#someone texted me back this morning but I texted first in response to a few days of not responding

[bookwyrminspiration]

at any given point in time there is a text i'm not responding to

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n thinks Lando slept with someone else and they have a big fight about it, only for y/n to learn Lando needed help proposing

as soon as i seen this in my inbox i got excited to write it! thank you anon, it's a great idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears, sneaky lando but i'm sure you know where it's going based on the ask, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.8k

lando has been acting very suspicious lately. at first you has brushed it off to busy weeks filled with important racing duties but when he was still secretive after a lovely spa day you had set for him at your apartment, you knew something was up. the night of the spa day you were laying in bed with lando and usually if he's forgotten to set an alarm for the next morning, he will ask you to just go onto his phone and set it for him, so when he asks you to hand his phone over so he can set an alarm? well it sets off your own alarm bells in your head.

lando had never ever hidden his phone from you, always completely open with you and willing to scroll through his phone if you wanted to. you had never felt the need to but sometimes you liked to scroll through his photos and have him explain them to you.

you did not say anything to him about it that night, or afterwards but you kept a note of things you found suspicious or weird or even just a little out or character for your boyfriend, knowing that if the time came where you found out something you could not even think about then you had have evidence. if you had more guts you would have asked to scroll through his phone that night to see what he did but you did not want to fight after such a lovely day. maybe you were just postponing the inevitble.

the next time you had written down in your notes was a doosy. you had gone out to lunch with a few of your friends and lando had offered to drop you off and pick you up once you had all caught up. you had gotten ready and lando had dropped you off with a sweet kiss goodbye and promises of picking you up whenever you wanted to come home, you were just to give him a call. you grin and agree as you close the car door and make your way to the table your friends had sat at. it seemed you were the last one to arrive.

it is only when you have sat down and gotten comfortable that you realise, your best friend is not here.

"hey, where is lacy?" you ask the group, confused as last night when you were all confirming in the group chat if you guys could make it or not, lacy was the first one to confirm.

everyone mutters that they are not sure or that they thought she mus be running later. you all shrug and you try to forget about it but you have a lingering feeling in the back of your mind. it is a bit big to push all the way to the back of your mind but a few drinks and a gossip with your friends would do the trick.

you guys chat away and drink through three or four rounds. none of you drunk, really but none of you even thinking about drinking and driving. everyone had sorted out how they were getting home before coming. "responsible group of girls." you had joked when you had asked about it and they had all told you they had a way home.

everyone texts their lifts home as you head to the foyer where it is a bit quieter and call lando. it send you to voicemail. you try him again but it does the same thing, ringing until the voicemail blared in your ears. you were pissed off to say the least. you did not mind if he wanted to go out and do things without you but do not promise you will pick someone up if you will not be back in time! is that not just common courtesy?

you ask one of the girls if her boyfriend can take you home and she says it is no problem. you are embarrassed because you are just after bragging about how amazing lando was and now here you were... getting proved wrong.

good job you remembered to bring a key with you so you did not get locked outside. you thank your friend's boyfriend as you get out your car and see lando's car parked in front of the apartment complex.

you stomp into the apartment and throw your keys down on the table in the hallway.

"thanks for remembering to pick me up lando! i had to get a ride with micheal and amy!" you shout as you pull your trainers off and put them in the rack. you walk into the living room to see lando on the couch and lacy in the kitchen, making tea.

"what the fuck?" you ask, internally freaking out but not showing it. this paired with your suspicions that lando was cheating send your brain into panic mode. instead of freaking out and jumping to conclusions you ask "why weren't you at lunch? and why are you here now?".

lando could tell you were pissed and at this point, he felt like saying he was cheating would be the easier option, rather than hiding all of this from you. he hated lying to you. the boy had literally never done it before. you could tell from how sloppy he was, this being a prime example.

"i couldn't make it to lunch in the end. you know that boy i've been talking to? he asked me out on a date and i just couldn't say no." lacy explained, handing you a cup. her explanation did not ease your worry though, lando could easily be the boy she was talking to and they have went on a date when you were busy out with your friends.

"i came over to tell you about it but i forgot you were out at lunch with the girls. i've only been here like ten minutes." lacy adds, lando nods on the couch not really doing much. you decide to believe them but you put it in your notes. lando and lacy out together? while i'm with my friends. lando cheating on me with lacy???

you end up taking that out of your notes a few weeks later. you lay in bed while lando is in the shower and you think that now is a good time to go through your notes, thinking about things you could add or take away and if it all still makes sense in your mind.

as your sorting through the semi-long list you make you lando's voice. you had not realised the shower had stopped. at first you think he is talking to you so you are about to shout back when you hear the distant sound of someone speaking through the phone. not to sound like you were accusing your boyfriend of cheating but it sounded like a girl. it sounded like a girl you did not know.

"i can't tell her. it's stressing me out to no end. i just want to be done with it now." you strain to hear his hushed words, done with what? tell who? you? why was he stressed?

you are tired of all the secrets. the hushed conversations, lando hiding things from you. you do not think you can deal with it anymore.

once lando is off the phone he makes is way into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "hi, baby." lando acknowledges you as you lay on the bed. the towel around his waist distracted you for a moment before you got your mind back on track. it helped that he had gotten changed into some pyjama trousers, although his abs were still on display.

"are you cheating on me?" you just come out and say it, you voice is a little worried. lando drops the towel in his hands at your words.

"am i what?" lando stares at you. "is this one of those tiktok trends? what am i supposed to say that will get the most views. where's your phone we can start again?" lando glances around the room for your phone. he thinks this is a joke. a tiktok prank. you does not think you are distressed over this.

"i'm serious lando. you've been acting weird for a while now." you tell him your frown deep as you speak.

lando is surprised and practically leaps towards you.

"i'm not cheating on you. i swear to you. i would never even think about hurting you like that." lando swears his hands holding your face gently to stop you from avoiding his eyes.

"then what are you doing? because you're acting weird. you're not acting like you. i miss the old you, when you didn't set your own alarms." you pout at him.

lando sighs. "i guess i'm gonna have to tell you, huh?" the driver asks. you are confused as he gets off the bed and walks over to your dressing table. on top there is a small dish where you keep all the rings you wear when they are not on your fingers. you prefer the dish to a box, it is less work to get to them. lando calls it lazy but you call it time efficient. he grabs the one your grandma got you for christmas back when you were still at school. it is old and most of the rose gold plating has come off, the colour does not match with the rest of your jewellery but you wear it everyday.

it is quick and sudden the way he is standing in front of you a few steps away from the bed, then he is on one knee holding out the ring. "the ring i was gonna use isn't here yet because you're too impatient for me to do anything properly. i had a whole day planned out, you know?" lando is joking with you but there is nothing in you that wants to laugh right now.

your hand slapped over your mouth as you feel your eyes well up with tears.

"what are you doing?" you ask him, it is muffled from your hand but lando can make you out.

"what's it look like? i'm proposing. will you marry me please, baby?" he asks the old ring sits in between your fingers as you stare at him, tears finally falling.

"yeah." you murmur.

"yeah?" lando asks, a little cocky but mostly to make sure.

you nod frantically, lando takes your right hand and slides the ring on your middle finger (it is where you usually wear the ring. you honestly cannot believe he even knows where it goes). you then jump towards him, arms swinging around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

lando's lips mould over yours as he you kiss him frantically. the kiss is cut short because lando can not stop laughing.

"why're you laughing?" you ask him, smile plastered on your face from his laughter.

"just can't believe i get to love you for the rest of my life. i can't wait." you kiss him again.

[turcott3]

college girl

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, kissing, mild allusions to smut and FLUFF galore

masterlist

-

“hey um, is it okay if matt comes this weekend?” you ask your roommate as you walk out into your common space as she’s doing her makeup.

“yeah of course. i’ll go stay with someone so you guys can have your space.” she replies, finishing her mascara.

“thank you so much, i love you.” you say hugging her. she knew this was the first time matt was coming to your dorm. you’d finally lifted your beds up high for more room space and you were adjusting well to dorm life.

“i love you too! just remember, use protec-“

“shut up.” you laugh rolling your eyes, a red blush tinting your cheeks. you finally texted him back, confirming he was able to come stay with you, a heart full response from your boyfriend following quickly after. your heart jumped with excitement. he’d be there in two short hours.

“he’ll be here in two-ish hours. please stay and meet him.” you ask your roommate as she walks in.

“yeah of course.” she replies, getting out a bag to pack, you assume to stay at her “boyfriends” dorm. they had no label you just didn’t know what else to call him.

“are you staying with him tonight?”

“yeah he offered.” she giggles.

“these are good strides.” you reply laughing together.

-

“oh my gosh, he’s here, i’ll be right back.” you tell your roommate as you climb down from your bed. quickly, you slip on your shoes and snatch your keys, scrambling like a puppy to get out of your dorm. you hurried down the stairs out to the parking lot, walking quicker once you saw him towering over his car, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“matt!” you shout running to him, running and jumping into his arms.

“hi sweet girl.” he giggles into your hair, holding you up with his free arm. carefully he sets you down, pressing a short kiss to the top of your head.

“i can carry your bag.” you offer and he denies.

“no, i would never make you do that.” he giggles shaking his head.

“but you’re my guest.” you pout as you start walking.

“and you’re my girlfriend. you’re never carrying a single bag of luggage in your life, not while you’re with me.” he says following closely beside you.

“oh whatever.” you joke, his hand intertwining with yours as you made your way back.

“i’m back.” you walk in, calling out to your roommate.

“matt this is y/f/n.” you say as they introduce themselves. it was starting to get a little later in the day by now and your roommate was quick to leave the two of you alone.

“so how long can i stay?” he asks, sitting down in your large bean bag.

“how long do you want to stay?”

“i’d stay forever if i could, but id take up too much space.” he giggles, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering once again.

“you can stay for a few days, i’m not gonna kick you out.” you reply standing in front of him. he reaches out to your hand, pulling you onto his lap.

“i’ll leave on tuesday morning, okay?” he smiles lightly.

“okay.” you reply, grabbing one of his cheeks with one hand and pressing a handful of kisses to the other cheek.

“i’m starving, can we go eat?” you ask sitting up.

“yeah, come on.” he says picking you up and putting you back on the ground, standing up from the bean bag towering over you as he reached for his wallet.

“i’ll drive.” you say cheerfully.

“um no.” he replies.

“matt you just drove your car all the way here.”

“i don’t care.”

“here, drive my car.” you reply handing him your keys.

“thank you my love.” he smirks, placing a light smack on your ass, a giggle leaving your mouth.

truth be told you had no idea how you landed matt. never in a million years did you think you had a shot at him. tall, very tell, muscular, a professional hockey player, gorgeous, sweet, you could go on forever. it truly mystified you how you landed him.

he drives the pair of you to a restaurant, where you order takeout and head quickly back to your dorm. he always loved ordering and paying for your dinners because cherishing you was important to him and he always made it a priority.

you sat together on your floor sharing your meals, catching up on all the drama that had nothing to do with him but he loved to hear anyway.

“so she’s “with” him or?”

“i don’t know! i keep asking her and she won’t tell me straight up.” you giggle on your last mouthful.

“i’m gonna have to start taking notes to keep up.” he laughs shaking his head, dropping his fork in the box and shutting it. it was dark outside at this point and you couldn’t wait to climb into bed with him. not because you were so desperate to get in his pants, but because you couldn't wait to have your sweet boy within arms length when you wake up in the morning.

"okay, movie time." you reply, quickly cleaning the floor of the boxes and flicking on your tv, tossing the remote up. you climb up into your bed and get in a comfortable position.

"okay come on up, be careful." you say to him, you feel his weight shift the bed as he makes his climb.

"ow fuck." matt groans as he hits his head on the ceiling, falling down resting his head on your chest.

"baby, i told you to be careful." you coo, running a soft hand over his hair as he presses a light hand to the spot he hit.

