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tkomptgoedluv · 2 months ago

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icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

pt.1 | pt.2 here | pt.3 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming a struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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jamiepaige · 2 months ago

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Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

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(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

#music #jamie paige #bandcamp #constant companions #behind da scenes

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cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

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My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 2

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

After you'd spent the week at home you travelled to France, you asked McLaren to set you in a different hotel from the other drivers. You found one that was cheaper and still within a decent distance from the race track.

Your sisters in your groupchat that didn't have your bothers in, had texted you telling you Lando was getting worried you wouldn't be showing up for this race. It was Thursday and normally drivers would come to the paddock for media duties but when he came it was just him doing stuff for the F1 YouTube and being pestered by the McLaren social media teams for content.

"Zac where is she, you guys wont tell me and I'm worried she wont be here for practice which starts in 20 minutes!" Lando asks Zac whose in sat in hospitality having a pre-race coffee.

"As far as I'm aware, she's already in her car getting ready for the practice session ... so I'd get yourself down there now so you can get a good time Lando" he smiles, Lando rushed to the garage Zac slowly trailing behind him, wanting to get to the garage to get a set of headphones and sit with the race engineers.

"Y/N can you hear?" you hear through your in ears.

"Loud and clear, let me know when i can leave the pit" you say shuffling down in your seat to test the pedals.

"Nico, the pedals are feeling a little stiff, its like there's no traction" you complain as your directed out onto the pit lane.

"Okay, just do a slow lap, testing the breaks and make sure the throttle is all okay. Then we'll see if we need to bring the car in quickly before a flying lap.

As you'd gone round on a normal lap, it was determined that there was an issue with the breaks, the minute you'd tried to do the flying lap your car had major under steer. You'd managed to keep it out the gravel but you had spun out. You were called back to the pits and only placed P16.

You slammed your wheel onto the bonnet, and the engineers all immediately started to work on your car. You talked with them helping them out.

You spied Lando's car in the corner of your eyes being pulled into his half of the garage.

"Y/N hey" he says jumping out the car pulling him helmet off.

"Kinda busy trying to fix this trash can of a car right now Lando, later" you say not even sparing him a glance. Grumbles come from the mechanics making you whisper an apology as they jokingly scowl at you.

Was it petty that you weren't speaking to your brother, yes.

Was it petty that you were trying to get him to have a spoon of his own medicine for the way he'd treated you in Azerbaijan, yes.

Were you going to stop right now? Nope!

"Oh, erm okay well I'm going to go grab something to eat before the next practice" he smiles.

"Cool" you nod a smile, before kneeling down pointing something out to the mechanic that didn't look quite right.

"I'll be back in a bit, will the car be ready for FP2?" you ask.

"Should be, just needs some greasing and tightening. Trust us you'll be flying out there in no time!" the head mechanic says and you smile nodding softly before walking out towards the rest of the motorhomes.

You walked past, shyly waving to the drivers she encountered. Sky had seen her but were already busy interviewing Christian Horner and Toto Wolff who were currently talking about the championship this year and Mercedes rough start to the season in Bahrain.

"Y/N?" a voice asks from a table outside the Red Bull hospitality.

"Oh! Max, hey how have you been" you exclaim crossing over the Sky cameras who unbeknownst to you followed you for later review. You pull him into a hug, happy to finally see someone on the grid who hadn't upset you in the last few weeks.

"I'm good but i think the actual question is, are you okay?" he asks rubbing up and down your arm.

"Yeah, I just don't really know how to even talk to Lando about all of this, he's never not been there for an achievement of mine up until now. The team's strategy was shit, and I got us more points passing Lando, i was on the fresher tires, I had DRS i don't understand why they wouldn't want me to overtake" you complain, you really genuinely couldn't understand it.

It wasn't like this in Formula 2.

"You'll come to learn, that people don't like being my team-mate because im golden boy. I was the hot shot that Horner took a gamble on and he won jackpot. It's never easy being the second driver on a team to a golden boy" he advises, making you look down tears in your eyes.

Is that all Zac thought of you? The secondary to your golden boy hot shot brother.

Well that just wouldn't fly, you'll show them that your made of more and that you are worthy of sharing the seat with your brother.

"You know, keep it up Schat, Horner's been keeping an eye on you. So have Mercedes and Ferrari" Max whispers leaning in and holding your waist. You gasp as he leans back looking at you nodding before wandering off and into the Red Bull motorhome.

You check your phone for the time seeing that you really should make your way back to the McLaren garage to see if your car is ready.

"We didn't talk" you hear from behind you and a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back to them.

Charles

"I don't want to talk to you Charles" you grunt shrugging his arm off.

"Why not?" he asks looking over you.

"I think you know why, just concentrate on FP2 Charles" you say, for the first time you see a sort of desperation in his eyes. It's almost as if he came here with the intention to say something to you, but he also doesn't want to admit it.

"Y/N... wait" he starts again but you continue walking. You manage to get back to the motorhome and see Lando sat in the hospitality, he was with his personal trainer Jon and then the performance engineer Jarv.

You walk past them and here Jarv say something to your brother.

"Go follow her, you need to sort this out before the race"

"She doesn't want to talk to me, I've tried" he groans as you wait behind the door just in earshot of them.

"You call earlier in the garage trying? Jheez man" Jon laughs before getting up and discarding of his food tray.

"Your right!" Lando sighs before jumping up to come and find you. You start to walk away so it didn't look like you were listening in to their conversation.

"Y/N, please can we talk" Lando says stopping you right by the coffee cart.

"Mmmmm"

"Look, I was terrible the other day. Your my twin and we've shared everything together. I- I'm sorry i wasn't there to celebrate with you. It's just annoying when Jon's telling me that you've been told not to go for the overtake and then you do. I see now that you taking over worked better for the team but i cant help but be upset" he tries but you look at him in shock, why on earth was he making this moment, this apology about him and how he was affected.

"How are you still making this about you?" you scoff.

"What what do you mean, I'm explaining why i wasn't there..."

"By saying that I've upset you, when I'm the person you've affected. Do you even know what they have been saying about me in articles because of this whole thing with you and Charles? I'm being told I'm a shit driver and i shouldn't have my seat and that my own brother and multiple other drivers agree... I'm being told im a danger to the sport and that I wont have a seat come next year!" you sigh, knowing that he had a right to be upset about you overtaking him, but it shouldn't be at you.

"I'm sorry, I know I ruined it. I should've celebrated with you! Its my fault" he says, before pulling you into a hug. You hug him back, your shoulders sagging into it. Your brother was always your other half, you guys were two peas in a pod. It broke your heart when he left you behind in F2 before going to F1 in 2019. So this year, being the first year that you were back driving with your brother it was special for you.

"It's not like I wont have other podiums to celebrate this year" you jab him making him laugh.

"Oh yeah, not if i have anything to say about it!" he jokes as you both start walking back to the garage.

"I'm still upset though, just so you know. But I forgive you" you smile as you both get back to the cars.

"Hey, how's the car looking?" you ask the people around your car.

"You'll be good to go, breaks are sorted and its looking good!"

And that was true, you came P3 in FP2.

You didn't have a good night sleep, thinking about Charles and how he's tried to talk to you today, how you'd made up with Lando, and you kept asking yourself if it was too quick. But what was in your mind the most was Max and what he'd told you and how he'd been so nice to you over the last few months.

FP3 the next day was worse and you came P10, which then set the mood for Qualifying, where you finished P10 which would mean that your are in the middle for starting the next day.

Lando was in P8 meaning he was directly in front of you, you were hoping you could get a slipstream from him, and overtake Fernando on the start.

By the end of the French Grand Prix you and your brother both simultaneously moved up 4 places ending with him in P5 and you in P6, Zac was happy as you'd managed to stir Ferrari and get ahead both of them.

You were walking to your car, when you notice a sleek Ferrari next to your McLaren and a familiar man leaning against it.

"Charles I really cant deal with this, the interviews have tired me out. I'll see you in Styria!" you say, clicking the keys to open your car.

"Y/N please I need to apologize" he says grabbing at you wrist again turning you round.

"Charles, look. I forgave Lando for not being at my podium and yelling at me, but you actively told me I didn't deserve my seat when i've had to work twice as hard for it than anyone on the grid. So to be told that its undeserved is horrible because this is all I've ever wanted..." you say tears brimming your eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'll think I'll regret this forever if I don't do this" he says before grabbing your cheeks with his hands, one sliding down to your neck before leaning in and placing his lips against yours.

You kiss back, it's more out of anger, you weren't sure why you actually kissed him back. After the initial shock you pulled away, your hand slipping in between you too to push him away.

"Charles what the hell" you shout, looking at him eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, but the reason I get so annoyed with you is because I've had a crush on you for years. At first I hated that you always were better than me, I got more aggressive and you were the safer driver back then, so you'd give me room let me pass. I knew I'd never have a chance with you, getting you attention was easier when I teased you, but i guess as i got older i got more sour at you, and how everyone seemed to adore you and grab your attention apart from me" he reasons now holding her wrist again.

"Charles, you cant, you cant do that" you cry.

"What, I cant admit what I've been feeling for you for years. Y/N please" he begs, the puppy eyes looking down at you as you shrunk yourself.

"What's going on over here" Max asks coming over looking between you and Charles, you turn away so that he doesn't see the tears in your eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of your orange McLaren rain jacket.

"Nothing Max" you say before turning back round smiling at the both of them.

"Come on Y/N. I know you better than that" Max said but you decided to stay silent.

"Is he bothering you again? Charles, just leave her the fuck alone. We spoke about this after Azerbaijan..." Max says pushing him away from you.

"Max don't! Its fine I promise, I'll see you both in Austria okay?" you say getting into the car. You sit there for a second, contemplating what the hell just happened before you realize both the drivers are still stood there watching you.

What. The. Hell.

A/N: I don't know if i like this, it feels like I made her and Lando make up too quickly, and Charles felt kinda quick. But for future ideas in this series, her and Lando making up now means room for more angst in the future *wink,wink*

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 fandom #max verstappen fanfic

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venusacrossthestars · 10 months ago

Text

a choice I can live with

Summary: you thought that after that night in Monaco you would never see Carlos Sainz again. but what do they say? when one door closes another door opens.

Pairing- Carlos Sainz x fem!reader

WC-10,182

warnings- swearing, making out, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end, angst, Lando is more of an ass than he was in part one, reader is in her feels, the word slut is used.

this is a part 2 to 'a choice I don't want to make' read it HERE before reading this part

F1 masterlist

December 2021

You didn't like this foreign feeling that was settled in your stomach. All you were trying to do was pick out a movie while your popcorn cooled down, so why did it all feel so wrong? Sighing, you turned off the TV and placed the remote on the coffee table. It was Lando’s turn to pick the movie. The thought washed over you like a tidal wave. Suddenly the aspect of having a movie night no longer sounded appealing. Picking up the popcorn bowl from the coffee table, you walked over to the trash can and threw away the popcorn. Just like 15 years of friendship.

You plopped back down on your couch, sinking into the cushions. The last time you had seen Lando had been that night in Monaco; the last time you had any contact with him was when you sent him that text the following morning. That was in May. You knew that he saw your message, the taunting little ‘read’ underneath had only made you feel worse. As if it wasn’t the consequences of your own actions.

The past 6 and a half months had been miserable. Every time you had exciting news you found yourself thinking- ‘I can’t wait to tell Lando!’ only to remember that you couldn’t. You could barely talk to your own mother without feeling more guilt over the situation. You could feel her disappointment through the phone. As your mother, she was on your side, she told you as much, but it wasn’t without a disappointed sigh.

You had other friends, you had a world that didn’t revolve around your now ex-best friend but sometimes it didn’t feel like it. However, the couple of times that you had braved stalking Lando’s socials you couldn’t help but feel as if he never needed you. Maybe that was the truth.

You could face Lando’s socials, and you could manage the tweets and comments you saw about him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to check Carlos’s. Maybe it was the fear of seeing that he moved on. Maybe it was that he seemed perfectly fine. That was something you were comfortable staying in the dark with.

A knock on the door startles you out of your pitiful self-deprecating spiral. You silently groan, it was too late to be dealing with people. Maybe it was one of your neighbor's friends who got the numbers mixed up and if you stayed silent they would realize. The universe must really have it out for you because the knocking continued, louder and more insistent than before. Getting up, you shuffled to the door taking a quick peek through the peephole. The face on the other end had you quickly undoing the chain and unlocking the deadbolt.

“Carlos?”

“Hi.” Is the only thing that Carlos says.

You rub your eyes, making sure that he wasn’t an illusion, that you haven’t gone mad in these past months. When you bring your hands away from your eyes and re-open them, Carlos is still there standing in front of you with a bouquet of white tulips.

Carlos breaks the silence, “These are for you,” he holds out the bouquet, “I was told that white tulips represent an apology and forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” You parrot back, not taking the flowers. Why is giving you flowers that represent an apology and forgiveness? “What are you apologizing for?”

Carlos rocks back and forth on his heels, ignoring your question, “Can I come in?”

You move away from the door frame and hold the door wider allowing for Carlos to enter. Embarrassment washes over you as you come to the realization that this is the first time Carlos has been in your flat, and while it didn’t look like a total disaster, you certainly wish it was cleaner.

“What are you apologizing for?” You ask again.

Carlos spins to face you, “Do you have a vase for these?”

“Carlos,” you try again, “what are you doing here?”

Carlos wanders towards your kitchen, “Like I said, I am here to apologize.” He waves the flowers around.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“All of it. For letting Lando talk to you like that. For letting you leave with him. For letting you walk away that night on the roof. For not responding back to your text. I’m mostly sorry for how long it took me to come see you, to come talk to you.”

“Carlos, you don’t need to apologize. For any of it.”

“It takes two to tango.” He points out.

“It’s been 6 and a half months Carlos, you should move on.”

“Have you?”

That simple question was all it took for you to break. Honestly, you should have been able to move on. You should’ve been able to leave this whole situation back in Monaco. So why were your feelings for Carlos just as strong as they were back then? Even after your attempt to cut him out of your life he still stood here in your flat with a bouquet of flowers, apologizing for not coming to you sooner.

“I haven’t,” you whisper, not trusting your voice.

Carlos sets the flowers down on the counter and moves in front of you. You avert your gaze to the ground, knowing that if you looked him in the eyes there would be no stopping the tears.

Carlos doesn’t let you. His hand gently moves your chin so that you are looking him directly in the eyes. He doesn’t say anything about your tears, he only moves to wipe them away and unlike that night in Monaco, you let him. His hands are still surprisingly soft, just like that night the two of you kissed.

He moves his hands away and you nearly sob at the loss of contact but before you can say anything Carlos is pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around your middle, hands sprawled out across your back. It takes you a second to register what is happening but once you do you are quick to mirror his motions.

You bury your head into his chest and close your eyes. There is something about being wrapped in Carlos’s arms that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. You take in a shaky breath. You haven’t been this happy to see someone in a long time and that simple thought is what causes you to break out in sobs.

Carlos tries to pull away, presumingly to ask you if everything is okay, but you are quick to pull him back into your embrace. “Just hold me. Please.” You manage out between sobs.

“As you wish.”

You don’t know how long you stand in the middle of your kitchen in Carlos’s arms, and frankly, you don’t care. The soothing circles Carlos rubs on your back and the gentle swaying of both your bodies is enough to make you calm down.

“Do you want to sit down?” Carlos pulls away, hands still holding your arms.

You nod, leading him into your living room, and you sink into your couch. Carlos sits directly next to you, close enough to where both of your thighs rest against each other. “I’m sorry,” you begin, “I didn’t mean to get snot all over your shirt.”

“No need to apologize.”

“I’m sorry for more than that. I’m sorry too Carlos, for all of it. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Stop,” Carlos puts his hand up and you close your mouth. “If anyone deserves an apology it’s you. That night I was hurt, I didn’t stop to think what it was like in your shoes. I'll never know what it is like to have my supposed ‘best friend’ tell me to pick between two important people in my life. I've never been in that position.”

“Carlos,” you begin but he stops you again.

“I spoke to Lando the next day, right after you texted me. I was furious with him. How could someone call their best friend those things? How could he, the same man who told me that he wanted me to stay away from you because he wanted to protect you, flip a switch that easily? He showed me the message you sent and I felt my heart break more. Asking him to put all the blame on you? Asking him to not blame me when we were both responsible? Pinning all the blame on yourself just so that he and I could still be friends?”

You knew that Lando had read your message but knowing that he had shown Carlos that same day made his lack of response hurt ten times more. “You talked to him? He showed you the message?”

Carlos nods his head. “I should say I yelled at him that morning rather than talked. We’ve spoken a couple times since then but I can tell he is still furious.”

You figured, Lando wasn’t one to let go of grudges easily. “I can’t help but miss him, even with what he said to me.”

“And that’s okay,” Carlos comforts you, “he is -was- your best friend for a long time. I wouldn’t expect you not to miss him.”

“This is the first winter break we’ve been apart since we met. I don’t know what to do.” You admit to Carlos.

Carlos rests a hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles across the material of your sweatpants. And you look at him with tears in your eyes. You are so sick of crying over this whole situation, you've wasted enough tears.

“I don’t know what kind of traditions the two of you have but if you'd like, I was thinking we could make our own?” Carlos questions. You look at him with wide eyes and he continues, “I don’t want to replace him or those good memories but I think making our own would be fun.”

“I would love that Carlos.” you smile at him. “There is one thing though. If this,” you point back and forth at the both of you, “is going to be a serious relationship, we need to take it slow.”

“How slow is slow?”

“Why? Do you not want to take things slow?” You panic internally. Did he change his mind?

Does he not want to take things slow? You know that his life is fast-paced so does slow just not work for him?

“No, no, no,” he hurries out sensing your panic, “Slow is fine, I’d wait a lifetime if you asked mi amor. I’m just asking because I want to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

“Can I kiss you Hermosa?” Carlos asks in a whisper.

You nod and Carlos closes the gap between the two of you. Unlike the last time the two of you shared a kiss this one was slower, sweeter but somehow more passionate. With closed eyes, you relished the feeling of his lips on yours even more so because you thought you would never experience this feeling again.

Carlos pulls away after a moment and you open your eyes and glance at his swollen lips, a slight you’ll never get sick of. Overcome with emotion you launch yourself onto Carlos, pushing him on his back into the cushions of your couch.

Shock is written all over his face, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, not trusting your voice and Carlos pulls you into his chest. Carlos’s hand runs over your head and after a moment of savoring the comforting gesture you speak up,

“Thank you for coming to see me. I really thought I’d never see you again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

January 2022

Carlos wasn’t lying when he said that you wouldn't be able to get rid of him easily. The man was stuck on you like a popsicle on a hot summer day, not that you were complaining.

New Year’s came and went and Carlos insisted that he spend it with you. You argued that you weren’t doing anything fun, that you would probably be sleeping while everyone else was out ringing in the new year, and that he should go out and spend it with his friends. Carlos had refused, stating he rather be somewhere quiet celebrating with you. So the two of you had rang in the New Year together in your flat with a cheap bottle of champagne and poppers you set off on your balcony.

It was only a few days later that, as you were making dinner, you got a call from Carlos.

“Are you free this weekend?” Carlos asked as soon as you accepted the call.

“Well, hello to you too Carlos,” you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Hello mi amor, how are you this fine afternoon.”

“I am spectacular, and how are you, Mr. Sainz?” You can’t help but break out in a smile, something you seem to do whenever you hear from Carlos.

“Good, however, I would be even better if you answered my question. Are you free this weekend?”

“I think so, why?”

“I want to take you out.”

“Like on a date?”

“Yes, like a date. I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t take my love on dates, wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I didn’t know we were officially boyfriend/girlfriend.” You tease, Carlos knew fully well how you felt about him.

“Don’t play around with me.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you’d come over to my place and I’d cook for you.”

“Oh, I would love that but Carlos you don’t live in London.” It amuses you to have to point out that simple fact.

“I know, that’s why I asked if you were free the entire weekend. I was going to fly you out to Madrid.”

You freeze at his nonchalant attitude, to him this was a small little gesture and you can tell that he thinks nothing of it. You, on the other hand, were thinking way too much of it.

“Carlos, I can't come to Madrid. I don’t have the money for it right now.” You say defeatedly, as much as you wanted to see Carlos you couldn't drop that type of money on a flight.

“I think you missed the part where I said I would fly you out. You wouldn’t be paying for anything.”

“Carlos, this isn’t how I want this relationship to be. I won’t be seen as a sugar baby.” You tell him seriously and all you can hear is him laughing over the phone.

“Mi amor, you are not a sugar baby. You are my girlfriend. My girlfriend who I want to see and spend time with so desperately that I am offering her, as her boyfriend, to fly her to my home so she can spend time with me- her boyfriend.”

You bite the skin around your nails carefully weighing your options. You want to see Carlos but on the other hand, you were worried. What if someone spots you? What if someone outed your relationship? You still wanted to take things slow and this was all moving a little fast for you.

You voice your worries to Carlos and you hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry mi amor.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should be jumping at this opportunity. You want to spend time with me and here I am acting like a brat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. I need to respect your wishes. You have no need to apologize.”

“I still feel bad.”

“Don’t. There will be other opportunities.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, do not worry about it. Listen I have to go, I will call you later okay?”

“I’ll be waiting.” The two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you are then left alone with your thoughts. Saying yes wouldn’t have killed you, in fact, you should’ve said yes. So what if someone saw you and Carlos? Since when did you care what the rest of the world thought of you?

You drop your head on the kitchen counter, lightly banging it muttering a quiet ‘stupid, stupid, stupid.’ Oh well, there was nothing you could do about it now.

Your Friday nights always play out the same way. You get home from work, take a quick shower, put on a pair of sweatpants (you’re pretty sure these were a pair of Lando’s from years ago) and a baggy top, order something, and watch a crappy movie.

You have only finished step 3 of your routine, about to start step 4 when there is a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone other than the delivery man but you hadn’t even placed your order yet, so if it was the Chinese place already you really needed to change up your diet.

When you open your door you aren’t greeted by the greasy teenager who typically delivers your food, instead, you are greeted with a comfy-looking Carlos who has a backpack in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other.

“Carlos, what are you doing here?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” He questions with a slight pout.

“Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you reach across the threshold to grab his wrist and pull him into your flat, “I’m just surprised to see you here.”

“I’m here to spend the weekend with my girlfriend and cook her dinner,” he proudly states, holding up the bag of groceries.

You could melt into a puddle right there and then. “Carlos, you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

A look of panic is now written all over Carlos’s face. “I’m an idiot.” You raise an eyebrow at his admission and gesture for him to spit the rest out. “You said you wanted to take things slow and here I am showing up without notice.”

You wave your hands frantically, “You are not an idiot. I’m happy you’re here. Ever since I turned down your offer I’ve been thinking that maybe we don’t have to take things slow.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

“I am more than sure. I am sick of overthinking. Who cares what everyone else thinks of me?”

Carlos’s look of panic is replaced by the biggest grin you have ever seen. He drops his backpack and groceries, his hands aren’t empty for long because the next thing you know you are being lifted in his arms and spun around.

“Carlos!” you squeal out, not expecting to be picked up.

Carlos sets you down gently and cups your face in his hands, you are then attacked by an onslaught of kisses. He kisses your cheeks, your lips, nose, and forehead. No part of your face is left untouched by his lips.

You giggle at the sensation, “Carlos, Carlos,” you try to get his attention but he seems too lost in his own world. “Okay. Okay. Calm down, what has gotten into you?”

“I’m just happy. Is that a crime?”

You tap your chin in mock ponderance, “I suppose not.”

Carlos closes the gap once more but this time instead of an onslaught of kisses he locks your lips with his in one long kiss. His hands haven’t moved from their spots on your cheeks this entire time. You can’t help yourself from grinning into the kiss, never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined this.

Carlos pulls away and when he sees the smile that graces your face can’t help but ask, “What has gotten into you?”

You giggle at his question and your reply is full of snark, “I’m just happy. Is that a crime?”

It is Carlos’s turn to break into a fit of giggles and you wish that you could listen to that sound forever. “Okay. Okay.” You try to break the laughing spell that has fallen between the both of you. “What’s in the bag?”

Carlos picks up the bag full of groceries and makes his way to the kitchen, “I’m glad you asked, it's all the ingredients I need to make my pancakes.”

“You were serious about cooking for me?”

“Of course I was, I want to spoil my girlfriend.”

“I will gladly be spoiled. Do you want any help?”

“No, you just sit and find a movie or a show to watch.”

“I got the only show I need right in front of me.” You wink.

Carlos laughs at your comment but doesn’t say anything else, too focused on making his pancakes. You have to help him a couple of times when he realizes he doesn’t exactly know the layout of where you keep all your mixing bowls, pans, and spatulas, amongst other things. But once he has all his materials you can almost see the switch flip to Chef Carlos. And while it is a bit shameful to admit, the sight does turn you on slightly. The way Carlos’s tongue slightly sticks out of his mouth in concentration. The way his arm flexes as he mixes the batter. Who would have thought that cooking would be so hot? Not you, that’s for sure.

Carlos spares a few glances in your direction and every time you need to make sure you aren’t drooling all over your counter. Your time of ogling Carlos is cut short when he slides the plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Any syrup or butter?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No, I want to experience the pancakes without any interference.” You pick up your fork and knife and cut right into them. Carlos does nothing but watch as you bring a piece up to your mouth and take a bit.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about knowing a pancake recipe,” you say with a full mouth.

“Good?”

“Good? Better than good, these are delicious,” you practically moan out.

“Almost as delicious as the chef,” Carlos says with a smirk. His comment has you choking on the rest of your pancake. Carlos is quick to rush to your side, gently smacking your back.

You hold up your hands signaling for him to stop, “I’m okay, I’m okay.” You take a sip of water, helping aid the rest of the pancake down. “You need to make these for me again. I don’t think I can ever go back to eating a normal pancake ever again. Not after tasting this slice of heaven.”

