could picture the look on his face; that expression of barely contained rage.

“When I refused to come out, he locked the door from the outside, and left me down there.” At some point your voice had turned quiet, almost like you were whispering a secret to Billy, something that you needed him to guard with his life. And, somehow, you knew that he would. “I was trapped down there in the dark and cold... with the spiders...”

You heard a sharp inhale.

“There was this sweet old lady across the street... if she hadn’t called social services, they never would have found me...”

“How long?” Billy dared to ask, though you knew that wasn’t really the question that he wanted to ask you.

“Four days,” you answered. “Felt like longer.”

You expected more questions, pity - or one of those perfunctory I’m sorry’s that those kinds of events tended to garner. Instead you were met with nothing but another gentle sigh.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for telling me. It means a lot to me.”

Despite being on the phone, your response was to nod, pressing your head further against your pillow.

“I should let you sleep,” Billy continued. “It’s getting late.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep soon.” He said and you were almost disappointed that he didn’t offer to come see you (though that thought was definitely one you’d chalk up exhaustion). “Goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

And, like that, the line went dead.

For the longest time after the end of the call you stared at your phone, some part of you expecting it to light up with a message or for him to call back, even though you knew you still had him blocked.

It was strange, you felt somehow lighter for having been honest with him, even if what you had told him had only been scratching the surface.

Falling asleep, you felt like things had finally reached a turning point.

But you had no idea just how right you’d turn out to be.

The next evening you arrived at the bar to find it mostly empty, save for a well dressed woman sitting at the bar, talking to Jenna. The suit she wore screamed law enforcement and the subtle look that Jenna flashed you confirmed it.

It wasn’t often that cops dared set foot in Sam’s, and it definitely explained why the place was so empty. But you and Jenna had dealt with this sort of situation before, and you knew exactly what to say. Or what no to say, as the case may be.

You took your time ditching your coat in the back before stepping out to start your shift and getting a proper look at her.

The moment her eyes lifted to meet yours and she cast you something of a forced smile, you changed your mind. Definitely not a cop. Her clothes alone looked like they were worth more than you made in a year. And she was - well, stunning was the first word to come to mind. 

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she said, flashing you her ID before placing it in her pocket again.

You offered your name. Just your first name.

“What can we help you with?” You dared to ask, ignoring the roiling sensation in your stomach.

“Yeah, no offence, but having a cop sat at the bar isn’t exactly good for business,” Jenna added.

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, lifting her phone from the bar and bringing up a photograph. “Have you seen this man? His name is Billy Russo. There have been reports placing him in the area.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked at the photo; it was him, but it wasn’t. Those dark eyes were unmistakable but his hair... his face. The man in the photo was every bit as beautiful as you’d assumed Billy used to be when you’d first gotten a good look at him.

Without the scars he had been perfect but, somehow, you found you preferred your Billy more. There was something about the eyes; the man in the picture looked soulless, but your Billy... his eyes gave away so much.

Despite your shock, your face remained neutral.

You spared Jenna a glance and then shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in here, but we get a lot of people passing through.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agreed, taking a closer look at the phone. “Though I’d remember serving someone that hot. What did he do? Looks like one of those Wall Street guys...”

“He’s wanted in relation to several murders,” Madani stated,  and you damn near threw up in your mouth.

“Several murders? Is he a serial killer or something?” Jenna asked, keeping Madani’s attention away from you while you regained your poker face.

“No, not as such...” she shook her head, dropping her phone back into her pocket and placing a business card on the bar. “But if he comes in -”

“Is he dangerous?” You asked before she could finish.

“Extremely.”

“If we see him, we’ll be sure to call,” Jenna was quick to answer.

There were more words exchanged and you simply nodded along, feeling like you were spiralling into some dark abyss that you might never escape from. The Homeland agent kept glancing between you and Jenna but, if she noticed you were freaking out, she didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, neither you nor Jenna spoke for at least a minute.

“Fuck,” Jenna said, “you don’t think -”

“No,” the word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about it. “No, it - I mean... she must be wrong. He couldn’t...”

“Wow, not like you to jump to his defence.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on her lips, instead focusing on the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

It felt wrong, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. You’d always assumed that Billy was dangerous, that he could hurt people if he wanted to - hell, he’d put someone in the hospital for spiking your drink - but murder? Murders, plural?

“It’s just... you don’t think he’s -”

“A serial killer? I doubt it... unless he’s really good at hiding how much of a psycho he is,” Jenna answered.

Ah. That was it. Billy was good at hiding it, at pretending to be some sweet and charming guy to everyone while simultaneously stalking you.

“But, look... maybe you should stay away from him until we know for sure?” She carried on, and you nodded.

Jenna was talking, saying something, and you barely even realised you were stepping back.

“I... I need to -”

You didn’t even finish the thought before heading into the back and pulling out your phone, calling Billy. As it rang, you steeled yourself for him to answer and for all the questions to start pouring out. Part of you felt betrayed, lied to, while another part just couldn’t accept anything that Madani had tried to tell you.

It felt like you were falling, like you’d been hanging off the side of a cliff for so long, looking for something stable to cling to. The last few days had made you dare to think that maybe Billy could be that for you. But, now, the rockface was crumbling beneath your hands and you were falling.

“Kitten?” 

His voice was a dry rasp, like he’d just woken up, and just hearing him again had your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“You - you can’t come to the bar anymore, Billy. It’s not safe for anyone and I just think -”

“What? Kitten, slow -”

“There was a Homeland Agent at the bar. She was looking for you,” you tried to explain, word fast and frantic, almost running into one another. “She said you killed people, Billy. She’s looking for you, and we can’t -”

“Hey-hey, take a breath.”

You did as you were told but it didn’t help. Your heart continued to pound wildly in your chest while you struggled between what you thought you knew about Billy and what the Homeland Agent had told you.

Was he capable of murder?

Yes.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that Billy could and would kill someone if he had reason to. That alone should have been enough to make you end the call, enough to go home, grab your bag and leave the city. But, really, were you in any position to judge him?

“Tell me what happened,” Billy said, breaking through your racing thoughts.

There wasn’t much to tell really, just that the Homeland Agent had been there and she’d told you and Jenna that Billy was a killer, that he was dangerous. But you also made sure to tell him that you and Jenna hadn’t said a word - though you had no idea why that piece of information felt so important to share.

Then came the pregnant pause, the silence that you couldn’t stand.

“Did you do it? Was she telling the truth?” You asked in little more than a whisper, not sure you even wanted an answer.

“I...” he trailed off into an uncomfortable sigh, “I don’t know. I still don’t remember.”

You nodded, at a loss for what to say.

“I wish I could tell you that it wasn’t me or that I had a good reason but I don’t remember,” he continued. “Fuck. I wish I remembered, just so I knew, just so...”

“I... I think you should stay away from me, Billy.”

“Kitten...”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to stay away, how many times you’d told him to leave you alone but this was the only time you’d heard him sound so broken about it, like your words had finally hit home. Just hearing the pain in your voice had you wanting to take it all back, but you knew that you couldn’t.

“Even if you didn’t do it, I... I can’t have cops - or Homeland Agents - sniffing around,” you said, and there was no hiding the way your own voice seemed to want to break and betray you.

Billy paused and you dared to hope that he was actually thinking about what you’d just said, thinking about how he could ruin your life if he persisted. 

“I can’t,” he said softly, “please... don’t ask me to give you up.”

“You said you wanted to keep me safe. You being around me, bringing law enforcement to the bar - that puts me in danger.”

Silence fell again and you heard Billy take a ragged inhale and it reminded you of the panic attack that you’d witnessed him having, and it made your heart ache all the more.

“I can’t,” he said again. “I won’t. I’m sorry, kitten. I won’t let any of it come back on you, but I can’t let you go.”