"yeah i just didnt calculate that right." he giggles, his chin resting on your sternum.

"you're not even all the way on the bed my love, come on." you say softly, scratching his back lightly. he shifts out of your arms and to your side, pushing himself slightly underneath you, tucking you comfortably under his arm.

“what’re we watching?” you ask.

“anything because i wasn’t planning on doing a whole lot of watching.” matt says lowly in your ear.

“matthew rempe.” you say smacking him on the chest.

“what?” he says, a panicked look stretching across his face.

“you just got here.” you scoff jokingly.

“i know, i just missed you so much. needed my baby back so bad.” he mumbles, his lips talking against the side of your head.

“i know missed you too matt.” you reply, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, him wanting to deepen it but you denying.

“y/n.” he whines.

“honey, you’re gonna be here for four days, we have plenty of time.” you say softly, brushing his hair out of his face.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what just came over me. i just love, loving on my girl. but im sorry, i don’t wanna make it seem like that’s all im here for.”

“it’s okay baby you don’t have to apologize, and i know it’s not what you’re here for. we’re young so what can we expect to feel honestly and id be lying if i said i didn’t want to but im really tired and i just want to hold you.” you reply as you continue combing your fingers through his soft locks.

“i can definitely do that.” he smiles lightly, his arms wrapping around your torso as your cheeks burned pink, pressing your cheek to the side of his head.

the two of you laid awake watching tv for a while, small chats here and there, but after a while his breathing became slow and he became borderline silent.

“are you falling asleep on me right now?” you giggle.

“what huh?” he asks sitting up.

“you so are.”

“you’re so comfy.” he smiles, squeezing you a little bit tighter.

“goodnight pretty boy.”

“goodnight baby, i love you so much.” he says leaning up, pecking his lips against yours a few times.

“i love you too.” you reply, your hand finding its way back into his gorgeous head of hair.

you never figured you’d be into the cheesy shit, but you couldn’t help it, he made you more giddy than ever. but god it was so nice drifting off to sleep back in the arms of the boy you so desperately loved.

-

[henry7931]

Beach Trip As My Friend’s Uncle

Miguel:

This is by far the best idea Zach and I have ever had! A few weeks ago, my best bud Zach begged his parents to let me come on their family beach trip but unfortunately they wanted to keep it a family trip.

That’s when Zach and I got a little creative. We decided to ask his cool Uncle Derek if I could swap bodies with him for a week. Now Derek isn’t your ordinary uncle, he’s pretty adventurous, single, likes to party, and is always down for some shenanigans. So when we asked if he’s willing to swap with me, he immediately said yes! He seemed to be just as excited to be me since he’s getting out of the family trip all together.

So we all met up that morning at Derek’s place. Zach already told his parents that he’s riding down with Derek. And when I arrived Derek already had a bag packed for me.

We quickly swapped bodies and it felt so cool being so much bigger.

I grinned at Derek in my body who also looked super happy. He pulled me in for a hug which felt so weird, I could have easily picked my body up like it was nothing.

As I hop into Derek’s nice truck, he says to us, “You boys have fun! And doing anything too crazy in my body!”

“Thanks Uncle Derek!” said Zach.

“Yes thanks again Derek, I’ll take good care of your body I promise!”

“Good and hey I packed condoms just in case things get too crazy. Don’t need my body coming back with anything.”

Zach rolls his eyes while I felt a warm sensation in my stomach. It just hit me that not only do I have Derek’s body for a week but I also have control of his massive package.

We get on the road and I pull off Derek’s shirt just to show off his tattooed pecs.

Zach’s sitting next to me so excited and says, “God this is so crazy! I mean look at you dude you’re inside my uncle right now.”

“I know man, this is about to be the best trip ever!”

When we arrive to the resort, Zach and I head to check in. We run into his family. We say our hellos to everyone and I’m surprised by how good of a job I’m doing at pretending to be Derek.

We get our room keys and head up. The room is huge! We even have our own bathrooms along with a balcony.

I put Derek’s bags on the bed and open them up to see what clothes Derek packed for me. But when I get to the bathing suits only two of them are normal ones— the rest are all speedos.

Zach pops in already in his bathing suit and says, “you about ready?”

“Uh no not yet give me a few,” I say to him.

“No rush bro! I’m gonna head down, I’ll see you in a few.”

As soon as Zach walked out of the room, I immediately got naked.

I look at Derek’s nude body, that’s when my eyes focus on the thick long dick that I now control.

I try my best to control my eager to touch it, laying back on the hotel bed. I didn’t want to risk Zach walking but I feel like I only have so much alone time with it.

I look down at Derek’s sexy size 11 feet, they’re beautiful and manly. I trace his fingers along his chest down to his cock and balls.

His dick is already hard, I start to stroke it and it feels amazing. It’s my first I’ve ever jerked off in someone else’s body. And it’s so different from mine.

I sit up and bring Derek’s big foot to my face smelling his toes as I wiggle them. I start licking his foot, still jerking his dick with my other hand.

I feel so close, I knew I was going to bust any minute. I let out a loud powerful grunt, inhaling his sole before cum bursts out all over.

I look over the mess I just made, damn that felt great. I whip some off of his chest and taste it. It taste’s so good.

I clean off his chest with a shower towel and grab one of his speedos.

I take a pic of myself to send to Derek and say, “you only packed speedos?”

I get a response a few minutes later, “well you look sexy in them. Send me more pics 😜”

I feel Derek’s cock start to get hard again from his text. Is he flirting with me?

[amakumos]

MEET ME IN MONTE CARLO. — jake sim. (teaser)

SYNOPSIS. As a Formula 1 driver, being competitive is just in Ferrari driver Jake Sim's blood. Perhaps Jake cares about winning too much though, because during his conquest for the world title, he loses you. It isn't until 2 years later when you show up at the Monaco Grand Prix with his main rival, Red Bull driver Park Sunghoon, when Jake finds himself determined to not only fight for the championship, but also to fight for you.

GENRE. fluff, angst, exes to enemies (one-sided ish) to lovers

PAIRING. formula 1 driver! jake x fem! reader

WARNINGS. none in the teaser. in the fic, cursing, mentions of car crashes and accidents

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE. late march, early april

WORD COUNT. 20k ish, teaser is 883 words

AUTHOR'S NOTE. well... this will be my second to last fic for the meantime! i'm excited to drop this one. i've been working on it for quite a while now. here's a formula 1 fic starring our very own jake sim :) i hope you enjoy this little teaser, and the taglist is open so just pop in an ask if you'd like to be tagged when i post this <3

TAGLIST IS OPEN, send in an ask if you’d like to be added!

You were the first person that Jake Sim ever loved. You were there at his first Formula 1 race, you were there at his first race win, and you were there for his first world title win. A series of firsts. 

But, Jake Sim has first breakup on the list as well. 

He always regrets how things ended between you two – it was messy, it was awful, and it left him crying at 3 in the morning in his apartment. 

Jake isn’t certain about many things in his life. But what Jake is 100% certain of, is that the breakup was all his fault.

You had screamed at him, and he knew that he deserved it. You were slowly slipping away from his grasp, and Jake allowed that to happen as he chased another world title so desperately. So desperately to the point that he would end up neglecting you. 

Forgotten dates, forgotten anniversaries, and forgotten birthdays. Text messages would be left unread for days when he was in some other unfamiliar city, as you walked to your lectures with a heavy heart and the stream of his race playing in the back of your phone as you waited for a response. You wore red every time he had a race, for Ferrari, for him, even as your relationship was crumbling. 

“I’m sorry,” he had choked out. “It is difficult.” 

You looked at him with bloodshot eyes and shaking fists. “It is. And you’re chasing your dreams, but… I can’t be with you if it’s like this. The past few months have been like we weren’t even dating in the first place.” 

Jake gulps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I want to try,” you had said with an exasperated sigh, and Jake knows that you’re tired. He’s going at maximum speed, and you’re left trailing behind him. He’s so far ahead, and you know you’ve lost all hope of catching up. But you say those words anyway. “Please tell me you’ll try.” 

Jake doesn’t say a word. Because he knows that he won’t be able to. He wants to say yes, so badly. He wants to hug you, he wants to kiss you, and he wants to commit. Just as he commits to his races, to the championship, to Ferrari. 

But he can’t. Not a single word leaves his lips, and his silence is enough of an answer for you. “Oh,” you say, and Jake doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers, and your lower lip trembles. You’re dressed in red, Ferrari’s colour – his colour. “Okay.” 

“I’m sorry.” he told you. 

“It’s important to you.” you pressed your lips together in a thin line. “I understand.”

You say that, but Jake knows that you don’t. He knows nobody would ever be able to understand choosing to win over choosing someone you love. But Jake is committed to racing. He is committed to win. 

Yet, he’s not committed to you. The one who’s been with him through thick and thin, the one who’d catch red-eye flights to find him in some unfamiliar city to watch him win, the one who’d go through hell and back for him if it meant that he’d be happy. 

He can’t do the same for you, and he hates that. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and you simply shook your head. You don’t have anything more to say to him, so you quietly pack your things. “I’m sorry.” 

Before you opened the door to leave, you took one last look at Jake. “I hope you figure out whatever’s going on in your life.” You don’t say anything more, and that is the last time Jake Sim ever sees you again. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing either, because you’d deleted your Instagram account, starting a new one where none of his fans could keep up to date with you. The only way he knows how you’re doing is updates from Heeseung's girlfriend Yoona, who goes on trips with you often. He sees his fans constantly wondering if you’re doing well, and Jake finds it funny how he’s got the same exact question.

He drowns himself further in training, in racing, in wanting to become the best after the split. He wins, he wins, and he wins again – and that feeling of euphoria when he stands on the podium never leaves. It fills him with a joy like no other, and it reminds Jake why he does this. He wants to win. He wants to be the best – no, he is the best. 

Winning means the world to Jake Sim. Racing is in his blood – he does it to hear the crowds scream his name, he does it to lift that trophy on the top step of the podium, and he does it to feel the overwhelming pride in his chest when he crosses that chequered flag first. 

But he’s been so focused on winning, and he’s lost his everything. 

His everything is the girl who went to his first race. His everything is the girl who would tire herself by studying during the day, and catching long flights to the cities where he’d race in to support him. 

And his everything had left him 2 years ago in his apartment in Monte Carlo, Monaco, with teary eyes and a red dress. 

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 2) "session two"

gif by me

pairing: javier peña/joel miller rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 4.3k content: use of a plug, throat fucking, ass eating, lots of spit, gratuitous descriptions of cum, unprotected p in a, creampie, (safe) breathplay, background handjob, cock slapping, one (1) spank, joel's porn persona is a tad mean but it's nothing crazy, shy!joel, javi is a HUGE flirt, smoking, lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics betas: @qveerthe0ry & @scenaaario (ily angels ♥)

series summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

series masterlist | shoutout to this spanish dirty talk reference

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary ��

“Fuck.”

Javier hadn’t had to prepare in a while. At least a few months. And the fact that he was doing this for Joel, of all men? He was harder than a fucking rock and he hadn’t even gotten the plug all the way in yet. Granted, he’d purposely chosen a smaller plug so he could still feel the stretch when Joel pushed that thick–

“Mierda,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder to see if he could get a better angle. The plug he chose was small, black, and a little thinner than he would normally go for. It’s been a while, so no matter what, there was a stretch but the lube certainly helped. When his hole finally sucked it in lewdly, he moaned, arching his back like a cat presenting himself to a mate. He grinned to himself and rested his head on his folded arms, ass in the open air of his apartment. 

He wished that his first major scene with Joel wasn’t a scene. He wanted to see if Joel was any different when the cameras weren’t on and he could just be himself. Every time he’s ever talked to Joel, he’d been quiet, with a heavy brow. Javier had been around the block once or twice and he could tell when someone didn’t like him. He’s not sure what he did to get on Joel’s bad side, but he hoped that tension added to the scene instead of making things awkward. And part of him liked the rift. It made Joel way more attractive to him, because Joel was probably the closest the site had to a bear, but not as big. Javier had always wanted to be fucked by one– 

Bzz. Bzz.