“You’ll never have to eat a sad pancake ever again as long as I’m around.”

“I want you around as long as you can stand me,” you tell Carlos truthfully.

“Good, because I never want to be without you.”

You can’t help but think the same, and it isn’t because of the pancakes.

February 2022

It’s a week before Valentine's Day when you answer a FaceTime call from Carlos.

“Did you see the car launch?” He asks.

You have given up trying to get him to say hello every time you answered the phone, he was always too eager to talk to you.

“I did. Looks beautiful, hopefully that corresponds to speed.”

“We can only hope. I didn’t call to talk about the car.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“I am funny, you know this.”

Carlos ignores your quip and instead asks, “Valentine’s Day, do you feel okay going out?”

Ever since that night when Carlos showed up at your flat unannounced, he has been trying to communicate better. The two of you had your little inside dates- movie nights, cooking, board games, anything the two of you could do at home or over the phone you two have done. You had only gone out on a date once and that was over as quick as it started. Some fan spotted him and it was only a matter of time before his location was leaked. You didn’t want to hide your relationship but you also didn’t want it outed by some random F1 update page. You wanted to be the one who shared it with the world.

It took you a moment to think about it and you didn’t want to spend your first Valentine’s Day in your flat. “I would love to go out,” you tell Carlos honestly.

“Good, I made a reservation to this place I think you’ll love.”

You smile having the perfect idea of how to mess with him, “Well what if I said no?”

Carlos doesn’t seem at all phased, “Then I would’ve canceled the reservation.”

You can’t argue with that logic. “What’s the dress code? Because I take it you aren’t going to tell me where we are going.”

“You’ll be correct about that. Dress code,” Carlos pauses for a moment, “Wear something red.”

You roll your eyes, “You are only saying that because you like seeing me in red.”

“It is your color mi amor.”

“Oh so I look bad in all other colors,” you challenge.

“What has gotten into you today? So sassy.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it's because I miss you.”

“I’ll see you in less than a week, mi amor.”

“I know, I know.” You pick at your nails. “I don’t know why, I just miss you more than usual this week.”

“I miss you too,” Carlos admits.

You go to say something but you are interrupted by another voice. “Carlos, Carlos,” a familiar Monégasque driver calls out. “Who are you talking to?”

“My girlfriend,” Carlos replies nonchalantly.

“Ooohhh,” Charles calls out, and before Carlos can react Charles shoves his entire face in front

of the camera, your screen now filled with nothing but Charles.

There were only a handful of people who knew that you and Carlos were together, Charles being one of them. When Carlos left McLaren for Ferrari, he had spilled the beans to Charles and you had learned that Charles was the one who kept pushing Carlos to come see you. So saying you were thankful for the Monégasque driver was quite the understatement.

You giggle at his actions. “Hi, Charles. How are you?”

“I’m doing great, how about yourself?”

“Same old, same old.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“None of your business,” Carlos answers at the same time as you say, “Discussing Valentine’s Day plans.”

“Valentine’s Day plan? What are you two lovebirds doing?”

“Going out,” Carlos answers for you.

“Ooooohhhh can I come with?” Charles asks.

You snort at his question, “Don’t you have your own girlfriend to take out instead of third-wheeling on our night?”

Charles says nothing and just gives you a blank stare, “Fine, be that way.”

You roll your eyes at his childishness, “Don’t be such a baby.”

“You’re younger than me!”

“That makes it worse!” You exclaim.

“Charles, did you need something or did you only come in here to bother us?”

Carlos’s question seems to snap the other Ferrari driver back in focus, “Oh. Yes actually, we aren’t free from our media duties yet.”

“Let me say goodbye then I’ll be back out.”

Charles wishes you a quick goodbye and you are left alone with Carlos. “You have to go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

“The life of a Formula 1 driver never stops.”

“You’d be right about that Hermosa.”

“I’ll let you go, call me if you get the chance.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon mi amor, don’t miss me too much.”

“I’ll try.”

It’s a week later on Valentine’s Day, and you had spent the majority of the day getting ready for your first real date with Carlos. But along with the butterflies in your stomach, there was also this unwelcome feeling of sadness. At first, you couldn’t place what it was but then it hit you like a truck. Lando didn’t send you any chocolates. You knew that the chances of him sending them were slim but for some reason, it really stung. Every year he sent you a box of chocolates, no matter where in the world he was, no matter what he was busy doing. And every year there was a note “You’ll always have me and your shitty rom-coms”, well you at least you still had your shitty rom-coms. You were excited for your date but that gloomy feeling was hard to get rid of and you knew that Carlos was bound to notice.

“Wow,” is all that came out of Carlos’s mouth when you answered the door.

“I hope that’s a good wow,” you chuckle nervously. You had done what he asked, you were wearing red, more specifically the signature Ferrari red. While it wasn’t a hard color to match, you hoped that Carlos appreciated the sentiment.

“Of course, mi amor. You look… amazing.” You smile at his lack of words. You don’t need him to tell you anything, you could tell what he’s thinking from his gaze alone.

“Oh, these are for you,” Carlos hands you a bouquet of red roses and baby’s-breath along with a wrapped box of chocolates.

“Thank you Carlos, we can share the chocolates later tonight.” You tell him as you walk back into your flat. Carlos shuts the door behind him and follows you into the kitchen as you rummage around for your good vase.

“We’ll have to leave soon if we want to make the reservation,” Carlos says, checking his watch.

“Alrightly, just let me grab my shoes.” You walk into your bedroom to grab your shoes. On your way you stop in front of the mirror to check your hair and make-up one last time.

When you walk back out you notice Carlos staring at the pictures on your walls. As you move closer you can see the one in particular that he is staring at.

“That’s when Lando and I first declared each other as best friends.” You say with a sad smile. “I don’t really remember it but I do know that we were at my house and my mom snapped the picture.”

Carlos turned to face you but you continued to stare at the picture, jealous of how young and naive the two of you were back then.

Carlos called your name and you were quickly snapped out of memory lane. “Are you okay?” His question laced with concern.

You wave him off, “I’m fine.” Carlos gives you a look almost asking ‘are you sure’ and you are quick to spill your feelings of gloom. “I mean it’s silly and I knew what was going to happen.”

“Knew what was going to happen?”

“Every year Lando has either given or sent me a box of chocolates. At first I knew it was his mom forcing him to give them to me, but as we got older he knew that it was something that cheered me up, especially because I never got anything in school from the other boys. Then he would always include a note, ‘You’ll always have me and your shitty rom-coms’. Then I didn’t get anything this morning and I knew I wasn’t, but it makes it all more… I don’t know. Real? I guess? It’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t be complaining about not getting chocolates from another man when my insanely handsome boyfriend is standing next to me.”

“Mi amor, I didn’t know he did that. That was sweet of him and I am sorry that he can’t grow up and accept that he isn’t in control of you. Even if he was your best friend you deserve to be loved and not be shunned for doing so.”

You nod in agreement. Every time you feel at peace with the whole situation something like this happens and you are brought back to square one.

“Well let’s get going. I don’t want this ass-hat to ruin anything else for us. Especially not tonight.”

Carlos snorts at your insult and holds out his arm for you to take, you do so happily.

Carlos was nothing but a gentleman the entire time. He opened the car door for you, pulled out and pushed in your chair, and complimented you the entire evening. Sure these were all little things but they meant the world to you. The two of you were in your own little bubble the entire night, everything was so peaceful.

However, it wasn’t until you and Carlos got back to your flat that your little bubble of peace was popped. You were busy finishing your skincare routine when Carlos called out your name. You walked into the living room and were met with the most domestic sight: Carlos sitting on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt scrolling through his phone. The sight brought a smile to your lips.

“You called?” You asked, making your way over to the couch.

As you take a seat next to Carlos, he hands you his phone and you are greeted with the familiar sight of Twitter. It takes you a second to make out the picture, the two figures in it are quite blurry but as soon as you read the caption attached to it your smile drops into a frown.

‘New WAG alert? Carlos Sainz was seen looking comfortable with a mystery woman at a candle-lit dinner this Valentine’s Day. Will we be seeing more of her?

“Oh.” You aren’t surprised by the lack of privacy and you are well aware that this was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t think that it would be the first time the two of you went out publicly.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, seeming to have expected more than a one-worded response to the tweet he just showed you and you can’t help but shrug your shoulders in response.

“You’re not upset,” he asks.

“I mean a little, but it's not like I can do anything about it. We knew the risks before we went out and we were willing to take them. Are you upset?”

“I am used to it,” Carlos admits, “It happens to me all the time, I just wished I was given the decency to go out with my girlfriend and have a nice private dinner.”

You cuddle up into Carlos’s side and he is quick to abandon his phone and wrap his arms around you. “I don’t want anything to spoil this evening,” you tell Carlos, “so as long as those are the only pictures out there let's ignore them for now.”

“I can do that. Now what movie do you want to watch?”

“How about 10 Things I Hate About You?”

March 2022

The beginning of the 2022 season was right around the corner and every time you and Carlos talked he was always trying to sneak in a comment about you coming to Bahrain. He thought he was being so subtle with his comments that the look on his face when you asked him if he wanted you to come with him was priceless.

“I thought I was being subtle.” You can hear his frown through the phone.

You try to contain your laughter but the task is easier said than done, “Baby, you were as subtle as a bull in a china shop.”

“But will you?”

Ever since he first started hinting around, you weighed the pros and cons. You loved watching the races, you would be able to spend time with Carlos, you would be exploring a new country. All of these things were nice, but when you thought about the cons, they paled in comparison. If you went to Bahrain then your relationship with Carlos was definitely going to become public knowledge, and while that wasn’t a bad thing you weren’t completely sure if you were ready for the entire world of fangirls to also be a part of your relationship. There was one other thing that was making you hesitate- the idea that you would probably run into Lando.

You couldn’t let that stop you though, so without putting any more negative thought into it, you told Carlos that you would love to go to Bahrain with him.

Walking through the paddock in Ferrari gear felt wrong but right at the same time. Carlos had insisted on providing you with all the possible merch you could imagine. The number 55 displayed proudly across your back, a Ferrari cap snug tightly around your head, a pair of Ferrari sunglasses Carlos had loaned you, and to your surprise a pair of Ferrari socks. You had nearly laughed when you took them out of your little handmade care package, you didn’t even know that Ferrari had socks it wasn’t like anyone was going to see them anyways.

You were hesitant to wear it at first. Most of the other WAGs never wore team gear and when they did it certainly wasn’t to this extent, however, Carlos had put your mind at ease. He did love seeing you in red.

You were well aware of all the cameras and more aware of all the people. Carlos had given you a clear set of directions on where to go and who to ask for so that you would be escorted to Ferrari hospitality without any complications. However, you had guessed Carlos had scrapped that plan and failed to tell you. Because standing right by the entrance to Ferrari hospitality was none other than Carlos himself.

“Find everything okay?” He asked as you reached him.

“I did, but this wasn’t a part of the plan.”

“Well, I had time and saw your message. I wanted to be the first to greet you.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“It’s a welcomed surprise.”

“Come,” Carlos grabs your hand and interlocks it with his, “I want to give you the grand tour.”

Carlos drags you around introducing you to everyone and you can’t help but feel extremely welcomed in your first -official- introduction into the world of Ferrari. Monaco might’ve been the first time but this experience was a much fonder one.

Carlos spends as much time as he can with you, doing his best to make sure you felt welcomed. Eventually, he is forced to do his job and you watch the free practice in the comfort of Ferrari hospitality.

Ever since Valentine’s Day you have avoided social media. Even when you were friends with Lando you never really interacted much with F1 Twitter and even less so now that the two of you weren’t talking. However, due to it being the beginning of the season F1 the sport was trending and out of pure boredom, you decided to brave the tweets. Most of them were predictions about the year, fans cheering on their faves, and even thirst tweets of seeing the drivers back in their cars once again. And who could forget the beloved gossip and update pages? Certainly not you, considering you were looking at your own face on one of the pages.

You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to go undetected with Carlos, you were fully expecting it. That however did not lower the shock of seeing yourself on one of these pages. The tweet itself didn’t have many likes or retweets but it wasn’t the only one out there talking about you. And it wasn’t before long until you saw one captioning ‘Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris’s BFF spotted together entering the Ferrari garage’ and below it was a picture of you and Carlos hand in hand. That wasn’t what made your stomach flip, it was what was underneath the photo. Speculation as to why you didn’t have your yearly appearance on Lando’s Instagram.

Of course they were right, there was no need to speculate when that is exactly the reason why, not that you were going to confirm their beliefs. You would have to tell Carlos about all of this on the way back to the hotel. No need to worry him when he should be focusing on the car and the season ahead of him.

The two of you are lying on the bed in your shared hotel room watching some random movie that just happened to be playing when you turned on the TV while waiting for room service. You were snuggled into Carlos’s side, your hand resting on his chest. Carlos has one arm under your head, the other is scrolling through his phone.

When you told him about what you saw on Twitter that afternoon he simply shrugged and said “Let them think whatever they want to think. It’s our relationship, not theirs. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

You still had your concerns that Lando might do something but Carlos insisted while he was dumb, he wasn’t that dumb. But if he was to open his big mouth McLaren and Ferrari’s PR team could handle it. This was nothing to worry about.

You’re half paying attention to the movie and half paying attention to the occasional funny tweet or whatever Carlos is showing you. A knock at the door causes you to shoot out of Carlos’s arms. “I’ll get it!” You call out to Carlos, excited to eat some real sustenance.

You don’t even bother looking through the peephole before whipping open the door, a rookie mistake. Because who stands in front of you is not the room service delivery person with their little cart, no, the person standing in front of you is your ex-best friend.

“Lando?” you ask in shock.

“So I see what’s going around Twitter is true then?”

You cross your arms over your chest, “Excuse you?”

“I just had to see it for myself,” Lando sneers.

Before you can respond Carlos comes up behind you. He’d gotten out of bed at the sound of

Lando’s voice. “What are you doing here?” Carlos questions.

“Oh I just saw some update and WAG pages saying that my best friend was spotted with no one other than the Carlos Sainz and I figured I would come see it with my own two eyes.”

“We aren’t best friends anymore. Remember you told me I was throwing 15 years of friendship away?” You snap back.

“You need to go,” Carlos gently guides you away from the door so that you are now standing behind him. You aren’t going to argue with that. All you wanted was to spend the night with your boyfriend eating room service while watching a crappy movie. You didn’t want to see Lando, let alone have this conversation.

“Is this room 512?” Of course, now the room service shows up.

“Yes,” Carlos answers. The gentleman looks between Carlos and Lando, “Don’t worry about him, he was just leaving.”

You peer around Carlos in time to see Lando stomp off down the hallway back to his own room. The room attendant drops the food off and leaves in a hurry, not that you blame him.

You make your way back to the bed and curl in on yourself, Carlos is quick to follow. “I’m not hungry anymore,” your voice is muffled by one of the pillows. You feel the side of the bed dip behind you as Carlos sits to comfort you.

“I can’t believe he showed up here. What is his problem? Do you want me to go talk to him?”

The idea of Carlos talking to Lando nearly makes you throw up. “No, don’t bother. It’s not worth it.”

“No,” Carlos says harshly, “He comes here, spews a bunch of bullshit and he thinks he can get away with it.” You roll yourself over so you can now look at Carlos. You’ve never seen him so mad, sure you saw him pissed off and frustrated at Monza a few years back but this, this was a whole different type of anger.

“Carlos, as much as I would love for you to give him a piece of your mind, it’s not going to do anything. To him we're the bad guys, no matter how we try to explain ourselves. I’ve made peace with the fact that this is who he is. I think as long as this stays between the three of us and off the track it's best that we just leave it.”

“That still doesn’t mean he can show up whenever he feels like it and start shit.”

“I know, but you’ve said it yourself- he’s childish.” You can see the fight and anger leave Carlos’s body. “Besides, I want all your focus to go into the race. I only kiss boyfriends who end up on the podium.”

“Is that so?” Carlos questions with a sly grin.

Well, it seemed that you owed Carlos a kiss. A Ferrari P1-P2 finish at the first race of the season was a sight to see. The entire garage was in a frenzy as all of them rushed to watch the podium ceremony. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with yourself. You wanted to go watch the ceremony in person but you weren’t sure if that was acceptable, seeing as the rest of the team was more deserving and you were only, well, yourself.

“What are you doing? Let's go! Carlos will want to see you!” James, one of the mechanics that Carlos had introduced you to early in the weekend had seen you standing off to the side looking confused as to where you should go.

“Are you sure?” You asked as he weaved you around his co-workers.

“I’m sure of it! Besides, don’t you want to see your boyfriend up on the podium?”

You really did want to see Carlos on that podium and it definitely had nothing to do with seeing his skin shine with sweat and champagne, nothing at all.

The entire atmosphere was addicting- the fireworks, the roar of applause, the cheering from the team, it was all so addicting and the grin on Carlos’s face was worth being squished in between multiple sweaty bodies.

You could pinpoint the exact moment that Carlos saw you in the crowd and if you thought he was happy before you would consider him ecstatic. After the ceremony, Carlos was quick to make his way down to where you and the rest of his team stood.

Your congratulations died on your lips when Carlos crashed his into yours. Although surprised, you waste no time grabbing the nape of his neck and bringing him closer to you. His skin is sticky with sweat and champagne, not that you mind. His lips are sweet and you can’t help but savor the flavor.

He pulls away and you can’t help but ask, “What was that for?”

“You said you only give kisses to boyfriends who get podiums. I was just collecting my award.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ll kiss you no matter where you end up.”

“Good.” Is all he says before capturing your lips in another kiss. You were well aware of the cameras, the people and their cheers when Carlos kissed you. You could feel the heat rise into your cheeks but you didn’t care. How could you when you had Carlos kissing you? Tomorrow

might be a different story but for now, you were truly living in the moment.

Silverstone 2022

Nearly 4 months had passed since Carlos had kissed you after his podium finish in Bahrain. And it's been nearly 4 months since every social media platform of yours has blown up. It was almost scary how fast your follower count went up. You tried not to look at the comments but your curiosity had gotten to you. While the majority were sweet, there were always those who hated other people's happiness.

It really didn’t bother you, well most of the comments anyways. The ones that cut the deepest were the ones that asked about Lando- Where’s Lando? I wonder what Lando thinks about this? Oh, so you're the reason we don’t have Carlando anymore. She was only using Lando the entire time, I guess the friendship paid off.

Carlos had called you when first brought them up, that conversation was a rough one. He had suggested deleting social media for a time and you had argued back that they really didn’t bother you. You knew that Carlos was concerned for you, it was sweet. But like any 20-something-year old you were addicted to your phone and social media. Carlos had then suggested making a private account, something only your close friends and family could view, that way you could continue your life as an iPad kid.

Silverstone was the second race that you were able to attend of the season. Carlos understood that you couldn’t drop everything and travel the world with him, no matter how much the both of you wished you could. But it nearly broke your heart to tell him that you weren’t able to make it to the Spanish Grand Prix. He told you it was okay but you could still hear the sadness in his voice.

You always sent him a text after every race, no matter the result, and if the timezone allowed you would try and call him. So when your time off got approved for the entire week at Silverstone you couldn’t be happier.

So here you were, your third time at the Silverstone circuit, however, it was your first time being here and not being in the McLaren garage. You felt more comfortable in your Ferrari getup the second time around.

You had high hopes for Carlos during qualifying, the free practice sessions seemed promising. And your hopes were fulfilled when Carlos got pole position for the 2022 Silverstone Grand Prix.

Your emotions were amped up a hundred times the next day when the checkered flag was waved and Carlos crossed the finish line in P1. Emotions were high in the Ferrari garage and you weren’t excluded in feeling them. Carlos had just achieved his first-ever Formula 1 win at Silverstone. Everything seemed to move in a blur, you were whipped away to see Carlos. You didn’t care how sweaty he was, how his hair was sticking out in a hundred different directions, or the indents of his helmet on his cheeks. None of that mattered, all you cared about was Carlos. Celebrations didn’t cease after the podium ceremony. Of course, Carlos was whisked away for a few post-race interviews but everyone was preparing for the night ahead.

You don’t remember the name of the club that you were dragged to and frankly, it didn’t matter. The atmosphere was buzzing, the music was so loud you could feel it in your chest, and the floor was so sticky that you could feel your shoes almost slip off with every step. But you could barely think about any of that when Carlos’s hands were currently around your hips and the two of you were dancing, not very PG-ly, in the middle of the club.

Carlos was handsy when tipsy, you knew that much. His hands were constantly moving up and down your sides, to your hips, to your arms, and even to your neck every time he decided it was time for another kiss.

“Do you need another drink?” Carlos shouts over the music.

You glance down at the empty cup in your hand, “Yes please!”

Carlos grabs your hand and drags you away from the dance floor and towards the bar. You bump into a couple people and while it is bound to happen you can’t stop the quick ‘sorry’s’ that slip through your mouth. No one seems to pay any attention to you basically stepping on their toes, all too wasted to really care.

You stand next to Carlos as he tries to get the bartender's attention. You don’t mind waiting, it’s busy and the poor bartenders are slammed. However, you do mind when someone bumps into you so roughly that you are rammed into the bar counter.

“Sorry!” The person exclaims and you are quick to turn around to see who the hell just ran into you.

The universe must really have it out for you because the voice belonged to none other than Lando Norris, who else? The two of you lock eyes but say nothing. It’s only when Carlos turns around with your drink that Lando lets out a scoff.

“Congratulations Carlos,” Lando says. You don’t have to be a genius to tell that Lando isn’t being genuine.

“Thank you,” Carlos replies dryly.

“That was quite a performance at the podium ceremony,” Lando’s attention is now fully on you, “I never did quite take you for a slut but guess I was wrong.”

Your jaw drops and you are left speechless. Never in a million years did you think that the boy you grew up with would call you such a vile name. Tears well in your eyes, is this truly what he thinks of you?

Carlos slams the drinks on the counter and you can feel the anger roll off of him in waves. “What did you just say?” Carlos growls.

Lando looks taken aback by Carlos’s reaction and you can almost see a flicker of regret flash across his features, however, he doesn’t change his stance reply with a cold, “You heard me.”

“I have had it with your glorified temper tantrums. You need to grow up and get over yourself.” Carlos doesn’t allow Lando to get another word out, he grabs your hand and pulls you away from the bar.

Once the two of you are outside Carlos is pulling you into a tight hug. “Don’t listen to him. He’s drunk and an asshole.”

Carlos's words don’t do anything to stop the tears from falling. Sobs rack your body and Carlos can only hold you tighter. Rationally thinking, why did it matter what Lando thought? He wasn’t a part of your relationship. Emotionally thinking, on the other hand, Lando was your best friend for 15 years. The two of you went through almost every milestone together and yet he still called you a slut. It didn’t matter if he was drunk or not.

“Let's go back to the hotel,” Carlos says softly.

You can only nod. You can’t help but feel bad for Carlos, tonight was supposed to be his night. The two of you were supposed to celebrate his win but here you were crying and getting snot all over his shirt.

You had nearly passed out the moment you and Carlos got back to your shared hotel room. The excitement of the day along with the tears had proven all too much. Cuddled up next to Carlos you couldn’t help but feel the need to apologize.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Hermosa?”

“Tonight was supposed to be all about you. We were supposed to have a fun night celebrating and I ruined it.”

“No. The only person who ruined it was Lando. He had no right to say anything.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear you apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault. You did nothing.”

“But my reaction-”

“Was a normal reaction to the situation. If he ever says or does anything like that again I won’t hesitate to punch him.”

“Carlos!” you exclaim, “You can’t just do that.”

“Consequences be damned.”

“Carlos,” you say in a warning tone. He says nothing and you shake your head in annoyance.

“We can celebrate properly later, when do you need to be in Austria?”

“In three days, I think.”

“Oh, well when we go back to my flat we can do something before you leave?”

“Sounds perfect mi amor.” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple.

When you talked about celebrating with Carlos at your flat you meant maybe have a few drinks, go out for a nice dinner, or maybe even watch a movie. What you didn’t imagine was straddling Carlos on your couch.

One of your hands was wrapped around Carlos’s neck and the other was tangled in his hair as his lips left warm, wet kisses along your neck. His hands were spread across your back, holding you in place to make sure you didn’t fall backwards off the couch.

“Carlos,” you whine out. The slight scratch of his facial hair mixed with the feeling of his lips were driving you crazy. You were definitely going to need to use some concealer and foundation

on your neck when you got ready tomorrow morning.

Carlos, hearing your whine, had only responded with a “I know Hermosa.”

His hands then found their way to your waist and moved you off of his lap so that your back was now resting against the cushions while he hovered over you. His hands dance along the hem of your shirt and you savor the warmth of his palms.

Carlos nearly has your shirt off of your body when there is a knock at the door. The two of you look at the door and then back at each other and Carlos brings a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. You nod in understanding, hoping that whoever is at the door goes away soon.

The knocking continues and Carlos moves off of you and to the front door. You sigh and sit up, fixing your shirt in the process. You hope whoever is at the front door has a good enough reason for interrupting your and Carlos’s celebration.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hear Carlos question whoever is at the door.

“Carlos,” you call out, getting up from the couch to make your way out of the living room to see what the commotion is. “Who’s at the door?”

You don’t need Carlos to answer the question because as soon as you are close enough you see a sheepish-looking Lando who is holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Lando, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I came to apologize for my behavior last night.”

Carlos scoffs, “Just last night? You should be apologizing for a lot more than that.”

Lando looks down defeatedly, “You’re right. I should have never acted the way I did. The truth is I was worried about losing my best friend. I’ve always cared about you and I always will care about you.”