“Billy -”

The line went dead.

He’d hung up on you.

You felt sick and you spent the rest of the night feeling like your stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots. Of course, Jenna noticed and tried to talk to you about it, tried to help convince you that it was probably for the best if you didn’t see him again until everything blew over. If it ever blew over. But all you could think about was Billy and how he’d sounded on the phone.

Jenna tried to convince you not to worry and that, one way or another, the truth was bound to come out.

There were so many questions and thoughts, but no answers to be found. If he didn’t remember, was he even the same person who’d done it? Was it fair to blame him for things he couldn’t remember? Were you in any position to judge him? Is that why he’d been hurt so badly by a man who’d been his best friend?

Each question only brought with it more uncertainty, and you had no way of knowing what was true and what wasn’t. All you knew was Billy, the person he was when he was with you.

Jenna offered to let you stay with her that night but you turned her down, not wanting to spend the night being scrutinised every time you mind wandered to Billy and the chaos you’d invited into your life.

No, you just wanted to go home and crawl into bed, hoping that in the morning everything would be back to normal.

Some time around four a knock at the door startled you awake.

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, staring at the door, your heart beating a mile a minute. For a second you expected the door to be knocked off its hinges and for armed cops to swarm your apartment.

The second knock had you tensing, ready to grab your go-bag and make a break for it down the fire escape.

But then you heard him.

“Kitten, it’s me.”

It didn’t exactly make you feel any better that Billy was at your door at four in the morning, but you still let out a sigh of relief. You kept the chain on the door as you opened it and heard him sigh.

“Let me in, kitten.” It wasn’t quite a demand but you already knew that saying no wouldn’t end well.

“It’s four in the morning,” you said, not moving. “What do you want, Billy?”

“I want to see you.”

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” you answered back.

“Just let me in before I kick the door down and disturb all your neighbours,” he said. As firm as his demand was, he sounded tired but, given the time of night, you didn’t think much of it.

It wasn’t just an idle threat, you knew him better than that now, and you couldn’t risk your neighbours calling the cops. So, with a frustrated huff, you took the chain off the door and took a few steps back, making sure there was plenty of space between you and him.  

His movements were slow, closing the door and locking it behind him. He looked tired, exhausted, and it was almost enough to spark a hint of sympathy inside you. 

Billy immediately took a step towards you, unhappy with the space you’d created, his eyes taking in the sight of you and the light blue satin slip you were wearing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “you’re gonna drive me crazy, kitten.”

“What do you want, Billy?” You asked again, folding your arms in an attempt to cover the way your nipples were poking through the silken fabric. “I told you... you need to stay away from me.”

“I can’t. I needed to see you.”

“It’s four in the morning. What could you possibly want to see me for?”

“I -” there was a noticeable hesitation, something you’d never really seen from him before, “- I want to stay the night. With you.”

“No,” you answered flatly. “No, I’ve told you, I don’t want -”

“Just to sleep,” he interrupted before you could complete your rejection of him. “I just want to sleep next to you.”

“Billy, they think you’re a murderer,” you said, hugging yourself all the tighter. 

“I don’t remember,” he told you, equal parts frustration and pain. “I don’t know what I did or why I might’ve done it. All I know is that I’d never hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing you could say. There was no figuring out the truth of the matter and, if there was one thing you did believe, it was that Billy wouldn’t lie to you and he’d never hurt you.

“Please,” he tried again, “I’m... I’m so tired, kitten. If I knew about any of it, I’d tell you. But it’s all still jumbled up. And I - I don’t even know if I’m that person anymore. This - me, now - I’ve never been like this before. That Agent, Madani, I think we used to sleep together... she used to visit me in the hospital, used to taunt me every single day... I don’t know why.”

The more he spoke, the more confused things became, but Billy made no attempt to move any closer to you.

“I just want to sleep,” he said again.

Common sense told you to say no, to stick to your guns and tell him to leave but, seeing the state of him, the thought of turning him away made your chest ache regardless of all the uncertainty surrounding him. Without a word, you sighed and turned back towards your bedroom, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up over your face.

You heard him slowly follow after, heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor before you felt the mattress dip behind you. Billy waited a moment before shifting closer, pressing himself against your back and draping his arm over you. He let out a soft sigh as he buried his face against the back of your neck.

He felt warm against you, cosy - though you tried to ignore it as best you could.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked quietly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“No, I mean why are you doing any of this?” The million dollar question. “Why me? Why are you dragging me into this shit, Billy?”

“Because you’ve been stuck in my head since the first time I saw you,” he told you, his fingers softly tracing patterns on your stomach through your slip. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about that night in this bed with you. You’re under my skin, you haunt me.”

“It wasn’t that mind blowing,” you muttered.

“Right,” Billy grumbled, sounding half-asleep already “‘cause you still want to pretend that I’m the only one that enjoyed it...”

“Why would I lie?” You answered back, not willing to give him the last word.

“‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you like the way I touch you,” he answered. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause you’re scared of admitting that you might actually like me.”

“I don’t like you. All you’re doing is making my life more difficult,” you huffed. “I must be fucking crazy to have you in my bed like this, not knowing if you’re some psychotic killer...”

You didn’t expect him to pull away, to roll on to his back behind you and let out a sigh. More than that, you didn’t expect to feel the loss of his embrace so acutely.

Had you managed to hurt your stalker’s feelings?

And why did it bother you if you had?

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you tried to ignore the feeling of awkwardness that was starting to gnaw at you, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew he was right there, not when you didn’t know what was running through his mind.

You weren’t even sure what was running through your own head anymore. It was almost enough to make you laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was; you had a man who was wanted for murder in your bed but, still, you felt safe with him, comfortable in a way you hadn’t for a long time, despite what your protests might have suggested.

And he was right. You were scared that some part of you liked him - that some part of you still liked him, even after everything you’d learned.

It was all such a fucking mess and you had no idea how to deal with any of it.

But, now there was something, some feeling in the pit of your stomach that felt so wrong but, at the same time, it felt like it was the only thing in your life that made any sense. 

Cautiously, you rolled over, your heart skipping a beat at the way the heel of his palm was pressed against his eye. It was another headache. He’d come to be with you because he was in pain, because he’d needed comfort and, for whatever reason, you were the only person he thought he could find it with.

Everything you knew about him seemed to twist and alter, leaving you more confused than ever. 

Without a word, you got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, running a washcloth under the cold water before returning to him.

Billy hadn’t moved, he didn’t even look at you as you climbed back into bed beside him. His eyes didn’t open again until he felt you press the cold cloth to his brow. A relieved breath slipped from his lips but, the moment he looked like he was going to say something, you silenced him.

“Don’t say a word.”

Defiance flashed across his face, but exhaustion quickly overtook it. His eyes shut and you continued to gently press the cloth against his forehead, trying to soothe him, watching as the tension slowly seemed to leave him and he fell asleep. 

Once you were certain he was asleep, you laid back down beside him, curling into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, not sure what the morning would bring.

End Note : 😅 this is slowly starting to move towards the endgame now, I think there's about four chapters left? Maybe five depending on how I decide to do the ending.

As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always cherished and appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

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[missfrieden]

I got bored on my way to work and then on the way home. So here I force a random drabble on you all.

Summary: Let's set the scene shall we? You jabe a random question for Tech, that catches him a bit off guard.

Rating: Mention of sex

Pairing: Techxreader (think I managed gender neutral)

Note: Hope all of you know what dyscalculia is. Because Tech having a partner which is useless with numbers, is endaring to me.

Word count: Listen drabbles are often from my phone notes, so yeah I ain't counting them.

