#so it will be another thing i stress about

[fastandcarlos]

Halfway Round The World For You : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: as the two of you find long distance harder, max comes up with a solution that might just solve your problem of being so far away

A groan came from you as once again your call went unanswered, the beep of Max’s answerphone your usual greeting. You looked down at your watch again, sure that he would be awake as you quickly did the maths to figure out the current time difference between you both again. 

Whilst he was getting himself ready for the day, you were ready to see the end of it. As usual, there was one final thing that you needed to do before falling asleep, and that was to speak to Max and catch up. 

Mostly, he agreed to do it as it was his way of checking up on you. When you were so far away from him whilst he was racing, he worried about you. Were you resting? Eating? Not getting stressed at work? He never really knew the answer unless he called you and got to see for himself. 

As you were about to give up, your phone rang, making you jump. You glanced across, quickly picking up. “Hi love.” 

“Hi, I thought you were too busy for me today.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Max grinned, adjusting his phone so that you could see his face. 

Your smile turned up as you sat your phone down on your bedside table to free your hands up. As you glanced at Max though, his usual smile wasn’t there, replaced by a frown that had you worrying. 

“How’s everything going? Are you all ready for the race this weekend?” You quizzed, excited to see Max back behind the wheel for the start of the new season. 

His head nodded, with hardly any expression on his face. “The car is alright, but I’m not exactly confident.” 

His voice sounded dejected, the passion that Max usually spoke about work with had gone. He brushed his hand through his hair as he let go of a sigh which you just about managed to hear. 

“What’s going on Max?” You asked him, “and don’t say nothing, because I know you too well.” 

His heart sunk as his eyes met yours on the screen, noticing just how concerned you were. Although he was halfway around the world, you knew him like the back of your hand, picking up on all the signs that things weren’t right. 

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I managed to spend most of the off season with you and I’m already missing you. I just know I’m probably not going to be able to spend any proper time with you again until summer break,” Max confessed. 

You smiled weakly as he spoke, “I’ll still come to most of your races Max, and when I can I’ll fly out to Monaco to see you, you know we always make it work.” 

“But I’m fed up of having to make it work, this isn’t how I want it to be forever, I’m so fed up of this long-distance thing.” 

You didn’t know what to say as Max’s eyes looked down from the phone, staring down at the ground. You could tell this was something that had been troubling Max for some time as he finally offloaded on you. You gave yourself a moment before responding, trying your best to figure out the right thing to say, not wanting to make Max feel any worse than he already did. 

“It’s not going to be like this forever.” 

Max wanted to believe you, but he just wasn’t sure. It had been two years of back and forth between you both, and it wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, Max found it harder, he wanted to spend more time with you, but he just couldn’t. 

“I wish you could be with me, permanently,” Max confessed. “It’s so strange how weird everything feels without you by my side. All the little things, like how we were constantly bumping into each other trying to move around your flat.” 

“I miss it too,” you assured, staring around your empty flat. “But you’ve got work, another world championship to win, and I don’t have the money to be able to fly out with you every weekend, or ever afford a place in Monaco.” 

Your words caught Max’s attention for a moment as he let go of a hum. You could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that Max was thinking about something, studying him closely as you tried to figure out what exactly was going through his head. 

Max knew that Monaco was an expensive place, and not somewhere that you wouldn’t be able to stay by himself, but that didn’t mean that it was somewhere that you could rule out, not completely anyway. 

“What about if we did something about that? What if Monaco wasn’t a place where you had to live all by yourself?” Max asked you, watching as you looked at him in confusion. 

“What are you trying to say Max?” You enquired. 

The way his smile turned up had you worrying, you knew that Max had plenty of crazy ideas, dreading to think what sort of master plan he had come up with this time. 

“I’m saying why don’t you move to Monaco, but come and stay with me. You spent most of the summer with me anyway, and work would allow you to stay there,” Max encouraged. “Even if I’m still racing, it means each time I’m home we can spend time together.” 

You went to speak, but your voice faltered, struggling to believe what you’d heard. “That’s a huge move,” you whispered, “Monaco isn’t exactly next door, it’s thousands of miles away.” 

“But it’s where I am love.” 

Your head nodded, you knew that Max had a point, but moving wasn’t an easy thing. There would be plenty of things that you’d have to leave behind, uncertain as to whether that was something that you could do. 

“It’s a huge thing Max.” 

“I know,” he frowned, worried that he had put his foot in it. “I’m not saying you need to make a decision now; I just thought it would be nice for us to be together properly. 

Max was beginning to regret his offer as he noticed the panic in your eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted, you loved your home, but you loved Max too. It was a huge sacrifice, and although you loved visiting Monaco, was it the place that you wanted to live forever? 

“You don’t need to agree, or disagree now,” Max insisted, “I’m not saying you’d have to move permanently either. But if you did move to Monaco, I’d help you every step of the way. Moving, sorting work out, finding things for you to do, I’d do whatever it took. The thought of having you there every morning though is like a dream.” 

Your hands ran through your hair, your heart racing as you overthought everything. Every possible situation, good and bad, suddenly seemed to rush through your mind as fast as a race car. 

“Can you just say something? Anything?” Max whimpered. 

Your eyes slowly flickered up to look at the screen again, your heart aching as you looked at Max, knowing that he was so far away from you. 

“I’d love to move to Monaco,” you told him, much to his relief. “It’s not going to be an easy move, but you’re right, we can’t carry on like this forever Max.” 

“Really? And you’re absolutely sure?” Max asked, wanting to double check. 

Your head nodded, sure in your heart that Monaco was the perfect place for you. “If it’s where you are, then it’s where I want to be too.” 

“You’ve got no idea how happy you’ve just made me,” Max chuckled, “I love you, I can’t wait to have you with me, to finally make my place a home for the both of us.” 

“I love you too, Max.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[saunne]

I was diagnosed with adhd after I was done with my studies. It took me 4 and a half years and the same number of psychiatrists to finally be heard about the difficulties I had. The funny thing? I got my diagnosis for inattentive type adhd after I pushed myself into a burnout because of advice like that.

I told one of my psychiatrist I had a really hard time concentrating and staying focused and that I forgot a lot of things, including deadlines. I told them that I managed to finish my bachelor only because I usually did all my assignments the night before the due date under the sheer power of inevitable doom and three cans of energy drinks.

And you know what she told me ? That if it was what worked, I should keep doing it. If the stress and anxiety of having to do the equivalent of a month's worth of work in one night was what worked, I should just keep doing it.

So I kept doing it. And guess what ? Three months later, I was on the floor crying with heavy insomnia, having my professors urging me to skip classes because I looked like microwaved Death and in the end, I had to redo my year in order to produce my thesis. Because I was burned out so badly just the sight of the blank document and my inability to write more than a sentence per hour gave me urges to throw myself out the window.

So my advice is : Do Not Fucking Do That. Fuck anxiety and stress induced work. To hell with it because the only thing it'll do is send you there faster.

Find another thing that can work for you. For me it was to divide everything into little bits, each with it's own checklist and instead of one big deadline, multiple deadlines and/or weekly/monthly objectives. Taking one thing at a time and understanding that rest is needed and sometimes stuff takes more time than you thought it would and work around it.

Don't stress yourself to death, really. It's not and never will be worth it.

There's a bunch of adhd advice out there that's like "people with adhd tend to work better under deadlines due to the anxiety so here are ways to artificially induce a stress response in order to get you to get work done" and it's like well what if I don't want to be stressed out all the time in order to function

[weltraum-vaquero]

i was scrolling through pinterest and i came across a prompt: “i can’t focus with your damn hand on my— ooh..” i IMMEDIATELY thought of jayce 🫢 can i request sumn like that? i love your work so much 😭😭

Hi anon, this prompt drove me insane. Thank you so much!

Play (dirty)

Jayce Talis x GN Reader

Summary: A fancy play at the Piltover Opera is a good excuse as any to deck out. And an even better excuse to have some fun with your partner.

Word count: 2.5k

MDNI. Mature content under the cut.

Tags: Sub Jayce, slight exhibitionism, dry handjobs, heavy petting, alcohol consumption

Jayce could never stand still. There’s something in him that’s constant, restless, relentless. Always the type to fiddle, to twirl his pen between his fingers, to scratch at his own scruff in thought, to chew the inside of his cheek, to bounce his leg. His mind is a hyperactive, brilliant thing; equal parts blessing and curse.

He does it now, too — bouncing his leg, that is, under the fine silk of his prettiest burgundy slacks (his ass, though nothing to write home about, never failed to look tremendous in those. Something about the thin, generously revealing material seaming to the humble curve of his ass in a salacious display). Jayce taps his fingers on the sturdy oakwood of the theatre chair as he stares at the still lowered curtain, crosses his legs, sighs, uncrosses them, bounces his leg again.

It’s the final stretch of the second intermission, though the play isn’t particularly doing it for you, mainly because you’ve seen this exact rendition before, with Jayce at your side. Just… not from up here: an opulently designed balcony, all to yourselves, just shy of the stage. Generous courtesy of Salo for a favor taken rather than given from Jayce, a situation that’s been stressing him out something fierce these past few weeks. You digress. That’s not what matters anymore — he’s earned a break. He’s earned something good.

It’s a lovely opportunity to spend some time with him outside of the confines of his lab or your shared home, which is growing increasingly rare. It’s a lovely opportunity to put on your shiniest clothes and make a pretty sight for one another.

Undeniably, that’s been the best aspect of it. Jayce has been sneaking looks at you the whole time — perhaps bored with the play, perhaps too enticed with you. And you can’t exactly blame him, because you’re not doing much better either. 

How are you meant to do anything when you have a much more captivating sight to take in, sitting tensely in the chair next to yours?

A dark shirt that hugs the proud swell of his chest just right (certainly something to write home about), a pretty burgundy jacket just the same warm colour as the fruity merlot he’s finished sipping on, lingering on his plump lips. Silk curling at the seams, stretching under the heft of his now thicker thighs as they rest on the seat, tie loosened just so, and he’s good enough to eat. 

You lay a warm hand on the inside of his leg, and Jayce, as he always does, yields. Less on thought, more on instinct, always so eager, before he turns to look at you with a question in amber eyes gone chocolatey dark in the low light of the room.

“Hm?” 

His cologne hits you in a peppery-sweet, floral wave as he leans in, leans closer, and gives you the attention you’re so clearly demanding.

“Should I get us more wine?” You make feeble conversation, more eager to hear his voice than his thoughts. He’s been sharing most of them in whispers throughout the play so far as is. 

Jayce shakes his head, flashes a conspiratorial, boyish little smirk. “If I have any more, I might um,” he breaks out in a short, clearly tipsy giggle, “do something I really shouldn’t be doing up here.”

His hand finds yours, pinkies twining together in a near juvenile but vulnerable display of his affection, a plea for affection. And, oh, his eyes, though his pupils are blown wide, glitter mischievously like a cat’s about to pounce. Two can play that game… 

“Mm. That would be a terrible look on you,” you emptily agree. “Think of the headlines… Man of Progress caught moaning during Winter Solstice play, Man of Progress bent over the railing on the opera’s most lavish balcony…”

Jayce nods, a little drunkenly. Leans in for a kiss before he breathes: “Terrible.”

You let him have it — how could you not? Let him sloppily lick at your mouth like an overeager puppy for a long, dizzying, smooth-merlot attempt at a kiss. He smiles into it, as if in thanks.

Before you give a gentle little push at the plush swell of his chest with your other hand, pacing him, pulling away to leave him in a dazed little stupor. His breath hits your now slick lips in a warm, wet brush.

“Intermission’s about to end.” You pat his thigh less sensually, more like you’d pat an obedient dog for a trick well done. “Better keep quiet and focus on the third act.”

It looks like it pains him to settle back into his velvet seat, so you leave your hand on the top of his now still thigh — a reminder, a promise. It keeps Jayce on his toes more than the narrative unfolding before you does. Well worked sinew draws so tight you can feel it vibrate even under the soft layer of plush fat on his thighs, and as the action in the play begins to find its inevitable build, you find your hand wandering. 

Just to the inside of his thigh, first, where he’s softer, which he gladly offers up to you. Fingers draw patterns more intricate than the paisley on his vest, until poor, tormented Jayce begins to shift in his velvet seat. Tilts his hips this way, then that, then readjusts his whole frame in the seat with an awkward clear of his throat when it creaks.

The rich tones of a singular violin crescendos in sync with the dip of your hand further, up, up, until you reach that tense tendon on the inside of his leg, where his thigh seams to his hip.

And further inwards, his straining cock nudges the back of your knuckles through the silk of his pants. Jayce jumps with the contact… Poor, poor thing.

“Aw, Jayce...” It’s both pity and reprimand, a whisper so low he can barely hear it. The flesh of his thigh spills from between squeezing fingers; it has him lowering his head in shame and trying to breathe through it. If not for the sacred quiet of the imposing room, for the performers playing their instruments as deftly as you’re about to play him, he would have at the very least whined for it. A low, pleading, dog-like sound.

Instead, he shoots you a look. Desperate and dazed and wide-eyed all at once in the dark of the room, before it turns into a kind of anger that does not and will not bite. Nibbles on you like an angry puppy, more like.

“How d-do you expect me to focus when your damn hand is—“ and you give him what he wants, “o-oh.”

Grabbing a handful of the straining outline of his dick through his pants, rubbing just once, from the wet patch on the tip to as far down as the silk allows.

“Better?” You ask.

Jayce breathes a terrified, shivering sigh.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“I can stop,” you remind. He knows it to be the truth intimately; though he aches to please to a fault, Jayce has learned a thing or two about respecting his own boundaries by now. You trust that if he needs you to, he will give you the word.

“Don’t.” Armrests gripped so tight they could splinter, eager hips raise off the theatre seat to chase your hand until your palm cradles his leaky tip once more. Wide eyes flutter closed and cherry slick lips part in a muted expression of bliss.

“Then don’t make a mess,” you breathe into his ear. “And keep quiet. Can you do that, baby?”

Jayce nods desperately, and does a surprisingly great job at swallowing another moan as you twirl your fingertips around what should be the crown of his cock, silk gliding under your hand akin to well oiled skin. He lets it happen gladly, spreads his legs in welcoming especially when you reach further down, until the dainty weight of his balls sits cupped in the groove of your palm. There, you linger, simply holding him where he’s most sensitive, unmoving.

Jayce exhales shakily, baby doe eyes flicking between you and the hand between his legs in questioning, in hope. The soft, still cradle of your palm turns greedy as you feel him up, fingertips curling around the heft of his bulge, his cock pressing into your hand. All of him trembles with how he stifles a gasp into the back of his fist.