It was your turn to scoff, “You didn’t seem to care about me that night in Monaco when you told me I was throwing away 15 years of friendship. You didn’t care when I pleaded with you to understand my feelings. You didn’t care when you basically told me to choose you or Carlos. You say you were worried about losing your ‘best friend,’ but if you were so worried, how come I couldn’t even get a response from you that morning I texted you apologizing for all of it?”

“But I’m here now.”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t need a half-assed apology. Especially after that night in Bahrain and especially after what you called me last night.”

“What made you think that showing up here, unannounced, was going to do anything?” Carlos asks.

Lando now turns his attention to Carlos, “I wasn’t talking to you. I am here to apologize to her, not you. This isn’t any of your business.” Lando snaps.

Lando has always been a bit of an idiot and clearly, that hasn’t changed in the past year. You rub your eyes. You can feel the stress headache starting to form already.

“Not any of my business,” Carlos repeats, “Are you kidding me? You say it’s none of my business but I think calling my girlfriend a slut is my business. You might be too childish to see it but I care about her. I listen to her when she talks about you and your friendship, when she talks about how she has supported you for all these years, and when she misses you. I won’t have you messing around with her feelings.”

“Lando,” you say gently, “You will always have a special place in my heart. I just can’t get those nasty words that you told me out of my head. It’s one thing to call me a bad friend but calling me a slut? For what? Finding someone I care about, someone who makes me happy? I can’t accept your apology, at least not right now. Maybe someday we’ll be able to be friends again but I think it's time that we admit that we will never have what we once did.”

Lando looks as if he is about to cry and while you feel bad you have to maintain your stance. You can’t have someone like this in your life, it’ll only make it harder.

“I get it,” Lando says, “Just know that I truly am sorry for the way I’ve acted. I hope the two of you are happy, I mean it.”

“Thank you, Lando. I wish you the best."

Lando walks away, head hung in shame. Carlos closes the door softly and just like that the hope you held for you and Lando’s friendship dies out. Maybe it’s for the better, maybe one day the two of you can be friends again. But for now, you’ll focus on the present. You might’ve closed the door on Lando but you have never been happier opening the one for Carlos.

A/N: I just wanted to say again thank you so much for all the support on part one. I was not expecting this to become a 20k+ fic in it's entirety. I was also unsure the entire time whether or not to make Lando and the Reader friends again, so hopefully this is open ended enough for you to decide.

Also please don't forget to like, comment, or reblog. It seriously means the world to me <3

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amourdivine · 10 months ago

Text

୨ ♡ ୧ WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE THEY? ઉ PAC

Hello, angels! I hope you're well. I'm bringing in another nosy type of reading. We'll look into who this person really is and if any advice comes up. If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ [email protected] via paypal! xo ♡

› none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise. › personal readings are closed as of march 2024 › navigation ♡ masterlist ♡ payhip (extended readings)

HOW TO CHOOSE YOUR PILE. take a few deep breaths and look at each picture separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content!

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is this person, deep down? two of cups ✧ the hermit ✧ judgement

This is someone who values meaningful, deep, soulful relationships. They do not crave the buzz of parties or endless chatting with strangers. They don't like small talk. Others may describe this person as an old soul, someone introspective and wise. Their friends turn to them for honest and sensible advice; they may be an older sibling, or someone who's seen as a role model in some type of way.

Unfortunately, this wisdom came at a cost. They have endured a thousand inner deaths in life. This person had to start over many, many times, but they always got back up. As strong as they are also loyal, they're mature and still believe in the magic of being surrounded by good people. Strong Virgo and Scorpio energy, given the cards you got.

It's likely they came from poverty or are enduring a financial loss at this moment in time. Since this person is hardworking and independent, I don't think you have anything to worry about - sadly or not, they're more than used to the weight of their shoulders.

Although they're not expressive with their emotions or thoughts, you can count on this person to be sincere. They seem heavily protected by something greater, something bigger. For most of you, this person is spiritual, but not religious. They're very private and you may have a hard time understanding them or figuring them out.

channeled words & songs: black and white, heavy as led, test of time, a drop of water, night of the soul, life path 7, seek solitude, "i'm always okay", read my mind by the killers, runaway horses, small towns.

quotes that remind me of this person

Tell me, Atlas. What is heavier: The world or its people's hearts? — Darshana Suresh.

I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses. — Friedrich Nietzsche.

Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me. — Sigmund Freud.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is this person, deep down? five of swords ✧ the world ✧ the moon

Accomplished, but lonely. It's how this person feels as I shuffled. They have seen and known so much, but it came at the cost of their morals. This person holds many secrets - even from themselves. Nothing dark, but they do regret their ways at times. With how competitive and aggressive they can be, it's difficult for them to hold onto anything but their success.

They may be famous or well-known in some way. Renowned. A lawyer, a judge. Someone with a fair share of experience and authority in a certain field. But my God, how their words can hurt. Have you ever heard that the pen is mightier than the sword? Yeah, that's this person.

Even when they bask in the glory of being so accomplished, no one really knows this person. Not even themselves, as I said. They're scared of vulnerability, emotions and intimacy. They're scared of the things the Moon tries to show them: their deepest fears, the nightmares and past traumas they've tried to bury deep down.

Interestingly, despite the cards, I get heavy Aries energy. This person may be an Aries Moon, quite a complex placement to have. They're good at being logical and practical, good at the doing, at the speaking, but they don't have the time for people, for emotions... for friendship or family. Given their history, it's likely they shut themselves off from connections out of fear.

I don't think they're happy. They look happy, they look so beautiful, so otherworldly, but inside of them there's this urge for something else. Something more meaningful.

channeled words & songs: ambitchous, aries, sagittarius, "i want it i got it", "let my money talk", chest pains, life path 8 or 9, neon pink, overprotective, oh no! by marina, terrible love by the national, bank account.

quotes that remind me of this person

I live to succeed, not to please you or anyone else. — Marilyn Monroe.

My worst fear - that's anyone's worst fear - is to lose myself and become an empty person. And that happens a lot when you're very ambitious. — Marina Diamandis.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is this person, deep down? two of pentacles ✧ the sun ✧ four of pentacles

What an interesting contradiction, it seems. The person on your mind is generous, extroverted and.. quite the busy bee. Their outer persona remind me of J-Hope from BTS, very caring and extroverted - someone who's got an infectious laugh, but despite his bubbly appearance, he's actually very caring and protective.

Although they may seen foolish, this person is anything but. They're quite careful and at times, intense. However, I don't think many people get to see this more serious and protective side of them. They seem guarded for the right reasons, because they know their heart is quite precious and too much of a good thing to be given away so easily.

It's possible they come off as brain-scattered or high maintenance to you, but they're genuine and one of their main purposes in life - whether they know it or not - is to bring joy to others. They're so good at it. It's not a party without this person, with or without alcohol, they know how to lighten up the mood and are an amazing team player.

It feels cheeky too. I think they like the dad jokes, the lighthearted atmosphere, but they know when to be serious. If I am to be honest, this person is an amazing partner (in case you're asking about a romantic interest) and an even more amazing friend. Someone who'll cheer you up and stick by your side through thick and thin. A very dear friend.

channeled words & songs: heart-shaped, light up a joint, weed, recreational drugs, easy breezy, life of the party by shawn mendes, 9 to 5, bisexual, lgbt+, rainbow, friend-shaped, dogs, cats, energetic, rap.

quotes that remind me of this person

The greatness of a man is not in how much wealth he acquires, but in his integrity and his ability to affect those around him positively.— Bob Marley.

You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it. — Robin Williams.

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always. — Unknown.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is this person, deep down? ace of cups ✧ ten of swords ✧ seven of cups ✧ the lovers

I feel like whoever you're asking about is in a brand new mode. They seem to be someone who was previously overburdened by their past. This person is in a major transformative phase, both physically and internally. They have endured so much, it's heartbreaking just thinking about it. I don't think they're very open about it though, at least, they weren't before.

Honestly, this person may have suffered from addiction, major losses or betrayal. They're getting back up after a period of darkness. Spirit's referencing their current phase more so than they actually are, because I believe they haven't yet fully come to really be who they are. They're shedding the person they had become, in order to be who they were meant to be.

They seek a new beginning, new friendships, good, better choices. It seems this path they're on has just begun, so they're a bit.. amazed at the options being offered. Still, this person wants to choose well for themselves and the people they love. They've regained a great love for the world. I feel filled with wonder, with enthusiasm for what's to come. Like anything and everything is possible.

Although they may seem immature, they've seen a lot. They've had to fight to survive through their worst and now, they're learning to let joy and love in. They've come to realize their power, the magic in who they are and learning to accept that this too shall pass. However, this person feels peaceful yet determined, broken yet healing, quite balanced in their aspects. A thinker and a feeler.

channeled words & songs: ego, healing, therapy, six of cups, innocence, yet to come by bts, mbti types, dancing in the dark by bruce springsteen, "a do-over", "maybe", shufflemancy, spiritual, 777, 333, psychedelics, hippie, hologram, offline, nature.

quotes that remind me of this person

I go to seek a Great Perhaps. That's why I'm going. So I don't have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps. — John Green.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. — Steve Jobs.

I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be so much love, you won’t be able to see beyond it. — Warsan Shire.

୨୧ PILE FIVE

who is this person, deep down? two of wands ✧ six of wands ✧ page of cups

A courageous, successful individual. This person has a lot of wanderlust. They are in love with life, in love with themselves, in love with the world. They like to be on the move, to party and be around other people they also admire.

However, they have an impulsive, non-committal side to them that is expressed mainly in the way they approach relationships, especially romantic wise. They have a fear of settling, so they're always on the go, on the search for the next best thing in every way. They may move a lot or have a different crush everyday. Although it isn't inherently bad, I think this person may come off as hard to pin down.

In reality, they're enthusiastic and ready to take on the world. They like the spotlight, they have big dreams too. It gives me Leo energy, in the way they love to be praised, to be adored. Depending on who you're asking, this may be polyamorous or they just enjoy being single and free. Many people describe this person as free-spirited and bold.

At times, their words and behaviors get the best of them. They're not good at keeping secrets and may have quite a temper when angered. They mean well, but there's a diva-like side to this person that can be egocentric or immature, since they've got a bit of a one track mind when it comes to their dreams. They're also very beautiful and they know it. It's also quite the ego boost to be around them - they love to give out compliments and flirt.

channeled words & songs: bisexual, "himbo", bucketlist, pinterest, clean girl era, "i want everything", poetry, interlude: shadow by bts, parallel universe, edm, party girl, wild, erratic, center of attention, instagram, social media influencer, blogger, barbie movie, hungry heart by bruce springsteen, rumors by ross lynch (this song started playing after i finished the section above! very relevant).

quotes that remind me of this person

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days. — Sylvia Plath.

I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles. — Audrey Hepburn.

amourdivine 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content!

DISCLAIMER. tarot is a divination tool, it’s not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. be mindful ♡

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 4 months ago

Text

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 29

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TBH! At this point, this is a joint collab with @paigereeder 😭. GOAT!

Thursday, September 2nd 2021

Airielle’s peaceful slumber was interrupted by her phone ringing. Groaning, she snatched her phone off the floor next to her and squinted at the screen to see who was calling her. “Oh my god.” She muttered before accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Why in the fuck didn’t you tell me Christopher popped the fuck back up. I knew I should’ve killed that motherfucker when I had the chance.” Her older brother Isaiah seethed over the phone and Airielle sighed closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Airielle!” He shouted into the phone when she didn’t respond.

“Because I had it under control.” Airielle looked behind her as Josh started to shift in his sleep, sighing she threw the covers off of her and walked into the living room to finish her conversation.

“Uh-huh, sure you do. He broke into your spot -”

“And I moved, problem solved.” She shrugged, eyes glancing around the living room just taking in how much he had actually gotten rid of. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Isaiah snorted. “I took the day off.”

“Hmm,” Airielle hummed. “And that’s why you’ll never be Dad’s favorite”

“Eat my - “ Airielle hung up before her brother could finish his statement. Rolling her eyes she threw her phone on the island. She looked up when she heard Josh shuffling into the living room.

“Everything Aight?” Josh mumbled as he walked closer to Airielle and kissed her cheek.

“Yeah, my brother being a pain in my ass.” She replied, rolling her eyes when he chuckled. “What you got going on today?”

“Nothing. I gotta do some laundry and gotta pack. Got Smackdown and the House show this weekend.”

“You wanna go get some breakfast first?” She asked, tapping the screen on her phone to see what time it was. “I’m kinda craving waffles.”

“You already know the answer to that.” Airielle rolled her eyes with a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest.

“Can you believe it’s about to be a year since we met?” It's crazy to think about all the ups and downs they went through in a year! If she could go back and change anything it would definitely be breaking up with him after he asked her to move in with him. That would have saved them months of heartbreak.

“You wanna hear somethin’ wild?” He waited until she lifted her head from his chest to continue. “That wasn’t the first time we actually met.”

Airielle furrowed her eyebrows together and tilted her head a little.

“Huh?”

“We actually met back in 2019. Me and twin had a meeting with Hunter, down at the PC and I saw you there. I mean I was looking, respectfully, but I was still looking.” He laughed when Airielle rolled her eyes again. “Hunter told us he was taking us off TV after Jon’s latest arrest but he still had -

“Y’all cut a promo for us.” She whispered as the memory of their first meeting came rushing back. “I remember y’all looking so pissed but still came and cut like one the best promos I ever heard.”

“Mmhmm.” Josh hummed while nodding his head. “I remember trying to come talk to you, but you weren’t even trying to give ya boy the time of day. I mean I understand why now but shit, back then I thought you were like this stuck up bi-” He stopped himself when she narrowed her eyes at him. He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.”

“I mean I was a bitch to you when I came to the main roster.” Josh nodded his head in agreement and Airielle sucked her teeth, pulling away from him.

“What? you said it, not me.” Just as she went to smartass him, his stomach released the loudest grumble she had ever heard. They both stared at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. “You the one who brought up waffles, I mean you already know how I get down.” Airielle sucked her teeth and pushed him away from her before walking back towards his room so she could grab her clothes to shower.

“I feel like they just need to go ahead and sponsor your greedy ass Uce.” She chuckled, her back to him as she shuffled through her bag looking for something to wear to breakfast. She stood up straight and gasped as she turned and bumped into Josh.

“Whatchu’ just call me?” Airielle bit her lip to stop herself from smiling at the look he was giving her. “Airielle, stop playing with me.”

“You wanna go get waffles or not?” Josh tilted his head as he stared at her. He was really contemplating on not going to the Waffle House with her because who the fuck did she think he was. Uce, had she lost her damn mind? He wasn’t her damn Uce. He went to tell her that they weren't going to breakfast but his stomach growled again making her smile. “That’s what I thought.”

AirielleJones

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“You gon glare at me throughout breakfast or what?” Airielle asked him as the waitress walked away to put in their orders. “Why can’t I call you Uce?” She pouted.

“Cause I don’t fuck my family Airielle.”

“Boy –”

“Oh my god. Look at you! You’ve gotten so big.” A new voice interrupted their conversation. Both Airielle and Josh both turned towards the new voice. Josh narrowed his eyes as he looked at the woman. She was older than both of them, with dark brown skin; for some reason, her facial features reminded him of Airielle. Josh turned to look at Airielle to ask if she knew who the hell this lady was but he stopped short once he saw the look on Airie’s face. He had only seen that look one time before.

A couple weeks before she broke up with him she had this same look when he had tried to initiate sex but she wasn’t in the mood for it. That’s the same day he found out Christopher used to force her to have sex with him. He remembers her telling him that her old therapist called it dissociating. Josh immediately stood up and stepped in front of this lady, blocking Airielle, who was still sitting in the booth, from her view.

“You good?” Josh asked the woman, straightening his shoulders so he was standing at full height.

“Are you her bodyguard or something?” Another voice piped up from behind the older women and Josh definitely knew that they had to be related to Airielle in some sort of fashion because this girl and Airielle could pass off as twins.

“Yup. Now answer my question, Y’all good?”

“You must be Joshua.” The older woman said. Holding her hand out to him. “I’m Abigail and this is my daughter Janelle.”

“Cool, y’all can leave now.” He said eyeing her hand with disgust. Whoever this woman was made Airielle uncomfortable and he wanted her away from them ASAP. Abigail’s hand hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before she withdrew it and cleared her throat, forcing a smile on her face.

“Airielle please tell this man that I am your mother and I just want to talk to you.” Josh’s eyebrows shot up at the news. “Please solèy –”

“Don’t call me that,” Airielle spoke up. “You have no right to call me that.” Airielle stood up from the booth and grabbed Josh’s hand. “I want to leave.” Josh nodded his head immediately. Breakfast forgotten, he ushered Airielle back to his car.

“You okay?” Josh asked as he pulled out of The Waffle House parking lot.

“No,” Airielle said. “Pull over.” As soon as the car came to a stop, Airielle threw open the passenger door and threw up nothing but stomach acid. “Fuck!” she cried out.

Josh handed her a bottle of water and she thanked him, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it out. “That was–”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t gotta talk about it.”

“I know.” Airielle smiled and grabbed his hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “But I wanna be more open and honest with you.” Josh bit his lip and nodded. “That was my birth mom and her daughter I guess.”

“Y’all not close. I take it.”

“Nah,” Airielle shook her head. “She left when – well right after she gave birth to me. She never wanted me, never wanted a daughter, but I see a lot has changed in the past thirty years. I remember growing up, she would always send my brother’s gifts and cards on their birthdays but never mine. I didn’t really care because I didn’t remember her anyway. But um- one day I was just curious as to why she seemed to ignore my existence so I got her address off of one of the packages she sent my brothers and wrote her a letter.”

Airielle quickly wiped away her tears. She hated crying over this woman. Josh squeezed Airielle’s hand gently. “She wrote me back. Which kinda shocked me but I was happy that she did. I was thinking she was just gonna tell me that she was just feelin' guilty about leaving me but, she said the complete opposite. She wrote me 4 pages, front and back, telling about how many times she unsuccessfully tried to abort me. How she tried to give me up for adoption without my father knowing. How she had a plan to tell my dad that I had died during childbirth.”

Josh’s jaw was damn near on the floor as he listened to Airielle. No wonder she’s so emotionally challenged He thought.

“She blamed me for the fact that she couldn’t see her boys grow up, she blamed me because my dad chose to raise me instead of be with her. The final thing she wrote to me was, I wish you would have died. Do not contact me again. So I didn’t, I ripped the letter up and burned it. Never told my dad or my brothers about it and obviously neither did she.”

“What the fuck.” Josh whispered, his hand tightened into a fist on his thigh. Abigail or whatever her name is better than her lucky stars that Josh didn’t put his hands on women.

“Yeah I mean, I just wanted my mom, but she didn’t want me..” Airielle shrugged as she tried to stop the tears but it was too much. She had pushed Abigail and her hurtful words into the back of her mind in the folder with Chris and her unborn baby. Seeing her today just opened up a wound that Airielle thought had semi-healed.

Josh pushed his seat back and pulled her over the center console so she could sit in his lap. He held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder. Josh gently stroked her back, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright. I’m right here, okay? We gon’ get through this.”

As her crying eased, Josh kept her close, feeling her heart slow against his. He didn’t let go, knowing she needed this more than anything. He wasn’t just comforting her; he was vowing to stand up for her in every way he could.

Whew.. Miss Abigail is a trip!

What do y'all think about this chapter??

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Abigail Noelle Roy

Janelle Noelle Roy

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kitsuga · 3 months ago

Text

Study. {Beelzebub x Reader/MC}

Description:

A fic in which Beel helps MC study.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tags: fluff, reader was up all night which honestly mood, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, beelzebub/beel x reader/mc, obey me!/obm/om

Word Count: 821

A/N: Written on: May 8, 2021

My sister was stressing about her finals that were creeping up on her so I wrote this to comfort her at the time! I hope it brings you guys at least a lil bit of comfort too ^^

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Beelzebub watched as MC sighed once more, like they had been for the past hour as the two of them struggled to study. They were both struggling with the material being taught in class, but the weight of it had been weighing more on MC than it did him.

“I’ll never be able to understand this. I’m going to fail and if I fail who knows what Lucifer will say—what will Diavolo say? What will Diavolo DO?”

“I’m having troubles with it too,” Beel said between the bites of his sandwich, “so you won’t be alone--”

“But you can take them if they get mad at you!”

“I mean, not really...” his voice dropped off and took another bite, placing his other hand beneath MC’s forehead to stop them from injuring themselves as they continuously smacked their head against the table.

Another sigh came from them before they laid their head on top of his hand, admitting defeat for the umpteenth time that day. Beel held out the remainder of his sandwich as an offering for a sympathy bite, which they took in a slow, sad manner.

“It’ll be fine, MC.”

They responded to him with a grunt; Beel knew they didn’t really believe him. He read through the chapters and notes again quietly, hoping to find something he could understand and help MC with. MC stared off into space the remainder of the night while Beel quietly kept at it, reading and keeping his hand in place as a pillow.

The next morning, Beel waited for MC at school, surprisingly early for once. MC was surprisingly late, for once. Instead of rushing up to him, Beel watched MC shuffle up to him with their head hanging low, eyes stuck to the floor only to rise slowly once they bumped into his chest.

“I’m sorry--”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh. Good morning, Beel.”

He frowned, taking notice of the state they were in. After handing them the snack bag he had been eating from, letting them munch a little bit before they had to head to class. Carefully, he tamed pieces of MC’s hair that had been a bit crazy, hoping his silence would nudge them into telling him what had been wrong; instead, they fell forward and bumped into his chest again, staying there for a little bit before standing back up straight.

“MC, did you get any sleep?”

They smiled weakly at him, hoping to deflect his question; they stared in a tired disbelief up at him as he gently cupped their face, a disapproving look taking over his features.

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I had to keep studying.” They sighed, their body tensing up and their voice growing higher and more distressed as they kept talking, “I had to keep studying because I had to learn it because we have that test today and I couldn’t fail—I can’t fail because then I’ll be in trouble and then--”

“Shh.”

Beel was never very good at words, but he always did his best to speak through actions, and now was no different. Holding their face, he carefully wiped away the tears that started to fall from their eyes out of frustration and exhaustion. He frowned and gently rubbed the dark circles beneath their eyes and let them cry a bit more, continuously wiping away the tears as they came up. Leaning down, Beel placed a soft, feathery kiss square between their eyebrows; he moved and continued his barrage of kisses, ever so lightly, across their entire face. Their eyelids, underneath their eyes, their nose, cheeks, forehead-- wherever he could get his lips to comfort the person who mattered to him most.

Their hands wrapped around his wrists as they allowed their face to melt into his hands and his kisses. Once the tears had stopped, they whispered a faint ‘thank you’ that Beel hummed a response to. After standing together in silence for a moment, Beel moved to run his thumb over their cheekbones before pulling their head closer to his chest, resting his chin on the top of their head.

“You’ll pass the test,” they felt his voice rumble through his chest, “I’ll ask Satan to help.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“What if he says no?”

“I’ll offer him lunch.”

MC laughed, wrapping their arms around him now that they felt comforted. Knowing that Beel cared about them enough to show love in such a gentle and expressive way was enough to expel any negative emotion they’d have all day. Their sigh this time was one of relief as they laid their head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. The two of them stood together until the bell rang, signaling the beginning of class; they listened to the rumble of Beel’s chest one last time before going on their way.

“If you still fail, I’ll fail too.”

“Beel, please don’t do that.”

#beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub #om beelzebub #obey me x reader #kitsu.writes #kitsu.om beel #kitsu.om #obm beelzebub #obey me x mc #obey me #obey me fanfic

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hockey-fics · 1 year ago

Text

A Love Worth Changing For ~ Nico Hischier

Summary: Your commitment to yourself to stay out of a relationship becomes harder to keep when you meet someone who just might be worth breaking your promises for.

Word count: ~8,900

Warnings: Drinking (quite a bit), implied/vaguely mentioned smut, throwing up, toxic behaviours.

A/N: I kind of hate how this turned out, to be honest. It's not super well edited because I didn't want to read through it yet another time.

You didn’t want to be in a relationship. It was a promise you made to yourself. You wouldn’t get into a relationship until you were done with school. You had high expectations for yourself in your years at university. You wanted to do well, that was a given. Staying out of a relationship would only leave you with more time to study. But you also wanted these years to explore who you were as a person, casually date, figure out what you wanted in a partner and what kind of partner you wanted to be.

It wasn’t hard, at least not for the first few years. Until you decided to go to grad school and decided to keep your commitment to not having any romantic commitment. And then came your second hurdle, when you met Nico.

October 2021

Standing at the kitchen counter you fill a bowl with a bag of chips that you know will go mostly untouched in favour of drinks, but it was the thought that mattered, right? Your phone vibrates on the counter and your eyes fall to your bright screen. A text from Jack. Unlocking your phone you read the message, asking if he could bring a couple friends. Sighing to yourself you reply that it was fine, though you were a little nervous about who Jack was going to be bringing to a party you were already worried might be getting too large.

Before long your apartment is full of people, half of which you didn’t know, tagging along with the half that you did. You’re in the kitchen mixing yourself an unnecessarily strong drink of tequila and orange juice when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Turning around your eyes focus on Jack.

“Hey,” you greet, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug. Jack. You met him when you both arrived in New Jersey, him to play for the Devils and you to start your undergrad degree. It was an instant connection, but not the kind your friends had speculated. You understood that he was attractive, you knew that almost everyone seemed to fall for him. But your connection with him felt more like a brother than anything more. “How was your game?”

“It was good…It would be really cool if you would like watch a game once in awhile,” Jack jokes.

“I was busy,” you whine, taking a large sip of your drink.

“Busy with what?”

“Preparing this place to sustain the damage of another party,” you inform him. “And pre-gaming.”

“I see how it is, rather get drunk than come see me play.”