Rabbits

That night, as Tech shook out your blanket, preparing the bunk for the both of you to settle in, you are lost in thought, a playful question forming in your mind. As you climbed into the bunk and snuggled down into the soft covers, you looked up at the man who had become the center of your galaxy. There was a hint of curiosity in your eyes as you turned to him.

“Tech?” you began, your tone light and inquisitive. Tech, always attuned to you, looked over with that familiar, attentive expression. “Yes, Y/N?” You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, a nervous habit, as you considered how to phrase the question. But then, with a smile, you decided to just go for it. “Have you ever… I mean, have you ever counted how many times we’ve had sex? We’ve been together for about a year and a half now, so I was just wondering.”

Tech blinked, the question clearly catching him off guard. But true to form, he didn’t miss a beat. His mind quickly scanned through the mental data he always kept so meticulously organized, and within a moment, he delivered the answer with his characteristic precision. “Yes, I have,” he replied, almost too matter-of-factly. “We’ve had sex approximately 214 times, and that’s not including the individual rounds within each session, which total to 367.”

Your eyes widened in shock and surprise, mouth falling open slightly as you processed what he had just said. “Wait… what?” you laughed, clearly amazed. “Tech, that’s… we’re like rabbits!” Tech frowned slightly, confused by the comparison for just a moment before realization dawned on him. “Oh, you mean in terms of frequency,” he said, his expression clearing. “I didn’t intend to imply anything, I just… well, I tend to keep track of details like that. It’s a habit of mine.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his earnestness, your heart swelling with affection. The idea that Tech had been keeping such precise count was both endearing and a little surprising, but it was also so perfectly in line with who he was. “Tech, you’re amazing,” you said, still chuckling. “But seriously, why do you keep track of it?”

Tech hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Well,” he began, somewhat awkwardly, “I suppose it’s because I’m a person who finds comfort in data and patterns. Tracking these moments allows me to… analyze and understand our relationship in a more tangible way. It’s not just about the numbers, it’s about ensuring that our connection remains strong, that I’m meeting your needs… and, well, it’s just part of who I am.”

As he spoke, he began to stammer slightly, his usual composure wavering as he tried to articulate something that, for him, was both deeply personal and difficult to put into words. But before he could finish, ypu leaned in, placing a gentle finger over his lips to stop him. “Tech,” you start softly, your voice filled with warmth, “you don’t need to explain. I love that you’re so precise, that you care enough to keep track of things like this. Someone in this relationship has to be good with numbers, and if it isn’t me, then I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled at him, eyes shining with affection. You had always admired Tech’s incredible mind, the way he could handle complex calculations with ease, while you struggle with even basic math because of that stupid dyscalculia of yours. But you had never felt inferior because of it, Tech had a way of making you feel valued and appreciated for who you are, no matter what. Tech’s tension melted away as your words sank in, and he relaxed, returning your smile. “I just… want to make sure you’re happy,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “That’s the most important thing to me.”

Your heart swelled with love as you leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “And you do,” you murmured against his mouth. “Every single day. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Tech. Not one thing.” You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the warmth of your connection surrounding you like a comforting blanket. When you two finally pull back, you settled against him, resting your head on his chest, closing your eyes, a contented smile on your lips.

“I’m really glad you’re the one who’s good with numbers,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a hint of playful teasing. “Because I know I can always count on you.” Tech chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around you and holding you close. “And I’ll always be here to count on,” he replied, his tone filled with warmth.

As you lay there, the quiet of the night settling around you, Tech couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the incredible person in his arms. You understood him in a way that no one else ever had, and you loved him for exactly who he was, numbers and all.

Main Masterlist

And as you two drifted off to sleep, Tech made a silent promise to himself that he would continue to cherish and protect this incredible bond you shared, ensuring that your relationship remained as strong and full of love as it had been since the very beginning.

Tag: @spectacular-skywalker @neyswxrld @clonethirstingisreal @sleepycreativewriter @moonwreckd @sskim-milkk @heidnspeak

[just-an-elf-with-the-socks]

Part of the “We’ve Sold Our Hearts (To Each Other)” universe. Takes place directly after the last snippet. Probably not what Melkor was expecting.

xxxxxx

Melkor regretted answering the phone the minute he heard the voice on the other end. He had been sitting on the couch with a very sick Mairon stretched out across his lap, the Bachelorette on in the background, when his phone rang.

Thinking maybe it was the pharmacy or the doctors office, he answered right away. In despairing hindsight, he should have checked the caller ID.

“Melkor, hello.”

Melkor wanted to crawl into a hole at the sound of that stupid, pompous voice.

Manwë.

Melkor sighed, adjusting his position just enough so that Mairon wouldn’t wake up to him talking. “To what do I owe this pleasant surprise, little brother? I wasn’t expecting a call from my parole officer this afternoon.”

He could practically hear Manwe rolling his eyes and felt a small twinge of satisfaction at irritating his brother.

“Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m just calling to invite you home for Christmas. Varda and I would love to see you.”

Melkor stiffened, relaxing only when Mairon shifted on his lap. He had to gather control of his voice before speaking. “No.”

“Melkor—“

“As tempting as your offer is, I’m going to have to decline. Even if I wanted to be there, which I don’t, Mairon’s sick.”

Melkor was never glad when Mairon was sick. When it was mild, he was very overdramatic about the whole thing. When it was serious, like now, Melkor refused to leave Mairon’s side for fear he would deliriously walk off into the void.

However, it worked in his favor this time.

So he thought.

“Melkor, if you’re going to lie, at least make it a good one. You haven’t been with Mairon for months. You kept him around for a few weeks after that work event and then you ended it like the others. And I hate that I know that.”

Melkor winced. That was the one problem with not keeping contact with his family for long periods of time. Their information was always sorely outdated.

However, Manwe was right. That did happen. Of course, things were more complicated than that and the outcome was now very different from what Melkor’s brother was describing.

But that was a story for another time.

Before he could deliver a stinging retort, Mairon moved his head slightly and gave a pathetic sneeze. Melkor immediately put his phone down and stroked tangled red hair away from his partner’s face.

“How are you feeling, precious?”

Mairon sighed. “Like shit.”

Melkor nodded, squeezing him gently. “Better than yesterday?

Better than when I found you last night?

Mairon seemed to pick up on what he was implying. He gave Melkor a warm glance, full of reassurance. “Yes, love.” He sat up, steadying himself, before getting to his feet.

Melkor felt his heart lurch. “Where are you going?”

Mairon gave him a withering look. “The bathroom. Do you want to hold my hand while I’m in there?”

At least his snark is returning.

“No, you little shit. I want to make sure you can see. Take Minnie with you.”

Mairon rolled his eyes, though Melkor thought he saw some affection there. “I was planning on it.” He called Minnie to his side, the red huskie trotting loyally behind him with her tail wagging.

Only when Melkor was sure Mairon had made it down the hallway without any trouble did he remember he was still technically on the phone. He sighed, picking up his cellphone and hoping this conversation could be ended as quickly as it began.

“Look, I can’t come, I don’t want to, the end. I’m trying to save you time.”

“Who was that?”

Melkor rubbed his free hand over his face. “Who? You mean Mairon? Yeah, I told you, he’s sick and I’m not coming.”

An elongated moment of silence made Melkor think his brother had hung up. Unfortunately, he had no such luck.

“I can’t believe you were serious…Anyway, I didn’t call you to play word games or judge you for your life choices. Dad wants everyone to come home for Christmas this year. He says it’s important.”

Melkor snorted, reacting instinctively. “That makes this whole fucking song and dance even less appealing. If I could get a restraining—“

“Melkor, it could be important. Bring Mairon, since apparently he’s involved in your misery business, I don’t care what you do. But get your ass up here. You’re lucky dad still wants anything to do with you after—“

Melkor ended the call, hoping to regain his sense of control before Mairon came back. He sighed.