You simply knead at him idly, the way a satisfied cat would as it purrs, and make a show of diverting your attention back to the play you couldn’t care less about. It gets him off, in some capacity, to be touched but not paid attention to. It had made him soil his pants so quick, once, simply letting him have his pleasure against your thigh while you were busy with a book, and it’s a technique you employ on occasion since. Coupled with the fact that Jayce, touchy and needy as he is, hasn’t gotten much chance at release lately, you know for certain he will find it now, and fast. 

The glossy silk has gone sticky wet at the very tip of his dick, so much so it even leaves your hand damp after an indulgent squeeze at it. Below, horns blare with the oncoming climax of the play, music daunting in its grandeur even from up so high. In spute of such an enticing distraction at hand, you can’t help but marvel at them as you palm Jayce’s cock. And you recognize the melody the very next moment, the thrill of hearing it for the very first time; just as you know the end Jayce is approaching with intimate familiarity, so do you remember the next part of the play. 

It will go quiet for a long, breathtaking moment to draw the audience to the edge of their seats, the calm before the storm — and Jayce, judging by the sweat on his brow, the way he almost tears into the back of his fist with his canines, Jayce will not, cannot be quiet.

The realization must hit him at the same time as it hits you, because his free hand grabs yours in a death grip, a decidedly desperate attempt at halting the inevitable. 

“S-stop,” he whispers, his lips meeting on the p just moments before the entire orchestra quiets. 

You can hear every bated inhale in the grandiose room — but none of them as sweet as Jayce’s. The whole room buzzes, alight with the anticipation of the audience. 

Jayce squeezes your hand vehemently, like the weight of his barely contained orgasm threatens to crush him. His thighs clench around your hand, his body curls, he exhales in a silent cry, before he presses his hand to his lips so hard it makes you wince. You lean in close enough to be able to hear his thoughts, let him hide his face in the fabric on your shoulder.

“Breathe,” you coo at him like he’s in pain, stroking your thumb up, then down the aching outline of his cock. It makes his hips jump. “Once the music starts again, I’ll take care of you.”

You can feel him nod his head against your shoulder, can feel his grip slacken, can hear the tension in the room crackling like lightning when a violin starts a short-lived solo that is soon joined by the rest of the orchestra in a tsunami.

Jayce lets go of your hand, spreads his legs as if to offer himself up on a silver platter to you — full, complete trust. You slip the buttons of his pants out of their eyelets fast, aided by the near oily slipperiness of the fabric, the press of his cock, which have the front flap popping open the rest of the way.

Your hand slides down the bump of his soft, fuzzy tummy, into his pants, his underwear, easily, because it’s warm, familiar territory. Cradling all he’s worth in your hand, you scoop both his cock and his balls from the confines of the silk, laying them out vulnerable and exposed to the cold air.

It forces a gasp from Jayce, fortunately lost to the music, instinctually going to cover himself with both hands at the sensation and the prospect of being at the mercy of such a grand, full room.

“I’ve got you,” you remind him. Deft hands reach for his breast pocket, stealing away his handkerchief from him. Even dazed like this, Jayce understands your intention easily, and wins another battle against his instincts as he lets his hands fall away from where they’re cupped over himself protectively. One hand fists the silk of his pants, and the other wraps around your forearm not in guidance, but in seeking, of your presence, of you, grounding himself.

Jayce goes perfectly still as you stroke his dry cock, from root to swollen tip. It can’t be satisfying, you know so by just the feel of your hand around him, the way his foreskin drags with the grip you have on him, up, over his leaky cockhead, then down, exposing him where he’s most sensitive. It can’t be good, but it’s enough, because Jayce whines, quiet and half-terrified as he hides his face against your shoulder, before he goes rigid with your next upward stroke. 

And you do that thing he likes so much — his tip’s smeared in enough of his precum to facilitate an overstimulating twist of your palm around just the ruddiness of his crown. His mouth falls open in a silent wail.

Jayce is so easy. Shoots his load into the handkerchief you bring up to his cock just in time, lets you milk all his overwhelming orgasm’s worth into the fabric until he can’t help but clench his thighs around your still moving hand. Trembles in time with his twitching cock as you wipe the strings of cum off his sticky, swollen cockhead and stuff the handkerchief back into his breast pocket.

The orchestra quiets once more, for good this time, and the audience’s applause roars. There won’t be much time until the lights come on, so you make quick work of tucking him back into his pants, and once Jayce regains some of his mental footing, he helps you button them back up.

Just in time — the lights blind you, but not as much as he does. Sitting low in his seat, slick with sweat, disheveled in his best clothes, and smiling at you so wide and dopey he shines, Jayce is brighter than any light, any sun. His chest rises and falls at a fierce, breakneck pace as he catches his breath.

You lean in to grant him a well deserved kiss to the cheek, one he chases with his mouth instead, and smiles into when you lick what remains of the by now long dried merlot from the ridges of his lips.

It makes him smile wider, a blush that matches his suit perfectly blooms on his cheeks. He takes the hand you’d stroked him with, intertwines your fingers like the lovesick fool that he is. You squeeze back, like the lovesick fool that you are, and can’t help but gaze into his eyes even as the eager applause slowly fizzles out.

“They clapped for the wrong performance,” you whisper to him. “You were far more glorious than any play.”

[coryndoll]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: rly small scenes tbh, main focus on drew n y/ns progresssss 🤗 theyre so cuteness (i need him so bad)

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authors note: i didnt rly wna focus on the ‘day with the group’ idea bc i just wanted more reader x drew content tbh. if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, dms, anons, or reblogs !!

there’s still a week left until the wedding, but the tension has been building like crazy. you can feel it in every interaction between leila and theo—the quiet murmurs, the shared looks, the way one of them constantly pulls out the ipad to check something, asking the other if they’ve handled this or that.

every day, it seems like there’s another task or decision weighing them down, and it’s starting to get to everyone. the carefree, beachy vibe that should have been surrounding this pre-wedding stay feels more like a weight pressing down on the entire group the longer you’re there.

the morning after, as you step into the kitchen, you find leila already there, sitting at the counter with her phone in one hand, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair with the other. she looks up at you with tired eyes, offering a small, forced smile that doesn’t quite reach her face.

“what’s the plan for today?” you ask casually, though your mind is already racing with alternatives.

leila sighs deeply, scrolling through her phone for a moment before responding, “another beach day. at least that’s what’s on the list.”

you can see the exhaustion written all over her face, and just hearing the words beach day makes you cringe. it’s the last thing anyone needs right now. without missing a beat, you scrunch your nose, shaking your head as you push off the counter.

“yeah, we’re not doing that,” you say firmly, already turning away before leila can question you.

she raises her eyebrows, confused, but you don’t offer any further explanation. you’re on a mission now, a plan forming rapidly in your mind as you stride out of the kitchen and head toward the backyard.

if anyone needs a change of pace, it’s all of you. and if anyone can pull it off, it’s going to be you and your partner in crime.

outside, the boys are lounging around, laughing and joking about something you don’t quite catch. drew is among them, sitting on the edge of a chair, his head thrown back in laughter at whatever ridiculous story oscar is telling. but you don’t have time for the details—you need to get him on board with your plan.

drew notices you the second you step outside. his eyes flicker from the conversation with the guys to you, and without even thinking, you raise your hand, giving him a small motion to come over.

there’s no hesitation in his response—he stands up, leaving roman mid-sentence on the couch as he quietly makes his way over to you. there’s something different in the way he walks toward you now, something softer.

ever since you two made up last night, there’s been this shift—almost shy, like he’s tiptoeing around you, unsure but sweet in a way that makes your heart melt just a little.

when he reaches you, he leans forward slightly, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "what’s goin’ on?" he asks, his eyes searching yours with that same gentleness, as if he's still figuring out how to be around you again. the shyness is adorable, and it makes your chest warm just looking at him.

“so, listen,” you begin, your tone shifting into something more determined, “leila and theo are getting way too stressed with everything. and she had another beach day planned today? no thanks. we need to do something else. something fun, and i was thinking . . . i don’t know. ziplining?”

drew freezes and stares at you like you’ve just sprouted a second head. “ziplining?”

“yeah,” you say, nodding enthusiastically now that the idea is out there. “something different, you know? something adventurous to shake everyone up and loosen them up.”

he blinks, leans forward, and crosses his arms across his chest. “ziplining,” he repeats slowly, dragging out the word like he’s trying to fully process it. “you’re insane.”

“no, i’m not!” you protest, crossing your arms. “think about it. when’s the last time any of us did something that wasn’t, like, lying around the house or stressing about wedding details?”

he shrugs, smirking. “the beach was fun. volleyball wasn’t bad.”

you roll your eyes. “the beach doesn’t count. it’s safe, predictable. this—” you gesture with your hands like you’re painting the image in the air “—this is exciting, unexpected. people will have to face their fears, step out of their comfort zones, and actually have fun.”

drew leans back, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “and you think ziplining is the way to do that?”

“yes,” you say firmly. then, softer, “come on, star. you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be fun. imagine leila screaming her head off halfway down the line, theo pretending he’s brave but secretly terrified, libby and oscar bickering the whole time, roman threatening to cut the rope somehow that we all genuinely get scared, i mean, it’ll be a memory!”

he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you’re crazy. but . . .” he pauses, meeting your gaze, “. . . you’re also kinda right. it would be fun.”

you grin, victorious. “so, you’ll help me?”

he sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “fine. but if someone has a panic attack or refuses to go, i’m blaming you.”

“deal,” you say, reaching for your phone. “okay, we need to find a place that can take a group our size on short notice. preferably this afternoon so we can bribe everyone with dinner afterward.”

“bribe?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“yes, bribe,” you reply matter-of-factly. “they’ll whine less if there’s food involved.”

drew seems to mull it over for a second, glancing back at the guys, who are still in their own conversation. then he turns back to you, a playful glint in his eye now. “okay, but . . . with what money?” he teases, quirking an eyebrow, clearly just messing with you.

you don’t realize it at first so you shoot him a look, half-amused, half-annoyed, and without missing a beat, you say, “i’m paying.”

he lets out a light laugh, shaking his head. “i was joking, i got it.” there’s this soft edge to his voice, like he’s trying to show you that he’s here, that he’s all in, no matter how small the gesture.

then, as if to seal the deal, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of your head, something that feels so natural but makes your breath catch anyway.

for the next hour, the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder, scrolling through options, debating logistics, and sharing quiet laughs when you come across reviews like, ‘this was fun, but i cried the entire time’. you’re so caught up in the planning that you don’t even realize how close you’re leaning into him until his arm brushes against yours.

when the booking is finally confirmed, you both let out a shared sigh of relief.

“we’re really doing this,” he says, looking over at you with a small, crooked smile.

“we are,” you reply, matching his grin. his eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, there’s this feeling bubbling up inside you as you think about it—enjoying each other’s company, letting loose, and having fun. the kind of fun you’ve been craving, the kind that would remind everyone why they’re all here together in the first place.

you know it’s going to be exactly what the group needs.

you’re suddenly jolted from your daydream by something soft hitting your leg. “ow,” you hiss, even though it doesn’t hurt at all. you glance down and see a pillow lying at your feet, and you reach down to pick it up.

when you straighten up, you and drew find the boys sitting there, grinning like they’ve just pulled off the greatest prank of all time. their laughter fills the space between you, and you immediately know who the culprit is. roman, sitting back with that mischievous look on his face, the slight arch of his brow giving him away.

you narrow your eyes at him, muttering, “dick,��� under your breath before tossing the pillow back onto the chair.

with a shake of your head and a half-smile, you turn and head back inside the house, leaving their laughter and drews behind. you can still feel the energy of their playful teasing lingering in the air, but it doesn't bother you.

after all, you’ve got bigger plans in mind.

the group is gathered in the living room eventually, all of them looking at you and drew like you’ve lost your minds. you stand at the front of the room, arms crossed confidently, while drew leans casually against the wall, throwing in the occasional thumbs up.

“ziplining,” leila says, her voice flat. “you want us to go ziplining?”

“yes,” you reply, smiling brightly.

“you’re insane,” theo says, echoing drew from an hour ago. “like, are you serious?” he asks, leaning forward.

“completely serious,” you say, nodding. “drew and i planned it today. we’ve got a reservation this afternoon, and afterward, dinner’s on us.”

drew, standing beside you, throws up two thumbs and adds, “it’s gonna be fun. trust us.”

gia looks hesitant. “i don’t know . . . i mean, heights? we don’t go well together. neither do me and helmets. they’re so unflattering.”

“yeah, but exactly. it’s different. it’s exciting. it’s—” you pause, looking at everyone. “—something none of us would normally do. and that’s the point. come on, libby, you’re always saying we should push ourselves, pride ourselves to go extreme. think of it as . . . wedding prep stress relief.”

she glances at oscar, who shrugs with a small smile. “what do you think?”

“i think we should do it,” oscar says. “and, c’mon, if they’re paying for dinner, how can we say no?”

gia perks up at the mention. “and you’re paying for everything?”

“everything,” drew confirms, smirking.

slowly, the group comes around to the idea, though roman continues to grumble about it as everyone heads to change into comfortable clothes. you and drew share a quick glance, both of you grinning like you’ve just pulled off the biggest surprise.

“this is gonna be great,” you whisper to him.

“you sure about that?” he teases.

“completely,” you say, and for the first time in a while, you actually feel it.

the drive to the ziplining park is filled with nervous energy. leila and libby are exchanging anxious laughs in the back seat, while theo tries to lighten the mood by joking about who’s most likely to chicken out. drew is driving, his hand resting on the center console near yours, and every now and then, he gives you a little reassuring squeeze.

when you arrive, the towering platforms and crisscrossing zip lines above are enough to make everyone pause. the guide meets your group at the entrance, going over the safety procedures and handing out harnesses. you’re already buzzing with adrenaline as you step into your gear, tightening the straps and adjusting the helmet.

“you okay?” drew asks, leaning in close as he helps you with one of the buckles.

“yeah,” you say, though your heart is pounding. “are you?”

he grins. “i was born for this.”

once everyone is suited up, the guide leads you to the first platform. it’s a steep climb, and by the time you reach the top, the nerves are palpable. gia is clutching the railing, and oscar is muttering something about how this is definitely not in his comfort zone.

“remember,” you say, turning to face the group. “this is supposed to be fun.”