Rolling your eyes you lean back against the counter. “Honestly, yeah,” you joke. Your eyes travel over Jack’s shoulder, to the man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing around uncertainly. “Hi,” you call to him, catching his attention. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, I’m Nico,” he tells you, shuffling his way between Jack and some other guy you had yet to meet. “Is this your place?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, hearing a shattering of glass from the other side of the kitchen. “Unfortunately,” you add with a breath of laughter. “I should go deal with that, I’ll talk to you later, Nico,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm as you slip by him in the direction of the shattering sound.

After helping clean up the mess of broken glass and spilled beer you head back into the kitchen, needing another drink. You find Jack and Nico nearly exactly where you had left them, discussing something with an intensity that piques your interest.

“Am I missing something?” you ask Jack, pouring yourself another drink.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Jack states boldly.

You’re caught off guard by how easily he offers the information, especially when you see Nico elbow him in the side, clearly not wanting him to have said that. “Oh?” you say, turning to face Nico, a playful smile on your lips.

“I, uh,” Nico begins, eyes falling to the ground. “Yeah,” he finally mutters.

Giggling you take a sip of your drink, stepping a little closer to him. “Well, I think you’re pretty hot as well,” you tell him, hoping it would ease some of the awkward tension that had fallen on the conversation.

“This is gross,” Jack mutters, gulping back half of his beer in one go.

“You’re the one who brought it up, dumbass,” you remind him, spinning to lean against the counter beside Nico. “Tell me more about yourself,” you say to Nico.

“What do you want to know?”

Shrugging you glance down to his empty hands. “Do you not drink?”

“I offered to drive him home,” Nico tells you, nodding towards Jack.

“Drive Jack home?” you mutter, eyebrows furrowed. “Jack never goes home after he gets drunk here.”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know you two were-,” Nico stammers, shaking his head as he glances over to Jack with an incredulous look.

“That’s not what I meant,” you exclaim with wide eyes. “He sleeps on the couch.”

“Oh,” Nico chuckles.

“So, does that mean you’re going to have a drink?”

Nico shrugs, looking over at Jack, who was already on his third beer. “I still need to drive myself home.”

“I’m sure we can find you somewhere to sleep,” you tell him.

And find him somewhere to sleep was exactly what you did, in your bed right next to you.

When you wake up the next morning your arm is slung over Nico’s chest, your head on his shoulder. Slowly you pull your body away from him, tugging the sheets up over your naked body as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 9:35 AM.

“Morning,” Nico mumbles tiredly.

“Morning,” you reply, glancing down at him with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Nico shrugs. “Tired.”

“Me too,” you laugh. “Do you want some coffee or something?”

“If you’re going to make some for yourself I’ll have some.”

Climbing out of bed you pull some clothes on, shuffling out of your room to take in the damage from the night before. The kitchen counters are littered with cans and bottles, sticky with spilled drinks. Sighing to yourself you grab a bag, beginning the long process of post-party clean up. Nico is at your side a second later, tossing cans into the bag you were holding.

“You don’t need to clean up, it’s okay,” you assure him, not wanting him to feel obligated to help clean your apartment after a party you decided to throw.

“I don’t mind,” Nico shrugs. “I’m sure some of it is my mess.”

His justification makes you giggle, knowing that he had been one of the only people the night before to ask you where you wanted him to put his empty cans. You finish clearing off the counter together, wiping it down before making a pot of coffee. While it was brewing you stand at the counter, Nico in front of you, his hands on your hips as he looks down at you.

“So do you think I can get your number?” Nico asks.

Running your hands up his arms you rest them on his shoulders, smiling playfully up at him. “Yeah, I think maybe I could give you my number.”

Leaning down Nico presses his lips to yours again, gently and slowly, tugging your hips closer to his body.

“Get a room.”

Pulling back from Nico you look across the kitchen to where Jack was now standing. “You know this is my apartment, right?” you joke, pulling your arms back from Nico. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Jack mumbles, leaning tiredly into the counter. “Do you have that girl’s number?”

“Who?” you ask, pressing your palms into the counter, hopping up onto it.

“You know, the one I was talking to.”

“Do you even remember her name?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters dismissively.

“What is it then?”

“Do you have her number or not?” Jack exclaims, rubbing his fingers over his temples.

“Yes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I’m not giving you her number if you can’t even remember her name.”

Jack lets out a loud groan, shaking his head. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles.

Nico glances up at you with a look that told you he agreed with your decision. “You remember my name, right?” you joke.

Nico chuckles, leaning up to press his lips to your again. “Of course,” he tells you.

After the coffee is done brewing you pour a few mugs, adding some cream to your coffee. Heading into the living room you curl up on the couch, leaning into Nico when he sits down beside you. The three of you sit in the living room, talking about the night before while finishing your coffee.

Shortly after finishing his coffee Jack decides to get an Uber home, leaving you and Nico alone again. You spend the majority of the day cuddled up with Nico on the couch, watching movie after movie as the hangover slowly begins to leave your body.

“When are you free for me to take you on a date?” Nico asks after the end of yet another movie.

Sitting up you pull your body away from Nico, turning to look over at him. “Nico, I do like you but I feel like I should tell you that I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to see you again?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you giggle, shaking your head. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Okay,” Nico says with a shrug. “How about Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday night sounds good to me,” you reply, leaning over and kissing him gently.

Wednesday night comes around quickly and your date goes incredibly well. As does the next date, and all the ones after that. It wasn’t long till you were spending almost all your spare time together.

There was a connection you had with Nico that was undeniable. But you were holding onto your promise to yourself that you weren’t going to get into a relationship.

December 2021

You’re finally packing clothes for your trip home, having just finished your exams a few days earlier. Going home for the holidays was always one of the highlights of your year, when you could finally relax without worrying about assignments or classes or exams. Folding a few sweaters you set them into the suitcase on your bed, a sudden knock on your door startling you.

Heading through your apartment you hesitantly pull the door open, relaxing when you see Nico standing in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you before you left,” Nico explains, stepping inside. “And I wanted to bring you this.”

Your eyes fall to the wrapped box in his hand. “A Christmas present?”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles, setting it into your hands.

“Why?” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “You didn’t have to get me anything, we’re not-.”

“We’re not together, I know,” Nico interrupts, having heard the line from you over and over again at various times throughout the last few months. Not together, just friends with benefits...who also happened to be going on frequent dates.

Sighing you set the present down onto the table by the door, reaching over to take his hands. “Well, thank you,” you whisper, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico says, pulling you into a hug. “When do you have to be at the airport?”

“Tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I can drive you…if you want,” Nico offers.

Pulling back you smile up at him, fingers running down his arms. “That would be great, thank you. Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

A smirk forms on Nico’s lips, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Yes.”

Giggling you lean up, kissing him again. This time you don’t pull back immediately, your arms finding their way over his shoulders. His tongue brushes against yours and you push yourself closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

“Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips before taking his hand and pulling him through your apartment to your bedroom.

“Do you need to finish packing?” Nico asks, his eyes falling to the suitcase on your bed, piles of clothes laying around your room.

“It can wait,” you assure him, setting your suitcase onto the ground. You’re on the bed a second later, letting Nico pull your clothes off. Hands grasping at each other, both knowing that you’d have to go a few weeks without getting to see each other, without getting to touch each other.

Nico makes you finish more times than you ever had in one night, till you’re a shaky, flushed mess. Maybe it was because you would be apart from each other for awhile, maybe he was trying to leave a lasting impression, keep you from wanting to be with anyone else. Whatever the reason, you were more than okay with it.

“I should probably finish packing,” you whisper, head laying on Nico’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his chest.

“Do you need help or anything?” Nico offers.

“No, there’s not that much left to do,” you tell him as you pull some clothes back on.

Nico spends the rest of the evening keeping you company while you finish packing and doing last minute preparation around your apartment. By the time you get to bed that night you know that neither of you was going to end up with an adequate amount of sleep that night. But you didn’t mind if it meant spending more time with Nico.

June 2022

You were prepared to spend the summer away from Nico. You didn’t want to, that much you needed to admit. But you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. There was no reason for any variation to Nico’s normal summer plans.

So you had said goodbye to him the night before he flew back to Switzerland to spend time with his friends and family. You managed to hold back your emotions till he left and you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.

You kept yourself busy, picking up extra shifts when you could to keep your mind off of missing him. You knew it wasn’t normal, to have these feelings for someone who you were refusing to be more than just friends with benefits with.

Of course the two of you continued talking, text messages being exchanged when the time difference would allow for it. But it wasn’t until he called you one evening that you were really reminded that whatever was going on between you two was a lot more than what you were willing to say out loud.

“Hey,” you greet as you answer the phone, sitting in your living room, watching re-runs of your favourite TV show.

“Hi,” Nico replies, his voice was quiet but you could hear a slight slur in his words. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, not a lot, watching TV,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the couch, eyes narrowing as you stare at the other end of the couch. “What are-,” you can’t even finish asking what he was doing before he cuts you off.

“With who?” Nico asks and there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like it’s more of an accusation than a genuine question.

“Nobody…why?”

“You’re watching TV by yourself on a Friday night?”

“Well it’s 6PM here,” you remind him. “But yes, I’m watching TV alone, why?”

“Right,” Nico mutters. “I miss you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Nico replies quickly. “Yes,” he admits just as quickly, without you even needing to question him on it. “We went out for drinks, I had too many.”

“Well did you at least have fun?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah…I wish you were here though.”

Your silent for a little too long, wracking your brain for what to say. ‘Me too’ didn’t feel right, even if it was the truth. “You’ll be back in a couple months,” you finally whisper.

“I don’t want to wait that long,” Nico mumbles. “I want you to come here.”

Laughing softly you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning back into the couch.

“I’m not joking,” Nico states, clearly taking offence to your laughter.

“I can’t,” you tell him, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shorts.

“Why not? I’ll buy you a flight, you can stay with me or I can get you a hotel or whatever, it doesn't matter.”

“That’s not the problem, Nico,” you tell him, though if you were seriously considering his suggestion it probably would have been a problem.

“Then what is?”

“We-,” you begin, pausing to take a deep breath. “We’re not together…I’m not your girlfriend, Nico. I’m not going to fly halfway across the world and meet your friends and family when we’re not even together,” you explain.

The silence that follows is so long that you begin to wonder if he was even still there. But you sit in the silence, with each second growing more and more uncomfortable.

“I love you.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears. You weren’t even sure where your emotions were coming from, but they were beyond overwhelming. “You don’t…you don’t mean that. You’re drunk-.”

“I do,” Nico insists, knowing where you were about to go with your sentence. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as you thought, but you didn’t want to truly admit that.

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Nico whispers. “Have a good night.”

The two of you did talk the next day. But at no point did either of you bring up the night before. Maybe he didn’t remember it. Maybe he no longer wanted to discuss it now that his mind was no longer clouded by alcohol. Either way you were pretty sure it was the best outcome for both you and him.

October 2022

“I like this one,” you say, pointing out a small pumpkin sitting on the edge of a pallet in the pumpkin patch.

“It’s so small,” Nico comments, chuckling as he stands next to you, staring down at the little pumpkin.

Shrugging you lean down, picking it up. “It’s cute.”

“Like you,” Nico says with a smirk, already anticipating your response.

Rolling your eyes you jokingly take a step away from him. “Gross.”

Reaching over Nico takes your hand, tugging you back towards him. “I know you like it.”

Shaking your head you let go of his hand, running it up his arm to wrap around his shoulders. Pushing yourself onto your tip toes you press your lips to his. “I do,” you admit, stepping back from him. “Now pick your pumpkin so we can go home and carve them.”

After Nico picks out and pays for the pumpkins you head back to your apartment, stopping on your way there to pick up dinner and a couple bottles of wine.

“Do you want the shiraz or the zinfandel?” you call to Nico, pulling a couple glasses of wine out from the cupboard.

Glancing over your shoulder you watch Nico set the pumpkins down on the table, a smile on his face. “You know that I don’t know the difference.”

Giggling you open the drawer in the kitchen, rifling through it for your wine opener. “I want to try the zinfandel,” you tell him, jumping as you feel his hands on your hips, tugging your back into his chest.

“Sounds great to me,” Nico whispers, leaning down and kissing your neck gently.

With a quiet, pleasure filled sigh you let yourself melt into him, the warmth of his body radiating into you. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Doing what?” Nico asks, letting you turn around in his arms to face him.

“This whole pumpkin thing, I know it’s kind of stupid as adults,” you explain.

Nico shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s not stupid and you don’t need to thank me, I wanted to do this,” Nico assures you.

“I l-,” you begin, stopping yourself short as you realize what you were about to say. I love you. Swallowing heavily you pull yourself back from him, quickly turning around, fumbling with the wine opener.

“What were you going to say?”

Shaking your head you twist the screw into the cork, fingers shaking nervously. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Nico insists, reaching over and placing his hand on your lower back, trying to get your attention again. “Just talk to me.”

“I said it doesn’t matter,” you snap, struggling to wiggle the cork out of the bottle. As the cork pops out of the top of the bottle the sudden change in force sends the bottle slipping across the counter, red wine sloshing out all over the counter as the bottle clatters onto the counter. “Fuck,” you mutter, eyes welling with tears as you reach for the bottle, quickly standing it back up.

As you reach for the towel hanging on the handle of the oven Nico catches your hands, pulling you to face him. “Slow down,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

The tears that had welled up in your eyes were slipping down your cheeks now, your hands stilled by Nico’s hands stopping you from wiping them away. “I love you,” you exclaim. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Nico is quiet for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back gently. “I only want to hear it if you mean it.”

You don’t answer him. You knew you should answer him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it again, you could barely say it once. “I need to clean up the wine,” you whisper, wiggling out of Nico’s arms.

“You should use the paper towel, you’ll stain that one,” Nico tells you, gesturing to the towel you had originally reached for.

“Right,” you whisper, nodding slowly as you stare up at him. You didn’t know what you had expected out of him after that, but it sure wasn’t cleaning tips. After cleaning up the wine from the counter you excuse yourself to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Wiping away the remnant of your tears you take a few deep breaths, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to venture back to the kitchen.

When you step into the room your eyes find Nico at the table, two glasses of wine and the pumpkins in front of him. “What-?”

“You don’t want to carve them anymore?” Nico asks.

“I-,” you begin, walking through the room to sit down at the table with him. “Yeah, I do.”

For awhile the two of you sit in relative silence, the energy in the room feeling tense. But by the time your glass of wine was empty the tension had dissipated.

You knew you loved him. You knew you meant it when you said it. You knew it before but something in that evening only made you love him even more. He didn’t push you. He didn’t make you feel bad. He was there for you, with you, in whatever way you wanted in that moment.

November 2022

“Jack, I don’t feel good,” you whisper, glancing around the packed night club.

Jack turns his attention away from the group of your friends that he was in the midst of a conversation with. His eyes land on you, nodding slowly as he reaches out, placing his hand on your side to steady your swaying body. “Come on,” he mumbles, guiding you through the building and into one of the single stall bathrooms.

You’re only in the bathroom for a second before you’re hovering over the toilet, the plethora of drinks you had consumed that night coming right back up.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Jack tells you, turning to open the door. “Stay here, okay?”

Nodding you flush the toilet, standing up and placing your hands on the edge of the counter, a steady surface to steady your not so steady self against. You turn the lock on the door, leaning into the counter again, taking deep breath to try to keep

Jack returns a few moments later with a glass of water which you gratefully take. After downing half the glass you feel your eyes fill with tears, drunk mind racing with emotions. “Does he hate me?” you mutter, looking over at Jack.

“What?” Jack asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nico,” you whisper. “Does he hate me? He asked me to take things further again yesterday and I said no.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Jack tells you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Refusing to be his girlfriend and now you’re crying about him.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, trying to find some sort of valid explanation for him. “I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” you finally whisper.

“Why? You’re obviously into him,” Jack retorts quickly.

“Because, I’m supposed to figure out who I am in university, Jack. I’m supposed to have crazy, fun experiences with new people and I’m not supposed to find the person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life right now and-.”

“He’s not asking you to marry him,” Jack interrupts. “Why are you worried about spending the rest of your life with him right now?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken, I don’t want to get hurt,” you mutter.

“You’re crying about him in a bathroom,” Jack exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re already hurt.”

“No,” you whisper, sniffling softly, tears rolling down your cheeks again. You didn’t want to admit Jack was right, you didn’t want to admit that everything you had done in the last year to keep Nico at a distance had been for nothing. “I want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” Jack offers with a sigh, clearly not wanting his night to be over but also not about to leave you alone.

“I’ll just get an Uber,” you tell him, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“I’m not letting you Uber home alone right now.”

You knew it was coming from a place of concern, but you really didn’t want to be the one to wreck his plans for the night. Whatever those plans were. “Fine,” you mutter. “But I don’t want to force you to go home.”

“Well all your friends are here and they’re also drunk so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whine, tipping your head back to look at the ceiling. The tiles are spinning in your mind and your head feels heavy, but you manage to lift it again before the spinning brings on another round of nausea. Your eyes land on Jack, watching him typing something quickly into his phone. You manage to restrain your drunken nosiness from asking who he was talking to, staying silent.

“Nico is going to pick you up,” Jack tells you a few minutes later, making your heart race.

“No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. You couldn’t let him see you like this.

“He’s already on his way,” Jack tells you definitively. “Come on, I’ll walk outside with you and wait for him.”

“Jack,” you whine, following him out of the bathroom anyway. “This is mean.”

“I offered to take you home,” Jack snaps, clearly annoyed with you for making any attempts to help much harder than necessary.

Sighing you follow him outside, the cold night air feeling refreshing to your nightclub-induced clammy skin. “I’m scared, Jack,” you whisper, standing next to him on the sidewalk.

“Why?”

“He hates me-.”

“He’s picking you up drunk at two in the morning, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, he does,” you repeat. “He hates me but he’s nice a good guy and he’s just coming to pick me up because he’s not a shitty person and I-.”

“Shut up,” Jack groans. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy or whatever but he’s not nice enough to get out of bed and come here to take care of you if he doesn’t still like you.”

Just as Jack finished his sentence a familiar car pulls up along the side of the road. Quickly Jack yanks the passenger’s side door open. “Good luck,” he tells Nico as he guides you into the car.

“You okay?” Nico asks as you pull your seatbelt on, refusing to look across the car at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, eyes focusing out the side window, small raindrops beginning to splatter onto the clear glass. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” Nico states and you can tell he’s glancing at you when he says it. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to either though,” he clarifies.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, finally glancing over at him. "I'm sorry for making this so hard, I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be right now, I like you so much Nico but I just can't be with you right now."

"It's okay," Nico tells you, his own voice greatly contrasting your unsteady, high-pitched tone. "I'm not going to push anything, if you want me around I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

January 2023

New Year's Eve. It was the one holiday that you seemed to never have a single tradition for. You had spent your New Year's Eve in a new location every year, from your bedroom to house parties to bars. This year though it was going to spent at a nightclub. A nightclub with as many friends as you could possibly wrangle into spending their night’s in a sweaty, loud, sticky nightclub downtown…including Nico.

You had gotten to Jack’s place just after eight, having spent the better part of three hours getting ready with your best friends at your apartment. You had to admit though, the time paid off, your outfit giving you an almost dangerous amount of confidence.

“Where’s Nico?” you ask Jack, watching him pour another round of shots.

You watch Jack’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, glancing at you for a second before returning to his bartending role. “Very interested in him for not being with him.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking a sip of your vodka soda. “I’m just curious, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Here,” Jack states, handing you a shot glass, filled to the brim with tequila. As you reach to take the shot glass he pulls it away, holding it out of your reach. “You have to promise that you’re not going to end up puking and crying about him tonight.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, reaching over and taking the shot glass from his hand, quickly dumping it into your mouth. You force the liquid down your throat with a wince, shuddering as you set the empty glass down onto the counter.

“If I hear you say you’re not feeling good I will be finding someone else to take care of you.”

“I’ve never been that drunk in my life before, Jack. Stop acting like it happens frequently,” you whine.

Jack chuckles, opening another beer. “You’re still that embarrassed about it, hey?”

“It was embarrassing,” you exclaim, glancing around the apartment, your interest piquing as your eyes sweep by the front door. Looking back you see Nico, struggling to yank his jacket off while holding a case of beer in one hand. “I’ll be right back,” you mutter to Jack, hurrying over to the door. “Need some help?” you ask Nico, taking the beer from his hand to let him take his jacket off.

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle, balancing his coat on a stack over a hook on the wall. He turns his attention back you, his eyes gazing up and down your body. “You look hot,” he comments.

You can’t help but giggle at his comment, your cheeks reddening. “Well it took me long enough to get ready so I’m glad I got something out of it.” Turning around you head towards the kitchen with Nico’s beer.

Nico has his hands on your hips, stopping you in your tracks a moment later. “You can get anything you want looking like that,” Nico whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat, your back hitting Nico’s chest as you come to a stop. “It’s nine, Nico. We’ve got at least three more hours to go.”

“And?” Nico mumbles.

Giggling you lean back into him, tipping your head back to look up at him. “And if you keep this up I won’t be able to make it till midnight without trying to get you back to my place.”

Nico chuckles, his hand slipping around to your ass as he moves to walk towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warm even further at the contact, watching him take the beer from you, unloading a few of them into Jack’s fridge.

By the time you get to the club that night you’re a little more than tipsy, knowing you wouldn’t need to spend much money at the bar that night. The night had started with a lot of flirting between you and Nico, but once you arrived at the club you found yourself swept away with a few of your other friends.

Before you knew it you were standing in a group with just a couple of your friends and quite a few men you had never met before. There’s a man standing next to you who had his hands on you more than was accidental. A hand on your back as he squeezed by to order another drink, fingers brushing against yours, body pressing to yours while he leaned in to try to hear something someone said. You didn’t dislike it, you knew he was flirting with you and part of you was enthralled by that, by the attention. But every time it happened your mind would find its way back to Nico.

“Let’s get you another drink,” Peter, who you had just discovered the name of, says.

Your eyes glance down at your empty drink before letting him guide you to the bar with his hand on your waist. You order your drink and Peter pulls out his wallet. The two of you make small talk while you sip on your new drink. He was attractive, you had to admit that. But that’s about where it stopped. There was nothing about his personality that enticed you, but selfishly you did like the attention.

But you’re not able to see where things would go with him because the next thing you know Nico is pushing his way through the crowd to be at your side.

“What are you doing?” Nico asks you, not even acknowledging the man you were talking to.

Shrugging your shoulders your eyes flick back and forth from Nico to Peter and back to Nico. “What do you mean?”

Nico shakes his head with a cold chuckle, reaching down and taking your hand. “Come on, you’re done here.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes drilling into his. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you state definitively, staring into his eyes as you match his intensity.

“What’s going on?” Peter interjects, catching both you and Nico’s attention.

“I think you should go,” Nico tells him before you have a chance to get a single word in.

“Why?” Peter asks with a cold chuckle. “She clearly isn’t interested in you, why would I go anywhere?”

You don’t even process what’s happening till Peter is stumbling backwards, hand on his jaw where Nico’s fist had just met with it. Thankfully a bouncer pulls Peter back before he can retaliate, Nico frozen in place, just as stunned by his actions as everyone else in that club.

You weren’t happy with Nico’s actions but you turn towards him anyway, grasping his arms a second later. “What the hell?” you exclaim, frantic eyes searching his for any type of answer.

Before Nico has a chance to say anything a bouncer is at his side, nodding towards the door. “You gotta go.”

“I-,” Nico begins before turning in the direction of the door, knowing he wasn’t going to argue his way out of this one.

You watch the bouncer guiding Nico towards the door, realizing you weren’t also being kicked out. You didn’t need to go. You could stay, you could keep drinking, celebrate New Years in this club. But the further and further Nico got with the bouncer the more uneasy you felt. So you let your legs carry you through the club and out the front door, into the freezing night air with Nico.

“Nico,” you call as you watch him walking away from the club, clearly with no real destination in mind.

“What?” Nico snaps, turning back around to look at you. “What do you want?”

“You’re really mad at me right now?” you yell, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself warm.

“Yes,” Nico exclaims. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Nico.”

Nico shakes his head, laughing coldly. “I guess not,” Nico yells. “But whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m fucking done with this, I’m done with you.”

“Nico,” you mumble, walking closer to him, hoping something, anything you would say could convince him that it wasn’t that serious. “Please don’t say that.”

“No, I’m over this, I’m not going to keep fighting for you if you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I do care about you,” you yell back at him, your voice hoarse and shaky. “I care about you so much, Nico, you don’t even know.”

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t be trying to fuck other guys right in front of me.”

“I-,” you begin, realizing you didn’t even know what your justification was about to be. Because, to be honest, you didn’t have one. “I’m sorry,” you finally croak.

“Just go back inside, I don’t fucking care,” Nico mutters, slurred words finally giving away his drunken state.

“I do,” you yell, walking closer to him. “I don’t want to go back inside, Nico. I don’t want to leave you…I do care.”

“Why?” Nico snaps, staring down at you intently now that you were standing just a foot in front of him.

“Because I love you,” you exclaim, the words leaving your mouth before you even had a chance to process them.

“Then don’t try to fuck other people,” Nico mutters, sliding his jacket off his arms now that you were close enough for him to realize you were shaking, gently placing it over your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, tears welling in your eyes. You slip your arms into his jacket, tugging it tight around your body. “Please, I can’t lose you. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you.”

Nico steps back, taking a deep breath as he looks around the night sky for a minute. “Okay,” Nico mutters and you’re sure it’s more to himself than to you. “Do you want to go back in?”

“I’m not leaving you,” you tell him.

“It’s New Years, go be with your friends, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” you whisper. “I mean, I don’t think you should have punched him but I’m not letting you take all the blame for this...Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Okay…sure, yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Nico says, reaching over and pulling you into him, rubbing his hand along your arm, trying to warm you up.