It looked like they were heading to Valinor for the holidays.

[lino-lov3]

far, yet together - hwang hyunjin

𖦹 genre : fluff + angst

𖦹 warnings : slight swearing

𖦹 a/n : repost of hyunjin's birthday fic from last year

𖦹 summary : you and hyunjin are apart yet again on his birthday. but he tries to make it up to you the best that he can, until he comes back

𖦹 word count : 1054

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leave a reblog if you enjoyed my work <3 please do not spam like, you will be blocked.

hyunjin was scheduled to resume tour today so you wouldn’t be able to see him in person for almost a week until he was able to come home. it pissed you off to say the least. why couldn’t they schedule the tour dates so they consider the members birthdays? the question the plagued your mind every time your boyfriend or his band mates had long schedules on their special days.

if it was aggravating to you, then you knew it had to be for them as well. they often have to plan things ahead or push plans back a few days or weeks.

when hyunjin sent you a voicemail the night he was leaving, reminding you how long he’d be away, you had already fallen asleep.

hyunniebun ❣️: hi, love. just want to say that i love you and hope you sleep well. my flight is in half an hour and i know you won’t see this until the morning since you’re already asleep. i’ll talk to you as soon as i can, ok?

as soon as you woke up the next morning, you grabbed your phone to check for any messages and found the voicemail hyunjin had left. hearing the sadness in his voice as he spoke made your heart hurt. knowing he’s just as pained being away from you. you wish the two of you could run away together. to get away from all the hurt. never have to be apart for more than a few hours at most. but what you didn’t know was, hyunjin felt that he’d never be enough for you never being enough because he’s not always there for you physically. it hurt him to even think about letting you go, but he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it seemed to quit his job, pack up and leave. he loved both of you and he didn’t know how to weigh in both at the same time. it was draining him mentally day by day.

he knew he had to talk to you about how he was feeling but he didn’t want to worry you. make you feel like he was leaving since that wasn’t what he truly wanted to do. he just needed to get the underlying feelings off of his chest because he felt like he would explode otherwise.

the sun had rose and fallen since you last spoke to him. and with not much to pass the day, you just sat at home after work awaiting his call. your cat, honey accompanying you as you tapped your fingers on the edge of your desk. you had your laptop opened to facetime so you’d be ready as soon as his contact popped up, with nothing else on your mind.

when your laptop flashed the call screen, you sat straight up in your chair and quickly clicked answer.

“hi, baby!,” hyunjin smiled as soon as he saw your face, “i miss you so much already, can’t wait to come home and give you so many hugs.” he frowned a little

“hyune, i miss you too. did you have fun at the first show?”

“mhm, stay had so much energy tonight. it gave me and the boys more energy as well.” he laughed

“that’s good. don’t want you boys falling asleep on stage. i know the jet lag must’ve been bad as soon as you landed, huh.”

“yeah, but we ended up taking naps, and soon after we got to explore the city a little.”

“ooh how fun, did you get to go to any gift shops and eat some good food?” you ask, curiously

“yeah! it was really fun, love. we even wet to an arcade and won some prizes. i’ll be collecting little trinkets and plushies to bring back to you.” his eyes turning to crescents as he smiled

“that’s great. i’m glad everyone is having fun and eating well. make sure to send me lots of pictures.”

“i will. i brought my digital camera and we also picked up some disposable ones. so there’ll be plenty to show you,” he trailed off a little, “besides all of that, how are you holding up?” he asked worridly

hyunjin could see the lack of sleep on your face. dark circles occupying your eyes. he knew it was hard for you to get good rest when he was away for so long.

“i’m doing okay, hyune. i’ll be fine, i promise.” you give him a tired smile

“alright, love. you know you can always talk to me if something is troubling you, right?”

“i know, babe. i promise i will.”

“okay. but there is something i’d like to talk to you about…” he trailed off again, but this time you noticed.

“what is it? did something happen?”

“no, no. nothing in particular happened, it’s just i hate being away from you. and I hate it, but i always feel like i don’t deserve to be with you. i-i’m not there with or for you enough of the time and i know it bothers you too. hell, you can’t even get proper rest when i’m not around and i hate making you feel like that. i’m so sorry i’m not there whe you need me. i wish-” he started to tear up. you could hear the shakiness in his voice.

“hyunjin. it’s okay.” you cut him off

“no it’s not. you know it’s not. i don’t deserve you. you don’t deserve to be treated this way.”

“hyune, baby. i love you despite all of that. don’t say you don’t deserve me, because you do. because i love you and only you and i don’t want to be with anyone else, okay?” your eyes now threatening tears to fall, but you pushed them back. wanting to stay strong for him.

he nods and sniffles before replying, “i know, i’m sorry. i just had a lot on my mind and needed to let it out. i don’t want us to break up either, i just hate having to be separated all of the time. it’s draining both of us so much. i love you too, always.”

“let’s figure this out then, yeah? we’ll get it sorted.”

“yeah. and i promise to plan a real date for us when i get home. something special, just the two of us.”

“it’s a deal.”

[agendabymooner]

it’s time to go ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“sometimes giving up is the strong thing.”

summary: sylvie edson ford hearth swore not to think about what had happened back in 2012, but max verstappen has a different plan with his absent childhood friend. OR lando norris has a bad habit of sharing things that he isn’t permitted to share— like her phone number.

content warning: written and text messages applied, frenemies to lovers (ish), hurt/comfort? or angst, use of explicit language, model!student!ofc (sylvie), mentions of anxiety, consciousness, childhood friendships

note: i had to listen to a lot of ts songs. thank you all for the 82 followers!!! i’m so glad you guys are enjoying the content i make. i honestly had been making them because i keep them in my notes but never wrote full narratives of them. if they are written down, they’re normally not published— aka they’re in my wattpad draft. so… i hope you guys enjoy this xx

masterlist

Everybody swore that the two would get together eventually. Too bad it didn’t work like that.

Christmas was what Sylvie considered the best time of the year. She loved the way Christmas lifted the spirits of everyone, no matter how difficult the year had been for them. She loved being one of the children who would chase each other down the halls while parents gathered around and talked about the last season. She loved being around people that knew her well.

The thing was, however, no one knew her anymore. Not as well as they used to.

For a supermodel-on-the-rise, she sure felt conscious about the amount of eyes that watched her as she stepped foot inside the ballroom of the estate. The tulles of her red skirt should have given her more space to breathe, but she felt her body hyperventilating as she nearly dove headfirst into the mini bar.

Looking down on her newly manicured nails had been a habit of hers that night. She pretended to admire the polished nails while she waited for the bartender to mix her strawberry daiquiri, not wanting to look up and meet anyone’s eyes.

The teenagers and the ones who recently left that phase wondered how… How did she change that much?

Her physique certainly matured more than anyone could expect. Her slightly rounded cheeks were replaced by the sharp jawline that could possibly kill. Her eyes that avoided any form of communication were foxy and just as sharp as her jaw. Her nose was just as sharp, as well. If you were to ask Lando, she didn’t have to wear heels to out-height him. Her body and face were no longer recognizable. She was ready to be a fan favourite and a well-paid supermodel.

Funnily enough, she prioritized racing first before she did her child modeling classes. How she managed to transition from one thing to another in the span of three years, nobody could answer. She was a jack of all trades, said by her mother, just like her siblings. She was one of the many sisters who had more options to pursue instead of just sticking to racing. So for her to continue with modeling and fashion… yeah, she already knew how to operate before she was even hired by an agency. At least now she didn’t have to struggle with finding work. She didn’t have to worry about getting hired by a team.

Her career now was clearly something that she couldn’t act on, though. She was always told to walk, don’t pay attention to what everyone’s talking about and get a move on.