Cracking open an eye, Javier looked as his phone lit up next to him. He sighed and started rolling his hips side to side, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled up again.

R u ready ?

“Who still texts like this, Jesus Christ,” he grumbled to himself. A slow trickle of sweat fell down the length of his back as he started typing a response.

Be there shortly, boss.

Javier rolled his eyes to himself. Max was always on his ass about being on time, but it never bothered him. They couldn’t start the shoot without him anyway. His cock throbbed between his legs, making him curl his fingers around his shaft. 

One quick wank couldn’t hurt right? 

Joel was panicking, to put it mildly. He showed up to the shoot way too fucking early and now he was rocking a semi in the hallway outside the room they’d be using. They, meaning him and Javier, because of course he hadn’t fully processed that that was still happening. He couldn’t get the image of Javier’s mouth around his cock, that mustache framing it so perfectly. Or his hole being stretched by Joel’s cock, or even–

“Hey, big guy.”

The words sounded like they were coming from down the hall and directly in his ear simultaneously. He slowly looked up to find Javier smirking down at him. Joel swallowed around a lump in his throat and cleared his throat awkwardly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. Javier looked really fucking good – when didn’t he – with a healthy glow and slightly tousled hair. Had he freshly cleaned up his mustache this morning?

“Joel?” Javier chuckled, a soft smile coloring his features.

Joel cleared his throat again and stood awkwardly. “S-sorry, uh, hey,” he mumbled, looking down at his boots before keeping his eyes off of Javier’s, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where ya been?” 

It was meant to be casual conversation, he swears, but he’d lowered his voice and it came out all gruff and accusatory and now he wants to hide in the broom closet. He knows this because the easy, relaxed look on Javier’s changed to one of confusion.

“Uh, preparing. Sorry, I know I was a little later than usual,” Javier exhaled. Guess he was right; Joel wasn’t the biggest fan of his. That’s fine, he was a professional and he could get his job done and go home. “See you in there, hombre.”

Joel blinked a couple times, looking at the empty area of the hallway where Javier was just standing. “W-wait,” he grunted, looking toward the room. Javier was digging into the pocket of the robe he was wearing and lighting up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the face of the assistant he was talking to.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel grumbled to himself and stepped inside.

Javier wasn’t opposed to an audience per se, but he wasn’t expecting one today either. “What are you cabrones doing here?” He smirked, looking at the faces of his coworkers. Not all of them were here, but Dieter, Shane, Dave, Marcus, Din, Steve, Cobb, and Jack were. Everyone was in various positions of comfort, some sitting and some standing or leaning. Except Dieter, who was sitting on Din’s lap comfortably, resting his head on the bulkier man’s shoulder. 

“Wanted to see the show, of course,” Dieter grinned, winking at him. Joel stepped onto the set and saw all the men. He gave Dieter a look, and Dieter responded with a softer smile as if to say, You got this.

Javier rolled his eyes and smiled. “Alright, whatever, you perverts.”

“Alright, people, let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got a longer one ahead of us and I’ve got a date tonight.”

Everyone froze and looked at Max like he grew a third eye. 

Max frowned. “It’s not that rare– Y’know what, fuck you guys. Joel, Javi, get into position,” he grumbled, sitting in his director’s seat.

Javier looked at Joel and snorted, untying his robe. He threw it to their audience like they were a bunch of fans, and laughed when Marcus caught it. Javier winked at him, making the slightly younger man’s cheeks flush.

Joel was doing his damndest not to bust a fucking nut right now because obviously Javier was naked. That was his fucking job. That was his fucking job, too.

“Joel,” Dieter whispered. Joel looked at him, a slightly panicked look on his face. Dieter motioned for Joel to come over to him, so the older man did. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” Dieter asked quietly. Joel looked at Din wearily, who just smiled politely. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything,” Dieter smiled, leaning over to give Din a quick kiss.

“‘M just,” Joel sighed. “Think he thinks I don’ like him.”

“Why would he think that?” Dieter pouted. When Joel didn’t answer right away, Dieter furrowed his brows at him. “Did you do that grumbly thing you always do?”

Joel mumbled under his breath and looked down at his boots.

“Miller! Get in frame,” Max barked.

Joel sighed and ruffled Dieter’s hair a little. “Showtime.”

Javier felt like his throat was on fire, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was having a hard time breathing. Joel’s cock felt so thick and hard inside his mouth and he was more turned on than he’d been in a long fucking time. 

“Yeah, shut ya up real good, huh?”

Javier moaned weakly, big brown eyes glassy as they looked up at Joel’s hard face. He choked every time the head of Joel’s cock hit the back of his throat but he couldn’t give a damn. This was probably the messiest head he’d ever given someone, slobber pouring out the sides of his mouth and down Joel’s shaft. 

Joel’s lines had instructed him to tell Javier to keep his hands to himself, so of course he obeyed. He dug the blunt nails of his fingers into his bare thighs so hard he was afraid that he’d break skin.

“Ain’t such a brat now that y’got a cock in your mouth, huh?” Joel sneered, tugging on Javier’s thick locks. Joel’s eyes were glued to Javier’s plump, swollen lips wrapped so tightly around his cock, that perfectly trimmed mustache framing them so beautifully. A full body shiver zipped down his spine when he saw the glossed over look in Javier’s eyes and tear tracks staining his cheeks. He shut his eyes in bliss and exhaled heavily as his hips moved of their own accord, his heavy balls slapping Javier’s chin lewdly.

Javier let out a low noise, his brows furrowing slightly. Joel looked down, worried he’d pushed too far, but saw that Javier was looking up at him with this fucking look in his eye. Even if Joel was technically in charge, at least in the script, he knew Javier had him hook, line, and sinker right now. And he thinks Javier knows that, too. 

Joel’s hips bucked at the twinkle in Javier’s eye, making Javier choke loudly. Slowly, Joel removed his cock from Javier’s swollen mouth. Loud, wet coughs left Javier’s lips, but he looked at Joel with a smirk on his face.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, old man,” Javier rasped, sweat dripping down his neck.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’ya?” Joel grumbled. His cock throbbed heavily between thick, muscled thighs and Javier couldn’t take his eyes off it. The twitching made his own cock weep at the sight. “S’what I thought,” Joel hummed, harshly gripping Javier’s hair again. He curled thick fingers around the base of his cock and lewdly slapped the head against Javier’s tear-stricken face. 

Javier’s entire body shivered at the demeaning act and he bit his lip, looking at the hard lines in Joel’s face, and at the gray streaks in Joel’s hair. He was easily one of the most menacingly beautiful men he’d ever seen. He kissed and licked and sucked down the shaft of Joel’s cock until he sucked one of his heavy balls into his mouth. He moaned happily around the sensitive skin and looked back up at Joel through his lashes.

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, breaking character slightly. He couldn’t fucking help it. Not when Javier was looking at him like that.

Javier made an approving sound and lewdly popped the ball out of his mouth, kissing up Joel’s soft, hairy stomach. “That’s my line,” he improvised with a grin, and sucked a dark mark into Joel’s hip.

Joel almost smiled, but at the last moment, remembered they were in fact not alone and had a script to follow. He quickly hardened his eyes and gripped Javier’s arms and manhandled him until Javier was laying over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between his body and the scratchy fabric.

“That what y’want, huh?” Joel grunted, gripping Javier’s ass in a bear paw. “Want me t’fuck this little ass until ya can’t walk no more?”

Javier moaned and arched his back, pushing his ass further into Joel’s hand and tried to grind against his cock. He nodded as much as he could with Joel pulling on his hair like he was, throat bared and panting hard. Joel pressed on Javier’s sweaty back to keep him down, before using both hands to slowly spread his cheeks. He groaned at the puckered little hole, carefully covered in lube from his earlier preparation. Pressing there with the pad of his thumb, he smirked when Javier moaned weakly below him.

“P-please, Joel,” Javier breathed heavily. Javi didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. He’d been built up too much and poked and prodded enough that he just needed something inside him already. “Please.”

“Hmm,” Joel hummed, pretending like he was thinking about it. He removed his hands from Javier to finally remove the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He could’ve sworn he heard someone from their little audience groan as his naked body was revealed, but he chose to ignore it, far too focused on the sight in front of him. “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly, his tone fake-sweet, and collected saliva in the back of his throat. He got down to his knees, thankful that the pillow there would be out of frame in the finished product. He spit directly onto Javi’s hole and gripped the small, plump cheeks in both hands. 

Javier gasped weakly, legs trembling under Joel’s ministrations. Joel was going to fucking kill him.

“Not yet, at least,” Joel mumbled, biting one of Javier’s cheeks before licking a thick stripe up from Javier’s taint to the top of his hole. A breathless huff left Javier’s lungs and his eyes rolled back at the feeling. “Y’mouth makes such pretty noises when ya ain’t runnin’ it,” was all the warning Javier had before Joel’s tongue pierced his hole and started fucking him in earnest.

Joel’s tongue was thick and wet and messy and he sucked loudly and slurped at a volume that should’ve been uncomfortable, but all Javier could do was moan and whimper, completely at Joel’s mercy. His eyebrows were downturned and his lips were parted in an obscene O, arms shaking as he held himself up on the couch. “Mm, fuck, J-Joel, I’m gonna fucking come, I’m–!” He was babbling and trembling and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He barely heard anything over the roaring in his ears.

“No, you’re not,” Joel grumbled between the lewd feast he was enjoying, landing a harsh smack! against one of Javier’s cheeks. “Don’t come until I say ya do.”

Javier groaned and bit his lip, his trapped cock weeping and throbbing between his legs. “Mierda,” he panted, hanging his head low between his shoulders. He tried grinding against the scratchy fabric of the couch for some kind of friction, but to no avail.

Joel grunted into Javier’s ass, convinced that he could stay here for hours if he was allowed. When he pulled his face away, his eyes latched onto the fluttering little hole in front of him and hummed in satisfaction. As he stood, his knees whined and creaked in protest and hopefully, if Max were nice to him for once, he’d edit the sounds out. 

Broad hands traveled up Javier’s heated skin, taking him all in as he panted heavily underneath the older man. He knew today would be good but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Maybe he should keep his distance from Joel more often, if this was the end result.

Joel was ecstatic on the inside, the memories of their first scene together coming back to him. He’d almost forgotten just how pliant and cat-like Javier could get if pushed enough. The sounds he made were like music to Joel’s ears, and he wished he could keep them in a bottle reserved just for himself. 

He gripped Javier’s sides and manhandled him again until Javier was on his knees on one of the cushions and facing the back of the couch, hands planted on the back. Joel spread Javier’s cheeks again and hummed at the way the younger man clenched on instinct. He left Javier in that position for a second while he went over to an assistant off camera and grabbed some lube, making quick work of getting his cock thoroughly coated. He held Javier’s side, right where his ribs were, with one hand and gripped his cock with the other, grinding his shaft between Javier’s cheeks. 

Javier cried out loud, electricity shooting through his body and settling as heat at the base of his spine. 

Joel grinned, tapping the head of his cock against Javier’s hole before slowly, agonizingly so, pushed the thick head inside him. The air left Javier’s lungs as he froze, the pressure and the weight of being so thoroughly stretched overwhelming him. He grunted as Joel’s hips sat flush against his ass, breathing heavily as his arms trembled against the back of the couch. Joel stroked Javier’s flanks, letting him adjust for only a moment before he pulled out until just the head was left inside and slammed back inside.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck...” Javier moaned, his back arching.

“Aww, you’re alright,” Joel smirked. He hovered over Javier’s body, nearly covering him entirely with how much bulk there was. He curled an arm over Javier’s right shoulder and gripped onto the younger man’s left pec to press Javier’s back into his chest. He kissed along Javier’s shoulder and up his neck until he nibbled on Javi’s earlobe, moaning lowly as the younger man clenched around his shaft. “Y’gonna be good? Gonna let me fuck ya?”