“easy for you to say,” oscar mutters, earning a laugh from drew.

one by one, the guide hooks everyone up to the zip line. theo volunteers to go first, his bravado earning him cheers from leila as he zips across the line with a whoop of excitement. next is leila, who screams the entire way but laughs as soon as she lands on the other side.

when it’s your turn, drew steps up beside you. “ready?” he asks, his voice low and steady. “i’ll go right after you.”

you nod, taking a deep breath. “ready.”

the moment you step off the platform, the wind rushes past you, and the world blurs into a mix of treetops and sky. it’s exhilarating, freeing, and everything you hoped it would be. when you land on the next platform, your laughter is contagious, and drew’s whoop of excitement as he follows only adds to the thrill.

by the end of the course, everyone is buzzing with adrenaline and smiling like they haven’t in days. leila and theo are holding hands, their earlier tension forgotten, and even the others admit they had fun, though claim they’re never doing it again.

the night air is cool but not biting, the kind of perfect that makes you want to stay outside forever. the moon hangs low, casting silver streaks across the dark waves, and the stars scatter across the sky like confetti.

the whole day feels like a dream—ziplining, laughing with everyone, and the kind of dinner where no one holds back, plates piling high until you're all practically bursting at the seams. it’s a memory already cemented in the back of your mind, glowing and golden.

you and drew step out of the house hand in hand, the muffled sounds of snores and low murmurs drifting behind you. everyone else is sprawled out in food comas, barely able to move after the feast. but not you. not drew.

“leila really said we should host more,” you laugh, your voice soft but laced with pride. “can you believe that?”

drew chuckles, shaking his head. “honestly? kinda shocked she’d trust us again. but i’ll take it. today was so good.”

“better than good,” you correct, squeezing his hand. “it was perfect.”

you both step onto the sand, the grains cool beneath your feet. the horizon glows faintly, the deep blue skies blending into the inky black sea, and for a moment, neither of you says anything, just soaking in the peace.

then, you stop. you let go of drew’s hand and start slipping off your shoes.

he notices immediately. “what’re you doing now?”

you don’t answer, kicking your shoes to the side and unbuttoning your shirt, then you toss your shirt onto the sand and start unzipping your jeans. you’re already smiling to yourself, feeling a little mischievous as the cool night breeze brushes against your skin.

“are you— are you seriously—?” drew stammers, his voice pitching higher.

now fully bare, you take a slow step into the water, the chill shocking at first but refreshing as it climbs up your legs. your toes sink into the soft, wet sand, and you keep walking until the water reaches your hips.

drew stands frozen behind you, hands by his sides, his jaw slack as he watches you sway gently with the rhythm of the waves. he looks like he’s trying to figure out whether to laugh, yell, or just give up entirely.

finally, you glance over your shoulder, your hair falling loose and wild around your face. “are you coming in or what?” you ask, holding out your hand toward him.

his eyes dart from your face to your outstretched hand, and something shifts in his expression. for a second, it’s like the rest of the world disappears—the waves, the sky, the house behind him. all he can see is you, standing there in the moonlit water, your hand reaching out for him.

it hits him like a punch to the chest. he knows that he’d follow you anywhere.

he exhales a soft, shaky laugh, tugging off his shirt and stepping out of his jeans with an ease that makes you grin. the hesitation he had just moments ago evaporates as he walks toward you, the water lapping at his legs.

when he reaches you, you pull him closer, your hands sliding up around his torso as you lean in and kiss him. it’s quick, almost playful, but the smile you press into it lingers. drew’s hands find your waist, steadying you against the soft push of the waves.

“we need to do this more often,” he murmurs, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

“and we will,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

he lets out a soft chuckle, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed together, his warmth cutting through the cool water. your chin rests on his chest as you look down at the water swirling around you both, the light from the moon catching on the tiny ripples.

you tilt your head up, resting your chin against his chest, the soft thrum of his heartbeat steady beneath your skin.

“i don’t even wanna leave,” you mumble, the words slipping out without much thought, your voice quiet but heavy with feeling.

drew's hand moves up to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair, smoothing it down like he’s trying to calm not just you, but the whole world around you. “i know,” he says softly, and there’s something so steady, so sure, in the way he says it that it makes your throat tighten.

it’s not just the water, or the waves, or even drew’s warmth grounding you—it’s the wine in your system, maybe, or the weight of these last few days. how good it’s all been. how good he’s been. compared to the storm you left outside of this trip, this feels like something you could stay in forever.

a tear slips out before you can stop it, and when you look up at drew, his face comes into focus in a way that makes your chest ache.

“hey,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “i’m glad we did this. all of it. the plan, the trip— just . . . us.”

he blinks down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile, but there’s concern laced in his laughter. “stop, are you crying?” he teases gently, his hand cupping your cheek. his thumb brushes under your eye, and you feel him swipe at the streak of mascara smudging there.

you pull back a little, suddenly self-conscious, your fingers brushing over your cheeks. “oh my god, is my makeup coming off?”

you consider dunking your whole body into the water—just to rid yourself of the smudged makeup, the makeup that’s probably ruining this intimate moment. but before you can, you hear him hum a soft, “mm-mm,” his voice quiet and soothing.

he pulls you gently back toward him, his hands cupping your face with tender care. you look up at him, his eyes soft, and for a second, everything else disappears for you. his touch is like a promise that you’ll always have someone to turn to. he rubs his thumb gently beneath your eyes, sweeping away the mascara with a careful, loving gesture.

“you’re perfect,” he murmurs, the words almost like a secret shared only between the two of you, like it’s a fact he’s known forever.

your breath hitches, and for a second, the world stills.

then you lean up, and he meets you halfway, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that feels slow and endless. his hands hold you steady, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as your arms loop tighter around his waist, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you.

you stare at your reflection in the mirror just hours later, when you’ve managed to sober up some, and you’re brushing your teeth vigorously. the bathroom door swings open. drew steps in without knocking, already knowing you’ve been in here, and immediately begins preparing for his shower.

“you look pretty,” he murmurs as he moves past you, earning a faint smile from your lips.

you pull the toothbrush from your mouth and fill it up with water, swishing it around before spitting it out, finally managing to say, “by the way, thanks for helping me today, star.”

he shrugs, his smile softening. “it’s no problem. i care about our friends just as much as you do. leila and theo are my friends too.” he steps away, turning the water on in the shower and letting it warm up while you finish. “plus that food we had tonight, thank god they picked a good place. i’m still so stuffed.”

he rests a hand to his stomach and it makes you grin. but what catches your eye is your phone lighting up on the counter, and you eagerly check the notification. leaning against the counter, you sigh when you see it isn’t from the person you’ve hoped for. drew notices the shift in your demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly.

“okay,” he says, his tone shifting to one of concern as he walks toward you and presses his hand to the edge of the counter, watching you intently. “so something is definitely bothering you.”

and you realize you haven’t told him a single time since you’ve been talking to him again.

“it’s, um . . .” you trail off, your voice faltering as you feel the weight of your disappointment settle in. “i’ve been sending in audition tapes for the past few months and doing callbacks for in-person auditions, but i still haven’t heard back on anything yet.”

you can feel the frustration bubbling beneath the surface, and it takes all your strength not to let it spill over.

drew winces, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “that sucks,” he says, his voice low. “i know how that feels. it can be brutal.”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “i just thought this time would be different. i thought i was good enough to get at least something by now,” you say.

his hand rubs up and down your back. “it’ll come to you when the time is right,” he says softly, trying to offer comfort.

your expression drops at his sudden change in trying to be some philosopher as you put your phone back down on the counter. “that’s so full of bull,” you mutter, heading for the door to leave but drew furrows his eyebrows at the abrupt switch.

“c’mere,” he says as he reaches for your hand and tugs you back into his chest, pressing your lips to his.

you’re happily returning the kiss as his hands running down to your backside. you missed this. the kisses, the fire that grows inside you when it happens. it’s still a familiar feeling. he grips firmly, pressing you against his hips, and his kisses are passionate, his breathing heavy as he walks you backward into the sink.

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your neck, and into the sensitive spot beneath your ear. although you’re enjoying this, you manage to break out of your high and whisper in his ear, “you’re getting hard.”

the kisses stop there.

and he detaches himself from you, heading for the shower. “shut up,” he mutters under his breath, though there’s a slight curve of his lips as he smiles. he’s turning red. “it’s the . . . water,” he says to excuse his rosy cheeks, knowing you’ll say something about it.

you tilt your head, watching as he finishes stripping and steps into the shower, “the water’s causing that when you’ve been out here?”

“it’s the condensation, asshole.”

tags: @rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @mattyskies @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @ivy-34 @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

a/n: if i missed u or u changed ur user, lmk to add u next time !! <3

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[domesticated-slut]

Rat Race Simulator

Players: 1+ Supplies: d4, pencil, paper

Congratulations - you found a decent job. It won't destroy your body, pays decently, even comes with mediocre insurance. But it's still a job, so it sucks.

Begin with 0 STRESS, 0 DEBT, and 0 ENNUI. Minimum for each stat is 0.

Each workday, roll d4 for each stat - these are responsibilities which will incur a penalty to that stat if unaddressed. If 4, immediate +1 to stat. Then you may take 8 actions:

ADDRESS TASK: Address one of today's tasks. Requires 2 actions if relevant stat >=3. HAVE FUN: -1 ENNUI, -1 STRESS, +2 DEBT BUDGET: -1 DEBT, +1 STRESS LIVE CHEAPLY: -1 DEBT, +1 ENNUI GET HELP: If another player agrees to spend one action to help you, gain 3 actions for the day. Only once per day. FREE TIME: If no tasks remain, -1 to stat of choice.

For each unaddressed task at the end of the day, relevant stat +1.

Each weekend, choose one:

REFRESH: -2 to stat of choice JOB HUNT: +2 STRESS, +2 ENNUI. Roll d4. If 4, set all stats to the number of times you've successfully taken this action before.

Game ends when you're sick of it.

Okay to archive off-site.

I wanted to be able to dedicate a little more time to the challenge this year, but this month has been difficult for me because of nonsense at work, which I've chosen to use as the theme for this year's (admittedly rushed) submission.

In absolute terms, I'm extremely fortunate to have the kind of job that I do - but it's still incredibly demoralizing to do it day after day for people who don't understand or care about what I'm doing, especially when living paycheck to paycheck. So, I decided to channel those feelings of frustration into a game with no exit condition and what's intended to be a system that leaves a faint glimmer of hope, but will almost certainly lead to a negative feedback loop you're unable to require from - if you're playing alone, that is.

It's possible that I did the math incorrectly, but my intention was that the only way to consistently keep on top of the daily tasks is with multiple players and the GET HELP action. In a group of two or more players, the GET HELP action basically means that, if you're all willing to cooperate, everyone gets 9 actions per day instead of 8, which I think tips the scales just enough to where you will usually be able to stay at low enough stats to avoid the additional cost for ADDRESS TASK, which is when things really start to spiral.

The JOB HUNT weekend action is mostly a trap if you're playing alone, since it does nothing to actually fix the systemic problem you're facing and will usually just give you +4 to your stats for no gain. But in a group, it should be able to serve as a way to try and recover from an unlucky start.

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[give-some-lemons]

“Accidents happen”

Pregnancy headcanons with Silco

Tags: pregnancy; unplanned pregnancy; older man/younger woman; topside reader.

~ when you first met him it was an interesting and pleasant surprise for you to finally see how the famous and so fearful Eye of Zaun looked like. A man who aged like the most expensive wine from your family’s collection with a sharp features, a few grey strands in his hair and, of course, a red eye, which you could compare to a comet drifting in a night sky.

~ everything about him was nothing like you expected it to be — his clothes, behavior, manner of speaking was more similar to a topside one and that… intrigued. A man who hates Piltover and its citizens but wants to live and look like them? You let an evil chuckle out, while he pressed his scarred lips to the back of your hand.

~ for him you were an exotic exemplar, a topside aristocrat who’s father was probably his age, but despite that fact you were still showing interest in him, keeping your sight on his face and body much longer than etiquette allows, saying ambiguous things that a young lady of your status should not even think about, trying to get under his skin.

~ at the late nights he dreamed about those gaze looking at him from the bottom up, those lips on the most intimate parts of his body and this silk hair in his hand while he guides you in a way he needs the most. You were driving him insane, leaving him without any thought except the sinful ones where lust was completely taking control of him

~ it was only a couple of nights between two of you, when your fingers that ran along his shoulder or chest was turning a peaceful evening into an act of passion and pleasures. When his previous meeting was so unsuccessful that the next second you walked in his office you were finding yourself on his desk with his lips on the soft skin of your neck. When you felt an arousal blooming in your lower abdomen just because of the way his fingers moved through his hair or loosening his tie.

~ you loved teasing him especially in the most inappropriate places like his office, filled with people who came for business reasons, and then watch how he slowly succumbs to his lustful desires, making every possible effort for the meeting to be over as quickly as possible. After his partners left the room, you were literally thrown onto a nearby sofa with his slender posture looming over you and his teeth biting into the softness of your skin.

~ after some time, there were certain signals that you wished to ignore: weakness throughout your body, feelings of nausea at the most inconvenient times of the day and mild, barely noticeable pains in the lower abdomen. You were scared, more to say terrified by the fact that a tiny life was already growing inside of you.

~ sitting in his office and discussing another topic, related to your family business you could feel his hand caressing and squeezing your thigh wanting nothing more than to take you right there, leaving all of the stress he had during the day behind and forgetting himself in the softness of your skin. That’s exactly the time when you tell him about the consequences of your passionate nights that already came to life.

~ at first he freezes, studying you with his piercing gaze, most likely searching for any signs of deceit or the most terrible joke he's ever heard in his life. Covered with a mask of indifference, that he mastered for a lot of years deep inside he’s shocked, in the greatest disbelief that it’s even possible in his age. Only when the man lightened a cigarette and inhaled the soothing smoke into his lungs, he broke a heavy silence with his hoarse voice.

— Are… you sure?

A young woman in front of him sighs slightly raising her eyebrows in annoyance, as she always did.

— I called a doctor this morning, how do you think?

An older man emits another puff of smoke with a dark chuckle. Raising a child he doesn’t even wanted with a woman he had in his bed a few times was not something he planned to, especially knowing how hard it is. He already has a kid, a stubborn young woman who he loves with all his heart and he really wishes to just shrug, leaving aristocrat at fate’s will along with his seed growing inside of her, but he hesitates for a split of second.

— What are you planning to do?