But this party wasn’t a runway. The judging eyes didn’t want to pay attention to the details of the clothes, but rather, the figure who wore the dress herself.

“You’re a bit tense, lovie,” Tilly was a blessing in disguise, shaped in the form of a woman who carried a 20 weeks worth of a precious gift in her womb. She must’ve picked up on Sylvie’s discomfort that she decided to strut towards her sister’s direction as quickly as a pregnant woman could. “You could have stayed at home, as I said.”

“I’ve got to say hi to them at some point,” Sylvie murmured to her sister. “Especially Lando. That bloke wouldn’t let it go if I decided to avoid him, too.”

“Well, they should be around here,” Tilly quipped as she rubbed her stomach. Seeing the movement in her peripheral vision, Sylvie spontaneously reached out and got a feel of the bump. She tried to ease her mind by doing the most peaceful thing. “They’re not looking at you for the wrong reasons, Sylv. I promise.”

“If they are, then they’re going to have to face Maman and I’s wrath,” Tilly cheekily smiled. Tilly looked past Sylvie’s shoulder as she said, “Look. Here are the boys.”

Sylvie was glad that her glass was empty and already resting at the counter, otherwise she would have made a scene if she had dropped it after being attacked by a bear hug.

“Fucking Lando,” she swore beneath her breath, trying to pull him off as she turned feeling restrained. He wouldn’t let go. She would have sworn once more, preferably aloud this time, had it been for the other boys that stood excitedly with him. She couldn’t even look at them properly due to the hold that Lando had on her.

“I told you I was going to kidnap you,” Lando let out an evil laugh before waving enthusiastically at Tilly, “Thanks, Tils! I’ll return her to you later!”

“Good, you better,” Tilly called out.

Her poor feet would be dead by the end of the night and Sylvie knew that she was fucked if she didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like she could stop Lando from dragging her down to wherever he’s taking her to just so she could slip out of her Valentino. She couldn’t seem to stop him especially when they both passed by familiar faces. Especially one that she didn’t want to see.

Fucking Max Verstappen. She thought that God was laughing at her that night.

She couldn’t even look at him by the time that they formed some sort of circle around the lounge room.

The telly was on, but it had been playing nothing but the screen of the karaoke waiting to show its texts and tunes. None of them paid that much attention to it, especially her.

The boys seemed like they were craving for companionship of a woman as they surrounded her with curiosity and excitement. They tried to get her attention while she was still speaking to another person. She felt like she was what Fergie was talking about in Fergalicious.

She still couldn’t look him in the eyes, situating herself between Charles Leclerc— her favourite enemy in the track and George Russell— the boy that she once called “everyone’s crush”— to avoid sharing a conversation with Max. She made sure she sat next to the two, not looking at the Dutchman as she continued to catch up with Lando and the other people she was acquainted with.

Most of them knew who she was, of course. She had been friends with most of them for years, finding themselves in the same track as they trained. She competed with them, offering nothing to the boys but fun and friendly competition. She saw things differently from everyone else. No matter how much she wished to be an F1 driver, she didn’t push past her limits— not even when her father told her to.

She was dubbed “the Wild Mustang” at the age of 10 after she realized that she was able to reach the pedal and brake of her mother’s vehicle.

The boys had never seen someone do a donut in their own parking lot before. Let alone a 10-year-old girl—thank god for her Uncle Gilles for teaching her how to do that on TV. Despite their amazement and enthusiasm, Sylvie was no longer allowed to be in the vehicle on her own after she was caught doing another donut while the other kids watched and cheered. Sylvie clearly made everyone’s time because of her wildness and risky attitude. Oh, and her blunt mouth.

So for her to sit silently as she nodded to whatever it was that her acquaintances were talking about? It wasn’t her.

Ever since she left the academy, at the age of 14, she didn’t look back. She didn’t look back at her own friends, either. Lando was the only one persistent enough to barge inside her room only for him to find out that she was packing to go to university.

Extremely early advancement program, she said. She went to university and while she was there, Lando made sure that she’d call him at least once in a while. Otherwise the security would have a problem fighting with a 4 foot something boy who only wanted to see his friend.

Nobody truly saw her behaviour change besides from her family… and Lando. She seemed more reserved when she’s out and about, much to Lando’s dismay. He really hated it when he was the only one who would bring the energy into the room. As if she lacked the power. Lando was convinced that he annoyed her because of the lack of retorts she had passed to him.

He didn’t stop talking to her. He abruptly confronted her about her behaviour instead of trying to skirt his way around it. He was more than relieved that she wasn’t annoyed by his presence, yet he was curious to know what had her acting like this. She had been like that since she left the academy. Her silence could be interpreted as sourness and hatred.

Regardless, they saw each other every other six months whether it’s during the race weekend or an event hosted by a family. But she never went to any of his racing tournaments.

She had attended certain Formula One race weekends throughout the absence of her racing career. People only caught a glimpse of her whenever she went, wondering how fast she’d disappeared even when she visited each garage.

Her attitude remained the same to her family, though. That’s why Tilly and her sisters wondered how people could see Sylvie as an introvert or a bitch. She made fun of Tilly back when Toto was still a stranger to the family. She spoke to whichever Mercedes staff had brought her to the grandstand or hospitality. She was… still her.

She refused to speak to people her age— that weren’t her sisters, of course. Especially those who were familiar with the tracks and familiar with who she was. She never looked at them. She didn’t feel comfortable being in this room. Lando was just pushing her to speak as much as she could since his attention was everywhere. He was friends with everyone in the circle and that meant that she, too, had to speak.

Still, she couldn’t seem to reply to Max. She’d only have a passing comment if he asked something to her. He was clearly trying to get her attention, but her eyes were trained anywhere else but his own pair.

“I want some more Coke,” Lando complained, “you should have gotten more, Alex.”

“Eh? Why me? Why don’t you get up?” Alex Albon replied with a scoff, “You’re the one who’s drinking it.”

She took this as an opportunity to dip out for a moment as she said, “I’ll grab ‘em.”

“Thanks Mustang,” Lando’s boyish grin appeared on his face as she stood up from the carpet. Her skirt slightly wrinkled from sitting on the floor for too long, but her feet were thankful that the low heels that she wore were taken off. “You are the best.”

“Only when you need something, espèce de salaud paresseux.” you lazy bastard. Charles snorted, clearly understanding what she just called Lando as she walked down the hallway to find the little man cave that she once explored. The room was dark, the only thing that brightened was the mini fridge with cans of Coke in them.

She didn’t know why she tiptoed towards it, kneeling down to its level as her fingers touched the cold metal. She didn’t even realize she couldn’t carry that many cans. Lando, on a good day, would drink a dozen of the mini cans and Sylvie learned that you might as well get them all now before he bitches about running out of drink.

“D’you need help?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” She hit her head when she tried looking up to see who just spoke. But she didn’t need to look. She already knew who decided to corner her. In a dark room.

“Shit, shit, sorry schat,” Max swore as he reached out, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a hiss, “lost a fucking brain or two but I suppose I am.”

The last time that they spoke was at the paddock during the 2014 Silverstone race. That was when he shoulder checked her unintentionally, leaving her to bark at him in annoyance before stomping off. They didn’t even see each other’s faces.

“Here, do you need help?” He asked genuinely, gesturing with his empty hands as he offered some sort of support.

She didn’t bother hesitating, just shoving the cold cans of pop in his arms while she turned to grab more. She busied herself with the fridge before she groaned after hearing him clear his throat.

“So uh… How have you been, Sylvie?”

“Delightful,” she responded drily.

“How was your first and second term?”

“Busy.”

“How are you doing with the…modeling stuff then?” Oh he really wouldn’t leave without getting words out of her mouth.

“Great,” she muttered. He still wouldn’t catch onto the disinterest in her tone. Was he really this oblivious or did he lose a brain cell or two for the past few years?