“Sí, coño– Please, Joel,” Javier whined, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder and panting into the open air. “Por favor damelo.”

So Joel did. Before either of them knew it, Joel was fucking into Javier in earnest, his hips slapping against Javier’s ass obscenely. Javier was making the neediest little sounds, chanting Joel’s name like a prayer. Javier’s cock was hard as a rock and lewdly slapping against his skin with every one of Joel’s harsh thrusts.

Joel hid his face in Javier’s neck, panting hotly against the younger man’s already damp skin. With his right arm already wrapped around Javier’s torso, he gripped at Javier’s hip with his left hand, fingers digging into the (surprisingly) soft skin. Javier didn’t have a whole lot of fat on his body, but there was enough to ripple every time Joel jackhammered into him.

“F-fuck,” he gulped, lips parted and eyes half lidded. The pressure was building low in his abdomen. He knew he was close. “J-Joel, I’m–” His mouth was as dry as the desert. “I’m gonna come, I–”

Joel growled. Literally. He bit Javier’s cheek and growled. “Not yet. Jus’ a li’l longer,” he panted. He moved his hand from Javier’s pec to his throat, and carefully, expertly, squeezed the sides. They’d talked about doing this with Max and both had consented to it. They knew how to do it right.

Slowly, as Javier’s air supply was marginally cut off, a wide smile grew on his face. His eyes shut and he was smiling, biting his lip. He felt so fucking good. He wanted to do this again and this time wasn’t even over yet.

Joel must have noticed because he chuckled next to Javier’s ear, hips never letting up once. “Yeah? Feel good, sweetheart?”

Javier nodded as much as he could, nails digging into the shitty couch and pulling hard.

“Good boy,” Joel rumbled, slowing down his hips, but not letting up on how hard he was thrusting. Javier’s breath hitched with every one of Joel’s slow, measured thrusts. Joel’s hand slid from Javier’s hip down to curl around the younger man’s cock. It was like someone had poured ice cold water over Javier’s head, because the pressure was just what he’d needed.

“S-sí, sí, please, p-please,” Javier gasped, a tear falling from his eye.

“Fuck, look at ya,” Joel marveled, slowly stroking Javier’s cock teasingly. “Pretty as a god damn picture, sweetheart.”

Javier opened his eyes as wide as he could and tried looking at Joel for the first time since he was on his knees. When their eyes locked, Javier could have sworn that there was a different man behind Joel’s baby browns. Perhaps that was the real Joel, and not whoever was on camera. Not whoever had been avoiding him for the better part of two years. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Want ya t’come for me,” Joel breathed hotly against his face. Javier shivered all over and nodded as much as he could with Joel’s bear paw of a hand around his throat. “Can ya do that, sweetheart? Come for me.”

Javier grunted as Joel picked up the pace of his hips again, but this time with his other hand tightly gripped around his shaft. Joel teased the head with his thumb just as he slammed directly into Javier’s prostate over and over.

Javier cried weakly, one more tear falling from his eye, and came hard. Thick, creamy spurts of cum painted the set’s couch as Javier trembled with his release.

Joel held him close, their sweaty bodies sticking together as Joel thrust one, two, three more times and followed Javier over the edge. He came with a low roar buried into Javier’s neck and cock twitching violently in Javier’s ass.

The set was dead silent save for Joel and Javier’s heavy breathing. Max kept the camera rolling, stunned into silence for once. 

Javier smiled to himself, eyes shut in bliss, and head resting on Joel’s shoulder. He clenched around Joel’s sensitive cock in little pulses. “Fuck me,” he croaked, voice wrecked.

Joel grunted at the overstimulation and gently held Javier’s hips as he slowly pulled out. Javier leaned forward against the back of the couch and pushed his ass out so the camera (and their audience) could see the thick cum trailing down his thighs. Joel’s hands rubbed Javier’s skin appreciatively at the sight, his cock giving one last valiant twitch.

“C-cut,” Max’s voice cracked, making him clear his throat. “Cut.”

In the corner, Dieter trembled and moaned weakly into Din’s neck as he came, Din’s thick fingers curled around his cock. 

Javier turned his head back to look at Joel with a satisfied smile on his face. “Mind gettin’ me a towel, guapo?”

Joel’s cheeks flushed, completely out of character again. “‘Course,” he mumbled, slowly standing to ask one of the assistants for a towel.

“Jesus Christ, boys,” Max chuckled.

Javier hummed in agreement.

“That was… That was somethin’ else, Jav,'' Steve said, impressed.

They were both outside, having their usual post-shoot cigarette together. No matter if they’d done a scene together or separately, they always kept up the tradition. This time, though, Javier thought he’d need several cigarettes. And a bath.

“Thank you,” Javier grinned, feeling lighter and more satisfied than he had in weeks. He could swear that the crick in his neck he’d woken up with was completely gone. Maybe there was some truth to Silva’s back pain disappearing after certain sessions.

“S’pose ya don’t gotta tell me, since I saw it myself, but was it like you thought it’d be?” Steve chuckled.

Javier snorted in response, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “And then some.”

Din smiled gently down at Dieter, giving him a slow, soft kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

Dieter smiled wide and nodded giddily, getting on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Din’s neck one more time to give him another kiss. Joel could swear he saw hearts in his eyes. 

Once Dieter came back over to Joel, he had a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, just had to say goodbye.”

Joel smiled softly. “Don’ worry yourself over it. Y’all are cute together.”

“You think?” Dieter beamed. “We had a scene the other day and we just haven’t stopped texting, and– Oh my god, this isn’t about me right now, I’m sorry.”

Joel chuckled and followed Dieter into the hallway so the cleaning crew could get to work. Dieter scratched at his beard as he looked at Joel: he seemed lighter, with a healthy glow radiating off of him.

“Well?”

Joel cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pockets, shrugging a little. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, old man! That was fucking hot! I came so hard!”

Joel laughed, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Thank you.”

“So? You gonna ask him out? Or at least apologize for earlier?”

“Yeah, I will. And uh… Yeah, I plan to,” Joel sighed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t exactly know how I’m gonna do that, though…”

“Well, you better think of something quick!” Dieter whispered, pointing towards the end of the hall as Javier rounded the corner with Steve.

“Shit,” Joel whispered to himself. Dieter gave him a wink and thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction. 

Javier had his regular clothes on again, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off him, enamored with how well they fit him. He may have just been inside the man, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Hey, Joel,” Javier smiled awkwardly. He still wasn’t sure where they stood outside of working together, so he tried to keep it as casual as possible.

“H-hey, Javier,” Joel said hoarsely. He cleared his throat again.

“Y’know, you’re the only one that doesn’t call me Javi,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Joel furrowed his brow. “‘M sorry. My mama always taught me an’ my baby brother it was more polite that way.”

“You have a baby brother?” Javier smiled.

“Uh…” Joel gulped. “Y-yeah. Tommy.”

Javier hummed in response, an amused look crossing his features. He’s slowly figuring Joel out, he thinks. “He just as handsome as you? Bet he is,” he flirted.

The tips of Joel’s ears went pink and he laughed around an awkward cough. “Nah. Don’ cut his hair enough to be respectable.”

“Mm, more to pull then,” Javier smirked.

Joel made a face, not wanting to think of his brother like that. “L-listen, uh. ’m sorry ‘bout earlier. Wasn’t right talkin’ to ya like that,” he mumbled, unable to look Javier in the eye just yet.

Every bit of tension Javier felt left his body in an instant. “Thank you. I appreciate that, Joel.”

Joel nodded, a shy smile on his face. “‘S good,” he said awkwardly.

They were quiet for a few moments before Javier pulled out his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips. “Well, you built up quite the appetite in me, so I’m gonna go–”

“Do you wanna go out sometime?” Joel blurted out. “N-now, maybe?”

Javier blinked a few times as a smile grew on his lips. “You’re asking me out? Gotta be honest, I thought you hated me, Joel.”

Joel snapped his eyes up at that, confusion all over his face. “What? No! I–” He sighed. “‘M no good at this,” he grumbled to himself. “’m sorry. Again.”

Javier chuckled and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “‘s alright. I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiled, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. 

“Yeah, guapo. You already got dessert, but dinner sounds great.”

[caitified]

player

caitlin clark x reader

warning:none

when you first met caitlin, it was easy to see why people were drawn to her. she was magnetic—every room she entered, every conversation she started, it was all effortless. but there was also the reputation that preceded her. people knew her as the star who never stayed in one place for long, especially when it came to relationships. caitlin clark wasn’t exactly known for settling down, and she didn’t try to hide it. she’d be spotted out with different women, never keeping any one person in her orbit for long.

so, when caitlin’s attention turned to you, you were more than a little skeptical.

she met you at a party—some mutual friend’s get-together after one of her games. you were minding your own business, maybe even hoping to get out early, when she approached you.

“hey”, she said, her smile warm but teasing. “you’re not just here for the free drinks, are you?”

you blinked, surprised she was talking to you. “and if i am?”

she laughed, a low, genuine sound that made your stomach do a little flip. “then you’re my kind of person.”

you chuckled, giving her a skeptical look. “don’t you have an entire fanbase waiting to talk to you?”

she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. “they’re not as interesting as you.”

it was flattering, of course, but you weren’t new to her game. she was caitlin clark, and she was known for treating people like passing thrills—fun for a while, but never sticking around for long. so you kept her at arm’s length, playing it cool and keeping your responses polite but distant. after all, you weren’t interested in being another one of her short-lived flings.

but caitlin wasn’t one to give up. over the next few weeks, she found ways to stay in touch. she’d text you good morning, send you funny pictures, and ask you out for coffee or a casual dinner. each time, you told yourself to keep your guard up, but she was hard to resist. she was charming and attentive, always knowing just what to say to make you laugh or feel special. she’d remember little things you told her, bringing them up in later conversations as if to show you she was listening.

still, that nagging voice in the back of your mind kept telling you this was temporary. after all, she was still seen out with different people, and the tabloids loved to speculate about her love life. every time you started to let your guard down, you’d see a picture of her with someone else, smiling that same smile, looking just as charming as she did when she was with you. it was a painful reminder that you weren’t the only one she paid attention to.

one night, after an especially intense game, she called you, her voice sounding unusually quiet. “are you free tonight? i’d love to see you.”

you hesitated, part of you wanting to say yes, the other part reminding you of all the reasons you’d kept her at a distance. but something in her voice—something soft, almost vulnerable—made you agree. when she showed up at your door, she looked different, tired and almost…nervous. she wasn’t the composed, larger-than-life caitlin you were used to. she looked more like a real person, like someone who was carrying a weight they couldn’t quite shake off.

“thanks for letting me come over,” she said, stepping inside, her voice soft.