She nervously purses her lips into a thin line trying her best not to lose her face, her confidence before him even tho a man can tell the truth just by how her body language changed. She was frightened. An heir of a noble family, an arrogant piltie and a young girl who’s future was brighter than the sky over her head is now sitting with a head of the biggest criminal organization, who probably was suitable for her as a father discussing his child in her belly.

— I’ll keep it.

Of course, what else she could say now, when there’s not so much options left for her. Deep down she probably knows the answer to her own question — he will not help, she’s on her own now and it feels as if the whole world had fallen with an unbearable weight on her shoulders.

— I’ll take care of everything you’ll need.

She finally raised her gaze to the man across from her after a long starring at a smoldering ashes in a bright painted ashtray. Despite that her face didn’t show any emotion her heart skipped a beat fulfilling chest with warmth.

~ in the next days he already was in your family’s mansion talking with your parents about your current situation and you could see that judging look on their faces, mentally returning in those times when you was a little guilty kid who broke something or get a complaint from your teacher. At first they even tried to completely ignore your whole existence without saying a word or giving any glance at your side, but it seems like over time they reconciled with the idea that in a short amount of time they’ll become grandparents.

~ you both reach an agreement that you better to stay in Piltover, to not let rumors spread all over the undercity and to interfere his enemies to use you in their hatred and plans about him. That was the motive of why you needed to stop paying him visits no matter of the purpose. You stayed in your family mansion with his loyal people almost always keeping an eye on you and ensuring that your wishes and orders are fulfilled.

~ even tho he cannot be with you by obvious reasons during your hard times he regularly visits you to make sure that you’re doing well often fulfilling whims of his dear girl and the tiny creature, that develops inside of her. But mostly first one, massaging slightly swollen areas of your body, talking you through nausea and frequent dizziness in your head and, of course, spoiling you. Anything that slips through your conversation be it some kind of jewelry, hobby or food you can later found delivered right to your room with a beautifully written note that makes a smile on your face bloom leaving cheeks painted pink.

~ despite the fact that he doesn’t show it he really cares for your child and you can tell it by his hand that sometimes rests on your belly and suggestions about how it would be better for the baby to listen to your voice or music even if it didn’t form into an embryo yet. Also was the one who insisted on a complete change in your diet consuming more plant foods and animal protein even if you struggle with one of it he’ll make sure you eat it.

~ secretly he wants and honestly waits for another girl, thinking about how Jinx will take care of her younger sister, protecting and spending time together, even tho he’s a little bit afraid of her influence. In the end one hyperactive kid who likes to get into troubles is enough for him. But he hopes that mostly you’ll be the one to frequent with a child at least because he’s too busy and, for his own taste, too old to mess around with a noisy little creature who needs to be watched all the time.

~ when the childbirth finally comes he’s informed immediately after the water broke, by your maid, a woman who had worked for him for lots of years and as soon as this man is free from his duties as the ruler of the whole city he’ll rush to you to be by your side during the parturition. He probably will not be allowed to come near you so he would just sit there waiting for your pain and screams of suffering to be over as soon as possible.

~ holding a little boy on his hands he feels range of emotions while the child surprisingly calmly looks at him studying with its curious blue ocean eyes, just like his own. As if for a split second the whole world had shrunk, leaving no one in it except him and this little one just to observe, figure out how exactly to feel about each other: fear, concern… love? But after a moment passed he was already standing there, holding the small, fragile creature closer to his chest.

~ despite him not loving you in a conventional way, it seems like he developed really warm feelings towards you as one of his closest people, the one whom he values. You were his business partner, a mother of his child who mostly had the same goals as he — protect his son for any cost and give anything to raise him properly, as a person he himself could never be on the streets of his city. Sometimes, while sharing so rare and precious moments of your child peacefully sleeping together, you’d understand him better often comforting him even if he didn’t ask for it, while your head rests on his shoulder or your fingers find his.

~ it took a lot of efforts, mostly from your parents’ side, to finally arrange the marriage appealing on the fact that many people, including other prominent families that was respected by yours, won’t accept this child as an heir without an official confirmation. Through his discontent, annoyed sights and frowning eyebrows he ended up signing all the required papers making you his dear wife, as he often called you. And although it did not give any benefits to either you or him, many from the Council and Chem barons wanted to find leverage and establish control over the other side, but so far without any success.

Few years later

Man was sitting in his office overwhelmed with a pile of papers on his desk and a boy on his lap, who was drawing something in his own notebook which cover was painted and signed with his name with his favorite crayons. Pink and blue. Of course, following his sister in every way possible, but at least his fears were in vain. Even tho boy wanted to imitate his older sibling in many things he was calmer and much more sensible than many children his age, probably thanking to his father’s genetics and education, but it didn’t mean that sometimes he wasn’t capricious just like his mother.

— When will mom return? — the boy asked raising his big-eyed gaze to man’s face.

He sighed on this question. His dear wife was attending a meeting which was related to the family business, now fully belonged to her after her parents’ retirement. As was planned from the very beginning she was the one who took care of their child, sometimes resorting to Jinx’ help who was more than happy to assist. She perceived the girl, who was supposed to be her stepmother as a close friend, often visiting mansion and lingering there for a long time hanging around with her, to his own astonishment and relief.

— I don’t know. — man answers honestly. — Why? You don’t like it here?

Kid continued to stare at his father whom he looked so much like, with his dark hair and light blue eyes, looked at everyone around them inquiringly and at the same time warily. After some time spend with his older parent he even started to emulate man’s behavior and expression, ordering around to a bunch of his nannies which left his mother in touching awe. His blood, his heir who, as he sincerely hopes, will never see his people, people of Zaun in poverty, the one for whom he and his darling partner have to work even harder to achieve their common goals before these child’s eyes could see a cruelty of this two-faced world.

— I like being with you and mom.

He felt his heart melting from such a simple words of his child, this innocent little one who loved him with all heart. Smiling, he leaned over to boy’s forehead leaving a kiss and pulling him closer to his chest. His little family, people for whom he could easily give his life away if he’d need to, who cared for him no matter what, that’s something definitely worth fighting for.

[mapiforpresident]

No 23 prompt please with jana and reader both playing from u19 together to Barcelona and Falling in love for first time . R is a huge dork . Thanks.