“You look—“ he cleared his throat once more, feeling his face flush pink as he remembered the last picture that he saw of her. The holiday collection of Victoria’s Secret Pink. “You looked very beautiful at them.”

She paused, wondering what the fuck was he doing in the man cave with her. What was the reason for his intervention? Did he corner her just to compliment her latest project?

“Thank you,” she sighed before grabbing the last of the cans, kicking the fridge closed as she walked past him.

“I want to catch up with you,” he voiced out as they walked down the hallway. It remained empty, the ballroom was obviously occupied by loud music and loud guests and hosts. The lounge room, despite it being a few feet away, remained loud as well as the boys sung their hearts out. Poorly.

His voice echoed in the hallway, leaving her to pause and turn around. She remained standing there as he finally jogged towards her. They were both still cradling cans of pop as if those were their children.

“It’s just…” Max trailed off, wanting to scratch his head but couldn’t. “You stopped talking to all of us after you left. At least all of us but Lando.”

She wanted to scoff. She wanted to laugh at his face. There was no way he’d have this much audacity to assume that she’d even dare talk to him. Not after all of that fiasco.

“Some of us were wondering,” he rocked back and forth on his feet. “Especially with where you went after all of that. I was going to apologize to you.”

“Hm,” she hummed disinterestedly. She was itching to go back to the lounge room.

“For doing that,” Max spoke meekly.

She was infuriated for the first time in four years. She had never been angry about this. She downplayed her anger and acted as if she had only quit the academy when she was already on her way to become the first female F1 driver. She pretended that he didn’t exist, because God only knew what she could do at the thought of him.

Back in 2014, when she learned that he was a reserved driver, she begged her sister for something so silly. To fire Max. She didn’t really mean that. She only wanted to say his name with disdain to let it out of her system. But then she returned to her routine of being silent and keeping some shit to herself, not wanting to slag him off any further as an ounce of guilt filled her mind.

Then he said some shit like this. He wouldn’t even tell her what he did. She had never been so angry since now.

But she could only offer nothing but a cold tone. “For doing what?” She asked coolly, looking at him in the eyes as she challenged him.

Her coldness left him stammering, “F-for the uh…” then he was silent.

Watching his mouth clamp shut, she laughed humourlessly before shaking her head in disbelief. “If you’re going to apologize, you have to recognize what you’ve done first. Oh, Verstappen,” she tutted, “you are so silly.”

Walking back to the lounge room, she left him behind in the hallway. Maybe after today, she could cry herself to sleep this time. She hasn't been able to cry ever since she left. Maybe after letting that out, she’d be able to rest a little bit better.

Everyone thought that, after growing up with each other, they’d end up as something else that’ll last forever. But if anyone had seen this confrontation, they’d express how wrong they were. Because the first glimpse of her long lost lover turned into something like hate. It wasn’t the same as it was before 2012.

[fanficshiddles]

Eternally Mine, Chapter 46

‘Have you told Chris yet?’ Severus asked Toshi the following morning. He and Toshi were having a lazy morning together, cuddling on the sofa, reading.

‘Yeah, I messaged him… I told him that she survived and would be ok though.’

‘Really?’ Severus turned his head to look at her with an eyebrow up. ‘Why?’

‘I figured it wouldn’t do any good if I told him the truth, that she died before Lucius could even get her on the operating table. He agreed that it’s probably best he thinks she survived. He is trying, I could see how beat up he was about it. Even you said last night that you’d have struggled if you smelt fresh exposed blood and someone ran away from you like that. If he thinks that being able to stop himself before killing her outright worked, then he’s more likely to do it again… and hopefully stop sooner next time.’

Severus trailed his fingers around her shoulder. ‘I guess that makes sense. It does sound like that girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘Definitely. If she didn’t run, he might’ve been able to restrain himself. Or if she hadn’t been bleeding. I don’t know. I do know that he really tried though. Louise messaged me this morning too, saying he was a bit delicate this morning, still annoyed at himself and feeling like he doesn’t deserve her.’

‘I’m sure in a couple of days that will pass.’ Severus hummed.

‘Yeah, I think so. Hopefully thinking she’s alive will help with that, too.’ Toshi said.

Severus nodded.

‘Oh, by the way. We’re meeting with the others tomorrow for bowling and food.’ She slipped casually into the conversation as she then tried to hide behind her book.

Severus’ eyes widened. ‘We’re what?’

-

Chris was so relieved to hear that the girl survived. Louise noticed that his mood improved a lot too, he didn’t seem to be beating himself up quite so bad after hearing the news from Toshi. Which she was glad of.

They were both chilling around Chris’ house, waiting for his hair dresser to come along. She was doing a home visit for them, since she was cutting Chris’ hair, then Louise’s and dyeing her hair too.

While waiting, Louise was lying on his bed just scrolling through Instagram while he was in the bathroom.

Chris' phone was lying on the bedside table, it began to ring.

‘You’re phone’s ringing!’ She shouted through to him.

‘You can just answer it for me, please.’ He called back.

Louise’s eyes widened and she sort of froze. She glanced to the phone that was vibrating on the table, but couldn’t bring herself to get it. It stopped ringing, but then a text came through and Chris heard the text sound.

‘You can read it for me, pumpkin. It’s probably Loki confirming tomorrow’s time and stuff. The code is 49382.’ Chris called to her.

Yet Louise still didn’t move to get it. She felt her stomach swirling nervously. A few minutes later, Chris emerged from the bathroom with a quizzical look on his face. He could sense her nerves.

‘Are you ok, pumpkin?’ He asked in concern as he sat down on the bed beside her and rubbed her arm.

‘Uh… sorry… I uh… You really wouldn’t mind me looking at your phone or answering it?’ She asked quietly.

Chris frowned, but then had a pretty good idea what was going on. ‘Not at all. I have nothing to hide from you, love.’ He reached up to hold the side of her neck and face, brushing his thumb gently against her skin. ‘He wouldn’t let you look at his phone, would he?’ He asked softly.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘One time it rang, and I answered it as I thought it might have been important as it was his mum. He went… ape shit at me for doing that.’ She said quietly, glancing down.

‘You can look at my phone and use it whenever you want, for whatever you want. I have nothing to hide from you, and will never be angry at you for looking at it. You can even check out porn if you want, to save your own history from being tainted.’ He winked at her.

That got a laugh out of Louise.

‘Sorry… Sometimes things just remind me and make me worry a little. Though I know it’s stupid, because you are nothing like him. And I know that…’

‘You don’t need to explain to me. Come here.’ He pulled her onto his lap so he could hold her properly. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his neck.

They just hugged for a while, saying nothing. Then Louise broke the silence. ‘Can I really use your phone for porn?’ She giggled.

-

The following day, Claire and Loki met with Chris, Louise, Toshi, Severus, Jessica, Spencer, David and Matt for bowling and food afterwards.

‘Holy shit! You’ve cut your hair!’ Claire screeched at Chris.

His hair was shorter now. He laughed in response and nodded. ‘I change it up quite regularly, actually.’

‘I liked it when you had green hair, that was pretty cool.’ Jessica reminisced.

‘And you’ve gone blue!’ Claire squeaked at Louise in excitement.

‘I have!’ Louise smiled widely. ‘I’ve been wanting it for a long time. I’m booked in to get my nose pierced too next week.’

‘Ahhh, my sis is back.’ Claire said emotionally as she gave her a suffocating hug.

‘No Hannibal?’ David chuckled as they headed into bowling.

Chris just gave him a look in response.

‘I still can’t believe you’ve dragged me along.’ Severus drawled to Toshi, holding her hand as they went in.

‘Aww come on, I’m sure it will be fun. If anything, we will get a good laugh.’ Toshi smiled up at him.