So the two of you head back to your apartment, spending the rest of New Year's Eve together, just the two of you and a bottle of champagne.

It wasn’t the New Year's Eve you were expecting. It wasn’t necessarily the New Year's Eve you wanted, but maybe it was the New Year's Eve you needed. The wake up call that you had gone far beyond just friends with benefits. Even if you weren’t ready to accept it.

February 2023

Things had changed after the New Year's Eve incident. Neither of you had verbally talked about what had changed but you both knew it had. It was the second time you told him you loved him. The second time neither of you acknowledged it after it happened. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Your words had continued echoing in your mind and you knew you should deal with those thoughts, those feelings.

But you didn’t.

Maybe you really wanted to keep your commitment to yourself, to not get into a relationship till you had graduated. Maybe you were scared to take that step. Maybe you were embarrassed to ask for that after pushing it away for so long.

So you fell back into the routine you had before. Frequent dates and spending most of your time together in between. It was different, yet the routines remained the same for months.

June 2023

“I need a date to the awards ceremony,” Nico says, referring to the NHL Awards that were approaching quickly.

“I don’t think you need a date,” you reply, looking up over the top of your phone to the other end of the couch, where Nico was sitting.

“Okay…I want a date for the awards,” Nico tells you, reframing his statement.

“Okay,” you mutter, accepting his rephrased sentence.

“Are you going to come with me?”

“No,” you mumble, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Why not?”

Rolling your eyes you lock your phone, tossing it down next to you. “Nico, you know why. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“This is a big deal for me,” Nico exclaims, clearly already knowing you were going to put up a fight about this. “Just come with me as a friend then.”

“You don’t bring just a friend to that kind of event. I know that much,” you tell him.

Suddenly Nico is on his feet, pacing the length of your living room, making it halfway back before throwing his hands up in defeat. “You can’t just be there for me, support me, even once. I’m getting tired of this…whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, his words hitting you hard. “I do, I do want to support, I promise.”

Just three days later you’re standing in a fitting room, pulling a dress onto your body. Stepping out of the room your eyes land on Nico, waiting for his reaction to this one. It was the fifth dress you had tried on, Nico telling you he liked all of them.

“I like it,” Nico says, his eyes roaming over your body.

Groaning loudly you turn towards the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly. “Why’d you even insist on coming if you’re not going to give me any input?”

“Because I’m buying it for you,” Nico tells you in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, though it would be pretty helpful for your grad student budget.

“I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Me neither,” you reply, stepping back into the fitting room to try on another one.

Eventually you narrow it down enough that Nico finally gives his input, once he was simply picking between two dresses. At the till you try to pull your wallet out, Nico’s hand landing on your hands.

“I’m not letting you pay for it, Nico,” you whisper, trying to keep your disagreement out of ear shot of the sales attendant.

“Yes, you are. It doesn’t have to mean whatever you’re thinking, just let me buy the fucking dress,” Nico mutters, his voice carrying an unusually stern tone.

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes widening, stepping back as you watch Nico pull his wallet out and pay for the dress. He carries the bag for you, silence falling between you until you were outside, away from the sanctity of the boutique.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, standing next to Nico’s car, watching him set the bag down into the backseat.

“What?” Nico asks with a loud sigh, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary.

“I don’t know...you’re mad at me for not dating you and-.”

“I’m not mad at you for not dating me,” Nico interrupts. “I’m mad that we are dating and you refuse to admit it.”

“We’re not together,” you state definitively, arms crossed over your chest.

“Okay, whatever, then this is done,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “Get in the car.”

“I want to go home,” you tell him, yanking the car door open.

“Well that’s where I’m taking you,” Nico grumbles, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car.

The drive back to your apartment is silent, your eyes focused directly ahead of you, the drive seeming longer than you had remembered. Nico pulls into the parking lot, turning the car around so that your side of the car was facing the door, something he had done since the first time he dropped you off at home. Opening the door you slip out, glancing back to find Nico handing you the bag with the dress.

“I don’t want the fucking dress, Nico. I’m not doing this anymore.”

He nods slowly, your words sinking in. “Well what am I going to do with it? Just take it.”

Sighing you reach over, taking the bag from him, knowing it would be easier than continuing to argue about it. “Alright, well,” you mutter, glancing around. “Goodbye…I guess.”

“Bye,” Nico replies, voice strained, eyes barely meeting yours.

You shut the door slowly, walk into your apartment even slower, knowing that if you really did leave it like that it was a big statement. A big statement you weren’t even sure you wanted to be making. But you keep going, till you’re up in your apartment and your eyes are filling with tears.

Your best friend Liv is at your apartment shortly after you tell her what had happened, with a couple bottles of wine and take-out.

“I just don’t get it,” Liv says, sitting on the couch with half a glass of red wine in her hand. “You like him, you two are always together, going on dates. Why won’t you just let him in? Make it official?”

Shrugging you swirl the wine around in your glass, swallowing heavily as another round of tears form in your eyes. “Because I said I wouldn’t, Liv. I promised myself, I would experience things, I would figure myself out before getting into a real relationship.”

“But you’re not doing that,” Liv points out. “You keep saying you don’t want anything serious but you’ve been, what, casually dating this guy for like a year and a half? When’s the last time you went on a date with anyone else?”

Shrugging you try to think back, try to remember the last time you actually even seriously entertained the idea of a date with another man. “I don’t know, last year, I guess.”

“When’s the last time you hooked up with anyone other than him?”

“Liv, I don’t know. It’s been awhile, I get it,” you exclaim, sighing loudly. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Liv asks, voice gentle and reassuring despite your outburst. “You’ve always been scared of getting hurt. But if you don’t let yourself be with someone you’re never going to even have the opportunity for what else could happen.”

“No,” you whisper, wiping away a few tears that had pooled under your eyes. “I’m scared that I pushed him away…for good this time.”

Liv reaches over, placing her hand on your leg. “You’ve been doing this for a year, I don’t think this has to be the last time…if you’re actually going to let him in this time. But if you’re not, if you’re still not ready, maybe it should be for good.”

Liv stays with you for most of the night, watching reality tv and finishing off the wine she had brought over. You didn’t talk much more about Nico, wanting to get your mind off of the situation for awhile, to let yourself calm down.

You contemplated reaching out to Nico. From hours after to days after. But you didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t saying anything either. So you didn’t say anything at all, till you were only a couple days away from the NHL Awards and all you could think about was Nico telling you that he wanted you to be there to support him.

Pulling your phone out you scroll through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for and pressing the call button.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, um, if I book a flight to Nashville and a hotel and everything can you bring me with you on Monday?”

“To the awards?”

“Yeah.”

“No. What the hell? You’ve been fucking with Nico’s feelings for so long and now you’re going to try to come with me instead?”

“No, that’s not what I mean, Jack,” you mumble, tears welling in your eyes. “I just…I want to be there for him, I can’t miss it, Jack, I can’t. I fucked up, I know I’ve been a shitty person to him and I don’t know how I can change that but I need to see him and I need him to know that I care and I don’t want to lose him and-.”

“Okay,” Jack exclaims, cutting you off. “Holy shit, yeah, okay, you can come. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pulling your knees to your chest, staring across the living room at the dark TV, your reflection looking back at you. “I love him, Jack.”

“But you don’t want to be with him.”

“I do.”

“You need to tell him that then. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Of course. But you really need to figure this out with him because I can’t handle being in the middle of you two fighting.”

“I will.”

You woke up extra early the morning of the awards. Not on purpose, you had an entire day to get ready. But you were too anxious to stay asleep. So you pulled yourself out of bed and tried to spread out the process of getting ready through the day so you wouldn’t have much time to ruminate on everything alone in the quiet hotel room.

Finally you’re heading down the elevator after what felt like the longest day of your life to meet Jack out front on the way to the arena.

“You look good,” Jack tells you as you pull your seatbelt on, adjusting your dress.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your mind so preoccupied with Nico that you were barely registering anything that was happening around you.

When you get to the venue your stomach is churning with so much anxiety you begin to worry you might throw up. “I don’t know what to say to him,” you admit as you walk next to him.

“Sorry might be a good start.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. You force a few deep breaths into your lungs as you follow Jack, till you’re standing just a few feet away from Nico. When your eyes meet you can visibly see the confusion flash across his face, eyes darting between you and Jack.

“What?” Nico begins, Jack stepping back as he says it.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Jack says, hurrying off in the other direction to leave you alone with Nico.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Nico. I shouldn’t have pushed you away so much. And maybe this is too little, too late, I don’t know, but I want to be here for you. You can tell me to go, I understand if you don’t want me here.”

“Of course I want you here,” Nico tells you, reaching over and taking your hand, tugging you closer. “I just can’t keep doing this. I want to be with you, I want this to be real and if not-.”

“I want that too,” you whisper, shaky fingers clutching at Nico’s arms.

“What? Why? Why now?” Nico asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because I realized how stupid I’ve been. I was scared, I was holding onto this idea that I needed to figure something out before I let myself get into a relationship,” you tell him, trying so hard to come up with words that would explain everything, make everything okay. “I was waiting for something, some revelation or something, but I don’t even know what I was waiting for because I don’t want anything else, I just want to be with you and I’m sorry that I didn’t just accept that earlier. I shouldn’t have made you wait like this.”

Nico nods as he listens to your rambling explanation, watching your eyes welling with tears. When you finish talking Nico pulls you into him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I would have waited as long as you needed.”

Sniffling you pull back, wiping away the tears from your eyes before they could roll onto your cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying like this,” you say with nervous laugh. “I, um, I don’t know what to do now…we’re here to celebrate you, how…where…what happens now?”

Nico chuckles quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Just stay with me, you don’t need to worry about anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, taking Nico’s hand in yours, moving to his side. “I love you,” you whisper.

Nico glances down at you, his lips curling into a smile. “I love you too.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines

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sofreddie · 5 months ago

Text

Against All Odds

Summary: Jared is a small-town Deputy who's lived there all his life. When he met Y/N - a new Omega in town - in the drunk tank, he wondered if he'd ever get a second chance at love.

Characters: Alpha!Correctional Officer!Jared x Omega!Reader

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Drinking/Alcohol Abuse, Medical Conditions, Medical Treatments, Heat/Rut Cycles, Medical Emergency, Procedural Violations (Doctors bending the rules/laws), Smut (Fuck or Die, Unprotected Sex, Knotting, Claiming/Biting, Dirty Talk)

AU: CORRECTIONAL OFFICER!JARED (@spnaubingo)

ANGST: IN THE HOSPITAL (@anyfandomangstbingo)

OMEGAVERSE: CLAIM SEX (@afgomegaversebingo)

SW: FREE SPACE (@samwinchesterbingo)

WC: 11,623

A/N: So I started this fic in 2021 for my Bingos (which I am still working on and intend to complete eventually). I doubt they count anymore, but that's not the point, LOL. I took quite a few liberties with the prompts. Although it took ages to complete, I am delighted with how this fic turned out. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated. : )

My Masterlist

The weight of her head was heavy in her hands, the concrete beneath her cold enough to numb her backside. Groaning, she pinched her eyes shut against the overly bright lights that rained down on her, creating a constant pounding behind her closed lids.

"Good Morning, Ms. Y/L/N. How are we feeling today?"

Y/N groaned louder, the chipper and familiar voice only adding to her torment.

"Mornin' Padadeputy," she snorted at her joke, wincing as it caused her poor, battered brain pain. "Can I go home?" she croaked, working her mouth to ease the dryness.

She could use a drink. But the very thought had her throwing a hand over her mouth and rushing to the steel toilet in the corner, the remnants of her late-night excursions making a reappearance.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, she leaned her back against the wall, her head tilted back, and her eyes closed as she felt a bit of relief from her suffering. Though the constant rhythmic pounding in her head only grew more prominent.

The sound of metal sliding against metal, locks clicking, and doors sliding alerted her that she was no longer confined. Opening her eyes just enough, she could make out her favorite deputy's tall and lean figure.

"So, at this rate, should we keep this room open for you?" Officer Padalecki joked as he leaned against the open doorway of the cell.

Using the wall as leverage, she forced herself to her feet, her body protesting the movements. She quickly rinsed her mouth and washed her face, waking herself up enough to return home.

"Maybe I just like seeing you?" She smiled over-sweetly and shuffled past him as her feet walked the familiar path.

"Not that I'm complaining, but there's probably better ways to get my attention," he teased.

The flirty banter between them happened with ease. Y/N, unfortunately, made a habit of landing herself in the drunk tank at least once a week. Though they'd never seen or talked to each other outside of the local jail, they formed an easy camaraderie.

The truth was he worried about her, the unclaimed Omega slowly drinking herself to death, being forcibly removed from local bars for disorderly conduct on many occasions. She seemed like a sweet but troubled woman. Maybe it was his caring side or his Alpha, but he worried and wanted her to be okay.

Y/N's senses were sharp, even when drunk out of her mind. She could see his attractiveness and smell his rich Alpha lurking under the surface. She'd never been with an Alpha, never felt the pull. But in her condition, there was no way she could start now, even if there were an attraction unlike anything she'd felt before. She brushed it off as another symptom; her Omega had long since become unreliable.

Jared walked back into the office area after escorting Y/N outside. As soon as he entered, Jensen looked up with a lewd grin, making Jared sigh and roll his eyes.

"Alright, let's have it," Jared scoffed as he sat at his desk, crossing his booted feet on the desktop and leaning back in his chair.

He had worked with Jensen at the station for years, but they had met at the training academy before that. However, they only spent a little time together outside of work, as they were involved in the community. Sometimes, they'd see each other at local events, but they were both occupied with helping the community in various ways, volunteering, and making their hometown well-cared for and safe.

Y/N was relatively new to their community. No one knew much about her. She lived in town but didn't seem to work anywhere, and she spent almost every Friday night sleeping it off in the jail. Regardless, Jared was attracted to her almost immediately after catching a slight hint of her scent. He often felt like a swooning teenager again in her presence, which Jensen never missed a chance to rib him about, leaving Jared an embarrassed and blustering mess.

"So, you ever gonna ask her out, or you just planning to be a secret admirer?" Jensen teased as usual.

"Come on, man," Jared groaned. "We've been over this. It's unprofessional to do that when I'm on duty and she's in jail. I never see her outside of this place. Maybe it's just not meant to be?"

He didn't like how the words tasted as he spoke them, somehow feeling malformed. There was something between them, a possible compatibility. After all, Jensen could never catch any scent from her; he was an Alpha, too. So, if Jared was sensitive to her scent, it must mean something.

Jensen shook his head and laughed before getting back to some paperwork. Jared sighed again, doing the same and wondering if he'd ever see her outside the jail and off duty, just like two people in the world. Then, he promised himself, he’d try again.

After Jared clocked out for the end of his shift - his relief right on time as usual - he tried to put Y/N out of his mind, but his Alpha was set on her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her. His mind flip-flopped as usual, switching from the primal Alpha wanting her to the rational man determined to remain professional. Either way, whatever was going on in her life, he was sure the last thing she needed was an Alpha sniffing around.

As he walked towards his truck, twirling his keys in his hand, he saw Y/N waiting on a bench by the station. She usually called a cab to come and get her when she was released, but she was long gone by the time he left to go home. Deciding to take a chance, he went over to her.

"Waiting on your cab?" he smiled down at her.

She nodded, "Yeah, they're just a little busy this morning."

"I can give you a ride if you'd like," he offered, pointing over his shoulder at his truck. Y/N's eyes flitted between him and his truck before she sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed in the old truck, the effort seeming to drain her. She glanced at him, the same look of worry she saw from everyone etched onto his beautiful face.

"I'm fine. Just need some sleep."

It was one of her standard responses. She was glad that Jared seemed to buy it and started driving. She gave him directions to her house, grateful the town was small and wasn't a long drive.

"Thanks again," she said as she climbed out of the truck and shut the door. "See you later."

"I hope under different circumstances," he chuckled, a light tinge of pink staining his cheeks and ears.

Yeah, she wished that things could be different, too. She bid her farewell as it was, noting that Jared hadn't driven off until she was safely secured inside. Sighing, she brushed it off, eager to get rid of the stink of jail and stale liquor that clung to her.

She stumbled into her bathroom, pulling off her clothes on the way, a haphazard trail left behind her. She leaned on the bathroom counter, groaning at her disheveled reflection in the mirror. Drinking wasn't doing her any favors, but it was the only way to drown the pain and sorrow.

She turned to the corner of the counter, opening her organized pill box and eyeballing the many different medications in various colors and sizes she had to take every day. She hated it, but her regimen required it as part of her treatment for aging, unmated Omegas.

She downed the pills with a glass of water, showered, and dried as quickly as possible. Forgoing clothes, she climbed into her bed, sleep taking over quickly.

Y/N sat in the oversized pleather chair, letting out a long sigh. Her eyes were more than bored with whatever random home makeover show played on the muted TV. She allowed her eyes to roam, taking in the other chairs like hers, with different people occupying them.

Her head rolled to the other side, glancing at the IV in her arm, her eyes following up the tubing to the bag hanging above her, still half-full. She groaned, knowing she'd be there a while yet.

She'd been at it for six months, and the treatment of donated Alpha enzymes was designed to counteract the decline of her Omega body. She was past the average age for Omegas to be mated, never having found an Alpha that called to her Omega. Now, being mateless had become a medical condition, her body rapidly deteriorating from lack of a mate and the necessary enzymes a bite would provide.

Still, the treatments would only work so much and for so long, prolonging the inevitable. Y/N's doctors insisted she try finding a mate as soon as possible, but she wasn't willing to settle for anyone. Her stubbornness, however, didn't help her condition. The treatments weren't as effective anymore, and her body started to build a tolerance. She shifted in her chair, the squeaky creak of the materials making her groan.

"Y/N?"

Her head snapped up, and her brow furrowed at the figure across the room. He finished his conversation with a doctor, rolling the sleeves of his plaid flannel down over his forearms as he approached her with a smile.

He pulled up one of the smaller guest chairs beside her, laying his coat over his knee. His body looked too large and long for the basic chair.

"Padadeputy," she greeted, but without the usual smile. "What are you doing here?" she asked, still confused over his sudden appearance and at having someone see her here. She hadn't told a soul about her treatments, not that she had anyone to say anything to.

"Jared," he corrected her with a smile. "I come in a couple times a month," he explained. "I donate enzymes."

His eyes drifted from the IV in her arm to the hanging bag, his gaze flicking back to her eyes. She lowered her head in shame, heat spreading across her cheeks. For a moment, they both wondered if it was his enzymes she'd received.

The awkward silence dragged out between them, Jared waiting for her to speak. She didn't like anyone knowing about her condition, afraid Alphas would try to claim her in a heartbeat 'for her own good.' But, for whatever reason, Y/N felt compelled to tell Jared the truth. She wanted him to know. Maybe her Omega was reaching out to him again, but she gave in to this small need to connect with the Alpha before her.

"I've never had a mate," she spoke quietly, picking at her nails. "I've been doing treatments for a few months. But it's-" she sighed, briefly meeting his eyes and forcing a smile, "-it's not working so well."

"I had a mate," Jared broke the silent tension after a beat. "A long time ago," he dropped his head. She worried for him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. But she focused instead on her hands in her lap again.

"She died in an accident," he continued, seemingly composing himself as he met her eyes again. "Now that I'm…older," he smirked, "It's getting harder to deal with." She was thoroughly surprised by his admission.

"Well, I wouldn't recommend drinking to cope," she chuckled, trying to ease the seriousness.

"I can't imagine the drinking is helping," Jared stated. "It can't be good with the treatments-"

"I don't need a lecture," she whined, surprised at herself for not being more angry at his audacity. "I get enough of that from my doctor."

"Maybe you should listen," Dr. Collins interrupted with a smile and a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, Jared. Didn't know you two knew each other."

"Hey, Mish," Jared responded with a warm smile.

Misha had also grown up in the town and was a prominent fixture in the community. The Omega Outreach Program, which he helped found and develop, drew Omegas from all over for his unique treatments and regimens.

Y/N listened as the two men chatted. She often felt like an outsider, having moved there specifically for the treatments. When both men turned their attention back to her, she was pulled from her musings.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'd like to go over some things with you. Would you like Jared to leave?"

Both men waited as she made up her mind, shaking her head. "He can stay," she said in a small and quiet voice.

Jared was the closest thing she had to a friend; having someone to know and talk to about things would be helpful. But also, it was an attempted blow to stifle her Omega. As much as she pined after Jared, she knew he wouldn't be interested if he knew the truth of her condition. What Alpha would want a broken, dying Omega? At least when he learned, he could leave, and she could try and let go of this stupid fantasy she'd concocted in her mind.

"Okay," Dr. Collins nodded as he pulled up a seat to talk with her. "You'll be happy to know it appears this round of treatments is starting to work, at least a little," he explained. Y/N was surprised as each round of treatments before had failed, her body not finding compatibility with any of the enzymes she was provided. Now, it seemed, they'd finally found a match. "I'm still worried about your heat. And, of course," he leveled her with a gaze, "The goal is to find an Alpha for a permanent solution possibly. Have you given more thought to what we discussed?"

She appreciated his vagueness at the time, seeing Jared stir quietly. Dr. Collins had recommended a matching service that would pair her with an Alpha who needed an Omega. A clinical pairing that would keep them alive, if not happy or in love. That wasn't the point of those programs; she didn't want to go that route. It felt like giving up, and a small part of her hoped to find the fairytale of True Mates and love and romance. Her eyes flashed to Jared, stirring deep within her, alerting her to the fact her Omega was trying to seek the Alpha it needed in him.

"No," she shook her head, forcing her eyes from Jared back to Misha. "I don't want to do that."

Misha sighed, glancing between the pair before nodding. "Alright, we'll continue your treatments and see how you do. Same time next week?"

She smiled and nodded, and Dr. Collins dismissed himself to help the next patient. She liked him a lot. He never seemed to judge her, was open, kind, and understanding, but provided the same level of detailed care to every one of his patients. It was a big part of what made him so sought after in the first place.

"It seems pretty bad," Jared mumbled once they were alone again. He tried to bite back the rising jealousy at his following words: "He's recommending a matching service, isn't he?" She nodded, and he felt a little queasy. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she said, meeting his eyes. "I don't want to give myself to any Alpha to survive. But because I've never been with an Alpha at all, my condition is worse. I'm afraid the choice will be taken from me."

Jared licked his lips and leaned forward, ready to take the chance and offer himself to her, "Y/N, I-"

His phone ringing made him squeeze his eyes shut and curse. As he answered the phone, Jared's body slumped, and Y/N knew he would have to leave.

"-I have to go," he finished lamely, flashing her an apologetic look.

"Duty calls," she chuckled, attempting again to lighten a rather heavy mood.

He laughed with a light sparkle in his eyes. Even though he was a rather large Alpha, she felt comfortable around him. Conversation flowed easily, and she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone before. She was almost sad when her treatment finished, and he bid her farewell. Her eyes followed him until he disappeared from her sight.

Maybe it's for the best, she thought, that he leaves before her Omega reaches out for him with dying desperation, ignoring the lingering flutter in her chest. Regardless, she hoped she might see him again, not from within the drunk tank.

Jared checked his watch, hurrying his steps toward the hospital's entrance. He did his best to try and calm his racing heart. Jared scheduled his donations for several weeks to coincide with Y/N's treatments.

After their third visit, Dr. Collins pulled him aside to say that she'd been improving with Jared's visits and that the treatments were becoming more effective. However, they still wouldn't tell him if she received his enzymes, so Jared made sure to be there for her.

She was utterly alone, he learned. And her drinking that kept landing her in jail was a failed coping mechanism. She was spiraling toward a painful end. The more he knew and the more time he spent with her, the stronger the pull between them became.

Maybe it was because they were both without a mate. Perhaps it was because they were both dealing with their bodies degrading. But he held on to the slight hope that maybe they were compatible, and that's why their visits always felt like the highlight of his week.

He was nervous as he reached the treatment floor. He was excited to see Y/N and had been working up the nerve over the past two weeks. This time, he was ready; he would go for it and ask her out. Their connection was strong, and he'd been attracted to her since he first saw her. Finally, things were aligning.

As he entered the clinic, his heart sank. He did not see Y/N anywhere among those receiving treatment. He knew it was the right day, the same as it had always been. Checking his watch once more, he frowned. Turning to the receptionist's desk, he gave his name and signed in on the sheet. While the woman behind the desk typed on her computer, he took a moment to glance over the sign-in sheet, not seeing her name anywhere.

Maybe she had other things going on and had to reschedule her appointment. Jared forced back his despondency, deciding to show up earlier the following week. As he sat through his donation, his mind overthinking in circles and lamenting her absence, the most primal side of his inner Alpha began to wake for the first time in years.

Jared tried to focus on the paperwork at his desk, but he was restless, his inner Alpha rising to the forefront increasingly with each passing day. He could feel Jensen's eyes boring into him, but he did his best to ignore it. Jensen was increasingly concerned as he watched his Alpha friend unravel before him. He wasn't even sure Jared was aware of the huffs and growls falling from his lips sporadically, his scent permeating everything around him.

"What?" Jared growled at his friend and co-worker with bared teeth. At Jensen's raised brow, Jared tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry."

"Man, I've never seen you like this," Jensen said. "Not even after Gen."

"I know," Jared responded defensively, trying not to bristle at the mention of his former mate.

"Have you seen Y/N lately?"

Jensen didn't want to bring her up, but she hadn't been in jail in weeks. While grateful for that, he could see how badly it affected Jared not to see or be around her.

"She wasn't at the clinic," Jared mumbled, seeing Jensen's curious look. Remembering no one knew, he decided to talk it out with a friend. "She goes to the clinic for Omega treatment," he explained. "I've seen her when I go for donations, but she wasn't there this week."

"Look, I don't want you snapping my head off. But you're different around her, and now that she's not around, you're not looking great. I thought it was just a crush, but maybe you've imprinted," Jensen said as Jared scowled. "Maybe she's yours."