You're such a dork

Jana x reader

~~~

You were sitting at your desk studying when you heard a slight knock on your office door and you turned your head to see your girlfriend stepping through the doorway with a plate of snacks in her hand. Jana gently set the plate down next to your computer before wrapping her arms around you from behind.

"Hola amor, what are you working on?" Jana asked as you turned your head to give her a kiss.

You smiled as Jana wrapped her arms around you, her warmth soothing the stress that had been building throughout your study session. The way she always seemed to show up at just the right moment made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“Hola, mi amor,” you replied softly, turning your head to press another quick kiss to her lips. “I’m just studying for this big history test. I feel like I’m drowning in flash cards.”

Jana chuckled, her fingers gently combing through your hair. “You always say that, but I know you’ll ace it. You’re the biggest dork I know, and I mean that in the best way possible.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the warmth of her words. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I’m just making this harder than it has to be. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I’m glad you came by.”

“Of course, I couldn’t leave you alone to study forever,” Jana said, her voice teasing. “And besides, you deserve a little break.”

She picked up the plate of snacks and held it up in front of you, her eyes twinkling with a playful spark. “I brought you some fuel. You can’t keep working without food. That’s rule number one, right?”

You laughed and took a few of the snacks from the plate, grateful for the small gesture of care. “Thanks, babe. You always know how to make things better.”

Jana leaned down, resting her chin on your shoulder as she watched you nibble on the food. “Well, you’ve been working really hard lately. I wanted to make sure you take care of yourself. But also, I think it’s cute when you’re all stressed out, trying to figure things out like a dork.”

You rolled your eyes, though you were secretly thrilled by the way she teased you. “I’m serious! You don’t get it. I’m juggling so much right now, and I just want everything to go well.”

Jana pulled back slightly, her face turning soft with understanding. “I get it. But hey, you don’t need to do everything by yourself, okay? I’m here for you.”

Your heart swelled at the sincerity in her voice. She was calm, steady, and always made you feel like you weren’t alone in anything.

“I know. I guess I just sometimes feel like I need to be perfect,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable for a moment.

Jana smiled, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek. “Amor, you don’t need to be perfect. I fell in love with the biggest dork I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t change a thing. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned to face her, your heart beating a little faster. “I love you, Jana. You know that?”

She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I know. I love you too, dork.”

The two of you sat together for a while, sharing the plate of snacks and talking about everything and nothing, the way only you two could. It felt like time slowed down whenever you were with her, the world outside disappearing in a blur. In that moment, there was no test, no pressure, just the two of you.

It hadn’t always been like this, of course. You and Jana had known each other for years, since your U19 days at Barcelona. Back then, you were just two teammates on the same field, awkwardly laughing about misplaced passes or a bad goal attempt. You had bonded over your shared love of the game, your goofy personalities, and the way you both always managed to mess up in the most charming ways.

There had been a time when you hadn’t even realized what was growing between you and Jana. At first, it was just easy friendship and a mutual respect for each other’s skills and personalities. But somewhere along the way, that friendship had evolved into something deeper, something more.

The first time you’d caught yourself thinking about Jana outside of the context of football was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. You had been sitting in the locker room after a particularly grueling training session, distracted by the way Jana’s laugh sounded when she talked about the ridiculous prank she and Bruna had pulled on Pina. You had tried to focus on the game analysis in front of you, but all you could hear was Jana’s voice, light and carefree. Mapi had to elbow you before you realized she had asked you a question.

It hadn’t taken long after that for you to realize what was happening. You were falling for one of your best friends.

And that’s when the nervousness set in. You weren’t the kind of person who made the first move. You were awkward, fumbling over your words, and way too much of a dork to figure out the complicated world of relationships. But Jana had picked up on it, and in a way that only she could, she made the first step.

That night, after an intense match, she had pulled you aside in the locker room, her eyes soft but intense. “Y/N,” she had said, her voice low, “I think I like you.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at those words. You had stammered out something about being confused, but she had simply kissed you, gently, without hesitation. It was everything you’d imagined and more, and suddenly, the awkwardness of it all melted away.

After that, things had shifted. You weren’t just teammates anymore, you were partners, both on and off the field. There was a comfort in being with Jana that you couldn’t explain. She made you feel seen, loved, and appreciated for every quirky, dorky thing you did.

And now, sitting in your room, studying for a test that you didn’t feel prepared for, Jana was right there beside you, proving once again that you didn’t have to be perfect.

“Promise me you’ll take a break after this?” Jana asked, her voice soft but serious.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”

Jana kissed you on the forehead, the sweet gesture making your heart swell with affection. “Good, my favorite dork."

You let out a laugh, resting your head on her shoulder. “And you’re my favorite person.”

[syggwolf]

Not to hijack this post or anything, and I'm gonna share some seriously depressing stuff here, along with talk of injuries and blood, just as a warning, but I can easily pinpoint the (And I cannot stress this enough.) SINGLE most traumatic thing that ever happened to me in a long, long, long line of catastrophically traumatic things: It was a very specific incident of being told not to cry. And it wasn't like I wasn't already told not to cry already or anything because, you know, you have a dick, you're not allowed to cry past the age of six and all that. And I was about thirteen so, way beyond that point. But this time, I mean, it was sort of a big deal. You see, unfortunately for me, a very heavy falling object had split my forehead open, and the amount of blood pouring down my face had convinced me that I was pretty for sure probably maybe going to die. Also it really hurt. But because I went into shock, I started laughing instead. I want to stress: the laughing was a panic reaction, not conscious, nor on purpose. Then I proceeded to leave an unbroken trail of blood all the way up to the front door of my house, about a half a block away. All the other kids fled as soon as it happened, except for one; another boy who was a friend of mine, only slightly older than me, who walked with me up to my house and came inside. Well, my mom shrieked and put an icepack on it, which, if you've never had burning cold shoved against exposed skull, it kinda really hurts even more than getting your skull exposed in the first place. And so I'm sitting there on the couch next to my friend, who's still staring in horror at my head and the blood all over my face. By this point I have definitely stopped laughing or doing much of anything, and the sheer amount of "I am so fucked." is starting to sink in because they are calling a fucking ambulance. My dad is sitting there, yelling at my friend to explain what the fuck happened and my friend gets to the part where I started laughing and my dad looks at me, and no bullshit, at this exact moment, there's a spike of pain from my head, and I'm miserable and it's sinking in that I'm going to the fucking HOSPITAL in an AMBULANCE and I am definitely in trouble. (Which is another fun thing that happens in an abusive household. Imagine thinking you're in trouble for getting hurt. Spoilers, I did in fact get yelled at, excessively. My intelligence, character, moral fiber, strength, and foresight were all called into question.) So right there, with all of that hitting at once and my father staring straight at me, my chest hitches and I fuck up and I let out a voice cracking little whimper. My father looked at me with an absolutely haunting combination of anger, disappointment, and some kind of disgust, and he said in this very rough, clipped tone that was more threat than anything else, "Don't you dare. You will NOT cry." And that broke something inside of me that to this day I've never been able to fix. If the role of a "man" was not to cry even under circumstances as extreme as that, than I clearly was broken in some way and I would endeavor to never cry again. And even Now? I simply cannot cry until I fully and completely lose control of every aspect of myself and snap, and even then it never lasts longer than a few moments. I can't make noise while I'm doing it either. It's a silent affair that can only happen in the most extreme circumstances when I am alone. His reasoning for saying that to me? For looking at his wounded child, blood covered face and pain and misery and all, and saying those words? He wanted the story to get around the neighborhood that I laughed at having my head split open because he thought it would make me look cool and really badass. He literally told me that to my face a few hours later, and said it was for my own good because none of the kids would fuck with me if I looked manly. He also chewed me out for possibly ruining it for having the gall to break while my friend was still next to me. The patriarchy is fucking evil and must be destroyed.

Everyone is so weird about people who cry easily. Fellas, is it evil and manipulative to *checks notes* have an involuntary stress response?

[azzifuddslover]

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining

word count: 2.7k

tw: swearing, LIGHT sexual content

a/n: happy thanksgiving for anyone who celebrates! i lowkey like this chapter a lot, but i apologize for it being so short. i’ll try to make next chapter longer 🤞 lemme know how u enjoy it!

CHAPTER FIVE

the following day, paige isn’t the one screwing up in practice. no, it’s azzi. azzi, the one who is consistent with her shots. azzi, the one who rarely misses despite any stress or distractions she’s feeling.

yet, ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle that ended up with paige kissing her, she’s been out of sync.

azzi furiously dribbles the basketball on the ground, pressing her lips in a firm line out of frustration. she goes for yet another 3 pointer; it bounces off the rim.

“fucking dammit,” she mutters to herself, annoyed with her shot missing.

caroline, one of her closest friends on the team, cautiously approaches the brunette.

“az, you good?” she asks wryly.

azzi looks over at her, “i’m fucking perfect, caroline.”

a flash of hurt travels in carol’s eyes at her friends harsh words.

regret hits azzi immediately, “i’m sorry, carol. i’ve just got a lot on my mind- i didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

caroline’s lips tug into a gentle smile, “no worries, girl. i knew something was up, anyway.”

“you just know me too well, don’t you?” azzi returns the grin.

“sure do,” caroline replies, “so, you gonna tell me or what?”

“not here,” azzi makes a rushed glance at the blonde who’s across the room, doing some of her own shooting drills with kk.

caroline follows her line of sight and nods in understanding, “i see,” she smirks, knowingly.

azzi is sprawled out on her bed, while caroline is sitting cross legged on the opposite one. both girls have showered and dressed into comfortable pajamas since practice ended hours ago.

“tell me tell me tell me,” caroline repeats, eagerly.

azzi playfully rolls her eyes, “it’s stupid.”

“i don’t care, az! just tell me already,” she exclaims.

azzi takes a moment to think about the someone who’s been stuck in her head. that someone with perfect fucking lips and a perfect fucking tongue who knows exactly how to use it. heat creeps up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she brings her legs to her chest and covers her face with both hands.

“she’s fucking with my head, carol,” azzi groans into her hands.

caroline lightly smiles at her friend, “who?”

azzi removes her hands from her face to give caroline a look, “you know who. paige, obviously!”

“and why is that?”

azzi shakes her head, thinking it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. “because.. ever since.. you know what..” she gives her friend another look, “she just won’t leave my mind. she’s always there. she always has been.”

“aww, that’s so cute,” caroline beams, “you should-“

“no, it’s not cute, caroline!” azzi shouts, throwing up her hands. “it’s frustrating! it’s making me mess up in practice, embarrassing myself in front of coach. and everyone, for that matter!”

carol throws the brunette a soft look, “babe, everyone misses shots. you’re not the only one, and you most definitely won’t be the last. remember, just last week paige herself was doing bad in practice. and now she’s doing better! so will you, az.”

azzi shrugs her shoulders, figuring caroline is probably right. she lays out in her bed, pulling the covers overtop her body.

caroline isn’t done with the conversation, though. “so.. do you love her?”

azzi is taken aback at the unexpected question, to say the least. “what the actual fuck?”

“what? it’s a serious question,” caroline begins, “i see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. it’s undeniable, if you ask me.”

“what way? what are you even talking about right now?”

carol tilts her head, throwing azzi an it’s obvious kind of glance, “um, like you want to rip one another’s clothes off and fuck each others brains out-“

“jesus, carol!” azzi shouts, shocked at her friend’s explicit language.

caroline chuckles at azzi’s reaction, “what! it’s true- you can ask any of the girls.”

right on queue, the dorm door opens and in walks the freshman, ashlynn.

“hey guys!” she waves at carol and azzi.

“perfect timing, ash,” caroline says, “i have a question for you.”

“carol, don’t,” azzi warns.

caroline squints her eyes at the curly haired brunette in challenge, “don’t you think there’s something going on between azzi and paige?”

ashlynn’s eyes widen at the question, “carol.. i thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that-“

“what?” azzi nearly screams.

ashlynn flinches back at her reaction, “az, don’t scare me like that!” she says, touching her hand to her heart.

“sorry, sorry,” azzi apologizes, “but what do you mean ‘not supposed to talk about that?’”

ash lowers herself on the bed with caroline, “well.. the entire team sort of knows there’s something up with the two of you. i mean, you guys look at each other all the time. and not in a friendly way.”

“that’s so not true!”

“yeah, it is, az. but anyway, we all agreed not bring it up, especially with either one of you. not until you figured it out.”

azzi gaped at the confession. everyone knew something was going on between them? azzi didn’t even know herself!

azzi eyes caroline, “carol, you knew? and never told me?”

caroline opens her mouth, then closes it. a moment passes with awkward silence between the three freshmen.

“az, look-“

“no! don’t even bother,” azzi throws herself off the bed, grabs her phone, and rushes out the door before neither ash or caroline could get another word out.

azzi is sitting in the basketball lounge room, phone in hand. she’s still buzzing with annoyance from the discussion with ashlynn and caroline an hour prior.

azzi’s head turns at the sound of the door creaking open. a familiar blonde steps inside, causing azzi’s heart to quicken. of course paige would come in here- of course.

paige immediately spots the brunette curled up on the couch looking her way. her breath hitches in her throat; memories of yesterday come flooding back in her mind- not that they ever left.

“h- hi,” paige stammers, then clears her throat.

“hey, p,” azzi sighs.

“just forgot my bag,” paige says, awkwardly moving to a nearby couch and grips her backpack.

azzi nods, unsure how to respond.

paige glances back at the brunette, who wears a sad expression on her face.

“are you okay?” paige questions her, genuinely concerned.

azzi gives paige a sad smile, “i’m good, thanks for asking.”

paige doesn’t move, though. she continues to stare at azzi, her eyes never wavering.

“what?” azzi asks softly at the blonde.

“you don’t look okay, az.”

azzi throws her legs out dramatically on the couch, along with her arms while defeat set in. “caroline’s pissing me off.”

paige lowers herself on a couch, opposite of the younger girl. “alright.. what’d she do to piss you off?”

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, “well..” she thinks back on her and carol’s conversation, unsure how to explain it to paige without giving too much away, “she didn’t tell me something i should’ve known about.”

paige arches a brow, “like what?”

azzi throws paige a look, “is that really your business?”

paige curls her lip in annoyance, “right, forget i asked,” she says before making an effort to get up.

azzi reaches her hand out as if to hold her back from leaving, “wait, don’t go, i’m sorry.”

paige’s heart skips a beat at azzi’s plea to make her stay, “okay.” this time, she sits down on the same couch azzi’s positioned on, inching closer to the brunette.

azzi’s cheeks instantly warm at their sudden close proximity. “it’s so fucking embarrassing missing everything in practice. it’s only my first year and i’m already screwing up.”

paige nods in understanding, “tell me about it,” she agrees. “did you see me last week? i couldn’t make a shot even if my life depended on it.”

azzi laughs at the memory of paige’s performance, “true.”

paige gives azzi a gentle shove, “hey! don’t agree with me!”

azzi’s laughter only grows, though. paige’s lips tug into a grin, yet she can’t help but still feel a little annoyed. when paige figures azzi’s laughter won’t calm anytime soon, she reaches out, placing her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.

“stop,” paige smiles, eyes solely on the azzi’s.

azzi’s chuckle soon ends; her eyes lock on paige’s while her blush becomes more visible. paige’s grin falls, but her hand remains.

azzi’s line of sight drops to paige’s pink lips- butterflies erupt in her stomach. she can’t help but think of yesterday; the feeling of paige’s lips against her own, her tongue swirling in her mouth. she wanted nothing more than to do it again.

paige eventually removes her hand from azzi’s mouth, eyes immediately flicking to her lips. the two are so close in distance they could hear each others erratic heart beats.

“paige,” azzi whispers, breathlessly.

paige shakes her head in attempt to forget whatever just happened between the two. “so, are you going back to your dorm anytime soon?”

“i’m not really sure, to be honest. i don’t wanna see carol right now,” she says.

paige nods, “well, if you want, you can come over mine again. i don’t mind.”

azzi’s head snaps to paige, “really?”

“i mean, yeah. there’s enough room, plus dorka’s hanging out with lou.”

azzi smiles at paige’s offer, genuinely grateful. “okay, then. lead the way.”