‘Hmm.’ Was his response. ‘You better not leave me to make small talk though.’ He said firmly as he tightened his grip on her hand.

‘I won’t.’ She laughed and hugged into his side.

‘Did you hear about the vampire death the other day? South side of the city?’ Matt asked the guys while they put names into the board. The girls were all looking for the right weight of bowling ball.

‘Where about in the south side?’ Loki asked.

‘Near that small football park with the pond, on Swan Street.’ Severus muttered.

Loki frowned. ‘What was the cause of death?’

‘I assume a hunter.’ Toshi said as she came over after picking her bowling ball.

‘Was it confirmed though?’ Loki asked.

‘No, they never are.’ Matt sighed.

‘What’s wrong?’ Chris asked Loki, he could tell something was up.

‘I’d actually forgotten about it, but when I was hunting that pedo a few days ago, I saw two bats flying overhead back behind the trees. One a few minutes after the other. I thought it was a little strange, didn’t recognise the first bat though.’ Loki hummed.

‘Maybe just two vampires away to get it on in secret.’ David shrugged.

‘Yeah… maybe.’ Loki hummed.

When the bowling started, Chris went over to Loki at the side. ‘You feel something’s not right with what you saw?’ Chris asked knowingly.

‘Yeah, I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.’ Loki sighed.

‘Do you think the second vampire had something to do with it?’ Chris asked.

‘I don’t know. It just felt odd, but I can’t really explain why.’ Loki sighed.

Chris stroked his chin in thought.

‘I wonder if we can get information on how the body was found. Surely we’d know if it was another vampire that killed him by the cause of death. A human wouldn’t be able to kill a vampire easily without a silver bullet. If there’s no silver bullet, then I doubt it was a hunter.’

‘How would we find out?’ Loki asked.

‘Leave it with me.’ Chris said. ‘Hey, proud of you for hunting by the way. Letting yourself have some fun while doing good.’ He grinned and patted him on the shoulder.

Loki rolled his eyes then went to take his shot.

Everyone was amused with Toshi’s way of bowling, she didn’t put her fingers into the holes because of her long nails. So she would toss the ball as best she could down the lane, with a good amount of force and a surprisingly decent amount of accuracy.

Severus was a bit of a dark horse too, he was really good at bowling.

Louise and Claire weren’t impressed since they were up against vampires, plus Toshi who was equally strong. Though Louise was pretty good and managed to keep up with the others by skill, but Claire really sucked at it.

Matt was the worst out of the vampires, his aim was pretty bad even though he had the strength behind him.

‘I think you and Claire need to go take a seat in the corner. You guys are shite!’ David laughed when Matts ball went into the gutter again.

‘Piss off.’ Matt gave him the middle finger.

‘We just don’t waste our skills on something so trivial, right Matt?’ Claire boasted.

‘Exactly.’ Matt agreed.

‘Oh yeah? Well, where do your skills lie?’ Chris asked Claire.

‘Air hockey.’ Claire grinned and glanced over at the air hockey table at the side, near the bar.

‘Really?’ Chris chuckled. ‘Well, after this let’s have a game. Put your so-called skills to the test.’

‘Oh dear god no.’ Louise groaned and facepalmed.

‘What?’ Chris asked her.

‘Back out now while you can.’ Louise whispered to him.

‘Why? I’ll thrash her.’ Chris boasted.

‘Alright. Whatever you say, babe… it’s your funeral.’ Louise gave him a pity pat on the shoulder then went to take her turn.

Chris just looked confused.

Though Chris soon learned why Louise pitied him. When they went to play some air hockey after, Claire was absolutely lethal. Her hits were hard and fast, even with his vampire senses Chris struggled to block the puck.

‘Holy shit.’ Loki laughed as the rest of them watched.

‘She’s always been insane with air hockey.’ Louise commented with a grin. 

Claire thrashed Chris, then she took on Loki, David and Spencer, who couldn’t beat her either. The rest didn’t even bother attempting to take her on.

‘Alright, let’s get food. I’m famished.’ Jessica said to the group.

‘You kept that quiet.’ Loki chuckled as he put his arm around Claire.

‘Well, I needed to keep something up my sleeve.’ She grinned at him. ‘Bowling and ice skating might not be my forte, but air hockey most definitely is.’

‘You can say that again.’ Loki laughed.

‘I told you not to take on my sister at air hockey.’ Louise laughed as she held hands with Chris on the way to the restaurant.

‘Yeah, I’m definitely going to listen to you next time.’ Chris chuckled and squeezed her hand. ‘On the way home, do you mind if we go via the station? I need to ask them a few questions about the vampire they found the other day.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. You and Loki thinking it’s not a hunter?’ Louise asked.

‘Well, Loki seems to be a bit bothered by it. Normally his instincts are spot on, so I’m reluctant to just ignore them this time.’

‘Why would another vampire kill a vampire though?’ Spencer chimed in with.

Chris shrugged. ‘Not sure. There has been a lot of vampire deaths lately though, more than usual.’ He frowned.

‘I can see if I can speak to my insider too, see if they know whether it was a hunter job or not.’ Toshi offered.

‘Please, that would be helpful.’ Chris nodded.

‘Have you ever been suspicious of other vampires before?’ Severus asked Toshi quietly.

‘Not for killing fellow vampires, no. I still think it will have been a hunter, though. The two vampires Loki saw was likely just coincidence.’ Toshi shrugged.

[ruthlesscore]

hello !

i’ve been enjoying your writing for sf6 lately, and i was wondering if you’d be able to write anything for ed?

i don’t have any specific scenario, but can it be with an x reader insert? haha i’m just craving any sort of ed content tbh

thanks !

Ed x Hacker!Reader - Meeting Ed

- This is my first request for SF6! I was already planning on making a Ed related post so this is like killing two birds with one stone! I hope you enjoy! <3 -

You weren't a Street Fighter. You had more brains than those ruffians that go around beating up anything that moves. As an intellectual, you're enrolled in college to peruse your dream in technology. You had friends here and there, like Li-Fen, who lived in Chinatown, and some people who worked in SiRN.

You were from a working class household, only 23, constantly having to pay off your tuition. You didn't have money to afford food sometimes. You started picking up part-time jobs, some were odd, others were impractical. They never lasted long. You frequently got fired for being late or sleeping on the job. Your excuse?

"School's got me brunt out. I'm sorry, it won't happen again!"

and it didn't happen again because now youre jobless. Sitting at home, rotting away in front of your computer, you decided you needed a new job and fast. Something more practical that didn't require you to leave the comfort of your dorm.

You serached for a week or so before coming across this group called Neo Shadoloo. You've heard about Shadoloo from your many conversations with Li-Fen. The experiments they conducted on innocent children disgust you. You were glad they were gone. But if Shadoloo was gone, who the was Neo Shadoloo?

Adding the phone number to your contacts, you messaged the individual names Ed.

I saw the flyer for Neo Shadaloo. You guys hiring?

You got a response almost immediately.

Hell yeah we are. You gotta have some sort of experience in tech. You a hacker? You legit?

Yeah. What do you need done?

Just getting information from certain databases. Anything about Shadaloo, M. Bison, the experiments, or where the remnants might be. I'll send the pay to you later.

And that's the day you started cyber attacks for this strange organization. At first, you felt guilty about this. Then you were uncertain about the job because what you were doing was illegal. But then you looked at the pay and god DAMN. Who cares about morals when this shady organization is sending you 700 zenny per task.

After your first couple of jobs, Ed started to message you about things outside of work, like the history of Shadaloo, sightseeing in Metro, your studies at university, and personal philosophies. Sometimes, when you're up at night, you'd receive a text from him. You don't know if it was because he was under the influence, or that men usually act this way past 10, but he would send messages that were so strange. You couldn't tell if he was flirting or he was telling a bad joke.