“you sounded like you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep things casual.

she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i just…it’s been a rough week.” she looked at you, her eyes tired but sincere. “i know i come across as this person who doesn’t care, who just floats from one thing to the next…but it’s not like that with you.”

you arched an eyebrow, trying to hide your skepticism. “it’s hard to believe that when i see you out with different people all the time.”

she looked down, a flash of regret crossing her face. “i know. and i get it—that’s on me. i know i haven’t given you any reason to believe me.” she paused, taking a deep breath. “but you’re not just anyone to me. i don’t know how to explain it, but with you…it feels different.”

you felt your heart tug, but you kept your expression guarded. “i’m just not interested in being someone’s temporary distraction, caitlin.”

she took a step closer, her gaze intense. “you’re not a distraction. if anything, you’re the only thing that feels real.” she reached out, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. “when i’m with you, it’s like all the noise fades away. i don’t care about the attention or the spotlight—I just want to be with you.”

you wanted to believe her, wanted to let yourself fall into the warmth of her words. but every time you started to soften, memories of all the times you’d seen her with someone else would resurface, reminding you of the risk. “i don’t know, caitlin,” you said, pulling your hand away gently. “i don’t know if i can trust this. it’s hard to shake the feeling that…that i’m just another thrill for you.”

she looked devastated, her hands clenching and unclenching as if she didn’t know what to do. “i get that. i do. and if it takes time for you to believe me, then i’ll wait. i just need you to know that i’m not going anywhere.”

you were silent, your mind a whirlwind of doubts and emotions. she was caitlin clark, the girl who could have anyone, the girl who’d never settled down for anyone before. but as you looked into her eyes, you saw something you hadn’t seen before—something raw, almost desperate. it was as if she was afraid of losing you, and it made your heart ache.

over the next few weeks, caitlin continued to prove herself. she stopped going out with other people, spending most of her time with you, and making small but meaningful gestures that showed you how serious she was. she’d come over with your favorite coffee, show up after her games with a tired smile, and spend hours just talking with you, listening to your stories and sharing her own.

slowly, you found yourself letting her in, bit by bit. it was terrifying—every time you felt yourself falling, a part of you braced for impact, for the moment she’d realize she was ready to move on. but she never did. she stayed consistent, steady, proving over and over that she wasn’t just here for a good time.

one evening, as you were both curled up on your couch, she looked at you, her gaze softer than you’d ever seen. “i know you’re scared,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i know i don’t have the best track record. but i’m here because i want you. i don’t want anyone else.”

you looked into her eyes, feeling the last of your walls crumble. “if you hurt me…”

she pulled you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively. “i won’t. i promise.” her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

and in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, caitlin clark could be the one worth taking a risk for.

[redrose10]

Yoongi and the prompt id no 45 "how much of that did you hear". Thank you so much and i really like the way you write

Here you go, I hope you like it!

Warnings: A few swear words, alcohol consumption

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your apartment smelled like a brewery and looked like a frat house. Broken glass bottles and plastic cups littered everywhere. Someone’s very expensive bra hung from the ceiling fan. This was not exactly what you wanted to come home to after a long day of work.

You know you agreed to let your roommate/best friend Yoongi throw a party, but when you thought of a Yoongi party you imagined some wine and appetizers and a few people sitting around talking about music or something. Once you spotted Jimin in the hallway you knew he was the culprit for the party getting out of hand thanks to his social butterfly status.

You searched through apartment trying to find your roommate wanting to make sure he was okay, but also making sure he knew it was 100% his responsibility to clean up this mess.

Hearing a loud bang followed by some cheers coming from the kitchen you figured that’s where the party must’ve moved to and you were correct.

The small kitchen was packed full of people to the point you couldn’t even squeeze through so you resigned to standing on your tiptoes to look through the sea of people for Yoongi.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hard to spot him. He was in the corner swaying back and forth with a desperate looking Namjoon trying to talk him out of something. Yoongi pushed him aside and jumped up on the kitchen table stumbling a little. Namjoon quickly grabbed onto his legs to try and steady him while you felt an immediate sense of panic wanting to get to him.

“Hello, Hello…is this thing on?”, he asked tapping into the beer bottle at if it was a microphone.

“Listen everyone I have something I need to get off my chest and I might be just a tiny little bit drunk so now is the perfect time.”

You giggled at his confession. Yoongi was pretty good at monitoring his alcohol intake so you were a little surprised that he let it get this far though.

“Escuse me.”, he slurred and the crowd got quiet again.

“Some of you probably already know this, but I just can’t hold it in any more. I’m in love.”

You felt your heart sink just a little. You’d been harboring the biggest secret crush on him for the last two years, but were way too afraid to say something in fear of ruining the friendship and it looks like you lost your chance anyways.

He continued, “I, Min Yoongi, love my best friend. That’s right. You heard it here first. I love Y/N.”

You gasped before you were able to make eye contact with Namjoon who seemed more than happy to see you there.

“Okay that is all. I just wanted to make it known that I love Y/N and she is mine.”, Yoongi said before lazily falling down onto the table.

The next morning you cleaned up around the apartment because you knew with the hangover he was going to have that Yoongi was going to be pretty much useless and you couldn’t stand sitting in the filth any longer. Close to noon he finally came stumbling into the living room rubbing his head and trying to shield his eyes from the light.

“Morning sunshine.”, you smiled handing him a cup of coffee you had ready.

“I feel like I got hit by a car.”, he groaned taking a seat.

“Yeah not surprised. You were pretty messed up.”

“Did anything embarrassing happen?”, he asked with a wince.

As if on queue his phone dinged.

You peaked over his shoulder to see the text message from Jungkook with a video attached.

Yoongi pressed play and the familiar sound of the beginning of his drunken rant started immediately.

Suddenly it all came back to him so he quickly shut off the video before it could go any further and slammed his phone down.

“Why’d you shut it off? It was a good speech.”, you pouted.

His face turned a bright shade of red as he looked over at you, “How much of that did you hear?”

You chuckled, “All of it. Every last word.”

He ran his hands over his face, “Fuck I’m so sorry Y/N. I understand if you want to move out. Or if you want me to move out. I can go stay at Namjoons until I find a place. This is why I don’t drink without you here.”

“Yoongi did you mean what you said? Even the part about me being yours?”

He looked at you with wide eyes, “Um yeah, yeah I did. But you don’t have to feel the same way. I’m an adult and can take rejection.”

He continued to babble on and on and seeing no end insight you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up by crashing your lips into his.

After you pulled away from the kiss he shyly smiled, “So I take it you like me too?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

You stood up and walked towards the door before motioning for him to follow, “Now come on. One of your friends threw up all over our rug so you’re buying a new one. And then you can take your girlfriend out to dinner as a thank you for cleaning up after everyone.”

He smiled while grabbing his keys in one hand and making sure to have a strong hold of your hand in the other.

[demcgorgons]

something about you

pairing(s): xavier thorpe x fem!reader

wc: 1.6k 

summary: xavier has been missing all day and reader is worried. she finds him and he realizes that even when he wants to be alone, he doesn’t want her to leave.

warnings: reader is shorter than xavier. other than that, none! slightly unedited

something’s wrong. xavier has never gone this long without speaking to you. to be fair, it was only the second class of the day, and the two of you had texted the night before, but he usually sent a good morning text and walked you to your first two periods, as those were the only classes you didn’t share. it was the first time since your little tradition started, and you hadn’t realized how much you relied on his presence in the morning. you checked your phone for the thousandth time, hoping he had texted you, and you somehow didn’t see it. 

time ticked by slowly, and you couldn’t control your leg as it bounced up and down. when your teacher dismissed you, you flew to your third period, anxiously awaiting the tall boy who sat next to you. your worry grew when xavier was a no show. you didn’t see him at lunch. normally, you sat with xavier, who liked to be alone, if he wasn’t with you. today, you sat with enid, yoko, bianca, and her siren crew. 

“hey, guys,” you smiled as you sat down. everyone politely greeted you, and enid scooched over so you’d have a bit more elbow room. “have any of you seen xavier?” you asked, looking around the table.

“he’s your best friend,” bianca pointed out. “shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” you squirmed a little at her words, worry bubbling in your stomach.

“he hasn’t texted me all day, and he wasn’t in class either,” you confessed. “i haven't had time to check his dorm since it’s on the other side of campus.” 

enid squeezed your hand, and gave you a comforting smile. “i’m sure he’s fine. maybe he’s just not feeling well.” you nodded, and tried to focus on your lunch. in botany, thornhill scolded you multiple times for not paying attention and being on your phone in class. you were texting xavier, asking if he was okay and if you did anything wrong. no response. 

the second that you were dismissed from your last class, you took off running to xavier’s dorm. you pushed past many people, subjecting yourself to dirty looks and shouted curses behind your back. reaching his room, you banged on the door loudly. no answer. you hesitantly twisted the doorknob, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. “that’s not safe at all, xav,” you muttered to yourself as you let yourself in. the room was empty, with half of the room being devoid of any sign that someone was there. that was rowan’s die, before he left. xavier’s bed was cold, as if he hadn’t been there all day. that left just one option: he was in his shed. he had to be.

you left your best friend’s dorm in a rush, slamming the door behind you. you winced at the noise, and gave an awkward smile to two werewolves who shot you nasty glares. as you walked into the woods, you prayed that xavier wasn’t mad at you, and your mind raced as you recalled the conversations you’d had over the past few days, trying to remember if you had somehow upset him and not realized it. after about ten minutes of walking, you came upon xavier’s shed. you’d only been in it a few times, as you respected his space. you saw the lights through the windows on the door. you knocked on the door.

xavier opened the door, and your heart leaped. you hadn’t seen him all day, and you missed him so much. “hey,” you smiled softly. you knew something was wrong. his eyes didn’t have his usual shine, and he looked so exhausted. he smiled back at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. xavier opened the door wider and wordlessly let you in. with one glance around the shed, you knew he’d been in here all day. crumpled balls of paper were strewn around the floor, his paintbrushes scattered around the table, along with half finished paintings leaning against the walls. xaviers face and hands were flecked with paint, and he just looked so melancholy. xavier had closed the shed door and come to stand beside you as you took in the messy state of the shed. you heard the soft voices of the neighborhood playing through his phone’s speakers. you gathered him up in a tight hug, which he returned, to your delight. the minute that his arms wrapped around you, you let out a small sigh and pulled him closer to you.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice raspy from not using it all day.

you huffed in amusement, finally letting go and looking into his eyes. “you’re asking me if i’m okay?” xav shrugged, the ghost of a real smile lingering on his lips. “xav, what’s going on? you’ve been MIA all day. did i do something to upset you, or…?”

he shook his head, taking a seat in his chair. “no, y/n, it’s not you. it’s just… the nightmares started again. last night, it was so bad i just–” he cut himself off and you hugged him again, slotting yourself in between his legs and pulling him close to you. “i took today off because i wasn’t sure if i could keep this one in. sorry for not texting you, i turned my phone off for most of the day. turned it back on like twenty minutes ago because i couldn’t stand the silence anymore.”

“wanna tell me what it was about?” you asked softly. “if not, that’s okay, but it’s better to not keep things bottled up inside of you.” he pulled himself out of your clutch, then pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck. you told yourself that he was just seeking comfort from his best friend, but you couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach and the way your hands became a little shaky.

“it was the monster again,” he began. “i keep seeing it, and it’s always the same dream. the monster gets one person. he tears them apart, and there’s nothing i can do to save them. i keep seeing the light fade from their eyes right in front of me, and every time, i wake up nearly screaming.” he lets out a shaky breath.

“who is the person you’re dreaming about?” you ask.

there’s a few moments of silence before he whispers the word “you”. your heart nearly breaks in two for him. you knew how much he loved you, probably about the same that you loved him. you couldn’t imagine having these horrible, recurring dreams about xavier.

“i’m so sorry,” you said. “want me to help you try and get your mind off of it?” he nods, and you jump up, immediately missing the feeling of his hands on your waist. xavier returned to his place in front of a canvas that was turned away from you. you grabbed an easel propped up in a corner and a blank canvas. xavier pushed some paint and paintbrushes towards you. you leaned over to grab his phone and turn the music up all the way. a chase atlantic song was playing. xavier seemed to be in another world, eyebrows knit tightly as he used deliberate strokes of his brush. every now and then, he’d look up at you in concentration and go back to his painting. you wondered what he was drawing. 

you, on the other hand, were more focused on the music being played. you had a few strokes on your canvas of what kind of looked like a mountain range landscape. as the music switched, the song ‘something about you’ by eyedress came on. “i love this song!” you cheered. xavier looked up and grinned at you.

you began to theatrically sing along to the song, using your paintbrush as a microphone, and dancing along to the music. “she looks just like a dream,” you sang. “the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen..” 

xavier laughed at your dancing, and you beamed, happy to see him happy again. “i love you,” he said, then looked startled at what just came out of his mouth.

“i love you too, xav,” you said, slightly out of breath from singing and dancing. you moved to return to your mountain range, but his voice stopped you.