the two girls jump up off the couch, paige throws her backpack over her shoulders while azzi picks up her phone. they walk side by side, fingers brushing occasionally as they make their way to paige’s dorm.

the room is exactly how azzi left it- paige’s bed was unmade, empty water bottles were scattered on the night stand, clothes on the floor.

“sorry about the mess,” paige says, embarrassment flooding her features. she frantically begins picking up the dirty clothing pieces and shoving them in the nearby closet.

azzi chuckles at paige’s rush to clean the room, finding it cute. “paige, it’s really okay. i don’t mind at all.”

paige slowly stops what she’s doing, before turning to the curly headed brunette. a moment of comfortable silence hangs in the air.

azzi clears her throat, “i forgot to give you your shirt back.”

paige’s lips tip up, “no worries, you can keep it for all i care.”

butterflies flutter in paige’s stomach at the thought of azzi wearing her shirt. she can’t help but like it.

azzi’s matches the grin, “thanks. it’s so comfortable, by the way.”

“glad you like it, az,” paige laughs as she lowers herself onto her bed.

azzi continues to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to go from there.

“do you possibly have an extra toothbrush i could use? it’s okay if not, i can go-“

paige jumps up, “yeah! yeah, of course i do,” she walks into the small bathroom, opens the drawer underneath the sink and pulls out an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. she hands it off to azzi.

“thank you, p,” azzi shows her a genuine smile.

paige nervously looks away from the younger girl, “mhm.”

minutes later, azzi comes out of the bathroom with her teeth freshly cleaned. paige is already laying in her bed, underneath the covers.

azzi looks over at the blonde, wondering if she should go over there or to dorka’s bed. but they did sleep together twice already? would it be weird to assume she’d sleep in the same bed again?

as azzi decides on dorka’s empty bed, paige speaks out. “just get over here, for goodness sake.”

azzi tries to hide her growing smile as she climbs into bed, right alongside paige. she finally settles in and gets comfortable before reaching over to turn off the lamp.

azzi doesn’t process what she’s doing until after she’s done it. she leans over and touches her lips to paige’s cheek, staying there a moment too long.

“goodnight,” azzi breaths.

paige’s eyes widen- she can practically feel her body temperature rise. she decides it’s only right to return the favor. therefore, she places her hand gentle on the back of azzi’s head for support and plops a long kiss on azzi’s cheek. before following it up with another quick one for good measure.

“goodnight.”

azzi has been tossing and turning all night long. no matter how much she repositions herself, she can’t seem to fall asleep.

her and paige remained basically binded together the entire night, regardless of azzi’s constant moving. paige rests on her back, while azzi adjusts herself once again to have her back against the blonde.

paige stirs next to her, the shift in the bed enough to pull her out of sleep. she blinks, adjusting her eyes to the dark, and notices azzi squirming from beside her.

with a soft exhale, paige leans on her elbows, and gently brushes curls behind azzi’s ear to get a better view of her face.

“you okay?” paige whispers, hand remaining on the younger girl’s cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb on her cheekbone.

a shiver runs through azzi at paige’s unexpected tenderness. she blinks up at paige, eyes locked on her beautiful blue ones.

“can’t sleep,” azzi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

paige’s lingering hand continues to graze azzi’s cheek, “i can tell.” her eyes roam azzi’s face she’s grown to adore, before settling firmly on her full lips.

azzi brings her hand, this time, up to the back of paige’s head, fingers running through the blonde locks.

the silence between the two girls was full of tension and longing, yet neither made any effort to close their distant. not that they didn’t want to- both intensely did.

heat and desire flashed in paige’s eyes, wanting to give in so badly. she knew better, though. she knew it would ruin everything-

azzi pulls paige’s head down into a passionate kiss before she had time to react. it was different from last time- this kiss was more urgent, more forceful, and more importantly, on their own terms.

paige deepens the kiss, her hand moving to azzi’s curls, and slightly tugging. a small moan leaves her mouth, vibrating on the brunettes lips.

paige peppers kisses down azzi’s cheek, all along her neck, sucking gently, enough to leave marks for the morning.

“fuck, paige,” azzi groans.

the blonde only hums against her skin, causing azzi to pull paige’s head back up to hers and connect their lips once more.

it’s frantic, it’s tender, it’s hungry- it’s everything all at once. azzi never wants this moment to end, because she’s afraid it’ll never happen again.

paige’s hand slowly lowers beneath the covers, crawling down azzi’s chest and eventually settling on her hip.

“jesus, az,” paige whispers, breathlessly against her lips, “you feel so good.”

azzi groans, her tongue swirling in the older girls mouth, clashing with paige’s.

paige’s grip on azzi’s hip loosens; it inches farther and farther until it reaches her waistband.

azzi gasps at paige’s hand placement, causing paige to disconnect their lips and look into azzi’s eyes.

“can i?” paige asks, quietly.

azzi simply nods once, uncontrollably pulling paige into another searing kiss as her fingers disappear in her pants.

the brightness of the peaking sun through the curtains was enough to wake azzi. she rubs her eyes, adjusting to the light. her body was firmly against paige’s front, while her arm was loosely wrapped around her. she could feel paige’s soft breathing on the back of her neck.

she soon realizes she has no pants on- no underwear, either. when she begins to move, paige stirs, her eyelids fluttering open.

“god, you’re such a light sleeper,” azzi notes, giggling to herself.

paige yawns, still dazed from her long rest. she leans up onto her elbows and looks over at the brunette, who’s also staring at her. awkward silence hangs between the girls.

“so.. i should probably head back to my room,” azzi says, lifting herself off paige’s bed.

paige watches the freshmen, nervously fiddling with her fingers from the memories of the earlier morning.

“yeah, okay,” paige agrees.

azzi tugs her shirt down in attempt to cover herself up, even though paige had already seen it all. she quickly finds her clothes scattered on the floor and slides them back on, paige’s eyes on her never wavering.

as azzi walks to the door, she swiftly turns around, facing the blonde.

“let’s just forget this happened, okay?” azzi says, barely able to look paige in the eye.

a flash of hurt hits paige which she instantly covers with a nod.

“i agree,” paige responds.

“alright, good,” azzi nods, pleased with paige’s agreement. she doesn’t glance back at paige when she exits the room, leaving it completely silent.

paige was lying, though. she won’t ever forget.

[masonmontz]

hellooo everyone :) i hope you like it, this was incomplete for a long time and i did my best to try to get it ready and post it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst/fluff word count: 3,5k

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

It's not that you hate Mason's friends, far from it, but you just... don't fit into their lifestyle. 

You and Mason have been together for a few months now and yet you still feel out of place in his reality, especially since his friends act like you don't exist. You actually enjoy talking to them and you think they're fun, but it annoys you when they invite Mason to parties as if he were single, or talk about other girls in front of you and even ask Mason's opinion about them.

Mason never made you doubt his feelings for you, but all of this has been building up and making you stressed.

It was Wednesday afternoon and you were at Mason's house working on your computer, Mason had training and he wouldn't be back for another hour. Erik changed today's training time ‘cause he had an appointment and so Mason would be at Carrington until 7pm. The doorbell ringing startled you, you weren't expecting anyone, not even Mason's family.

You were surprised to see Woody standing at the door of Mason's house with two women behind him, and apparently he thought it was strange that you answered the door.

“Y/n, hey, I didn’t know you were here” Woody spoke and scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

“Hello, Woody. It’s good to see you” you said and then looked at the two model-like women behind him. “Mason is still in Carrington, do you need to talk to him?”

Woody walked up the two steps of the stairs and you let him in, and the two women he was with followed him. Of course, Mason's house is also the house of his best friends.

“Yeah, actually we had planned to go to a party today. It's Stella's birthday” he pointed to the blonde woman in the red dress, and she smiled at you.

“Happy birthday Stella” you smiled at her and turned to Woody again. “He didn't tell me anything, Mason and I arranged to go out for dinner.”

“Well, he confirmed that he's going to the party, I hope you don't mind leaving dinner for another day.” 

“No, of course not, I'll just wait for him to arrive so I can change” you said and pointed to the gym clothes you were wearing. 

“Actually, Y/n…” Woody started with a tone of voice you didn't like.

“All the seats at the party have been reserved, I can't put any more names on the list, I'm sorry” the brunette woman spoke for Woody, and you were speechless as the three of them stared at you standing in the middle of the living room in Mason's house.

“Yeah, of course” you smiled, even though you were angry at Woody for doing the same thing he always did, acting like Mason was still single. 

“I hope you don't mind Mason going alone, but he's my friend and I really wanted him there” Stella said and you agreed. “Oh, Woody said you weren't very nice but you are.”

Woody's eyes widened and you glared at him, watching him swallow hard. You smiled fakely at Stella.

“Yeah, I don't think Woody is very cool either and I hope he knows that” you spoke at the same moment the door opened and Mason walked in, and he heard you talking about Woody. “Have fun tonight.”

You grabbed your computer from the living room table and went upstairs, trying to take a deep breath while knowing everyone was staring at you.

“Woody, what are you doing here, mate?” you heard Mason asking his friend. 

“It's Stella's birthday man, you remember how much fun you two had, right?” was the last thing you heard before the bedroom door slammed shut. You took a deep breath once, twice, three times, even though it was difficult.

You were sick of being treated like you meant nothing to Mason, and he wouldn't even tell his friends to stop it, and that was what hurt you the most, he cares so much about his friends that he doesn't realize that you're the one who's getting upset about all this.

You packed your things and put away your computer, there was no way you were going to stay there any longer. You heard laughter from downstairs and it made you even more frustrated with Mason. 

It wouldn't be nice to leave Mason's house with all of them staring at you in the living room, but you also didn't want to wait until they left, which could take hours. You honestly wanted to cry, but you hated feeling helpless and crying in front of someone, even if it was the person you gave your heart to.

Fuck him and his friends.

“Mate, I bought a ticket for a party in Ibiza during the international break, we have to go. I bought your ticket too” Woody said to Mason, and you could see that they were sitting on the couch. Mason was in the middle of Woody and Stella.

“I have to ask Y/n if she wants to go and-”

“Bro, she hates us and she won't want to go, you have to go alone, it will be fun.”

“Yeah, I'll think about it” Mason spoke softly and you snorted.

“Who knows, maybe I'll go to Ibiza with you guys? Polly can go too” Stella said and you walked down the stairs, you didn't want them to see you but it was impossible to leave without being noticed. Mason's gaze went to your bags and he noticed that you were leaving.

“Where are you going?” he asked but you didn’t look at him, you continued towards the exit door. “Y/n?”

Mason followed behind you and closed the door when you were both outside, and finally you looked up at him and he saw the tears in your eyes. 

“I’m going home” you spoke softly and Mason lost focus for a few seconds. “You can go to the party, I won't stop you from going.”

“You’re going with me.”

“Oh, am I? I’m sorry, your friend was pretty clear when he said that there’s no space for me there” you said and felt a tear fall, but the last thing you wanted was to cry in front of Mason.

“He didn't mean it, you were rude to him and said you don't like him and-”

“What?” you weren't believing what Mason was saying. It wasn't the first time he defended Woody or Declan or Benny from you, and he never defended you the same way to them, he just accepts what they say about you.

“Look, Woody is one of my best friends, you know that. If you love me, then you should like them too because they’re my family.”

“Yeah, you're right. But maybe they don't love you as much since they don't like me.”

“What are you saying?”

“You always let them say whatever they want about me, Mason. You never stood up for me, ever. How do you think I feel when my boyfriend lets his friends talk about other girls or bring women over to his house while I'm here?”

“They are my friends.”

“I have friends too, Mason, and they've never disrespected you the way Woody or Declan do to me. I heard Woody saying that you and Stella had fun, do you think it didn't hurt to hear that? They don't think I'm enough for you?”

“I love you, that's enough” Mason spoke with his hands in his hair, huffing.

“Yeah, only in your dreams will I spend the rest of my life putting up with this.”

“Don't go away, let's talk, there's no reason to make this drama, love” Mason tried to pull you away but you pushed his arm away, shaking your head. “Y/n, please, let's go inside.”

“No, Mason. You don’t understand” you said frustratedly, finally crying and sobbing. “I don't want to hear any more bullshit about other women while I'm around. I don't want to know who you were with before me, they have no respect for me and you don't do anything about it. Declan cheats on Lauren all the time and encourages you to do the same, you think I don't feel stupid? He's a jerk and she should dump him, and it hurts me when you don't say anything about it because you're their child's godfather and you think it's funny that he has been cheating on her the whole time.”

“I don't think it’s funny.”

“So you hide very well that you care about her or Jude” you wiped your eyes, looking at Mason who looked sad. “I really think you're not ready for a relationship, maybe you really love your friends and they’re your priority, but the Mason I knew is not this guy in front of me.”

“Hey, no, c’mon, I love you, I didn't know you felt that way.”

“Exactly, you care more about them than me.”

You turned your back and Mason tried to pull you towards him, but you refused and cried as you walked away. You looked at him one last time and saw Mason's eyes full of tears, but you chose to turn around and leave.

“Y/, don’t go, please.”

“When you realize what's wrong we can talk again.”

Mason watches in shock as you get into an Uber without looking back, it's like he's trapped in a nightmare but he can't do anything because he's tied up. He stood there for several minutes staring at the street until he felt raindrops and went into the house, hearing Woody and the women's laughter as soon as he entered.

“Mase, you can change your clothes now so we can go, what do you think?” Stella asked, but Mason's mind was far away. He looked at Woody sitting on the couch with Polly sitting on his lap, and for the first time in months Mason realized the reasons that made you leave.

“I'm not going, you can go” he muttered before turning his back and heading towards the stairs.

“Mate, what do you mean? Y/n told us to go and have fun” Woody said and Mason turned his face in time to see his friend get up from the couch and walk towards him. 

“Shit, Woody, she broke up with me. Please go away now, I don’t want you here for now” Mason realized that you really did leave. He needs to be stuck in his own misery for a while. 

“That's why we should go out, man, so you can forget about her, like old times.”

“Get out.”

“What the fuck?” Woody really wasn't understanding Mason, and it pissed him off, because now everything was obvious and Mason was the only idiot who didn't realize he was losing you. “What did Y/n say about me? She's an idiot, don't pay attention to her.”

“Don't you dare talk about her like that again” Mason pointed a finger at Woody, who was startled by Mason's tone. “Get out of here, all of you.”

Mason didn't wait for an answer and went upstairs without looking back, he took his phone out of his pocket and called you, but you didn't answer any of the times he called, nor did you even respond to the several messages apologizing that he sent.

Mason threw himself on the bed and sighed, how could he be so stupid? It was all so obvious in front of him, but Mason was more concerned about his friends than the woman he loves.

He called more than twenty times and you didn't answer any of the calls, nor did you respond to his multiple messages apologizing. Mason's heart raced as he thought he may have lost you forever because he was childish and stupid. 

Panic washed over him and Mason gasped, he ran his hands through his hair in despair and anger. Mason couldn't blame you for deciding to leave, he understands, but saying his heart wasn't hurting was a lie. Mason never felt that way, ever.

A tear ran down his face, then another and then another, and before Mason knew it he was sobbing and thinking about everything you had said to him. It was so stupid that he didn't realize how you felt about Woody or Declan, and Mason couldn't even judge you, because in all these months he really was a terrible boyfriend and only now could he realize it.

He actually let his friends take him to parties, he didn't mind when Woody brought women to him, and Mason never thought about hooking up with them, but now he realized that he wasn't respectful and broke the trust you had in him. And what about Declan? Mason couldn't even think about his best friend having sex with multiple women while he has an amazing person at home waiting for him, plus a son who is the most beautiful child Mason had ever seen. 

Mason feels ashamed that he never said anything to Declan, and he feels ashamed that he didn't protect Lauren and Jude. And he is ashamed because you don’t trust him and broke up with him because of the things he did. 

“Please, please, answer me.”

Another rejected call. Mason is about to despair. 

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹ 

It's been two weeks since you and Mason broke up, and honestly it's been really hard to go through the days without talking to him and trying not to think about him.

You failed every day, of course.

Mason respected the message you sent asking him not to call you, but deep down you wished he hadn't given up. Every day you wonder if he's out partying with Woody, having women all over him and falling in love with the smile you love. It breaks you every time.

“It's not an exaggeration if he listed all his friends as if they were more important than you” Kiera murmured while you were lying down watching a movie, she went to your house because she didn't want to sleep alone, her boyfriend was traveling and would be back the next day. “Honestly, I love Mason, maybe this will make him realize what he did wrong and you guys can get back together.”

“Yeah, but I think he realized he prefers parties and Woody, he didn't call me anymore.”