You single? Of course you are. Nobody born in the shitty ass city will treat you right.

Ed, what the hell are you talking about?

You like Bratwurst? Ever had one? I could give you one.

Please go to sleep, Ed.

Only if you're sleeping with me.

Promise you'll make me breakfast in the morning?

Yeah, you're delirious. Gtb, ____.

You didn't know him personally, so the meaning is still up for grabs. The morning after these messages, Ed wouldn't even bring it up, if anything, he was avoiding it. Maybe he was under the influence.

After working for Neo Shadaloo for about 3 months, constantly messaging Ed and feeding into his nightly banter, you received a message from Ed.

Hey. I need you to come pick something up from me. It's a hard drive we need decoded. I'll be at the station at Beat Square tonight. Pull through.

You didn't even answer the message. You put your shoes on and headed out the door that night. Of course you were carrying your handy-dandy knife, as you were no fan of fighting. Hopefully no one tries to mug you or something. Heading down into the station and getting onto the train, you ran into a problem. What the hell does Ed even look like? You've never seen a photo of him and he's never seen you. How are you going to meet with someone you don't even know? Then there was a second problem, one running right towards you, a man and Shadaloo fighters.

The man held onto the overhead railing as the train shook. You lost your footing and fell onto the window. Groaning in a tinge of pain, you sit down. The man paid no attention to you. He looked at the Shadaloo fighters.

"Bring it on."

The Shadaloo fighters tried striking him. He dodged with boxer like reflexes. You silently watched the fight go down, completely dumbfounded by how brutal street fights were. God, it was disgusting. You get it, Shadaloo was a bad organization enabling bad behavior, but doing something as petty as strert fighting? Surely, there was a more mature, more intelligent way of handling affairs, right? With god like reflexes, the boxer hit all 3 of the Shadaloo fighters, knocking them to the ground. He managed to maintain his footing, even though the train was moving so unsteadily.

All of a sudden a big fighter came out, pushing the smaller ones out of the way. You pull your knees up to your chest, hoping you'd appear so small that neither the blond boxer or the Shadaloo fighter wouldn't see you. The big one tries to grab the boxer when the train car shook. The boxer's fist was suddenly engulfed in purple flames. Punching the Shadaloo fighter to the other side of the car and using some sort of supernatural ability to pull the fighter back to him, he punched the fighter's face into the ground. There's no denying it. That was Ed and he was using Psycho Power. He didn't even look your way. Once the train stopped, he quickly got off.

Once you got off the train, you quickly looked around for him. You see him and hurriedly walked over to him. With your hood up and mask on, you stopped a few feet away from Ed and showed him your messages with him. He glanced at the message before taking the hard drive out.

"So you're ____, huh. Finally got to put a name to a face."

He looks you up and down.

"Still down for that Bratwurst?"

[justastraymoa]

ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 6

My dream job was currently a nightmare. Several sudden changes in upper management prompted a full audit of the system and all our work. It was chaotic and messy. Add on top of that the new management all had their own ideas they wanted to implement. Different ways to make the team “work more efficiently”. Which was causing delays in all the work and unnecessary stress to all the employees.

I had worked no less than 13 hours a day for the last two weeks, even going in on the weekend to make up some work. And I wasn’t the only one. The office was never empty at this point.

I was exhausted and ready to collapse at any second. So, I finished up my current project and packed up to go home. Determined to take tomorrow off no matter what. I wasn’t going to answer any calls or texts or anything at all. I earned this day off with my own blood, sweat, and many, many tears!

When I walked into my room to find my favorite plant destroyed and the dirt from the pot all over my bedroom floor, I was ready to burst into hysterics.

Cheese was laying among the dirt without a care in the world, grooming his paws. Pieces of my precious plant leaves were scattered around him like he had shredded it then rolled around in its corpse.

I sighed and dropped my bag onto the floor. So very done with this week.

I loved my boys dearly, but ill be damned if I let them go back on this grounding! I am done with this bratty behavior from Cheese! He had never messed with my plant before, and I don’t know why he decided today of all days was a good day to break my heart.

I spent years carefully propagating that plant over and over, so it was nice and long and bushy. It took several years to get it as amazing as it had been. It was my pride and joy and I loved to spend time carefully trimming off the dead leaves and making sure it stayed green and healthy.

I even went so far as to kick Cheese out of my room and shut the door. He would run out anyways when I turned on the vacuum to clean up the mess he made, but it still made me feel a little better to let him know just how upset I was with him.

It took 30 minutes to clean up the plant corpse, and I carefully went through the remains to see if there was anything I could use to try and propagate and start the process all over again. I liked bringing a little green into my city life and I am just stubborn enough to be willing to start from scratch to get it again.

Chan came home somewhere near the end of clean up to help before engulfing me in a hug and curling up on my bed with me.

“Go to sleep. You haven’t slept at all this week, and you are exhausted.” he said lowly tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back.

“I have things I need to get done.” But I did not move to leave his warm embrace, body automatically relaxing under the weight of his arms around me and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing under my ear.

Chan hummed making my head vibrate slightly and eardrum tickle. “It will still be there when you wake up. Sleep.”

With a deep, drawn-out sigh I gave in to his gentle demands. Let someone else take care of me for a few minutes. It felt good, and I was secretly glad that Chan came home early just to make sure I was okay.

I woke up a couple hours later, still in Chans arms as he played on his phone behind my back quietly. I could hear the others chatting and banging around in the front entry as they got in.

With a deep yawn I stretched before curling back up into Chan, not yet ready to be awake. Chan for his part left me be, running my back idly and kissing the top of my head for a few minutes while I woke up.

“You really upset your mother today, Cheese. Why are you being mean to her?” I could hear Lino near my still closed door as he most likely picked Cheese up for his first cuddles of the night. “She grounded you and everything! You have some sucking up to do.” His voice got quieter as he walked away from the door.

“You ready to get up yet? You know they are just going to come in here in a few minutes if you don’t go out.” Chan asked quietly petting my hair. I whined in response.

Chan allowed me to hide for a few minutes more before getting us both up and moving.

I think it was more likely that Cheese was screaming his dislike for the terms of his grounding. He hadn’t had any treats all day and he had been stuck in the house with no special trips or car rides to speak of. He was upset.

But the boys have been respecting my declaration of grounding as far as I was aware. Even if Lino kept giving me dirty looks when Cheese came up to him and started meowing pathetically.

I lasted for the entire day before my anger wore off and the meows and glared started melting my heart and resolve.

“Fine! He’s not grounded anymore! Go crazy!” I snapped finally. Immediately all 4 boys dived for the treat tin we had sitting on the kitchen island making me roll my eyes. They were so whipped for my cat it was crazy,

Cheese spent the rest of the night getting treat after treat and going feral.

Cheese had spent half the night zooming around the apartment keeping me up. Apparently, no one else was bothered by it though. Bin aside, no one had even mentioned it.

But it was no wonder that he was all cuddly and sleepy with Chan now. He wore himself out being hyped up on cat treats!

At least be probably burned all the extra calories those treats had.

Still Chans comment brought a smile to my lips. Cheese has saved me many times over the years. He had been there when I was sad to cuddle me and loved me to cheer me up. He had been there to make me laugh when I wanted to scream. And he was there when I was scared and alone in the big city, away from home and my parents for the first time in my life and at a complete loss at what to do.

And lastly, he brought me, Chan, Bin, Lino, and Hyune together.

A/N: Two in one night! Though I feel like this one is kinda short too so yeah. Also, I changed the order this original post was in to fit the storyline a bit better. I hope you don't mind.

Thank you for reading and interacting. Or just reading or just interacting, if that’s your thing. I hope you enjoyed this little Cheese adventure!

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