Jared tried to ignore how those words affected him, making him purr at the thought of her being his. He'd entertained the idea himself, the fantastical notion of True Mates. He tried to brush it off as silly, immature musings. But now, hearing Jensen vocalize the same thoughts, Jared wondered if maybe it wasn't just childish notions grounded in something genuine.

When Jared didn't speak and returned to work, Jensen let it go. However, he was determined to keep an eye on his friend and help if needed. He didn't want to see Jared spin out like he did when he lost his mate, Gen. Maybe Jared and Y/N could save each other from a fate worse than death.

As promised to himself, Jared returned to the clinic the following week, an hour before he or Y/N were usually scheduled to be there. He sat and waited, completed his donation, and waited another hour beyond the end of his appointment.

But Y/N never showed.

His Alpha was beginning to spin out of his control. A control he maintained so tightly and with relative ease most of his life was now being stripped away in his worry over Y/N. An Omega. One that his Alpha wanted to claim as its own.

He continued going to work each day, both happy and sad that she was never there. He visited the clinic daily to see if her schedule had changed, but she was absent. He briefly entertained the idea of showing up at her door, but he stopped himself. As much as he may care about and want her, she wasn't his Omega. She wasn't his anything, and he had no right to show up. If anything, she might consider it an abuse of his knowledge or power as a deputy, and he certainly didn't want that either.

By the time of his next appointment, Jared was a mess. His Alpha was now at the forefront. He felt almost on the cusp of a rut and wasn't due for some time. The looks from the hospital staff irritated him further as he huffed and stomped his way into the clinic, wiping the ever-present sweat from his brow. It took all he had to contain himself when Dr. Collins refused his weekly donation and sent him home.

He decided to call out of work that night, his rut on the cusp, his Alpha barely restrained. He never called out of work, keeping himself to a strict and disciplined schedule and lifestyle - his way of controlling the beast.

Jared was interrupted from his musings by the phone ringing. He scowled, checking the ID and seeing it was the station. He laid back on the couch with a groan, wiping the sweat from his brow before answering.

"I told you I was too sick to come in tonight," Jared nearly growled.

"I know. But your lady friend found herself locked up again." It was Jensen. "She wanted me to call you."

That had him sitting upright, clutching the phone a little tighter. "She okay?" he asked, jumping up from the couch and rushing to put on his shoes.

"Drunk," Jensen sighed into the phone. "Not as lively as usual, though."

Jared slammed his door as he hastened to his truck, eager to see her and hoping she was okay. His Alpha was chomping at the bit.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

God, he couldn't be anything but happy she was alive. He slowly drove himself mad for weeks, wondering if he'd missed his chance. Maybe she was going feral, and he couldn't help. Perhaps he did something to piss her off, and she was avoiding him. But now, at least, he knew she was alive and out in the world and asking for HIM. His Alpha puffed with pride, ready to answer his Omega's call.

He barely had the truck in park before hopping out, his long legs marching hurriedly to the station doors. He banged on the glass of the locked front door with an open palm, shuffling from foot to foot as he waited for entry. The bright lights around the law enforcement facility thoroughly polluted the dark of night.

As the door opened, Jared met Jensen's eyes, which roamed him from head to toe and back again. Jared squirmed under the scrutiny, knowing he was a mess. His hair was wild and matted with sweat. His clothes and body were drenched in pheromones, making Jensen's nose crinkle.

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jared nodded and swallowed hard, taking several breaths to try and calm himself.

Jensen hesitated momentarily, eyeing Jared warily before huffing and letting him in. Jared followed hot on his heels as Jensen unlocked doors and led the way into the holding cell.

Jared froze as soon as his eyes landed on her. She was huddled in the corner, looking far worse than he'd ever seen her. She was undoubtedly drunk, but by the smells permeating every corner of the room, he knew it was more than just alcohol that was making her so lethargic.

"Y/N?" he called out loudly as he clung to the bars.

She stirred and grunted but didn't respond beyond that. Jared's nostrils flared, his Alpha ready to pry the bars apart to get to her.

"Omega?" he whimpered under his breath as if saying it were a delicate secret.

Hearing her title, she sat up slightly, fluttering open her eyes to lock on the source. She took a deep breath at the slight whine from the Alpha on the other side of the bars. As her vision cleared and her body filled with his scent, she rose, stumbling to him. When her smaller hands clutched at the bars, he automatically moved to cover hers with his own, drawing a small whimper from the fragile Omega.

"Sorry, Padadeputy," she smirked, finally meeting his eyes. "I didn't have anyone else to call."

He could see unspoken pain in her eyes, could sense just how bad her condition had gotten and how worse she was making it from drinking. He reluctantly released her, stepping back from the bars and turning to Jensen.

"Let her out," Jared asked but with a commanding Alpha edge. "I'll take her home."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Jensen protested.

"I don't care what you think," Jared growled. "I'm taking her home where she can sleep it off. You don't know her condition, man."

"And you do?" Jensen asked surprisingly calmly, though his look was anything but.

"Yes, I do," Jared stood tall, squaring his shoulders. "I won't hurt her."

Jensen was still hesitant. But in the end, he trusted his friend. Jared had always been thoughtful and in control in a way Jensen envied. If he could trust anyone with her care, it was Jared. Besides, whatever the Hell was going on with her, she'd certainly do better at home than in a cold, concrete cell.

With a nod and a huff, Jensen relented, turning to the cell door and opening it up, letting Y/N out.

She smiled at Jensen, "Thank you, Ocifer Ankles." She grinned, making Jensen roll his eyes.

"Just get her home safe, okay?"

"Promise," Jared nodded, wrapping an arm around Y/N to steady her as they left the building and walked to his truck.

He secured her safely in the passenger's seat, closed the door, and jogged to the driver's side. He hopped in and started up the truck but leaned back in his seat with a huff, taking a deep breath.

He turned to Y/N, surprised to find her already looking at him. "You called for me," he breathed out, more a statement than a question.

"Well, I didn't have your number," she fidgeted with her hands. “I didn't know anyone else and wanted to go home."

"I haven't seen you in weeks-"

He stopped as her hand landed on his, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry," she said. “I'll explain everything. Please, take me home."

He agreed, guiding the truck onto the road and quickly remembering the route to her house. He may not have gone there, but he traveled the path in his mind often enough. He was pleasantly surprised that she held his hand the whole ride, even if her attention was on the passing scenery.

Parking in the driveway, they both got out. Y/N quickly took Jared by the hand again as she led him into her house. Guiding him to the couch, she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He was already missing her touch and warmth, her presence beside him. He fought the urge to wander into the kitchen and forced himself to sit on the couch.

She knew there was a lot to tell him. She could tell he was riled, and she wasn't entirely surprised. During his visits, they talked and grew more familiar, and Y/N began to entertain the thought of having an Alpha. It was hard for her not to see him in weeks, and she could see that it also affected him.

Pouring the coffee into two mugs, she carried them to the living room, handing Jared one before sitting on the couch facing him.

"Jared," she started, and he purred at hearing his name from her lips. "I'm sorry if I made things awkward by calling you."

"What?" he said, setting his mug on the small table and paying attention to her. "You didn't. I'm glad you called."

She smiled bashfully, "I'm sorry I haven't been to treatment in a while."

"What happened, Y/N?" he asked, still worried but needing to know why she was gone.

"My heat's trying to break through," she explained. "It's been a long time since I've had one because of medications. It didn't hit fully, but what started to break through was enough to make me sick."

Jared's breathing picked up as he listened to her words. His Alpha was going into a panic again. He knew something was wrong. If it was her heat, he could've helped. He can help.

"I was admitted to the Omega wing at the hospital," seeing him getting worked up, she tried to calm him. "They got it managed and switched my meds. It's been trying to worm to the surface for weeks."

"Eventually, it'll come back full force, though, right?" he swallowed hard at the question, knowing full well how painful and possibly fatal a heat for her could be. He had thoroughly researched her condition, and it only made him more sure they met for a reason.

"I've never had an Alpha, Jared. I've never even been with one before."

He let out a deep growl at her statement, which was more a call to her womanhood than something scary. He wasn't fully aware he'd done it until he saw her body respond. Taking a chance and testing the waters, she set her cup on the table and scooted closer to him. Leaning in, she lay her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. She breathed in deeply, blatantly scenting him and humming in satisfaction and comfort.

Jared set his mug aside and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close. He leaned down to scent her hair as she breathed in his scent, an involuntary groan ripping from his lips. In his youth, he would have been eager to take and claim. Now, there was only calm and peace, her scent and warmth soothing the primal beast within.

"You know I had an Omega before," Jared's voice rumbled in his chest. "It shames me to say this, but it never felt like this."

"I know what you mean," she responded, squeezing him a little, making him hold her closer. “I've never felt such compatibility before. I can usually resist Alphas, but with you…"

True mates, Jared's mind offered, but he remained silent. As the conversation quieted, he moved to retrieve the remote from the table, putting something on to watch until she was ready to sleep. It didn't take long for her to pass out. Jared carefully moved, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to her bedroom. He tucked her under the covers, standing over her as she settled into comfort.

He knew this was when he should leave but he couldn't move his feet. His eyes drifted over Y/N’s face, settled peacefully in slumber, before looking over her shape and form, hidden by the covers. She was beautiful, her scent sweet and enticing. His muscles twitched as he fought the urge to crawl beside her, his Alpha yearning to make her his.

He could leave, he supposed, and he probably should. But he didn't want to, and he reasoned that Y/N probably needed someone to look after her anyway. So, returning to the living room, he kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch. He was asleep in a matter of minutes, her scent surrounding him and providing him with much-needed comfort.

Jared woke suddenly in the middle of the night, a second of confusion clouding his mind before he realized why he had woken. Drenched in sweat, he discovered his rut had finally broken in his relaxed state. Although he could smell himself—sweating in the same clothes for two days and soaked once more—her delectable scent still permeated everything.

Now fully awake, he sat upright on the couch, cradling his aching head. His Alpha was desperate to go to her, sneak into her room, and ease their suffering. But he also didn't want to scare her or ruin what they were starting to develop between them. He wouldn't let himself lose control with her. But if he stayed there much longer, the choice might be taken from him.

Mind made up, he searched for a scrap of paper and something to write with, hastily jotting down his number and that he'd see her at the next treatment appointment the following day. He placed the note on the coffee table and forced his feet towards the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, his forehead leaning against the cool door. His Alpha was screaming at him not to do this or leave her.

With his last bought of strength and willpower, he opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him as he forced his feet toward his truck, hoping to sleep it off at home.

When she woke in the morning, she felt awful. She knew right away that her heat had broken. She feared this would be the one the doctor had warned her about - the one that would drive her feral. She could faintly smell Jared, and her body forced her to crawl from the bed and towards the source.

She stumbled to the living room like a zombie on automatic. She was surprised not to find him there when she reached the couch. Maybe he was in the bathroom? She glanced at the coffee table, seeing a paper. Dashing to grab it, she read the hastily scribbled note from Jared.

He had to go but would see her at her next appointment. That was tomorrow afternoon. Her Omega whined in protest of his absence. His scent lingered, and she crawled onto the couch, wrapping herself in the throw and drowning in his potent scent. It seemed to seep into everything fabric he touched and slept upon.

As Jared's rich, Alpha scent filled her lungs, her heat slammed into her with a ferocity that terrified her. The pain compounded with heartbreak over the perceived rejection from his departure. His scent ramped up her body from desire to urgent need as a pitiful whine escaped her parted lips.

With hazy images in her mind's eye, her hand wandered down her body and between her thighs, desperate for any form of relief from the burning within her. She came hard with Jared's name on her lips but was still unsatisfied and yearning. Already feeling tired and drained, she forced her fingers to continue, her wetness more than she'd ever felt before. A brief, alarming worry flashed through her before a second climax erased all thought. Again, it wasn't quite enough, but it eased her pain just enough for her to fall asleep.

Jared rushed toward the clinic doors, his heart racing. Ever since he'd left Y/N's house, he'd been itching to see her again, to just be near her. He'd showered twice and doused himself in scent blockers, knowing they wouldn't let him stay if he was in a rut. But he'd promised to see her. He couldn't donate in his condition, but he could keep her company and show her he could be trusted.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Jared walked into the clinic, his eyes flitting about, looking for her. He didn't see or scent her anywhere. Glancing at the clock, he reviewed the sign-in sheet, but her name was not listed. A sinking dread filled his stomach, and he was unaware of his worried Alpha scent growing and filling the space, drawing unwanted attention.

Jared rechecked his phone, but there were no calls or texts. He sent Y/N a text as he began to panic. Maybe he shouldn't have left. Maybe he should go to her house and see if she was okay. His spiraling panic had amped his rut again, the blockers now useless against the many emotions and pheromones clogging the air.

Nurse Benedict - a small but kind man - approached him warily, and Jared looked around to see him drawing attention.

"Hey, Jared," he spoke calmly with a soft smile. "You shouldn't be here in your condition."

Jared could see several patients eyeing him warily, and he knew he was making them uncomfortable.

"I—I'm sorry," he apologized and reluctantly forced himself to leave. The familiar voice of Dr. Collins stopped him at the door.

"Jared?"

Misha had just stepped off the elevators leading to the hospital. Jared's nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated as he caught Y/N's scent from the smaller male. His rut was still simmering under the surface, and her scent on another man—regardless of whom—exacerbated it.

The Alpha within gained the upper hand as Jared rushed Misha, pinning him against the wall with his forearm across the smaller male’s throat, baring his teeth in warning as he growled.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” Misha squeaked, urging Jared to loosen his hold enough for him to speak. “Who are you looking for, Jared?”

“Y/N. Where is Y/N? I can smell her all over you. Did you touch what’s mine?”

Misha knew Jared was deep into his rut. Moreover, his apparent instincts over Y/N further confirmed his suspicions about the pair.

“Dr. Collins,” Nurse Benedict said, and Misha raised his hand to urge him to stay back. “Should I call security?”

“No. Thank you, Rob. We’re fine. Just need a little space to talk, is all.”

Misha remained calm as Nurse Benedict backed away, leaving him and Jared alone. Jared relaxed and released Misha, a part of him sensing his anger was misplaced.

"Is she here?" Jared growled, unable to maintain pleasantries.

Even his logical mind screamed that he was her doctor, for crying out loud. Dr. Collins looked Jared up and down before glancing down the hallway to see Nurse Benedict still watching the scene.

"Come with me," Misha insisted, gesturing for Jared to follow him onto the elevator. Pressing the floor button, the elevator doors closed, leaving the two men alone. "She's on the Omega treatment floor; she was brought in the middle of the night by ambulance."

Guilt slammed into him hard; he knew he shouldn't have left. He was trying to be respectful, but it may have been what sent her there. He couldn't lose her. Not when he'd finally let himself believe they could have something.

The bell chimed, indicating they'd reached their floor as the doors opened again. Jared followed Y/N's doctor in silence. He wasn't her Alpha and wouldn't be allowed to see her or even be on the floor, especially in his condition. But he trusted Misha and didn't want to get thrown out. So he stayed quiet and followed a very close step behind.

Jared tried to tamper down his Alpha as the overwhelming scents of Omegas and their Alphas assaulted him. While he could scent they mainly were bonded, the pheromones had him wanting to fight or fuck it out.

“Dr. Collins?”

A brunette female doctor greeted Misha as they stopped in the hall. Her gaze flicked over Jared questioningly before returning to Misha in confusion. Jared was finding it difficult to control himself when they reached the floor, and everyone was looking at him or scurrying away, his scent potent and alarming.

“Dr. Rhodes,” Misha greeted with a smile. “This is Jared. We’re here for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Dr. Rhodes was slightly concerned and upset over the situation, not to mention the visible marks on Misha’s neck. She was almost sure this was a dangerous Alpha and her colleague was being coerced. Pulling a syringe stealthily from her coat pocket, Dr. Rhodes attempted to inject Jared with a sedative. Jared was too quick - years of police training made him ever aware of possible danger - and he pinned her to the wall, just like he had with Misha, growling and squeezing her wrist until she cried out in pain and dropped the syringe.

“Jared, let her go.”

Expecting Misha, Jared was surprised to see Jensen beside him, still in uniform. Jared eased his grip, glancing at Misha and seeing the fear in his eyes. He forced himself to release the doctor and backed away from her, his eyes flashing between her and Dr. Collins. Dr. Rhodes rubbed her aching wrist as she eyed Jared warily.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came in with the ambulance after the emergency call,” Jensen explained, trying to control his anger. “I let her go home with you, and then I get a call there’s an emergency at her house. I thought you lost control like in the past and possibly did something.”

By the time he finished speaking, Jensen’s shoulders slumped, knowing his words would strike a chord with his friend. Jared was certainly pissed and hurt at the insinuation.

“I left because I didn’t want to force her into anything. I was losing my mind, and I left,” Jared yelled, tugging at his hair in frustration. His arms dropped to his sides, and he started to cry. “I did this to her by leaving. This is my fault.”

Jared dropped to his knees and cried into his hands. He tried to do the right thing by her, but she ended up hurt anyway. Jensen tried to comfort him, helping him to his feet. Jared wiped his eyes and struggled to control his emotions.

“Please,” Jared turned to Doctors Rhodes and Collins. “Please let me see her. She needs me, and I can fix this.”

“She’s unmated,” Dr. Rhodes snapped. “We can’t have an unmated Alpha in a rut here.”

“He’s her donor.”

“Excuse me?” Jared and Dr. Rhodes spoke at the same time.

Jared was just as surprised at Misha’s words; he and Dr. Rhodes both anticipated Dr. Collins's response.

“Y/N’s body rejected everything we gave her until she received Jared’s enzymes. It’s what has kept her alive this long. They are highly compatible.”

Highly compatible—a modern, scientific term to replace the adage of ‘True Mates.’ As Dr. Collins and Dr. Rhodes argued over professionalism and ethics, Jared’s mind tuned them out. Y/N was his—he just knew it, and she needed him. He couldn’t fathom losing another mate; he would surely go feral.

As they continued debating, Jared slipped away. In a trance, he let his nose and instincts guide him, finding Y/N’s room with ease. He entered the room, glancing back at the doctors before mostly closing the door behind him.

The sight of her lying in bed, covered in sweat and groaning in pain, broke his heart. But the luscious scent of her heat called out to him, drawing him closer until he stood beside her bed.

“Omega,” he breathed out, more of a growl that made her body jerk and her eyes flutter open with a groan.

“Jared?” she weakly asked, shuddering from cramps and fever.

Jared took her hand, the heat of her skin scorching. She sighed, and her body relaxed. After only a few moments, he watched in amazement as her vitals settled to something more normal, though her scent grew more potent.

“You left,” she croaked, pulling her hand from his hold, making him frown. “You rejected me.”

Jared was horrified, her perceived rejection making his heart clench painfully.

“No,” he insisted, retaking her hand and urging her to look at him, “No, Omega. I would never reject you. I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Drs. Rhodes and Collins entered the room, and Jared looked sheepish and caught but refused to move from Y/N’s side.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here without authorization,” Dr. Rhodes spoke, Misha just beside her.

Jensen appeared again, grabbing Jared by the arm and trying to lead him from the room, “I’m sorry, Jared. I have to take you out of here. Don’t make it difficult, okay?”

“I’m an authorized donor,” Jared thought quickly on his feet. “You said she was getting my enzymes, right?” he spoke, fighting against Jensen’s hold.

“We could do a direct enzyme infusion,” Misha suggested to his colleague. “Kim, we have to do something. He can help.”

“The infusion would help,” Dr. Rhodes offered.

“No,” Y/N spoke again. “I’m a broken and rejected Omega. I don’t want to go through this anymore.”

“Maybe we can give them a chance to talk?” Dr. Collins spoke with his colleague, seeing she was at least considering. No one wanted to see someone die because they couldn’t be matched or mated.

“We should run tests,” Dr. Rhodes offered with a sigh, both Misha and Jared relieved she seemed to be on board finally. “If they are compatible, they should mate as soon as possible.”

Jared was grateful they were bending the rules. As they all left the room, Jared felt the urgency of convincing Y/N that they could do this - could mate and be together if she wanted.

Holding her hand firmly in his, he cupped her cheek with his other hand, urging her to look at him. He took a moment to caress and soak in her features and scent.

“I left because you smelled so good I was afraid I’d lose control and do something you didn’t want. But I would very much like to be your Alpha.”

“I woke up, and I scented you,” Y/N explained. “But you weren’t there. I lay on the couch. I needed your scent.”

She fought back tears, and Jared did his best to soothe her from his position.

“The idea of having an Alpha, of belonging to them, terrifies me. I never wanted it, and now I’m paying for that. But then you came along, and I wasn’t afraid. I was drawn and curious but never afraid.”

She let her tears fall then but smiled warmly at Jared, squeezing his hand. Jared’s heart swelled. He shouldn’t have left, but now he’d get a second chance.

“Will you let me claim you?” He asked, needing to be bonded with her and knowing her body needed it too.

Before she could respond, two Beta nurses entered with Dr. Rhodes behind them, “So, are we doing the transfusion?”

Y/N and Jared held each others’ gaze for a long moment before Y/N turned to the doctor.

“Yes.”

Y/N looked back to Jared, who kissed her hand and moved into a chair beside the bed. The nurses set up IVs and a machine to feed Jared’s enzymes to stabilize her.

“As soon as possible,” Jared whispered just for her, “I’ll get you home and take care of you.”

The implications of his promise made her shiver. The staff left them alone while the transfusion was going on. However, after several minutes, Y/N looked like she was about to pass out as the alarms started blaring. Jared was out of his seat and at her side in a flash, cupping her face and trying to rouse her. The nurses and doctor rushed in, pushing Jared back into his chair as they checked her over. Her scent blossomed, almost choking him, and he detected the bitter tones of her heat on the verge of turning feral.

“The transfusion isn’t enough,” Dr. Rhodes explained to Jared.

“She needs a claim,” he understood, his feet pulling him closer to her. “Can I take her home?”

He couldn’t lose her, and he couldn’t survive losing another mate. He felt blessed at having found her, but now he felt cursed to know only loss. He knew it would save her if he could mate and claim her.

“She’s not stable enough to leave,” the doctor explained. “But I can secure the room and give you privacy,” she offered instead.

Jared could only nod, his Alpha ready to care for his mate, his scent informing all others to keep their distance. The doctor rushed off, giving Jared a wide berth and securing the door behind her as promised.

“Y/N?” Jared urged, trying to get her to focus on him, to at least hear him. “Omega?”

His voice was tinged with both whine and growl as he let his instincts guide him. He leaned down over Y/N and kissed her chaste but deeply.

“Alpha,” she whispered as her body sought him out.

“My true mate,” he whispered back reverently. “Not how I wanted this to go, but I can’t lose you. Need to mate and claim you.”

She shook her head, fighting to stay coherent and awake as the heat raced through her body. Her utter desperation for the Alpha before her was the only thing tethering her to wakefulness.

“It’s too fast,” she protested, a tiny sliver of rationality clinging to her consciousness.

“You’re dying,” he responded bluntly. “You would have had to have someone assigned as your mate. We’ll never get to know each other if you’re dead. I can’t let that happen when I can help you.” He held her face in his hands, his forehead pressed to hers. “Omega, please.”

“Jared,” she breathed, giving in to her body’s needs and tilting her head to kiss him. He responded in kind, his Alpha chomping to make her his. “Alpha, please. Need you. Need-”

Her voice trailed off as a painful cramp seized hold, making her whine and whimper. Jumping to action, Jared removed his shoes and hastily removed his clothes, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He pulled down the blankets and pushed up her hospital gown to her stomach. Her folds glistened in the harsh light, her scent potent and slamming into him hard. He breathed deep, his body shuddering.

Crawling on the bed to hover over her, she automatically spread her legs, Jared’s hand finding her core. Slipping two fingers inside, he groaned, feeling her soaked and more than ready for him.

She whined and squirmed, the fever taking hold. Jared would have reveled in her desperation and submission, but now was not the time or place. He removed her clothes and climbed on the small bed, settling between her legs and pulling the covers over them for modesty.

His hard and heavy cock twitched eagerly against her hot and drenched folds. Without hesitation, he slid within her, groaning at the delectable feel of her heat wrapped around him. She whimpered again, and he shushed her, kissing her sweet as he began to move.

It was desperate and clinical, feeding primal needs and alleviating both their near-feral biologies. Y/N still felt better than anyone he’d ever had, and he promised himself the romance would come later when they were both safely out of danger.

“Alpha,” she called out, her legs spreading wider, letting Jared slide even deeper. “Alpha, need your knot!”

Jared groaned long and deep, burying his face in her neck as he picked up his pace. The small bed creaked with his every movement. Her hands on his ass, pulling him even closer, reminded him of her desperation and his own.

“Gonna knot and mark you, Omega,” he warned, his knot already swelling, making it more challenging to fuck her how they needed. Feeling her grow close, he slipped a hand between them, rubbing tight and fast circles on her clit.

Her body tensed, right on the edge, and Jared could no longer hold off.

“Omega,” he groaned, his knot popping and locking them together.

As his teeth sank into her neck, marking her as his and bonding them, she came loud and hard, gushing around his knot.

They both lay panting, waiting for Jared’s knot to recede. Jared licked and kissed her wound, allowing his instincts to guide him, his heart full in a way he never thought possible after his loss. Once his knot released, he moved from the bed, dressed, and cleaned them up. When done, Y/N slept, and Jared ran to get someone to check to ensure she was okay.

He knew she would need more than one round to heal, but he hoped he could take her home, where it would be more comfortable and private. Jared rushed out of the room to find Drs. Rhodes and Collins who paused their speech when they saw him.

“Is everything alright?” Dr. Rhodes looked concerned.

“She’s sleeping,” Jared offered.