“You asked him not to call you.”

“I know, but that would show me that he cares about me. Am I wrong?”

“Of course.”

 “Do you think I should call him?”

“You miss him, right? You want him to call you but you asked him not to, he is just doing what you asked and respecting your time, if you are ready to talk, talk to him.”

“Yeah, I think you're right.”

But you didn't call, not the next day or the day after that. You knew Mason was traveling with the team because the next game was far away, and you didn't want to take your problems to him.

You missed him so much you could cry. You missed him when you woke up in the morning and missed his kisses on your neck, you missed having breakfast next to him and laughing at his stupid jokes, you missed him bothering you or lying next to you just watching some movie that neither of you paid attention to.

It was very cold in Manchester and the streets were already starting to have Christmas decorations, and that made you happy, it's the best time of the year. You went out for a walk in the late afternoon, the sun was setting and some people were walking along the streets. 

It was crazy, but you swore you saw Mason's car parked at the pie shop when you were at the door, your favorite in the whole town. Mason also knew how much you liked chocolate pie, and he would always buy you a pie when he passed by.

But it wasn't crazy, ‘cause Mason came out carrying a box of pie just as you were about to climb the stairs to enter the store. You could have fallen if you weren't holding onto the railing, and Mason's eyes widened when he saw you. 

He looked so handsome, his hair cropped because of the cut on his head, and he was wearing sweatpants and slippers. You couldn't help but smile when you saw his comfortable clothes.

“Did Ace eat all your sneakers?” 

Mason breathed a sigh of relief when you asked, and the smile he gave you melted your heart. 

“It would be too much work to put on sneakers, I preferred to go out like this” he walked down the two steps and stopped in front of you, your heart raced and you could feel your own hands shaking. Oh my God, it's Mason, why are you nervous? 

You were silent for a few seconds, but Mason didn't take his eyes off you.

“So… how are you?” you asked, and Mason pulled you aside as a couple walked out of the pie shop. His touch on your arm sent you over the moon, and that was enough for you to realize that the time you needed was over.

“Honestly? I'm a mess” he confessed and you felt a pang of guilt, but you knew he needed that time too. “Do you want to talk here? Are you ready?”

“Hum- no, yes, I’m ready, but I don’t want to talk here” you spoke and he agreed. “We can go to my house. Are you going to take the pie to someone?” you pointed to the box in his hands.

“No, I bought it for myself” Mason scratched his head in embarrassment and you raised your eyebrows. “I don't know, chocolate pie reminds me of you and I was missing you.”

“Just like I'm watching Game of Thrones like crazy, then.”

“Oh, you said it was boring” he accused you, grinning, and you shrugged as you followed Mason to the car.

“You know I only watch ‘cause of Daenerys” you stopped next to Mason as he opened the car door for you, his scent reminded you of how much you missed him and you couldn't help but hug him, almost making him drop the pie box. 

“I wasn't expecting that” he murmured as he left a kiss on your hair, hugging you with just one arm and you held his waist tightly, afraid that he would leave. “Oh God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, sorry” you let go of him and smiled, feeling like a part of you was whole again. 

You walked in silence to your house, and even so it wasn't bad, the smile you both had on your lips already said a lot. 

“My mum is missing you, she almost hit me for not taking you to London with me on the international break.”

“Did you tell her what happened?” you asked as you grabbed two plates for you two to eat the chocolate pie that looked delicious. 

“No, I said you were busy” he sighed and shrugged, but Mason still looked wary. “I was a bad boyfriend, Y/n, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I should never have put other things first, you are the most important person to me and I hate myself for disappointing you and making you distrust me.” 

You just looked at Mason. He wasn't the same man you left three weeks ago, the man in front of you recognized his own mistakes, and that was clear and enough for you. 

“I'm sorry for the things you went through, I was an idiot and didn't realize it. I should never have let Woody take those women to my house or treated you the way he did, I should have stood up for you.”

“It's okay, I forgive you.” 

Mason sighed in relief when you approached him, and this time he hugged you so tightly as if he would never let you go. 

And you didn't want him to let you go again. 

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, Y/n, oh my God, how did I manage to go three weeks without talking to you or seeing you?” Mason put his hands on your shoulders and shook you, making you laugh. 

“I had no one to fetch water for me at night.”

“Did you just miss me because of that? I'm taking this pie home and you're not going to eat it.”

“Actually, I think we can eat while watching Game of Thrones?”

“I knew you liked the series, you just didn't want to admit it to me.”

Mason took the pie into the living room and you grabbed a blanket from your bedroom, ready to snuggle into it for hours and hours. You walked back into the living room and Mason was smiling on the couch as he waited for you, and you couldn't help but smile and feel like everything was okay again.

Mason hugged you as you laid down next to him, he was warm and comfortable and even you didn't understand how you managed to spend so much time away from him. 

Mason was your home, and not even so many days away would change that.

[seasprincess]

ok another one. im sorry this man is PLAGUING my mind helppp

teaching stiles how to kiss you. Just, fully talk him through it- where to put his hands, when to move them, other places he can kiss, not to cover up his sounds-- and then it gets a little heated, but reader has to go and stiles is left a flustered hot and bothered mess but hey! now he fully understands the joys of kissing

sorry im constantly requesting the same character hes just USHDFDJSK yknow? no? okay bye 😭

kissing practice with bf!Stiles

warnings: suggestive so mdni! mainly fluff

Stiles Stilinski has never had a girlfriend. Well not until now. But seeing as he’s not had a girlfriend before. He doesn’t know a lot of…relationship things.

“Is this fine?” Stiles says as he looks at you sitting on the bed, pulling away from the kiss.

Stiles is meters away from you, to scared to get to close and fuck this up. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either, even if you were the initiated it.

“You can move closer.” You say as you look over at him. Slightly moving closer to him. He’s just so far away.

“Yeah, sure, right okay.” He says as he moves closer before looking at you. He’s so nervous it’s honestly so cute. He cares so much about making sure you’re okay that he’s forgotten to act like a human. “You sure this is okay?”

Stiles constantly checks in with you whenever anything slightly sexual happens. When you’re cuddling, kissing or even just holding hands. He stresses so much.

So much that you decide to take things into your own hands.

Literally.

You grabs Stiles hands and place them on your hips as you look at him.

“Let me help you.” You say as he looks at you with those big brown puppy eyes, waiting for this moment to happen.

“Sure, okay, cool. Coolio.” He mentally slaps himself. His mouth just speaks and embarrasses himself more and more.

But when you laugh he just breathes out a breath he didn’t know you were holding. Thank god you don’t think he’s weird. Well. Not too weird.

“Just keep kissing me like you were, you can add tongue too.” You say as his cheeks turn a rosy pink, visibly getting flustered by you. “And your hands, touch me more. Okay?”

Stiles nods quickly. Embarrassingly quickly.

You place your lips back on his as you start your practicing. He takes a few seconds before kissing you back. His hands moving over you before coming up to cup your cheek. Pulling your face closer as he takes your words in account as he gets more needy.

You move closer to him before slowly slipping your tongue into his mouth. Smiling.

But as you do a little whine comes from Stiles, his eyes widening as he pulls back to look at you.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do tha-“

“It’s okay Stiles.” You cut him off as you smile at him. “It’s normal. Don’t need to hide it.”

“I don’t?”

You shake your head as you smile at him. Gently stroking his cheek.

Stiles can’t help but feel more safe with you, feeling less embarrassed about the noise that came out. You make him feel so safe.

“Why don’t you kiss my neck?”

Stiles perks up at this as he looks at you. Nervous about this idea but also so excited.

He nods as he leans closer to your neck before his lips attach to it. Kissing it softly as you are the one now making noises.

You decide to move and straddle his lap. Which earns some panicked expressions from Stiles as he looks at you.

“Okay. We’re doing that now.” He says as his nerves pick up.

“Is this okay?”

Stiles quickly nods as his hands land on your hips as they slowly start to rock.

And god is Stiles enjoying this, little noises falling from his mouth as he captured you in a sloppy kiss.

This moment is perfect. Your perfect. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He wants it to last fo-

Your phone dings so you have to pull away. You check your phone to see your dad’s wanting you home.

“I gotta go home.” You say as you place your hands on his cheeks.

And Stiles is disappointed by this. He pouts as you climb off him. He can’t even speak, he’s just too flustered.

He’s so worked up and flustered and you’re leaving him like this?

Now that’s got to be a form of torture.

“I’ll ring you later.” You say as you kiss him before heading to the door, having to get home quick.

“Yeah. Call you.” He says as he smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And with that you’re gone.

And he’s still flustered. He’s going to be thinking about that kiss while he does some…activities in a moment.

a/n: not proof read and i LOVED this request!

tags- @inlovewithdob @allydiass

[the-sacred-now]

Mmn turning your focus to specifics of what you want is one of the best ways to get out of an obsessive negative spiral ime as well. I will definitely give this variety a try!

(I've mostly used it to respond to when I fixate on violent or otherwise harmful possibilities, like multi-car pileups or stabbing someone with a kitchen knife. I say "True, that's a possible thing. Now, what I would like is," and then I imagine the mundane yet pleasant details of, pulling safely into my carport, or safely preparing dinner and then sitting down to enjoy the finished meal. And if my brain is like BUT YOU COULD TRIP AND BASH YOUR HEAD ON THE WAY UP FROM THE CARPORT I just say, nicely noticed! Another possible thing! Now what I would like is: walking in my front door and taking off my shoes and putting the heat on. And so on. (If the negative thing speculated about is statistically improbable, I gently mention that before going on into What I Would Like. But if the obsession is highly probable, it's still keeps me out of stressing needlessly to say, "True, that is the probable outcome. Unfortunate. Now, what I would like is..."))

Every single day people on tumblr say "what if the shit moral OCD tells you was true and living by it was the only way to be a real progressive"

[archie-sunshine]

Got a question since I have always been kinda curious.

How did you get into drawing? And on another more specific note, how did you get drawing into Transformers and somehow crave this little niche of transformers porn art? Its one thing to draw Optimus Prime, its another to draw Optimus Prime tits out.

By the way, your art style and AUs are awesome - I just love it all, please keep it up!

I got into drawing because of a comicbook art workshop i went to when i was about 10-11 years old! I had been interested in drawing before, but that workshop really kicked off my passion for it. also my family has always been super passionate about the arts because my grandfather was a professional artist!

And more specifically, i got into drawing transformers because my lovely friend @pinkanonwrites asked me to draw them a lot in november of last year when her hyperfixation on them was really intense.

And then i got really into transformers because she made the shows and comics sound really fantastic.

And then i drew porn of them because i like drawing porn a lot. Like i cant stress this enough, i am genuinely passionate about creating transformers pornography. it seems silly and weird to like it so much but porn is just genuinely fun to draw for me, so i have a passion for drawing it.

I draw whatever i like, and currently, i like drawing porn :]

its my job and also my passion

[tan1shere]

Save Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I know I got inspired by something but I can not remember- it mightve been from the show I just finished I dunno BUT I hope you all enjoy this angsty Rollercoaster 😁

Summary: Your life wasn't as colorful as it may seem. When you reunite with an old girlfriend you were finally able to get out of the hell hole. She took you away from all the harm. She, saved you.

Warnings: angst ! - happy ending duhr, abusive partner, ptsd - think that's it, lmk if I missed anything !

"Fine, whatever I'm too tired for this."

Masterlist

Those were your last words as you open the dark brown front door. It was the Christmas holidays so everything was hectic. Your life, family. Your supposed partner. Partners were suppose to be in everything together. You truly wanted to be but Bri, was far from any of that. You have been going out for over 6 years now. First few were wonderful, then the reality kicked in and you saw her for her true self. A fucking bitch. But you couldn't just leave. You couldn't and it was stressing you out. There was two main concerns.

One, she started getting crazier as years led on. So you had zero clue what she might do if you leave. Two, there was a bigger thing in your life that had your main focus. You couldn't, not right now. So you had to suck it up. Three words you despise. But it had to be done. It was another day of arguing, oh joy. This time you just couldn't handle sitting around the house moping because of her harsh words. Her horrid temper. It reminded you all to well of your father. Someone who you had finally got out of your life, only to be replaced with the exact replica. "My mistake." You breathe.

It was cold, you had grabbed the first jacket on the coat rack before you left. You needed something to drink or a place to hide out that was warm. And far away. You open the door to a little Cafe. Heading over and ordering a hot chocolate. One of your favs. You grab it, going to turn around when you were face to face with. "Oh sor- Billie?" Your head tilts, looking at all her features. Yup it was her. "Y/n? Oh my God, it's been years!" She gives you a hug, dipping down just a little. You were shorter than her, than alot of people actually. Maybe that's why you always felt so weak, so inferior.

"I know, how are you?!" You say with such a wide smile, you missed her. You think about her often. But like most high-school relationships they never tend to last. She eventually got famous, being bigger and amazing. She had moved in the process, which you couldn't do. You loved your home town. So ofcourse everything left on good terms. Mostly. You did hurt for months after. She truly was your bestfriend too. So to loose both at the same time, hurt a fuck ton. Maybe you never truly got over it. "I'm actually doing very well. You?" You think for a moment. "Yeah, peachy." Peachy?

You internally face palm. She didn't really seen to pick up on it though. Or maybe she did but she just wanted to leave it. "What's been happening in the years?" You both go to sit down at a empty table to chat. "Well." You start but stop for a moment. What do you even say. Do you mention your girlfriend, your home together. Your daughter. Yeah. That's the 'thing' you've been worried about the most throughout all this. "Well, I uh. I met someone. We've been going out for just over 6 years. We have a place together and yeah." You didn't know if you could tell her. Was it weird? Even if it was some high-school relationship. You and Billie had been dating for about 8 years. It wasn't just some silly thing.

How would she react. Billie was amazing with kids. Even back then she was just the sweetest, silliest around one. It warmed your heart. And that is who you pictured yourself with. Pictured marrying having your own children with. But no, it's gone horribly. Bri isn't great with kids. Never horrible to Carley, near incidents. But you'd never ever let that happen. Sure you let her tread on you, horrible to say but thats who you were. You haven't always been like this. It's her to blame honestly. She ruined you. But you'd kill for your daughter. You two had a special bond, super close. Maybe that angered Bri more.

"How about you? Now that you're massive everywhere. Do occasionally hear your songs from time to time my-" You cut yourself off. "Friends all love it too." She smiles at you. "Things are good, hectic but amazing. I think about you alot you know." You look at her, her eyes. Those same eyes that you fell inlove with. As you do you realize that feeling never left. "I do also, there isn't a day you don't slip my mind." A comfortable silence was in the air for a moment. Something you had missed between the two of you. So soothing.

No screaming, no arguing. You and her kept talking about anything and everything, when your phone starts blowing up. Texts, calls. You hadn't noticed at first until Billie says something. "And I thought I was the famous one." She laughs. But her eyes linger on your lockscreen. It was some child. You quickly pick your phone up. "Just probably emails and such from work." She nods. "Hey, speaking of that. What do you do now?" You smile wide. "Office work at the moment. But, it is leading up to what I want to do." She now smiles. "You always were very driven." - "Wonder who I got that from." You say, still having a smile on your face.

With work. Her and your job. You hadn't felt much recently. Kind of empty. Depressed. It wad hard keeping everything together for everyone else. But not for your own well being. Putting on fake smiles forever. But now, now you were genuinely smiling. Something Billue has always succeeded in doing. Whenever you were sad. Instant cheer up was her. Her hands go to touch yours. "Let's keep in touch this time. Please. I have to go but I'd love to catch up properly next time." You reluctantly nod. "Yes ofcourse. I should probably go too. Get to these texts and such." You both stand going to give one last hug before leaving.

She still smelt the same. God you felt like crumbling, crying. Letting everything out. You cry alot actually. No one sees it. Whether it's a little one at work, or at night while bri is out somewhere. Drinking. Carley had caught it once. You tried telling her it was just a sad movie you had watched. You hated lying but the less she knows the better. She needed parents who loved her. Who didn't fight infront of her. She pulls back putting her hands on your head. "It was good bumping into you." - "Like wise."

Bri.

Where tf did you go.

Get home for fuck sakes. We can sort this out.

And pick up Carley. I'm not doing it.