“no, i-i love you.” he paused, looking nervous. your heart leaped in your chest as you dared to hope that meant what you wanted it to. you could feel it begin to beat faster as xavier put his brush down and moved to stand in front of you. “no one’s ever cared about me this much to check in on me and stay until i feel better. you mean so much to me and i love every second i spend with you. i’m sorry if this ruins everything we have, but…” his voices drops to almost a whisper, and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands. “i love you.”

instead of answering, you stand on your toes to press your lips to his, and he kisses you back immediately. your mouths moved in sync as your hands weave into his hair, and he pulls you impossibly closer to him. after what felt like a million years, you pulled away, trying to catch your breath. “you should’ve done that a long time ago,” you said, and xavier rolled his eyes, smiling.

“whatever,” he said, kissing you again. “so, can we be more than best friends?”

you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. “thought you’d never ask.”

[sommerbueckers]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬⁴

___________________________________________________________

___________________________________________________________

November 1st, 2019

MYLA TAPPED HER DESIGNATED note taking pen against the table, the table that she sat at every Physics class, the table that she usually shared with Paige. However today, the blonde seemed to be missing. Myla knew for a fact that she was here, she had shamelessly watched her talk with her friends from behind the safety of her locker just a few moments before the bell rang.

She scoffed at the thought of her skipping class.

'Whatever, it's her grade,' the curly head thought.

Myla was jealous. In the three years she had been attending Hopkins, she hadn't found a solid group of friends. She had never gotten a text from from anyone in the middle of class to meet in the bathroom, she had never been brought her favorite coffee order in the morning and was never invited to go get food after school. She was an afterthought in every friendship she had ever had, and her 'friendship' with Paige was no different. In fact, the word 'afterthought' was quite generous.

She often wondered what the blonde talked about with her friends, what kind of things made her laugh, what kind of things about other people intrigued her.

Was there anything about herself that Paige liked?

Her ears perked up at the familiar sound of the blonde's voice in the front of the classroom. She was quietly handing a note to the teacher, a fading smile on her face, the aftermath of whatever she had finished before coming inside. Myla's stomach felt queasy, and she diverted her eyes down to her empty page of notes in an attempt to distract herself from the now approaching girl.

Paige breathed out a sigh as she sat down, pulling out her own notebook and pencil case. She leaned back in her chair, using the edge of the table to pull herself back in before she repeated the action.

"Do you mind?" Myla whispered, glancing behind her.

Paige smiled cheekily, "Sorry, is this bothering you?"

"Yes actually, it is," the girl grumbled in response.

Paige raised her eyebrows in surprise at Myla's sudden and unusually bitter tone. She pulled herself back into the table and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the other girl's face. Avoiding her eyes, the curly head kept her gaze steadily on her notebook, knowing that if she made eye contact with Paige, she'd fold instantly.

"What bit you in the butt?" the blonde smirked.

"Excuse me?"

"You seem irritated," she shrugged, "and you usually aren't."

'Well you usually don't skip class so I guess we're all trying something new,' is what Myla would have said if it wouldn't have completely ruined everything she had been building since the first day of school. So instead, she bit her lip and shrugged silently.

"'M just hungry, I haven't eaten anything yet."

"You didn't eat breakfast?" Paige asked, to which Myla shook her head. "Why not?"

"I wasn't hungry this morning."

"Hm," the two fell silent again, and Paige found herself hating how awkward it felt. It felt like the first two weeks all over again: her and Myla talking for the first time ever after having gone to school together for three years. She'd commit crimes just to not have to go back to those first couple of weeks. Being paired with someone you didn't know was bad enough, but being paired with someone you didn't know and didn't like was lamentable. "Well now look at you, hungry ass," the blonde nudged her arm jokingly.

Myla failed to stop the smile that crept onto her face, and although the action didn't seem that bad once she had finally done it, Paige's next words made her wish she hadn't.

...

June 17th, 2024

"There's that pretty smile," Paige spoke into the phone.

"Hi," Myla laughed shyly, "are you busy right now?"

"Never too busy for you, you look like you're kinda busy though..." Paige blue eyes narrowed slightly and she brought the phone closer to her face, "Are you in your towel right now?"

"Yeah," the curly head snorted, "it was getting late and I wanted to make sure I caught you before you went to bed."

"Sureee."

"What?"

"I think you jus' wanted me to see you like this," she said honestly. Paige had just sat back down on the couch after getting her DoorDash, her show ready to be resumed on the tv. But now, in the short few steps that it had taken her to get her food and get situated, she had forgotten all about it.

"Well if that was the case, I would've propped my phone up..." Myla explained, setting the phone up against a tissue box that sat upon her bathroom counter. "Like this."

Water droplets fell from the ends of Myla's curls, the entirety of her hair appearing darker after the shower. The girl proceeded to brush her teeth, and from where the towel had been wrapped, Paige could see the swell of her breasts as she bent over to spit into the sink. Wiping the excess toothpaste from her lip with her thumb, Myla smiled coyly into the camera.

Paige readjusted herself in her seat, unexpectedly growing more nervous than she would've thought. Her grip on her phone tightened, and she watched with an unwillingly clenched jaw as Myla finished off by brushing her tongue and rinsing her mouth.

"What pajamas should I wear tonight?" Myla asked, breaking Paige out of whatever trance she had fallen into.

She cleared her throat, "What are the options?"

"Well..." her voice trailed off as she set her phone down to browse through her drawers. "It's between these leopard shorts and the matching shirt, or these gray shorts and a white tank."

"Definitely not the leopard, you 'bouta' be lookin' like somebody grandma," the blonde laughed.

"Fuck you!" Myla gasped into the phone, "leopard is cute, you just don't have style like I do."

"Oh I got style, trust me," Paige argued, amused.

"Gray sweatpants and a white tee is not style, that's something you wear to an airport on the off chance that a real person might see you."

"So that means it's not a bad fit!"

"I didn't say it was! All I said was that it wasn't style, and you didn't disagree."

Shaking her head Paige responded, "If that helps you sleep at night."

After rolling her shorts to the length she liked, Myla wrapped her hair in a towel and climbed into bed with her phone. Roxie quickly joined her, her tiny feet pitter pattering against the hardwood floors as she hurried into the room and to the side of the bed. Scooping her into her arms, she gently placed her in front of the phone.

"She heard my voice," Paige smiled.

"She's not even looking at the camera, she's looking at her mommy," Myla said, ruffling her puppy's ears.

"Hm, so am I."

Paige and Myla made eye contact through the phone, both of their smiles growing in the tense silence they had created. Roxie, frustrated with the lack of attention she was getting, climbed into Myla's lap and let out a tiny bark. Myla diverted her eyes down for a moment, thankful for the distraction.

There had been a little voice in the back of her mind that told her that she and Paige were just friends, that their reserved dinner at a high class restaurant in the heart of New York City had just been two friends catching up. For a while, that had been a plausible explanation, at least that's what she told herself. But with the way their recent phone calls had sounded, and from the obvious flirting that Paige was doing right now, there was no way she could possibly still believe that.

Here she was again, lost in thought during an encounter that seventeen year old her could only dream of having. She placed a small peck on Roxie's head, choosing not to respond to the blonde. She leaned back against the headboard as Paige began to talk once more, allowing herself to be carried away by her voice.

"So about me coming up there..." she started carefully. "I was tryna figure out which hotel i'm gonna stay at, but I figured I'd ask you 'cus you'd know which one is closest to you."

Paige knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't stay in a hotel, she wanted to stay with Myla, and she knew Myla wanted that too. But she wanted, no, needed to hear her say it. Manicured hands adjusted the towel on her head before she had finally gathered the courage to speak up. This very topic had been on her mind since this morning when Paige mentioned coming here next weekend.

Why would she make Paige pay to stay in a hotel when she was coming up here specifically to see her? It wasn't like she didn't have the space, she certainly did. Myla had friends stay over all the time and not one of them had struggled to fit in the bed with her, Paige would be no different. Besides, if things went south there's always a perfectly good couch waiting just outside the bedroom.

Despite her mind being made up, Myla wasn't a fool. She could see right through Paige's attempt in cracking her, and she wasn't planning on giving in that easily.

"There are a few really good ones around. There's one that's like a five minute walk from me, and then the subway is five minutes in the opposite direction so that one is pretty popular. I know the Marriott is around all the good food spots..."

Myla paused when she looked at the phone again, Paige's narrowed eyes and unimpressed face staring back at her. The girl burst into laughter, not even noticing the way Roxie jumped at the sudden sound. Paige's facade cracked as well, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched Myla shake with laughter.

"You really think i'm gonna make you get a hotel?" she asked after finally calming down.

"Nah I didn't at first but -- you had me there for a second," Paige admitted.

"Good, that was the goal."

"You're a lil sneaky, I peep it," she nodded her head and tapped her finger against her temple.

"Oh please, I practically wear my feelings on my face," Myla frowned.

Paige would've liked to argue that, but after thinking back to the twinkle in Myla's eyes that night at dinner, she knew the girl was right. The blonde sighed tiredly, glancing at her clock on her nightstand. It was nearing midnight and she had to be up early in the morning. As much as she hated to see Myla's face disappear from her phone screen, it had to happen.

'I need some self control,' she shook her thoughts away.

"Ion wanna fall asleep on you so, imma jus' hangup," Paige breathed out, tilting her head.

"Okay then, well I hope you sleep well."

"I hope you do too."

Myla subtly moved out of the camera to hide her smile, "Goodnight Paige."

Paige shook her head with a smile, "Goodnight Myla."

The call disconnected and Myla grabbed her charger from the floor, humming in satisfaction when the lighting bolt appeared on the battery. She switched her lamp off and turned the other way, cuddling up with Roxie who was staring up at her with big eyes.

Myla had been more tired than she realized, and she became delirious quite quickly. So when her phone buzzed and lit up the small corner of the room, she couldn't decipher whether she had imagined it or not.

___________________________________________________________

i have smth cooking, and as much as i hate conflict, i think this story needs it...

love yall ! not proofread btw...

[miguelschamp]

how you get the girl

pairing: liam dunbar x fem!reader

summary: liam hurries to find a way to explain why he’s been standing you up

warnings: none

you and liam had been friends for about a year before you told each other how you felt. you guys were taking it slow and hadn’t made it official yet.

he was working his way toward actually being your boyfriend. which meant taking you on dates, goodnight and morning texts, and everything in between.

the problem was that he hadn’t told you he was a werewolf. so, he couldn’t tell why he had stood you up twice already.

coming up with lame excuses about his parents which you seemed to take pretty well. but you also had a gut feeling that he was lying.

tonight was supposed to be the night he took you on a date to a new restaurant that had opened a few weeks prior. he was determined to make it up to you.

he hated how your eyes held sadness whenever he had to come up with yet another lie.

he promised that tonight there would be no excuses. that he would actually make it.

you made it to the restaurant first. a little earlier than your initial meeting time.

then 30 minutes passed. you sent liam a couple of texts asking if he was anywhere near and got no response.

then an hour.

then two.

of you standing and mingling outside of the restaurant. you definitely called him more than fifty times. and texted him even more.

you knew this would happen. a small part of you was hoping it would be third times the charm. evidently it wasn’t.

your walk home was filled with tears. sad that he couldn’t even take you seriously enough to text and say he wasn’t making it. you were also embarrassed. the amount of customers that walked in and came back out with pitiful looks on their faces.

by the time you made it home, it was around 10:30 and you had school the next day. so, you just got in the shower and headed off to bed. crying yourself to sleep.

•••

liam knew he messed up. bad.

he was actually going to make it on time to your date. then scott called him frantic about meeting in the woods to catch the latest supernatural creature terrorizing beacon hills.

after hours of fighting, they finally stopped it. then he checked his phone and his heart dropped at the amount of texts and calls he got from him.

now he was running through the halls trying to find you. he turns the corner before heading down toward your locker. he sighs in relief as he sees you digging through your locker.