“I’ll just go check on her.”

Jared followed into Y/N’s room, and Dr. Collins was close behind. They both stood by patiently as Dr. Rhodes examined Y/N.

“She seems better,” Dr. Rhodes announced. “I’ll need to draw some blood, and we’ll need to keep her for observation for a few hours.”

Jared tensed but nodded. He didn’t want to be in the hospital any longer than necessary and just wanted to get her into a comfortable bed where he could tend to her every need and bring her back to life. But he could force himself to wait a few more hours for Y/N’s sake. He’d rather know she was stabilized before he removed her from the place that could save her if something went wrong.

“Try to get some rest,” Misha insisted as Y/N’s blood was drawn. “You both need your strength.”

Once again, they were left alone, the door secured behind them. It was easier to control his instincts now that they were bonded, but it still took effort to restrain himself from those having to touch or go near his mate.

Jared took residence in his chair again, scooting it as close as possible to the bed so he could hold Y/N’s hand as she slept. He laid his head on her belly, watching her as she slumbered. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep with her.

It took half a day and a second round before Y/N was stable enough to leave the hospital. The second she was wheeled outside—per hospital protocol—Jared scooped her from the chair into his arms and carried her to his waiting truck, tucking her safely inside.

Y/N was more than surprised when Jared pulled into her home's driveway. She expected as an Alpha - and her Alpha - that he’d want her in his space. Most Alphas were territorial in that way. Before she could vocalize a word, Jared was out of the truck and at her side, carrying her in his arms again towards her front door.

“I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained as he opened her door. She was surprised he had her keys, but she supposed she was pretty out of it and was grateful she had someone looking out for her. “I figured you’d want to be in your space for now.”

It would take some getting used to. But as her eyes trailed over Jared’s body as he stood from laying her on the couch, she was thankful to have been blessed with such an attractive and caring mate. But her mood was soured as she smelled herself, a mix of her heat, sex, and not having showered in a couple of days.

“I want a shower,” she whined, her stomach gurgling loudly. “And something to eat.”

“Okay,” Jared readily agreed, ready to help her off the couch. “Why don’t we shower first, and then I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Jared,” she protested. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he gently argued. “Please, Omega, let me take care of you?”

He pulled her to her feet, his arms wrapped around her securely. She swooned at his rich and calming scent as he quietly purred to soothe her.

“Yes, Alpha.” She smiled warmly at him, and Jared gave in to his urge to kiss her.

In the hospital, she was so out of it that she could barely remember them mating, let alone his kiss. She could feel the pulse in her neck from his bite, reminding her it was real. She imagined he was as gone as her when they mated, the urgency overriding all else. Now, however, she could savor his kiss - a kiss that was making her swoon so hard her legs gave out. Luckily, he was swift to scoop her into his arms once again.

Jared had wanted this - wanted her - for so long since he had first scented her. The first time, he was in the local bar on a rare night out. He had caught her scent wafting over all the others, calling to his inner Alpha that had been dormant for many years. He followed his nose, intent on finding the source. As soon as he laid eyes on her, his heart stuttered. But she left before he could ever approach her.

The second time he saw her, she was locked in the drunk tank. He had reported for an overnight shift and was briefed on the persons in holding. That’s when he learned her name. He spent the entire night with a watchful eye, her scent driving him mad with want.

Y/N’s second visit to the drunk tank was his third time seeing her, and they spent most of that time in friendly chatting. That’s when Jared began to wonder if he could ever have a chance with this stunning Omega that called to him. It was also the first time he wondered what demons had led her to drink and be locked up. That’s when he tried to rid himself of the idea of her as ever being his. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her from his mind, her scent ingrained in him.

As he set her down in the bathroom and turned on the shower, Y/N began stripping her dirty and sweat-soaked clothes. When Jared turned back around, finally satisfied with the water temperature, Y/N was naked and smiling shyly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming her nude body, finally able and allowed to view and appreciate every inch of her - and appreciate he did.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathed heavily, removing his clothes as he watched her eyes devour him in turn. “My Omega.”

A shiver ran through Y/N’s body at Jared’s Alpha tone, laced with his desire for her. They both took their time appreciating each other's bodies. Y/N had never seen a man so fit and toned or a cock so large and - frankly - beautiful, which is something she never thought she’d say.

As another wave of her heat ramped up, she trusted Jared to help her. Y/N’s mind was foggy, and her body focused only on her basic needs. She could barely stand on her own in the shower. She could smell Jared’s delicious scent all around her, already mingling with hers. His hands, large and warm, delicately cleansed and caressed her skin.

After showering, he dried her down, and she slipped on a silky robe that barely covered her ass but was lightweight and didn’t irritate her frazzled skin. Jared threw on his boxers and t-shirt, knowing she’d need him again soon and not wanting too many layers in their way.

He left her on the couch, searching her kitchen for something to feed them. He opted for eggs and toast, something easy to make and eat. As he gathered the needed items, he noted that there were bottles everywhere he turned. Some bottles were empty, some half full or waiting to be opened. He was more than worried and knew he’d have to ask her about it. Maybe he could help her.

Bringing the plates to the living room, Jared handed her one as he sat on the couch beside her. He observed her as they ate, more than happy that she liked it and ate it all. Without a word, he gathered their dishes and neatly placed them on the coffee table. He planned to wash them at some point, but he needed to confront her about the drinking finally.

“Y/N?” Jared began cautiously, grateful when she eagerly met his gaze. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life or try to control you; I’m not that kind of Alpha,” he started, her brow furrowed as he continued. “It’s just…all the drinking, the bottles everywhere, ending up in the drunk tank. I’m worried and want to help if you let me.”

She dropped her gaze to her lap as she nodded her head. She had expected it to come up at some point. After all, it was a prominent part of her life lately, and she worried it was all Jared really knew about her from being locked up so much.

Y/N could only feel safety and comfort from Jared, no judgment or anger. Their bond was new and raw, but she was grateful that she could feel him and knew it was okay to be honest. She met his eyes again and smiled reassuringly.

“For a while, it was the only way I could escape the pain, at least for a little while—mental, emotional, physical pain over my whole situation. I never wanted to be tied to a mate. I didn’t want to be matched to someone I didn’t love or know just to stay alive. I didn’t want to die or hurt myself; I just wanted to escape. I don’t need to drink, and I never really enjoyed it either. I want to give it up.”

Jared had expected at least a small argument or fight, not immediate acceptance. He placed a hand on top of hers, needing to feel her and reassure her. She flashed him that soft smile again and squeezed his hand back. Now, he felt like she was the one comforting him.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I fought against this whole thing, but now that we’re mated, I am happy and content. I’m happy it’s you, and I know being mated to you will heal the pain. My health and mood will improve,” She laughed to herself. “It feels so stupid that I fought against it so much. It’s better than I ever thought it could be to be mated to you.”

He couldn’t help it as he leaned in, cupping her cheek and kissing her deeply. To know that she genuinely wanted him as much as he wanted her, after everything and how she felt, she was more than just okay with him claiming her. She was happy; she wanted it, and he wanted her.

Y/N kissed him hungrily, pushing him back into the couch and crawling into his lap as she demanded more. Jared wrapped his arms around her, moaning as she ground her bare, wet folds against his clothed cock. He hastily undid the tie of her robe, brushing it off her shoulders and to the ground. When his hands found her warm flesh, he hummed in satisfaction.

She ground her hips into him as she devoured his mouth, desperate for her Alpha, her heat ramping up again, far from satiated. She ran her hands down his chest and whined at the t-shirt that obscured her from his flesh. Jared caught on quickly, breaking the kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Her fingers trailed over his torso, exploring his flesh as she kissed him deep again.

Her grinding was riling him up quicker than he’d anticipated, her scent and neediness, the desperate sounds she was making, all colliding into a perfect storm that aroused him to no end. But he’d promised her that he’d mate her properly when they were home, and that’s precisely what he intended to do.

Scooping her into his arms, Jared stood and carried Y/N toward the bedroom, finding it hard to focus as she continued grinding against him and nibbling at the sensitive spots on his neck.

“Naughty little Omega,” Jared playfully chastised as he slapped her ass. She gasped and ground against him harder. “Oh, you are naughty, aren’t you?”

Stepping into the room, he laid her on the bed and removed his boxers before he crawled over her with a smirk.

“Oh, maybe we can play Cops and Robbers, and you can punish me, Padadeputy,” she teased with a sultry smirk.

Jared growled and kissed her hard with teeth and tongue, “Next time,” he promised. “I have something else in mind,” he added as he pulled back and rolled her to her stomach. “Promised to claim you proper.”

She attempted to rise and present, but he placed a large hand on her lower back, keeping her flat and prone on the bed. He bent one of her knees, exposing her to him. Using his knees and thighs, he nudged her further until he could settle comfortably on top of her and between her thighs.

Y/N moaned as his weight settled on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She was trapped beneath him, unable to move much in any way. But she wasn’t afraid. Instead, she willingly submitted to her strong and potent Alpha.

Jared shifted his hips and slowly guided his cock into her tight and wet core. It felt like an eternity before he finally settled deep within her, moving his hips to nudge against her depths. Y/N moaned, her fingers clenched in the sheets. He was so deep, and she felt so incredibly full.

While they had already mated, it was rushed and fevered, and she was so out of it that she didn’t remember much. Now, however, she could feel every little thing, which seemed deliciously overwhelming: from the emotions, the connection, and the sensations of him nestled inside and around her.

She squirmed desperately beneath him as much as she could. Jared nipped her shoulder, and she went still with a whine. He rewarded her by glacially pulling out and pressing in again just as slowly. She needed more and was growing ravenous, but he had other ideas.

Jared continued his slow and passionate rhythm, his hips rolling like gentle waves lapping at the shore. It felt incredible, and Y/N could feel every detail of his length as he speared her open again and again. But it wasn’t enough to take them anywhere. Instead, Jared held them in the realm of pleasure, near torture, with seemingly no end in sight. It was maddening and divine.

“Tell me how it feels,” Jared whispered as he kissed her neck and shoulders.

“Alpha.”

“Tell me,” he reiterated, nipping at her claim and making her moan.

“Feels big and deep,” she gasped, and another nip told her he wanted more. “Ugh! So thick and hot, splitting me open. Feel like you could break right through into my womb. So full,” she whined into the sheets.

Jared groaned and increased his pace, his hands exploring her body, his mouth tasting everywhere he could reach as he drove them both toward their ends. His body stilled as his knot popped, locking them together as his cum flooded her channel. He leaned in to renew his claim; even the bite was intentional and slow, and Jared savored the pop and burst as her skin broke anew.

“You did so well, Omega,” Jared praised, shifting them to a spooning position as they waited for his knot to go down. “How are you feeling?” he asked, leaning on an elbow to look down at her.

Y/N met his eyes and marveled at the many colors present and the myriad of emotions reflected back at her. Her heart swelled, and she knew she already loved him. She never knew mating could feel like this like she had found a piece of herself she was missing. Jared was a better Alpha than she ever imagined an Alpha could be. All the pain and suffering was worth it just to find him.

“Lucky, Jared,” she smiled warmly. “I feel so damn lucky.”

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 18 (Final Chapter)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 6900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, this is it. The final chapter. I’m feeling very emotional about this one, as these 2 are my babies. This fic was the second thing I ever started writing AND my first series. I started it in November of 2021 and now I’m ending it in June of 2023. Thank you to everyone who has read it, left comments, reblogged it, talked about it off of Tumblr (I am still FLOORED that this has happened!). This is what keeps people creating. Even if you think you have nothing important to say, or if all you say is just a keyboard mash of letters, I can promise you ALL of it means the world to us. So I dedicate this fic to you, the reader. You’re the real star here and I can’t express my love enough. If you’re ever wanting more, I am always down to write one shots, drabbles, character insights, what ifs, etc for this fic (and any of my others).

Now excuse me while I go cry

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<<Chapter 17

“You look so beautiful!” Olivia gushes over you after she tucks the last braid into place, watching you stand and do a little twirl in your white dress.

“You think so? It’s not too much?”

“Too much? Girl, it’s your wedding day. You can’t be too much!”

Smiling, you smooth out your dress as you take in your reflection. You’re marrying Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie, whom you’ve been in love with since you were 19. This is real. It’s happening.

Ok, technically, in the eyes of the law, it happened a few weeks ago at a courthouse. But there’s something special about gathering in front of your close friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, and getting to repeat those vows in front of everyone. A soft knock at the door brings you out of your head and Olivia walks across the room to peak her head outside.

“Mosa, it’s the photographer. Are you ready for the first look?”

“It’s HERmosa!” Frankie’s muffled yell comes from behind the door and Olivia smirks.

One last glance in the mirror at your reflection and you nod, turning your back towards the door. You hear some shuffling as Frankie is ushered in backwards and the photographers get into place.

“Turn in 3..2..1..Turn!” Olivia says and then steps back.

You turn, your eyes finding his almost immediately, as if they were drawn there. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, fitting his form perfectly, his grandfather’s kerchief folded and poking from the pocket. But what you’re really interested in is his face, his eyes growing wider and glossier the longer he looks at you.

“Hermosa, you…you’re beautiful,” Frankie says, awestruck.

“You’re just figuring that out?” You say behind a smile.

“No, I mean I always knew but…wow.”

He walks up to you and cups your cheek, running his thumb across it as Olivia hisses something about makeup from the corner of the room. But you couldn’t care less. Frankie was here, marrying you. This is all you’ve dreamt of for well over 10 years. A tear runs down Frankie’s cheek and you wipe it away.

“Are you ok?”

He sniffs and smiles. “I’m the best I’ve felt in a long time. I just…I only wish we would’ve done this sooner.”

“We did. We got married in the courthouse, remember?”

He smiles at you. “I meant more that we never…that we stayed together since that first kiss.”

“Me too. But we can’t dwell on what-ifs. We can only think about the here-and-nows.”

Frankie tips your chin up and presses a light kiss to your lips, the clicks from the camera going crazy. You pose for photos for several minutes before Olivia ushers everyone from the room, winking at you when she says she’ll give you 10 minutes of alone time before she came to get you. The second the door closes, Frankie pushes his tongue in your mouth, pulling you as close as he can.

“I can’t mess this dress up, Frankie,” You say pouting.

“That’s ok. I can work with that.” Frankie grips your hips and spins you around, bending you over the back of the chair and clasping a hand to your mouth as he takes you, your hands desperately trying to reach behind you to pull him in closer.

15 minutes later, Olivia knocks on the door and enters hesitantly, smirking when she sees you smoothing down your dress, Frankie’s face more pink than when she had left.

“It’s time,” she says, tossing her thumb over her shoulder and looking at Frankie pointedly. He turns to you and kisses your cheek.

“See you out there?”

“Raging sharks couldn’t keep me away.”

He kisses you once more before Olivia starts clearing her throat. When he straightens up a curl falls on his forehead and you softly push it back to where it was, feeling Frankie’s eyes on you the entire time. He opens the door and looks outside befire turning back to you.

“Your gift is here.”

“You don’t have to get me a gift, Frank-”

Santi walks through the door, dressed in a nice tux and smiling from ear to ear. You hadn’t seen him since the day he confessed his love for you and you had missed him terribly. Frankie was your best friend, but Santi was a close second and you’d hated the idea of getting married without him there.

“Santi?”

“Hey, Hermosa.”

You catch a glimpse of Frankie’s smile before he closes the door as you wrap your arms around Santi, feeling him squeeze you back just as hard. Separating a few moments later, you dab under your eyes as you try to choke back tears.

“If I smudge my makeup, Olivia may kill me.”

Santi laughs. “She’s Benny’s girl, right? She’s perfect for him.”

“She’s really great…but how are you here?”

“I uh…Frankie called me a few weeks ago and told me…well, everything. I’m sorry I was screening my calls, Hermosa. I just…I needed time.”

“I understand. But…you’re here now! Are you ok?”

“I’m doing alright, Hermosa. Actually, pretty good.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about her.”

He laughs. “I will. But uh, hey - do you need a Man of Honor? If…if that would…be ok?”

“I would love to have to as my Man of Honor! But…Benny already agreed and I don’t know how to tell him -”

Santi waves his hand. “Benny was in on this. He knows and already said it was ok with him as long as you wanted it.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wait. Benny knew you were coming and he didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah.”

You gasp. “That bitch!”

Santi laughs his hardest yet. “So…”

“Let’s go, Man of Honor.”

The next thing you know, Frankie’s kissing you, everyone whooping and cheering, Aurelia throwing more flower petals into the air as they announce “Mr. and Mrs. Morales.” The rest of the night was like a blur, between photos and eating, first dances and cake, you barely had time to sit until things started to wind down long into the night. When you tried to help clean up, Olivia literally slapped your hand away and glared at you.

“Absolutely not. Benny!” He walks over and play groans when she says she’s recruited him to help clean up. She pretends to twist his nipple when he starts to complain and he yelps, high pitched and smiling as they play fight for a few moments before he gives in, grabbing plates and stacking them to wash.

Frankie looks exhausted and he’s limping a little, so you beg him to not carry you over the threshold. “You did that when we got courthouse married.”

“Yeah but-”

“No. I’m not having you throw your hip out on our wedding day. Not from this.”

He chokes and smiles, giving in, a dark twinkle in his eye. “Alright. If you insist.” But by the time you’d made it upstairs and gotten your clothes off, both of you were too exhausted to do much of anything aside from a shower and literally fall into bed. But Frankie made up for lost time the next morning, waking you with what he claims was already your third orgasm of the day, his curls mussed up from being buried between your legs. He presses his body to yours, swallowing your whimpers before he adds his own, hips shaking with release.

You spend your honeymoon at the Miller family cabin upstate, the only clothing you wear being one of Frankie’s shirts and sometimes his hat, which drives him wild. He celebrates another sobriety milestone while there, smiling wide at your praise. When you get back home, you can see he has an extra pep in his step, always a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, always wanting to touch you, whether a hand to your wrist, a touch to your lower back, or a smack on your ass, chuckling as you yelp and smack him back. When you ask him why he looks exceptionally happy, he credits you. “I finally got the girl of my dreams, the love of my life.”

—-

Frankie and you settle into a comfortable routine. You were no strangers to living together, the adjustment taking no time at all. Life goes on as normal, except now, you get to live it with Frankie, no longer separated by a stupid argument, misconceptions, or a bitch of an ex wife. This was exactly where you were meant to be.

Several months later, Frankie follows you into the family restroom at Target, slinging your purse over his shoulder as he rifles through the bag of stuff you’d just purchased.

“Pink dye first, right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks at you.

“Yeah. They’re more accurate supposedly.”

Frankie tears open the box and studies the directions, as if he hadn’t done this several times already. He opens one of the sticks and hands it to you, turning around to give you a little privacy.

“Start the timer,” you say as you zip up your pants. Frankie hits go on his timer and turns to face you, a pregnancy stick held face down in your hand. He can see your nerves, your worry and concern on your face.

“It’ll be ok, Hermosa.”

“Yeah I know. But what if it isn’t?”

“It will be-”

“We’ve been trying for months, Frankie. I know the OB said to try for a year before fertility testing but-”

Frankie walks up to you and pulls you to him, applying a gentle pressure as he hugs you close, kissing the side of your head. “If it’s negative, then we keep trying, ok? It hasn’t been a year yet and sometimes these things take time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will told me that it took them months to conceive Liam. And they were trying too. Just…breathe. In….out…”

You breathe with him for a few breaths. “You always were annoyingly calm in a crisis.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t help to freak out behind the joystick.”

You open your mouth to reply, but his timer cuts you off. Your mouth jams shut, nerves taking over your body as Frankie holds your gaze.

“If it says negative, we can keep trying. Remember that. I love you no matter what, Hermosa.” You nod, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You flip the test over and look, 2 bright pink lines staring back at you. Tears immediately fall as you laugh, turning the test around to show Frankie, who yells, grabbing you up in his arms and hugging you tightly. He kisses you for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I fucking love you, Hermosa.”

“I love you, Frankie.”

He yanks the door open and whoops loudly, people turning to look at him as you follow him out of the bathroom.

“I’m going to be a father again!” He pumps his fists in the air, smiling from ear to ear as people cheer, clapping and congratulating you as they finish their purchases, one older couple handing you a gift card on their way out, telling you to spoil that baby.

—-

Frankie was hesitant at first with your pregnancy, despite being so supportive and actually wanting a child with you. A couple months in, you finally ask him why he seems afraid to touch you, that you won’t break. He finally confesses to you that when Elizabeth was pregnant, she did nothing but yell at him, belittling him and wouldn’t let him touch her at all, not her belly, not even to rub her back or feet. She called him horrible names and would blame it on the hormones. Your heart breaks for him and you have no words. Well, you have words but they aren’t nice ones. Instead, you sit next to him on the bed, leaning back onto one arm, and take his hand with the other, gently placing it on your lower belly. His eyes light up as he looks at your tiny for the moment bump, tears welling in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to take the other side. He pulls your shirt up just enough to see your belly skin, giving it a tiny kiss.

“Hey, little one. You grow strong in there and don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

From then on, Frankie is all in. Whatever you need, he gets it, even if it’s a ridiculous request at 3am. He’s constantly touching your growing belly, talking to it as much as you do. He finds Aurelia’s old crib in the attic, a few boxes of baby stuff and a bassinet up there as well. He sets up the nursery under your instruction, letting Aurelia help with the decorations when she comes on the weekends. You decide to wait to find out the sex of the baby, thinking it would be something fun to do. So instead you call it “Bean”.

“Think Bean will like this?” Frankie asks, pointing to a baby swing.

“They might, but Frankie, that swing is nearly $150. We can’t afford that.”

His shoulder’s slump but he agrees. “Maybe we can check the thrift shop. It’s the one thing Will didn’t toss our way.”

He was there for all of the classes too, birthing ones, breathing ones, even the hypnobirthing ones. He signed up for a “birthing partners” class, learning the best ways to support you not just during labor and delivery, but during the 4th trimester, or immediately postpartum. He helped you practice your meditations, making sure you had everything you needed and that you remember to take your prenatal and drink enough water.

When you’re 8 months pregnant, getting winded from walking down the hall, Frankie gets a call from his boss at Flyboyz on his day off, asking him to come in. He grabs his hat and gives you a quick kiss before leaving, reminding you to drink water. He’d been working a lot lately, trying to make extra money so he can stay home with you and the baby for the first month. You’re not sure how long he’ll be gone, so you plop yourself down on your bed, pulling over the basket of baby clothes that still have to be sorted and you get to work, separating the sizes, long sleeve vs short, nightgowns from onesies. A couple hours later, the front door opens and Frankie slams it behind him, the picture frames rattling on the walls. You set aside the footie pajamas you were folding and go to stand up, but Frankie comes storming into the bedroom before you can move, anger coming off of him in waves.

“Frankie?”

He yanks his hat from his head, tossing it onto his dresser, knocking some things off of it. “I can’t fucking believe her!”

Struggling a little, you manage to get up and cross the room to him, placing your hand on his mid back. He recoils, anger flashing in his eyes but it’s not directed at you. Unsure of what happened, you know he needs to calm down before he can tell you. You grab an ice cube out of your glass of water and turn to Frankie.

“Give me your hand.”

He looks at you, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“Just do it.”

He stares at you for a moment before shoving his hand out. You flip it palm up, opening his fingers and place the ice cube in his palm. He yelps, but you hold his hand firmly so he won’t drop the ice.

“What the fuck, Hermosa?”

“The cold will help reset your nervous system.”

“I don’t think- it’s too fucking cold, Hermosa.”

“Just another few seconds.”

His chest, which had been heaving a moment ago, has slowed down, the anger still there but at a manageable level. You tip his hand and grab the falling ice into your own palm, putting it in the sink in the bathroom before coming back to the bed and trying to sit on it. Frankie is there, taking your hand and helping you into bed. He goes to stand but you squeeze his hand and pull him until he sighs, sitting on the edge, his shoulders slumped.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucking angry, but…the edge is gone. Ice…who fucking knew?”

“So..may I ask what happened?”

His eyes darken with repressed outrage. “I thought I was getting extra work. Instead, my pilot’s license has been suspended, pending a review.”

You sit up quickly, eyes going wide. “What??”

He nods, his jaw clenching. “Apparently, someone made a claim that I was using when I flew some clients and now they have to investigate.”

You knew that Frankie had been clean over a year, that he wasn’t using at all. “Oh, Frankie. Wait..who made the claim?”

He looks at you. “It was anonymous but I know it was Elizabeth.” He says her name with absolute disgust and hate that you nearly pull back from him.

“Elizabeth? Would she-”

“Oh come on, Hermosa. You don’t think it was her? I’ve been clean for well over a year. She’s the only one who would have known that I used that would make claims.”

“What about Rick?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nah. He left Flyboyz while you were…out of town. I told him he had to leave or I would report him for selling. He started to threaten to bring me down with him, but then remembered you were…not in my life and he could see the rock bottom in me, I guess. So he backed off, just left to go elsewhere. There’s no way it’s him. It’s her. It’s always her causing shit. I’m so fucking sick of it!”

Placing a hand on his back, you start to rub it, adding in little scratches here and there like he likes. “She is a bitch.”

“I just got my license back. I worked so hard on that.” He puts his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his legs. You scoot towards him wrapping your arm around him.

“I know you did. But you said suspended? That doesn’t mean revoked, right?”

He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“It means, I can’t fly until it’s reinstated. I have to pee in a cup at random times during the week for 6 months to prove I’m clean before they will lift the suspension.”

“Well there you go!”

He looks up at you, his eyebrows pulling together. “There I go, what? We can’t afford for me to not have this income, Hermosa.”

“We’ll be ok-”

“You’re about to have a baby. Your income won’t happen for a bit, and that’s fine, but we needed this extra money and now I can’t provide that. All because of my bitch of an ex!”

“Frankie, we’ll be ok. If we have to borrow money, we can.”