"I'm not doing it, you do it because you don't do anything all day, while I sit on my fucking ass drinking. Blah blah. Blah." You grip the steering wheel letting out a dry breath. What has this life become. You saw it differently. You had managed to get the dream job. But in reality that wasn't happening. Another thing you lied to Billie about. Your boss was an asshole. Another one in your life. She treated you poorly. Which was interesting because you were the one making the good money, you made a bunch. Bri? She doesn't do anything no job. You then get distracted by the radio playing one of Billies songs. You turn it up.

Scoffing at what one it was 'Lost Cause' "What perfect timing radio." You laugh a little, how ironic. Deciding to clear your mind and sing on your way to pick your daughter up. She was having a little play date with a friend from school. Once you get there she's already out and coming in to see you. "Hi mama!" She says cheerfully. You smile so wide. "Hi pumpkin, had fun!?" She nods, putting her seat belt on. You were so proud when she came home saying she had a friend. Carley is quite a shy girl, like you when you were younger. So it was such happy news when she came to you super excited. "Her mums really nice too, you'd like her, and oh my God they have fun snacks." You smile. "I bet I will, that sounds so fun baby."

You get into the house, afraid. You never ever dreamed of being afraid to step into your own home. But you had Carley. Bri would never ever do anything infront of her. You made sure of it. "Go play love, dinner will be ready soon." She runs upstairs and that's when shit happens. "Where the fuck did you go?" You sigh, going into the kitchen. "I went to go clear my head. You know what that's like." She shakes her head. "For nearly an hour?" You stay quiet, getting things set up. "Answer me damn it." - "Yes for nearly an hour." She stares at you. "I want steak." "Didn't plan on doing that tonight." You mumbled. "What was that?" A quiet sigh leaves your lips. "Yes babe. Steak it is."

That's what it was usually like. You'd always avoid arguments. You couldn't bear it. Not only because you hated being yelled at, but you never wanted Carley to hear. She shouldn't have to hear such things about her parents. Bri goes back over to the couch. God you were miserable, how did you attract such fucked up shit.

Ever since Billie left that day years ago, you'd been a mess. You were blind to everything. She kept you grounded and once that was gone. You didn't know what to do with yourself. Lately you've been sleeping alone. How lovely, sometimes it was. Having the whole bed to yourself. Others, it was just lonely. Tonight you wanted to revisit those times, reminisce on old memories. "Mama?" You hear Carleys small voice. "Yes baby?" She comes over to you, getting on the bed. Or trying to. "I just wanted to say night, whats all this?" She picks up a Polaroid of you and Billie. "Old photos of when I was in high-school." - "Who's this mama?" You look at the photo she had in hand.

"Just an old friend sweetheart." She nods. "She looks kind of familiar." You so wanted to tell her about it. But you just couldn't. Carley actually adores her music and has many merch pieces in her room. Which was what you were going to say to Billie earlier today. "Yeah. She was pretty memorable." She stares at more laid out. "What happened, why arent you friends no more?" You take a moment, getting choked up by one photo. "Uhm, just went our separate ways. She was on to bigger and better things, and I was still figuring things out." You smile at her, motioning for her to come over to you. You kiss her head. "I love you. Go say goodnight to mommy too, yeah?" She nods, going to get down. "Ok mama!"

A few days had passed and you were planning to meet Billie. You got to go home earlier that day so you decided now was the time. You met at some beach, a calm place to take a walk. "So it's the job you always wanted, the one when we were younger?" The sand was warm, calming everything inside you. "Yeah, not yet but I'm close to." Liar. "I'm so proud of you! Gosh, we both got what we wanted." Your eyes look down, it was all lies. Your whole life. "Anyways enough about me. Hows fame treating you?" She laughs a smidge. "Great but alot of the time not. Majority its amazing. The fans are sweethearts but I hate calling them that. They're just- friends I haven't met yet." You loved how warm she was towards everyone. Happy that hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Latest album has been out for months now and it's doing great." You nod. "It's probably a favorite of mine, I love all the songs. They're absolutely beautiful." She gives you a soft smile. "Thank you, it means alot coming from you." You look at her confused. "Why so?" "Because I loved your judgment years ago, you were so creatively smart. So cute with your ideas. I admired it." Your smile was loving. You haven't heard such nice things in a very. Very, long time. "Well I'm glad I could be of service." Her laugh comes back, booming in your ears. God you missed hearing it. "You still look beautiful, different. But still gorgeous." You blush at her words. "Different?" - "Well, we're all older but you just look so, elegant and-"

She chuckles to herself. "Who is this lucky woman, she should be cheering out of her mind." Your demeanor changes. "Oh stop." You then try to hide. Hide your true emotions. "I mean it! She should know how lucky she is." A silence grows. One with hanging questions, lingering. "Who was that on your phone the other day?" You look at her bewildered. "Your lockscreen I mean." Shit, she did see. "Oh, just my friends daughter." Her brows furrow. "You have your friends daughter as your lockscreen?" Nice going. "Uhhh, yeah I'm like her aunt and she's just so adorable." You just hoped she'd move on. The less she knows the better.

You were currently at Billies place. She invited you for lunch getting to see her brother again after all these years too. You were currently sitting on a soft couch, soaking up the silence between one another. Until...

"Who was that really. On your lockscreen." You smile slightly. "I told you-" "Y/n, I use to date you. I know exactly when you're lying." Everything goes still. "Do you have a kid?" You slowly nod. She looks at you. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Her voice was so soft. You hadn't heard a soft voice other than your daughters in a long time. It was just yelling, yelling and more yelling. "I just-" She gives you a look knowing you were about to come up with some pathetic story. "I didn't want you to know the real me." She laughs a little. "I already do. I knew it all those years ago and I still do. But, you have changed. You're more timid." Your eyes move, looking at her.

"Spill, come on." You sigh, shakily. "I'm not perfect, nothing in my life apart from my daughter is. I didn't want you to think less of me." Her face softened. "I could never. I've always seen you as amazing." You smile again, she always brought out the true you. Maybe thats why you haven't been yourself over the years, she was missing. "When can I meet this angel?" You freeze. "Uhm, I dunno. It's just." She waits for a reply. "I don't think that's a good idea." Shes confused. Incredibly confused. "Why?" "I think I should go." You stand up going to leave but she's quick. "Did I say something wrong?" Your head shakes. "No no! It's just getting late I should get back." Something funny was up, she had a feeling.

"Alright.. I'll text you." You hold a thumbs up scurrying out of there. She was going g to find out whatever it was you were hiding. She needed to.

Another day of arguments. Carely at school. Perfect opportunity to scream. "You're fucking stupid." - "Why now, I've got a million-" Her hand lands straight on your face. Shes only ever done it twice and it ofcourse shocks you each time. She was getting worse and it just frightened you. Who knows what could be next. "Are you talking back?" She sounded like some sadistic man. She sounded exactly like him. "Bri." - "That was a question darling." You cringed inside, swallowing. "No.." She hums. "Good. This argument is stupid, just get back to cleaning." You just wanted to scream and shout. She was insufferable. You hated how weak you'd get whenever she'd yell, it brought up your ptsd. And it made you realize why the slapping didn't bother you as much as it should.

Another thing he did. Did he train her or something it was like being a kid again. Your childhood being relived.

There was a knock on the door but the vacuum cleaner cleared that sound out. Carley on the other hand was in the living room right next to it. She gets up, opening it and gasping. "Y- you're Billie Eilish." She was dumbfounded, feeling like she was dreaming. "Sure am, is your mum home?" She blinks. "My mama? She's hoovering. Come come." Billie giggles at the little girls choice of words, following her into the house. "Mama! Billie Eilish is here, Billie Eilish!" You turn it off shocked. "How did you-" "I know my ways." You stop what you were doing. "What're you doing here?" Carely was so giddy it was nearly impossible to ignore. "Well I hadn't heard back, so I decide the one way that I knew I'd get your attention."

"Just showing up at my home?" You laugh a little. "I mean you wouldn't be able to escape." Carely pokes Billies hand, causing Billie to look down at her. You were so thankful Bri was out drinking. Never a sentence you thought you'd ever utter but here we are. "Ms Billie Eilish, I loveeee your music." Billie laughs again. "Shes interesting." You smile. "She's the sweetest, always so polite." Billie smiles more. "You like my music huh?" Carley nods frantically. "How do you know my mama?" Billie looks at you, not sure what to say. You bend down, wiping hair out of her face. "You know those photos I was looking at weeks ago and you saw that little Polaroid? That was her." She looks at Billie. "Woahhh you were friends with her back then?" You nod.

"You said we were friends." You stand back up. "Well yes, I'm not going to talk about relationships to her she won't really understand anyways." Billie gives you a look. "You're hiding something." You grab the vacuum. "Is this why you came over here?" She nods, making you sigh. "There's nothing Billie I promise." Carely then taps her hand again. "Ms-" "You can just call me Billie, angel." She smiles at her. "Billie, can I show you my room?!" - "Well Billie must be going soon." Her brow raises. "Am I now?" "Mhmm, so be super speedy baby." She pouts. "Naww, ok mama." Carley grabs Billies hand taking her into her room.

You prayed Bri doesn't come back anytime soon. But you doubt she would. "I have a little collection of your stuff!" Billie smiles looking at the CDs and necklaces, even a tiny little purfume bottle as that's all she'd need. The cutest thing ever is she never wants to waste it. You stand at the door, watching. "Wow you have quite a collection little miss. I'm very proud!" She giggles. Picking up the perfume. "I always do one tiny spray each day before I got to school." Billie looks at you. "She the cutest thing ever." "I know." You say lovingly. "What do you say about a bigger one? Just from me. I can give it to you in a few days."

Carleys already bouncing up and down. "Oh my God! Yayyy, Billie Eilish is giving me her perfume!" The jumping continues making Billie smile and laugh. "It's ok, really you don't have to do that." - "I'm not taking no for an answer miss thing." She puts a finger up. Making your eyes roll playfully, ending with a smile. "I better get going kid. In a few days yeah?" Carley nods, watching Billie bend down to hug her. It was so gentle and sweet. This, was how it was suppose to go. Exactly like this.

"I'm home!" Bri yells, Carley flying into her arms. "Mommy!" She smiles. "Hi my princess." You come down to see her, surprisingly not as drunk as she usually is. Damn it. You kinda wished she was because- "What's that smell." Shit. "What smell?" She sniffs. "It smells like perfume- strong one too. Nothing that you wear either." Your heart rate escalates. "Hey mommy! Guess who I met today!" Fuck fuck fuck! "Who did you meet?" "Billie Eilish!" Her brows furrow. "The singer? Now where on earth did you meet her?" 3. 2. 1. "She came to the house!" Bri raises her head looking at you. "Did she really?" Carley nods. "Well that's awesome darling, why don't you go up to your room and blast her music for me?" Fuck. "Okay mommy!"

Her little legs sprint upstairs, soon after hearing a slight boom of the songs. You go to speak but a hard slap goes straight to your face. "You said you blocked her." Shes backing you up. "I- it wasn't planned we bumped into one another in a coffee shop-" You back up in the process. "Cut her off." "Bri-" Your back hits the wall making you gasp. "I can't ju-" Her hand grips your throat. Your eyes widening. "Cut. Her. Off." Flashbacks flicker making you panic. "B-bri!" Her grip tightens. "I don't want that stupid bitch in here again, especially while I'm not here." Your eyes water from the impact her hand is causing. "Understand me?" You nod as best as you could. "Good. Dinner." And that was the last thing she uttered, heading upstairs. You fall to your knees catching your breath.

Knowing that's going to leave a nasty bruise at how harsh she was gripping. You try to calm yourself down, you had to keep going like you were fine. But it was getting harder and harder as days go on.

A few days go by, and you had completely ghosted Billie. You were more scared than you were before, that whole incident the other night was mortifying. So you sadly just listened. The bruise was still there not as evident but noticeable. You had put makeup on it to make it even more invisible. Then something you dreaded happened. There was a knock on the door and you go to open it, ofcourse it was Billie...

"What's happening? I texted you but you-" Her eyes wander. Your brows furrow as to why. Her hand goes to touch your neck. "Is that a bruise?" Fuck, water had splashed when you were doing the dishes. "Oh uh- just burned myself? With a straightener." Curse words fly in your brain, you both knew how horrible of a lie that was. "Did someone do this to you?" Your head shakes quickly. "No i-" But there was no point I finishing, Bri was right behind you. "You must be Billie." She looks at her. "Yes! You must be Y/n's girlfriend." Billie sticks her hand out, only for it to stay there.

"Can we help you." Your gaze lowers, hating every second of this moment. "Uh, I was just coming by to drop a few things off for Carley." And in the nic of time there she was rushing to the door. "Billie!" Bris teeth grind together. You Look out the corner of your eye, cringing. "Hey I, got a wholeeeee box load of stuff for you." She gasps, looking at all the different merch items. "Billie, you really didn't have to." She gives you a smile. Knowing things are strange right now. "I'll just head off, nice meeting you." The door was slammed. Making Billies head turn. She was about to leave, but she overhears.

"I thought I told you to cut her off." You look at Carley. "Go to your room baby." Her features change. She looked scared, the tone is Bris voice not only frightening you but your daughter. That's the last thing you wanted. Now you were angry. As she runs away you look at Bri. "Cut that out." She looked appalled. "The fuck did you just say?" You look at her. Little did you know this most definitely wouldn't go further. "You promised you'd never act that way infront of her." Bri scoffs. "Yeah well guess what I did. Wanna circle back to what you just said to me?" "Yeah. I told you to quit being a piece of shit, especially infront of our daughter."

This was no slap. Far from it. Her fist meets smack dab in the middle of your face. You tumble back at the impact, tripping and landing on your ass. Smacking your head hard, on a wall. You grab your face, but everything was happening fast. The door swung open. A cry was to be heard. Your mind races to that trying to get up but your being pushed back down. Now you're the one in tears. You knew those cries, and you needed to get to them. Everything blurs, your head spinning in the process. You hear a muffled voice saying something along the lines of 'you useless cunt'

But you couldn't care less, all you were thinking about was Carley. Your vision clears a bit, seeing her run over to you and hide behind you. You grip her hand, trying your hardest to stay as conscious as possible. When more smacks are heard you hide your face, hiding hers with it. You soon feel hands grabbing at you. But you were too scared to even fight it. Grabbing Carely in your arms. But it wasn't Bri who grabbed you. You were half way out the door when you realized it was Billie. She hadn't left. No words were spoken, cries from your daughter and swearing clouded your ears.

You look into Billies eyes feeling hopeless. And that's all before things went black.

Your head stirs, eyes opening a tad. You were on some couch. Your head pounded as you sit up slightly. Where were you.. But it clicks when you hear a female voice. Everything floods back. "Where is she?" You say frantically. Billie pushes you back gently. "Shes fine, she's ok. She's downstairs playing with shark." You relax slightly. But that doesn't last long as tears spill out. She brings you into her arms, holding you securely. "It's ok, you're away. You're here. You're safe." You violently shake as things become intense. Her hand soothes your back as you sink further into her touch, her warmth. This stayed that way for a good minute. Before you calm down just a bit.

"Why didn't you try telling me?" Her thumb swipes under your eye. "It's not that easy.. She was the only one I was concerned over." Billies eyes drop with sadness. "You were miserable babe. You needed to think about yourself too." "She was all that was good in my life." You say, tears silently dropping. "I didn't want to screw anything up." The tears start to resurface. "Hey hey, you didn't you're the best mother ever. She's so loved by you, even if that stupid bitch didn't. She knows she's loved. You've done great." It made you want to sob more. Not because you were hurt by her words.

The complete opposite. You hadn't heard such kind things in a very long time. "I'm here. I want to be in your life again, help you. Help raise her even. I miss you and I've never stopped loving you." Her confession makes your tears turn to happy ones. You leap forward and kiss her sweetly. "I've never stopped loving you either." Your foreheads touch, savoring this beautiful moment. "Mama?" You then hear Carleys small voice. You turn your head, wiping your tears. "Hi baby." You smile. "You're ok mama, you can cry." Your face softened, gesturing for her to come over. "You know I love you yeah?"

She nods kissing your cheek. "I don't like mommy no more. She hurt you." She hugs you tight. "I just wanted to protect you." Carley moves to stand infront of you. Her little hands on either side of your face. "You did mama." You kiss her bringing her in close. "Besides, Billie said she can be like my new mommy!" You laugh a little. "You said that?" She shrugs. "More or less." Billie winks at carley, making her grin.

Things were exactly how they were always suppose to be. You lived with Billie now, Carley having a bigger room. More to choose from. Your job was fully sorted, much to the help of your beautiful girlfriend. You felt such love from Billie. She never let you cook unless you really wanted to. Nights were always warm, sleeping beside you. Kisses for days, never ending. She's incredibly good with Carley too, which wasn't surprising. You were currently watching TV, Billie and her sitting on the floor. But let's face it, you weren't actually watching TV, how could you when the two people you adored were being so cute infront of you. "Nooo!" Billie says in the silliest way, playing whatever it was with her. This was the happy ending you wanted.

Although. So much was to be uncovered. Things left unspoken. The drama was surely not over yet.

- uhm so.. might be a new series ? This was unplanned but my brains BURNING with ideas.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

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