“y/n !” he calls out

you huff refusing to look over at him. you jam a book into your locker as he stops beside you.

“hey, i’m so sorry about last night.” he breathes. you stay silent as you close your locker. you sling your backpack on your shoulder before walking off. liam’s face drops before he follows after you. “y/n-“

“what ?” you snap turning to him

“i’m so sorry i stood you up last night. i was so busy.”

“doing what ?” you ask

liam blinks, “um.. i was just- uh-“

“and don’t lie.” you interrupt

“i was just busy.” he says hoping to satisfy you

it doesn’t.

“doing what ?” you say, “too busy to even answer my texts instead of standing me up. again.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” he says holding his hands out, “but i can make it up to you-“

“no, you can’t. you can’t even tell me the truth about why you left me outside of a restaurant for a date that you planned, for two hours.”

“y/n/n-“

“you know what liam, i don’t think this is gonna work.” you say pointing between the two of you

liam furrows his brows, “what ? no. i promise i can make it up to you.”

“even if you could, you can’t be honest with me.” you say looking up at him. his heart drops as sadness swarms through your eyes. “goodbye, liam.”

liam’s shoulders fall as you turn and walk off. he sighs as you turn the corner. he had to come up with a way to come clean to you. he didn’t want to lose you.

his eyes widen before he rushes down the hall.

•••

you sat in the library trying to get some homework done on your free period. you look up as someone pulls a chair out beside you.

you frown as lydia martin sits next to you. two other girls take places on the other side of the table.

you knew who they were. they were seniors that you saw liam hanging out with sometimes. you didn’t know how he knew them, but it didn’t matter much to you.

“um, hi ?” you say

“hi.” lydia smiles, “i’m lydia and this is kira and malia.”

as you look to the two girls, kira gives a wave as malia raises her brows in acknowledgment. you then turn back to lydia.

“we were wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

“me ?” you say bewildered, “but you guys are seniors. i don’t even know you guys.”

“no, but you’re pretty and i like hanging out with pretty people.” lydia shrugs

you blink as you mouth opens and closes looking for an answer. “uh, sure ?”

“great.” lydia beams before holding her hand out, “can i see your phone ?”

you quickly dig around in your backpack before handing it to her. she types for a few seconds before handing it back to you.

she stands up, “i’ll text you where to meet us. see ya.”

you watch as all three girls leave the table. you turn forward slowly in your seat as you set your phone on the table.

•••

lydia texted you about an hour after school ended. you found yourself walking through the woods as she told you to meet them at the outlook.

as you arrive, you look around. as far as you could tell, no one was there or had been there previously.

you pull out your phone again rereading the text.

meet us at the outlook. we’re already here ;)

you sigh as you slide your phone in your back pocket. “what is up with people standing me up ?”

this had to be some prank they were trying to pull on. seniors always messed with the younger class. you just didn’t think it would happen to you.

you look over as you hear leaves crunching. liam walked up cautiously.

“hi.” he says

“hi.” you say hesitantly, “you can have this to yourself i was supposed to meet…” you trail off as it all clicks in your head. liam set it up. “you set it up, didn’t you ?”

“yeah.” you sigh as your arms cross over your chest. “but i swear it was for a good reason.”

you brows raise as you turn to him, “what ? so you can tell me more lies and promise another date ?”

liam nods, “i deserve that. but i promise i’ll tell you the truth.”

you shift your weight from one foot to the next. you tilt your head and liam finally gets the hint that you’ll listen.

“do you believe in the supernatural ?”

you frown, “what ?”

“the supernatural. do you think it exists ?”

you couldn’t believe the stupid question he was asking, but answered anyway. “maybe. i don’t know. depends.”

“do you think werewolves exist ?” he asks

liam can see your confusion deepen as he looks at you. “liam, what the hell are you talking about ?”

“do you ?”

“i don’t know, liam. literally anything can exist.” you huff

“okay.” he says. you watch as he gets closer to you. he holds his hands out, “do you trust me ?”

you eye him, “not with you asking that as we stand on a cliff.”

he chuckles, “i just need to know that you won’t hit me or anything.”

“liam-“ your words die as you watch his eyes glow yellow. soon after, hair begins to grow from his cheeks and fangs protrude from his mouth.

liam watches worriedly as your eyes widen. he can hear your heartbeat accelerating. he holds his hands out, “y/n-“

you back up as you look down at his hands. he looks too and immediately brings his hands down. he forgot about his claws.

“i promise i wont hurt you.” he says as he slowly shifts back to the liam you knew, “that’s why i keep messing up our dates.”

“you’re- you’re a werewolf.” you say softly

“yeah.” he says. he holds his hands up to show his hands were back to normal before walking up to you. “the seniors you see me hanging out with sometimes are all apart of my pack.”

your eyes widen, “they’re all werewolves ?”

“well, no.” he says, “it’s a mix, but i can explain all of that to you.”

you let out a deep breath as you look down. your hands go up to your cheeks. “oh my god, you’re a werewolf.”

“so, are you like out in the woods or something when we’re supposed to be on dates ?” you say looking up to him

“there are other creatures that try to come into the city and we fight them off.” he says before chuckling, “scott has terrible timing when it comes to needing my help.”

“liam, why didn’t you just tell me ?” you say as your hands fall

“because i didn’t know how you’d take it or if you’d even believe me. i didn’t want to lose you.”

“well, it’s better to be honest with me so i don’t think you’re a complete jerk.”

he smiles as he nods, “i know that now and i’m sorry. really sorry.”

you look up at him as he steps in front of you. he gently takes your hand, “if you’ll give me another chance, i can guarantee i won’t screw it up this time.”

you laugh, “are you sure ? you’re like a superhero now. fighting off beacon hills crime.”

he smiles before shaking his head, “scott knows all about us now, so he’s gonna try to refrain from calling me unless it’s detrimental.”

you search his face as he waits for your answer. he was hoping this was enough to convince you that he wasn’t a jerk and was just someone trying to juggle his own life and saving others.

“i’ll give you a chance if you do something for me.”

he stands up straight, “anything.”

you smile, “can you do the eye thing again ?”

liam laughs before his eyes glow yellow again. he watches as your eyes bounce back and forth between his. a few seconds later, they’re back to their baby blue that you’ve grown to love.

“okay, you get another chance.” you say playfully rolling your eyes.

his smile widens before his hand goes up to your cheek closing the gap between you two. a soft kiss being placed on your lips.

[hedgehog-moss]

I’ve been having a bit of a hay shortage lately—January was very cold and snowy so the animals ate a lot, plus I have an extra mouth to feed this year, and I hadn’t realised Poldine would eat so much in her first year! Next summer I’ll make sure to buy enough hay for 4 animals rather than 3 and a half.

In the meantime I’ve been offering various hay substitutes, such as brambles, or my Christmas tree. It was waiting on the pile of green waste I intend to burn in early spring, until I remembered seeing someone’s ad in the local paper that went “if you want to recycle your Christmas trees, give them to me, my goats will love them!” I figured well, llamas are tall goats, maybe they’ll enjoy a bit of Christmas tree, and they did !

(Baby Poldine is always very circumspect about new foods, but she did end up tasting it.)

Pirlouit was also pleased with this unexpected breakfast. They all took turns nibbling at the tree until only the trunk was left :)

Still, I was trying to contact nearby farmers to ask if they have some hay to spare (it’s not that I’ve run out, I just want to be prepared in case of another cold spell), and I also moved the animals to my other pasture down the road, as there’s still some dry grass there. It’s not well-fenced though, and I wasn’t very confident in this pasture’s ability to contain Pampe, but I figured—there’s no grass to be found in any nearby pasture, so why would she try to leave this one?

(Because Pampe.)

I left the llamas & donkey frolicking in this exciting new place (Poldine looked enchanted to explore a new pasture, she was bounding around like a baby goat!), and I went skiing today, as a (late) birthday gift to myself. The skiing station is just half an hour away and this has become a very anticipated birthday ritual since I moved here! This year I waited until I had found some way to keep the animals busy before taking a day off, so there would be no llama leaks in my absence.

So of course I got a text from a neighbour in the afternoon, telling me my llamas had been spotted on the road, going towards the village. (“Pampe looked determined. She was going to the grocery shop to get muesli.”) (Pampe is so famous, people even know her favourite snacks 😭)

Since I was literally on a ski slope I decided to turn my conscience off and pretend I hadn’t seen the text. I thought, if the llamas do end up in the village I’ll get more texts updating me on their position and I’ll be a responsible llama owner and go home (promise), but they’ll probably get off the road and into the woods somewhere between my house and the village and they’ll spend the afternoon eating communal shrubs and they’ll be fine.

When I went home a few hours later, I found my donkey alone in the pasture where I’d left him in the morning—we both had to wrestle with a moral dilemma today, and Pirlouit’s was “do I loyally follow my friends and potentially starve to death, or do I stay by myself in this place with very adequate dry grass to munch on?” He really hates being alone, yet he chose food over friendship.

I brought Pirou back to his normal pasture (he wouldn’t have liked to find himself alone after sunset) and went looking for the girls. I’d had a neighbour on the phone who had talked to someone who’d talked to someone who had seen the llamas and had “shooed them in the general direction of your house.” That was some very helpful shooing, because I found them just a couple of kilometres away, and indeed going in the right direction.

Pampelune leading the way, determined to go home before night; Pampérigouste last, internally grumbling that it was still early and they could have explored the world some more.

I usually jog with the llamas when I bring them home so we don’t spend too much time in the middle of the road, but there aren’t many cars when the road is icy and also after a day of skiing, you don’t really feel like jogging a few km at a brisk pace in heavy snow boots. So we went home in a slow and solemn procession.

I called the people who had told me about the llamas’ whereabouts to thank them, and explained that this escape was the result of a failed attempt to move the animals to my poorly-fenced second pasture because I don’t have a lot of hay left—and one of them told me he could spare a bale and he’d bring it to me tomorrow!

“So I’ve done everyone a favour” (is probably Pampe’s conclusion.)

I gave them hay as I figured they hadn’t had time to graze much in the other pasture, but only Pampe was hungry. Well, Pirlouit is always hungry, but Pampe indignantly rebuffed him. “You chose food over adventure. You don’t get to eat the food I’m getting as a reward for a successful adventure.”

Pirlouit is completely resigned to the fundamental unfairness of a dutiful donkey’s life.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Interlude A

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Chapter Index

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John goes to mandated therapy, Manipulation, domestic daydreams, abuse of CIA connections, hey Kate's here!

~3.3k - MDNI - Less of a darkfic at this point, but just be mindful

It’s strange to be back in London.

John still comes here once a week— A staunch refusal to switch to a new therapist, even if it would save him the short flight from Aberdeen Airport every Friday, his whole day eaten away by travel and the hour appointment with Dr. Clara.

He doesn’t like her. She thinks he’s stubborn and resistant.

She’s probably right.

For the first time, he thinks it might be a good idea to switch. Or stop coming in personally, conduct therapy online. Being away from Dalisay bothers him. He doesn’t like that she’s alone in the house. If something happened, he’d be so far away. She’d seen him off, kissed him at the door, said she’d make dinner for when he got back. She wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t want to. He had to trust her, even if it was a difficult thing to do.

It would probably kill him if he came home to an empty house.

“How have you been, John?” Kate’s voice on the phone sounds worried. He must have been in bad shape when he saw her last week. He hardly remembers. He feels like his old self again, centred, steady.

“Good. Better. Soap introduced me to someone.” Introduced being a generous term for what happened. “She’s been stayin’ with me.”

“You’re seeing someone?” The surprise in her voice is palpable. “John—”

“She’s somethin’ special, Kate. You’d like her.”

Kate hums in a way that implies that she doesn’t believe him. “What’s her name?” she asks, faux-casual. She wants to look Doll up.