“I’m not borrowing money.”

“Fine. Then I will borrow it.”

“No, I’ll…I’ll figure something out.”

“Frankie-”

“Just…can we just stop for tonight? I’m trying to process this.”

You open your mouth to argue but then see the exhausted look on his face. “Sure. Why don’t you come talk to us? That always makes you feel better.”

Leaning back against the headboard, you watch as Frankie scoots up the bed, getting level with your belly as you turn on your side so you’re not being squished. He chats to the baby for a while, about everything and nothing and by the time he’s done, his shoulders are relaxed and he’s not as angry anymore.

Elizabeth never fully admits to being the one to make the claim, but you see the look on her face through the car window when you make your next exchange for Aurelia after Frankie confronts her and you know she did it. There’s nothing you can say or do except wait it out. Frankie getting his license back will be all the revenge you’ll need.

—---- (Skip to the next line if you don’t want to read about labor. It’s not terribly graphic at all, but I know it’s not everyone’s thing)-------

“I never thought I’d have to beg you to have sex with me!” You stomp your foot, furious that Frankie won’t follow the doctor’s advice.

It had been a few weeks since his license was revoked and you were a week past your due date and not happy about it.

“Hermosa, I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know, I know. But the midwife even said that sex is the best way to induce labor because of the prostaglandins in your semen.”

“You make it sound so sexy.”

“Frankie,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep sigh. “I am the size of a house. I am miserable and sweaty and I haven’t seen my feet in months and I just want to have this baby already. If it’s my belly, I can turn around-”

“You are fucking gorgeous.”

“Then please?”

Frankie studies you for a long moment, his shoulders starting to slump and that’s when you knew you had him. “Alright, fine. We can try it. But we’re going slow, taking our time, ok?”

“No arguments here.”

Contractions started within an hour of Frankie cumming inside of you. You weren’t sure at first what you were feeling, but it sort of felt like a bad period cramp, so you assumed this must be it. Frankie timed them all for you, helping you breathe as they got more intense and closer together, and when they were close enough apart, Frankie helped you to his truck and drove to the hospital. In between contractions, you watched him as he drove, expertly winding his way through traffic, a look of focus on his face, a little furrow between his brow the only indication that this was not a normal day behind the wheel. How lucky you were to have this man, who can be calm in stressful situations, want to spend his life with you.

“What?” Frankie glances sideways at you before turning back to the road.

“You’re cute when you focus.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Remember how cute I am when you’re in transition.”

Before you know it, you’re in a labor and delivery room, barely spending any time in triage before they whisked you away. Hospitals can be a frustrating place to have a baby. Each nurse walks in and tells you to rest between contractions, try to get some sleep when you can, but then a new nurse comes along within an hour, always rousing you from sleep to take your blood pressure or put their fingers where you didn’t want them. You’d finally had enough of the latter and told a nurse to kindly fuck off, and denied internal exams unless it was a medical emergency. Frankie was by your side the entire labor, putting counter pressure on your hips when you needed it, pulling your hair from your face, sneaking you snacks because they forbid food and you said you’d chomp off your own fingers if they didn’t let you eat. Transition was hard, but all of a sudden, you knew it was time to push. Following your body, you get on all fours, taking your calming breaths, but then realizing that Frankie was not next to you. Turning your head, you see him, wide eyed and backing towards the door.

“I’ll just-” He points his thumb over his shoulder at the door.

“No, please. I need you here with me.” Another contraction has you breathing again and it’s a minute before he replies.

“You want me here?”

“Yes. I need you, Frankie.”

His eyes start to water over and it doesn’t occur to you then, but later that night it’l come to you - he wasn’t trying to dodge out of the delivery. He was having a flashback to when Elizabeth kicked him out of the room right when Aurelia was making her way into the world, and your heart hurt all over again. Frankie is at your side in an instant, turning to yell for the nurse who had surprisingly not come in for some random check.

“No time!” You yell, letting out a low groan, a technique you learned to help move baby down and out. Frankie’s face slides into focus mode and he moves behind you, just in time to catch the baby as it comes sliding out. He gathers the baby up, holding it close as it screams into the world. The nurse comes running in then, having heard the baby crying as you turn onto your back, arms outstretched to hold your baby, skin to skin.

“Baby is here! I didn’t even know you were transitioning! You were pretty quiet.”

The nurse bustles around and does her thing while Frankie transfers the baby to your bare chest. Tears stream down your face as you look at Frankie, who has tears of his own. He kisses the top of your head. “I am so proud of you, Hermosa.”

A few moments pass, the baby calming against your chest. “Hey Frankie? Is the baby a boy or girl?”

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to look! I was so focused on catching the baby and whether it was breathing and not dropping it that I don’t think I looked! Here.” He lifts the hip of the baby and smiles.

“We have a son. I have a son!”

—---No more labor/delivery details—---

Luis Christian Francisco Morales was born perfect. 10 little fingers and 10 little toes, skin glowing. He was the perfect combination of you both, although you say he favors Frankie mostly.

You both settle into your roles as new parents, a lot of it being new to Frankie too, since Elizabeth had denied him so much. He was determined to not miss out on things this time, making sure you both had everything you needed and watching Luis when he stayed awake between feeds so you could have a nap. Aurelia cries the first time she sees Luis, big ugly sobs, and when Frankie finally calms her down enough to ask what’s wrong, she simply says “He…he’s…s-so so cute!” She happily takes up the mantle of “Big Sister” when she’s with you. Once, you wake from your nap only to find all 3 of them sleeping, Luis curled up on Frankie’s broad chest, Aurelia tucked onto his other side. You snap a photo and then quietly leave the room, taking the time to actually shower.

About a month in, Frankie comes back from dropping Aurelia with her mom. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion as he stares down at his phone.

“Everything ok?” You ask, shifting the bottle you were feeding Luis with so it was a better angle.

“Yeah. Uh…Santi just texted me.”

“Oh yeah? Everything ok?”

“Uh..he says congrats on Luis, that he’s the cutest, and that he was out of service for a bit and he’s sorry he didn’t text earlier.”

“That’s ok. I know he’s busy.”

Frankie is quiet for a moment. “He offered me some work.”

“Work?”

“Well, not just me. Benny, Will, and Tom too.”

“What kind of work?” When he doesn’t answer, you look up at him. He kicks his shoes off and sits next to you on the couch.

“Consulting.” His eyes don’t meet yours, focusing instead on his fingers, where he starts to pick at the skin around his nails.

“Consulting.” You say in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, like a mission?”

Frankie shrugs. “No? I mean, it’s just scoping out a place and looking for weaknesses. We give our report to the government he works with and then come back. Easy peasy.”

“If it’s so easy peasy, why aren’t you looking at me?”

He takes a deep breath and let’s it out slowly before looking at you. “It’s for a week. Just trying to find holes in a fence.”

“And why do they need you?”

“They need a pilot.”

“You don’t have your license.”

“It probably doesn’t matter over there.”

“Frankie, I don’t-”

“I’ts $17k, Hermosa. We need the money.”

“I don’t like it. So much can go wrong. Who’s house is it? Definitely no one that’s a stand up citizen. What happens if they find you first? No, I don’t like it.”

“Just..he’s coming to town tomorrow and we’re going to chat about it at Benny’s fight. Let me ask some more questions.”

“I don’t like it, Frankie.”

“I know. Just..let me talk to Pope.”

—----

It’s late the next night and you start to pace the floor of your bedroom, wondering when he’ll be back. He’d texted you to tell you Benny had won the fight and they were stopping at the bar for a quick drink before Olivia takes him home to play nurse.

That had been 2 hours ago.

The door finally opens downstairs and you quietly make your way to the kitchen, where you were hearing Frankie move around.

“Did I wake you?”

You shake your head. “I was awake. Luis is asleep.”

“Good, good. He go down ok?”

“Yeah, actually in his bassinet, but Frankie? How did it go?”

He gets a glass of water, chugging half of it before setting the glass down on the counter. “It’s just a recce. No live fire.”

“There’s a possibility of people shooting at you??”

“I mean, we are casing a place. It’s always possible if guards see you or-”

“No.”

He looks at you. “Hermosa, we need the money.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a job. We need this.”

“No money is worth your life, Frankie. None of your lives.”

“I won’t be in any major danger. I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have a family then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No. No, I don’t like this, no.”

Frankie puts his hands on his hips, cocking one hip back as he looks at you. “We’re behind on bills.”

“So? I’ll borrow some money and you can stay.”

“Hermosa-”

“Or I can get another job? A new client. I can-”

“You just had a baby, so no.”

“Then I can-”

“Hermosa.” He says it firmly, that hip still cocked back as his eyes find yours, resolve in them.

“You’ve…you’ve already said yes, haven’t you?”

His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip. “We leave Thursday.”

Silence stretches between you both as you stare at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you made that decision without me.”

“I made the decision for us. We need the money.”

“Oh, fuck you and the money! I said I could borrow it. You’re just being stubborn!”

“I’m taking responsibility! We needed money and this just happens to come our way? I have to take it.”

“So you’re saying it’s fate that Santi texted you to lure you down there with the promise of $17k? You’re telling me that it’s just consulting and nothing else? Can you promise me that?”

He shrugs. “That was the original deal.”

“But can you promise me?”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’m going, Hermosa.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out of the kitchen, closing the door behind you, wishing you could slam it.

The next couple days were torture. You kept trying to convince Frankie to stay, convince all of them to stay. You didn’t want any of them going. But they all said the same thing that Frankie said. “It’s just consulting.” Thursday morning, Tom comes to pick up Frankie pretty early. He leans over to kiss you in bed and you take one more shot at trying to get him to stay. Your fingers wind into his curls as you pull him to you, deepening the chaste kiss he had started.

“You can still stay,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll be back in a week, Hermosa. I love you.”

Tears streaming down your face, you reply. “I love you too. Please don’t die. Don’t any of you die.”

Frankie chuckles. “We’ll be fine. I’ll call you in a couple of days once we’re settled, ok?”

—----

Except, Frankie did not call in a couple of days. Neither did any of the others, nor had they reached out to Stacy, Molly, or Olivia. There was no one to call, no contact. They needed it that way for whatever consultation they were on. Stacey brought the kids over and Olivia came too, all of you opting to stay together and support each other at least during the day. As the few days stretched into a week, which stretched into nearly another, Olivia split her time between you and Stacy’s, offering to watch the kids so you each could have a moment to yourselves. She was at Stacy’s tonight, Luis snuggled and tucked in beside you as you channel surf the tv, landing on nothing in particular. It was day 10 and about 2am so all of the infomercials were on. You landed on one for some random kitchen gadget when your phone rings. You jump, grabbing for your phone to quickly hit the silent button before it wakes Luis. It was an unknown number, but definitely foreign and so you pick up right away.

“Frankie?”

“Hermosa,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his voice wavering on the last syllable of your name.

“Are you ok? Is everyone alright? Fuck, I’ve been terrified out of my mind.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things got…out of hand. I can explain more when I get home.”

“I understand. But you’re ok?”

“I’m ok. A little banged up but ok.”

“Everyone else?”

The way he’s silent has your throat closing up, making it difficult to speak. “Frankie?”

“It’s Tom.”

While Tom and you never were best friends, there’s no way you would’ve wished death on the man, nor would you have wanted to have his girls without a father.

—----

Frankie’s mom takes Luis while you drive to the airport, there to pick up Frankie as Olivia and Stacy were going to get Benny and Will. You had experienced all of the emotions these past 10 days, mostly anger and fear, but when you heard his voice, a part of you caved. You just wanted him home and were grateful that he was alive.

You spot Benny first, towering over a majority of the crowd as people file out security and head towards baggage claim. Then you see it - a dark blue standard heating oil cap bobbing next to Benny and suddenly, you’re running, pushing people out of the way as you run towards him, Frankie seeing you at the last moment, dropping his bag to gather you in his arms, burying his face in your hair. Olivia and Stacy copy your actions, Will hissing when Stacy throws her arms around him. He mutters “I’m ok.” before pulling her to him. Pulling back, you look up into Frankie’s black brown eyes, taking in all the features of his face, his laugh lines, the spot where his one dimple pops up, the fact that he had the audacity to shave his beard.

“You shaved,” you said simply, running a finger along his jawline.

“Yeah. But I’ll grow it back just for you.”

His lips crash to yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face as you press your body against his, fingers twisting in his shirt.

“I’m still mad at you,” you breathe out between kisses.

“Fair enough.”

Hugs were exchanged all around before everyone went to their homes. On the drive home, Frankie tells you everything, how it was just a consult but then they decided to try and do it themselves, how it would’ve all been fine if they hadn’t missed their window, or if Tom had listened when he said it was too much weight for the helicopter.

“Wait..you crashed?”

“Yeah. It was just a little crash.”

“Frankie!”

“It’s me. I landed us…mostly fine. We all walked away.”

He explains about the money and the people from the village, and how they had to trek up the fucking Andes mountains and down the other side. How a young man from the village had wanted revenge and got it, dying himself in the process. How they carried Tom down the side of the mountain, leaving a ton of money there, only to make it to safety and come back with a new chopper to get the money and safely make it back in a whole other country, which is where he called you from. By the end of the story you’re silent, tears quietly falling down your face as you realize how easily they all could’ve died on the side of those mountains. How one of them did.

“We each put about $5mil in a trust fund for Tom’s girls, made sure Molly was taken care of. It’s what Tom would’ve wanted and it’s…it’ll never be enough.”

“Hey,” you squeeze his thigh and he looks at you, tears on his cheeks. “You are not to blame. Every one of you knew what you were doing, knew there were risks. And while I can’t say who shot first as I wasn’t there, Frankie, it was self defense. And, I’m sorry, but knowing you and knowing Tom? I’d bet money on him shooting first.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah I guess so…. are you mad at me still?”

“I was all prepared to be so pissed at you, but honestly? I’m just glad to have you here and alive.”

Frankie spends the next hour between your legs and you spend the hour after that washing his hair and tending to his arguably minor wounds. Once you were clean and dressed, you made him something to eat, as you’d have to go get Luis shortly. When you set his glass of water down, he grips your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to call your sponsor?”

He shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. I think I’m just so grateful to be alive. And there’s one more thing.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

Frankie leans in closer, speaking low in your ear. “We got the rest of the money.”

“The $17k?” You said stupidly.

Frankie smiles and shakes his head. “A lot more than $17k.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Millions, Hermosa. Each. Millions. We’re set for life, as are Luis and Aurelia.”

“Can we stay here?”

Frankie chuckles. “What?”

“I don’t want some giant mansion. I want to stay here. In our house.”

Frankie smiles and kisses you lightly. “We can do whatever you want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Besides take care of my family?”

“Besides that.”

“Once I get my license reinstated, I want to start my business.” His eyes light up as he talks about it, how he had already looked into getting retired choppers, and had gathered up some possible contacts, even scouted out some property. The only thing that had stopped him was the money, which was no longer an issue.

—----

6 months later, Frankie’s license gets reinstated, the owner clapping him on the shoulder and apologizing for everything. A month later, Frankie opens Chopperz, his veteran owned and operated helicopter tour business. It’s a instant success - apparently people really want to experience flying in various retired military equipment being flown by actual veterans. He even has repeat customers, although a lot of them are women and you catch more than one of them blushing when he talks to them.

Will and Stacy build a new house, much bigger to fit their expanding family, ecstatic that they were finally having a girl. He quits giving speeches almost immediately, staying home with his family and helping Frankie out when he needs it.

Benny and Olivia confessed that they had actually gotten married the day after Benny’s last fight, not able to wait any longer. When he came home, they took off to travel the world while their dream house was being built just down the road from Frankie and Will.

Santi went to Australia to find Yovanna and her brother, following them around until they got settled. He and Yovanna stayed together for a while, and he took some time for himself, wandering the world to see things when he wasn’t in a uniform. He eventually came back, building a house down the road from Frankie and the Millers. But to his first get together with everyone, he brought a girl, which wouldn’t have surprised anyone, but you could see the way he looked at her, constantly touching her lightly, pressing kisses to her head, shoulder, lips, anywhere he could. And she was doing the same, her eyes lighting up every time they looked at each other, so when you asked him later, away from everyone else, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he thinks she’s the one, that she gets him, understands him, and doesn’t give a flying fuck about his money, which she didn’t even know about until now.

Frankie and you were finally happy, after all these years. Elizabeth finally stopped her shit, leaving you and Frankie to be happy and only communicating when it regards Aurelia. Instead of moving, you decide to expand your house, adding another couple of bedrooms because you want to eventually expand your family. Frankie is beyond happy, smiling at Luis and Aurelia as they run around their new treehouse in the backyard, feeling you wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his broad back before moving to stand next to him, his arm around your shoulder as you both watch your kids.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, turning your head up to him.

“How happy I am. How I wish we had started this all sooner, that it didn’t take such a shitty road to get here, and that it didn’t take us this long.”

You reach up and cup his face, pulling him to you as you kiss him, his soft lips lightly nibbling at yours.

“I’ll always wait for you, Frankie.”

—----

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pedge-stuff · 2 years ago

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thermos (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (:

summary: sometimes, love boils on the stove. (set 2021.)

————————————————————————

It had been a long fucking day. Delayed table read, late picks, emergency rewrites— the perfect storm at SNL.

The steady pressure in your temples had gradually increased throughout the day, despite the Excedrine you'd taken early on. This had morphed into an ache at the back of your throat, because of course it had— bad things always came in waves.

Halfway through the last-minute pitch meeting post-rehearsal, you'd missed a call from Pedro. The same time he called every day, usually timed well with your walk home from midtown. Sending him to voicemail was out of character.

Sorry, you'd texted. Rehearsal tonight. Lightly sautéed, gonna crash after work, talk tomorrow? Love you very much x

He'd shot back a " :( " and then had been typing for several minutes, the little bubbles appearing over and over. OK, he finally said. Love you too.

It tweaked your heart, a bit. The two thousand miles between your phones was hard to stomach, sometimes. Alberta felt, for reasons unknown, so infinitely farther than LA, though the mileage was comparable. You picture him, alone in his trailer, reading glasses perched on his nose as he scrolls his phone, waiting for wrap to leave and tuck his old bones into bed.

Ultimately, you are a little too tired, and achy, and frustrated with work, and maybe a little cranky, to dwell on the finality of his "OK." There's nothing he can do for you, from Alberta; it's not worth worrying him.

You drag yourself home, resigned to making a weak cup of tea and curling up with the dogs. (Home is your studio apartment, while he's gone, though he maintains a steady campaign for you to just move into his. You haven't yet been able to articulate how fucking lonely his Brooklyn townhouse is without him.) Politely squeeze past the elderly couple who have pushed their sidewalk table all the way in front of the door to your building. Check the mail, of which there is none. Climb the stairs, a slow shuffle, fumbling with your stupid keys, music still playing at street volume in your headphones, eyes burning, lock turning—

Fuck, fuck.

Pedro turns the stove off, offers you a shy smile. Your bag drops to the floor. Something inside you snaps, pulls loose. You burst into tears.

"Oh," he says, and you forcefully close the distance, wrapping your arms around him as you try and stifle quiet sobs. Wonder, for a moment, what the fuck is happening. "Surprise?"

You laugh, weakly. Run a hand down your face. "Sorry, sorry."

He pushes you back, apprising you with a gentle and skeptical look. Holds your face in his hands and thumbs away the fresh tears. Frowns. Presses his palm to your forehead. "You didn't tell me you were sick."

Leaning into his hand, you shake your head. "Not sick. Just tired." You pull back. "I can't believe you're here. Jesus. How long are you here for?"

His attention is drawn back to the stove, beside which he has set your green travel mug. He smiles sheepishly. "Was trackin' ya on Find My." The kettle spits a small whistle as he pours the water. Your heart clenches; this stupidly thoughtful man.

"I can rally," you offer, even as he ushers you into the bedroom. There is a suddenly conspicuous absence of dogs.

"They're in Brooklyn. Figured you'd wanna get some shit here, and then we Uber that way?"

"You really thought this through, huh?" There are clothes and toiletries at his place ("our place," he calls it, though the studio is decidedly "your place."), but you pack a few things, just in case.

It's not a secret that he doesn't love your apartment— it's a little cramped, for two men and two dogs. Plus, his apartment is more of a full condo. And the bathroom's nicer.

He watches you pack, perched on the edge of the bed. It's hard to focus on anything other than studying the soft lines of his travel-weary face. The rise and fall of his chest. Bits and pieces of him that the front-facing iPhone camera cannot pick up over FaceTime.

—

In the back of the Uber, mindful of the rearview mirror, you have his left hand trapped between both of yours. The skin of his palm has toughened, calloused slightly from whatever they have him doing in the woods of Canada. It still feels the same as you press your lips to the center.

"I'm still a little confused," you whisper, "but I'm so happy you're here."

His steals his hand back, to card it through your hair. "Me too. Was going crazy, trying to keep it a secret. We've got the long weekend off for Veteran's day, so I thought..."

"Mm. Do you have an agenda this weekend?"

The Uber makes its final turn. "Yeah. I would like to sleep for one million years, in a bed, with you. And probably see Oscar and Elvira, at some point. Also maybe order Empanada Mama. I ate a Canadian empanada last week that legitimately made me sad."

You hold onto his hand as you exit the car, cross the street, key in. The tea put you at ease, but with the shock of the surprise wearing off, the weight of the day resettles as an ache across your shoulders.

The dogs bound down the hallway as you key in. Pedro's suitcase has not made it much farther than the front door, though it has been cracked open and partially rummaged. "I was in a rush," he said sheepishly.

"Mm. You showerin’?”

“Probably should. We heading up?”

You nod, kneeling to re-zip his bag; the duties of young knees. (The age gap is disregarded, unless he plays the old card to his advantage.) Edgar pounces on you while you’re accessibly low. Ten different questions die in the back of your throat. Every step between you and the king sized bed on the third floor feels impossible.

—

He smells clean, as he wraps his arms around you, skin still damp and warm from the obscenely hot showers he prefers. You have a long day of rehearsal ahead of you tomorrow, then an even longer show day— but none of that matters now.

"Thank you for coming." You mumble, sleepily, into the worn fabric on his shoulder. Fingers card through your hair, brush gently over your temple. You've got a hand beneath his t-shirt, splayed across the base of his ribs.

Pedro makes an indignant noise, low, from his chest. "Not a place on Earth I'd rather be."

#pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal/reader #the last of us #this man has a grip on me #the last of us imagine #the mandalorian

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ao3feed-piltovers-finest · 1 month ago

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What Do You Do After War?

by Elijahjamsss

“I always only see one side of your face,” Caitlyn caresses the tattoo on Vi’s face, her eyebrow raised but Caitlyn continued before she could speak. “It’s the side that stands by my side, the side I see when we have our weakest moments, when we make love at night.” Caitlyn shuffled onto her lap then, Vi chuckled but brought her hands to Caitlyn’s waist, turning to follow her face, they shared air for a moment before Caitlyn’s hand felt its way over her shoulder and up her neck. “What are you doing?” Vi laughed a little, the angle felt odd but she didn’t protest, staying still as Caitlyn carefully brushed her hair out of her face and held it back. “This is the side that protects me. I don’t get to see it much, but it’s always there,” Caitlyn placed at first careful then gentle kisses along her cheekbone to her brow. “The only place I see your whole face is where I can’t gauge your distance,” Caitlyn’s voice cracked a little as she pulled back again and looked at the side of Vi she’d deemed protector. “You can talk to me, Violet,” Caitlyn said quietly. -or After the war, Caitlyn and Vi pick up the pieces and learn to lean on each other

Words: 2967, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), mention - Character, Mel Medarda, Ekko (League of Legends), Steb (Arcane: League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma Recovery, Descriptions of Injury, Disabled Character, Disabled Caitlyn, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Vi Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Caitlyn Needs a Hug (League of Legends), They Get Hugs, Caitlyn's POV, POV Third Person Limited

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #a03feed-piltovers-finest #caitvi #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction

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aftgficrec · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! I love your page and getting fic recs! Do you have any fics where Neil goes or agrees to go to therapy? I’m good with Bee or someone else as the therapist too. It can be canon or an au. Thanks so much! :))

I was pleasantly surprised by how much we found for you! -A

previous recs:

‘another life to live’ here

‘Oakland’ here (completed)

‘you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)’ here (updated)

‘If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues)’ here (updated)

‘Interlaced’ here (updated)

‘Regrowth,’ ‘To Be Close With You Is To Be Close With Myself,’ ‘I took a breath and took the knife,’ and ‘flashes of intimacy’ ch 4 here

‘call me in the afternoon’ here

‘The Wild Fox Den’ and ‘Roses Grow Between Bone’ here

‘(My Heart) Pierced By a Pin’ here (completed)

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

‘day by day’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘Ain’t it fun’ here

‘Breathe, idiot’ here

‘Healing’ series part 1 here, part 3 here (completed)

‘The Fear of Being Known’ here

‘That one party’ series and ‘keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ here

‘Affection can be shown in so many ways’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Tenuous’ here

‘There is Nothing You Can Say’ here (completed)

‘of ice blue eyes & twisted veins’ here

‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here

‘Bad Apple’ here

‘Phantom Pains’ here

‘Therapy’ here

‘Birds of a Feather’ here (updated)

‘In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out.’ here

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘I Wanna Get Better’ here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 6 & 8 here

and more:

‘Ember’ here (completed)

‘leave the room (with a little dignity)’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Blame It On My Youth’ here (updated)

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ (here)

‘Our body’ series, part 1 here, part 3 here, part 5 here

‘and all the roads will disappear’ here

‘crossed out’ here

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘i had a dream (where you couldn't hear me screaming)’ and ‘hold me close, in fact bury me’ here

‘Just closed eyes with nothing behind’ here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘SCAR TISSUE’ here

‘Lighter Fluid’ here