“Dalisay Valmorida.” In truth, he wants to know more too. Without any resources, he couldn’t find much. Doll kept her social media private, and snooping through her email hadn’t revealed much of anything either, except lead him to a totally anonymized profile on a kink website that told him that she was interested in submission and ropes (could she be any more perfect?), and had a few pictures of the prettiest tits he’d ever seen. She has a tattoo on her ribs, apparently, floral and intricate, and he wants to drag his teeth over it. Hopes he gets a chance to. “But I’m not worried. She’s a sweetheart, Kate.”

“She’s staying with you?”

“Yeah.” He wracked his brain for something that wouldn’t sound both criminal and insane. "She was living in a bad neighbourhood, and lost her nanny job. Soap—”

Kate makes an amused sound. “Thought you needed looking after, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that. We were in a position to help each other, I s’pose.”

“How long has she been there? You didn’t mention her when I saw you last week.”

“She’s only been there since Friday night. Her place got broken into, we moved up the timeline.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Kate, there’s lots of things I’m not telling you.

“John, when you say you’re seeing her…”

“It’s new. It’s nice. I have a good feeling about Doll. I’m trying not to rush things, but you know me.”

“Well. Let’s grab lunch after your session. I’ll see what I can dig up before then. Usual place?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright. See you then.” She hangs up, brusque as ever.

He gets off the tube at the next stop and walks to the low-rise office building his therapist works out of. Greets Brenda that works the front desk, sits in the waiting room. He’s fifteen minutes early, just like always.

He sends Doll a text while he’s waiting, just asking how her morning’s going, and gets a response almost right away, a picture of the puppy they’d gone to see last week. The picture’s blurry, the pup too excited to hold still.

Doll: Mel came by after she dropped the kids off at school. We’re having tea at hers (:

John: Have fun, sweetheart.

His chest loosens a bit. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. She’s making friends with his friends, putting down tentative roots. He didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to worry. He thinks about talking to Melissa about adopting the little thing. Seeing Doll coo and fuss over a puppy would probably make him act like a fool, but she’s been forgiving about the more honest things he’s said so far.

"John?" Dr. Clara calls him in. "Nice to see you. How was your trip down?"

"Fine. Same as always." John sits in the usual chair, and looks around the room like usual, clocking everything in it's usual space, except the tissue box on the table and a trashcan sitting closer to the chair than it’s usual position. Every other week the appointment just before his is a watery sort of woman, but he had been looking at his phone rather than at the door, letting himself relax enough to not notice the woman leave the room. "How are you?" Its a perfunctory question, going through the motions of politeness.

"Good." Dr. Clara settles into her own chair, notebook out. She's close to his age, beautiful in a cold, precise sort of way. Thin, a perfectly straight razor sharp bob framing her face. "Who were you texting?" she asks.

This throws off their rhythm. Usually she starts by asking if he'd done any of the journaling she asked him to do (he never did), and then if he'd gone down to the local legion to connect with other veterans (he hadn't).

"I— She's a friend. Of Soap's. Stayin' with me for a bit. String of bad luck, poor thing, lost her job and her apartment got broken into in the same week." The half truth comes more easily the second time. "She was really shook up."

"And you don't find the introduction of a new person into your routine disruptive?"

John frowns. "I think her comin’ along was disruptive in a good way. I needed to change some things around."

Dr. Clara raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Eatin' better. Couldn't be arsed to cook just for me, but I'm gettin' three squares a day now. Haven't had a drink since Saturday. She likes a cuppa around the same time I'd usually have a night cap. Sleepin' a bit better." He bites back a smile. "The other day, I was workin' outside while she painted-- She's an artist, and a bloody good one— and she reminded me to rest my ankle. Still gets sore when I push too hard."

"Tell me more about her."

"We're still getting to know each other, but she's sweet. Patient. Not afraid to tell me what she thinks."

"Why would she be afraid?"

"I can be… well, you know how I can be. And she's just a soft little thing. Wouldn't blame her if she was nervous." John shrugged. "She's beautiful too.. Brightens up the whole room when she smiles. And funny. Makes clever comments. And has this way of celebrating moments for no reason at all. Had me spinnin' around in the rain the other day. Thinkin' about gettin' her a puppy."

Dr. Clara taps the end of her pencil on her notepad, clearly conflicted. This is the most John's spoken in a session without her having to pull it out of him word by word, but… "A puppy? John don't you think that might not be an appropriate gift for a woman you've known for, um…" she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the gap.

"Well. A week," John admits. "But we've got a real connection. Something special."

"Is she planning on staying with you long term?"

"She might. I'd like her to."

"So you have intense feelings for a woman you don't know, and all your short-lived progress is based on her presence, is that what you're saying?"

John's eyes narrow. Of course it sounds crazy to her. She doesn't know Dalisay. "I know her."

"Do you? You met her just a week ago, John." Dr. Clara sighs. "Do you think maybe you see winning her over as a mission? That you're returning to that rigid military mindset that brought you to me in the first place?"

John shakes his head. "It wasn't the military mindset that brought me here. It was those damn pills."

"John—"

"No, I know what you're going to say. Don't bother."

“John. If you know what I’m about to say, I’d like to hear you say it.”

He huffs, and looks away, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair. It’s hard to meet her steely gaze for long. He doesn’t like being scrutinized, and that’s all these sessions are. "You'd usually say something like, almost losing Soap led me to take risks I shouldn't've, that I blame myself for his injury, that the stress of trying to make sure my team never got hurt in a field where getting hurt is inevitable put me under tremendous stress, and that my own injury left me with nothing but time to contemplate my guilt. The pain killers were a way to turn the feelings off."

Dr. Clara nods, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "So you do listen."

"I don't see what this has to do with Dalisay."

She gives him a pitying look over her reading glasses. "You don't give yourself room to make mistakes, John. That inflexibility is the problem. If you build good habits on someone else's foundations, what happens if they leave? You'll be right back where you started."

“You’re so sure she’ll leave?”

Dr. Clara sets her notebook down in her lap and leans forward, hands clasped together. “It’s not about her, John. It’s about you. You are worth doing this work for. You have to be able to stand on your own two feet. People are fallible. Things happen, we lose people we care about. It’s part of living. The only person you can’t live without is John Price.”

He crosses his arms. “You told me I needed to make connections with other people.”

“I did. And you still should. But this is not what I meant and you damn well know it. Jumping into a relationship when you’re still struggling like this is not going to be healthy. You’re headed for codependency at best. If you really care about this woman, you need to consider what she needs too. If she told you she was seeing a veteran that struggles with substance abuse, that turns any negative feelings into anger, that can’t compromise or be flexible, that needs to be in control—”

“I get it. I’d tell her she deserves better.”

“So be better, John. Start with the journal. Actually buy one before you go home. There’s a stationary shop down around the corner.”

He snorts. “You get a commission for sending your patients there?”

“Yes, John, you’ve unearthed my diabolical plot. I’m in cahoots with the stationary store,” she says dryly. “It doesn’t matter where you buy the damn journal from. Write your feelings on the back of a receipt for all I care. Just try. If all you write down every day is that you hate that I’m making you do it, that’s still progress.”

“Alright, alright.” He supposes he can cede a little ground. Dr. Clara has been going on about that since their first session, so maybe there’s something to it.

He finds himself walking into the stationary store and breathing in the scent of paper and ink and glue. It reminds him of Doll’s art store. He wonders if she’d like a place like this. Probably. She’d probably tell him to listen to Dr. Clara too.

Running his fingers over the spines of the shelf of journals, he stops at one with a soft leather cover. He pulls it down and thumbs through the pages. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for exactly, but it has lines and a spot for the date at the top of each page, so that’s probably good enough. The man at the counter asks if he needs a pen too, and he glances at the one the man’s holding, a fountain pen with a shiny wood-grain finish, and swallows the no that nearly leaves his tongue.

“Sure. Yeah.”

He meets Kate at a pub not far from the London base. She’s still working, of course, just like he should be, but unlike him, she didn’t have a breakdown that cost him everything. When things happen that Kate can’t handle, she can beak down privately, and her wife puts her back together, better than new. He’s been envious of that for a long time, of that stability that Kate gets to come home to.

She’s working on something, tapping away at her phone when he settles across from her, but she glances up and gives him an apologetic smile. “Hey, John. Just give me a second, I have to finish replying to this email.”

He just nods, used to this. Kate’s always in the middle of something. He waits patiently while she works, and quietly orders a tea when the server comes around to ask.

He doesn't miss the questioning look from Kate. She sets her phone down and really studies him, eyes narrowed.

"What?" He asked.

"We've gotten together for lunch almost every week for the past year, and this is the first time you haven't ordered a beer."

"Don't feel like having one."

"You're sleeping better too. You look good, John."

He couldn't deny that he felt better. More like himself. Settled in his skin, engines rumbling, ready for anything. "I guess Doll's been a good influence. You looked her up?"

"I did. Not much of a presence online. Found an old art blog that she hasn't updated for years, has a couple of very sparse social media accounts. Was two years into a fine arts degree from Manchester university when she switched to english lit. Worked part time as an educational assistant in an elementary school, and then started working for Kevin and Isla Kinsey five years ago."

"That's it?" He's not sure if that's a relief or a disappointment. He knows most of that already.

"No. She's had some involvement in anti-war groups, nothing major, but I pulled that thread all the way to the terrorist attack on Piccadilly Circus back in 2019. Her parents were both killed."

"Huh." That explained a lot.

"Michelle actually knows her. She curated a show that Angela— her mother— was featured in. That's why they were in London in the first place."

"Christ. No wonder she dropped painting for so long."

"Has she picked it back up? She should call Michelle once she's put a few things together. She has what Michelle calls a compelling story."

"I'll let her know." He sighs. "Anything else?"

"She's an only child, but there’s lots of family in the Philippines, a grandmother in Aberdeen. A few cousins in Canada and the states. Pretty much all clean, keep out of trouble types. There's not much more I can tell you from my end, unless you want me digging through the filing cabinet at her old therapist's office. Old school, offline records." Kate shrugs. "I could. But I think you'd be better off just talking to her."

"Probably. Thanks, Kate. Kinda had it in my head that she was too good to be true." John flashes a smile at the server when she brings him his tea, and orders a salad, which really has Kate looking at him like he's mad.

"You keep this up, you could come back to work," she says. "You just need Clara to sign off on you. Which means consistency."

"Yeah. I'm tryin' her journal idea. Not sure that I'd go back anyway. Maybe it was just time." A few weeks ago, he would be chomping at the bit to go back. But now that there’s something else to give him some purpose, he’s not sure he wants to.

"Up to you. You're not there yet anyway. Now, I want to hear about this girl from your side." Kate picks up her soda (always diet, always something caffeinated) and gives him a pointed look.

He talks about Doll for a bit, gets a bit more work talk out of Kate, and when they part ways, they tentatively talk about Kate and Michelle coming up to meet her before long. It’s a nice thought. He'd like to get the lads back up too, but Kate’s a safer bet to start. Doll might forgive the boys if they grovel enough, and if things are looking promising between her and John. It's always easier to justify an overstep if the results are ultimately positive, so he has to make sure that Dalisay is happy and settled before he considers it.

It'll be a tough road if she doesn't want to reconcile with them. Not impossible, but he wants all of his people to get along. He wants his kids to know the men that have stood by him for all these years.

He sends a few texts to Dalisay, but there’s no response. He spends the short flight rationalizing why she might not have noticed her phone. Maybe she’d left it in her purse when she got back from Mel’s, or let the battery run out. She wouldn’t leave without telling him. She wouldn’t.

By the time he gets to his truck, he’s convinced that something’s happened.

He makes the hour drive back in forty minutes, parks erratically, and runs for the house, gravel sliding under his feet, his ankle twinging.

He tumbles through the door, half expecting a disaster, a crime scene, and instead sees something out of his most revisited domestic daydreams, set to some bouncy sort of pop music.

Dalisay is leaning over the stove, hips moving to the music, wearing a pretty floral skirt, socks pulled up over her thick calves to the knee, her feet sliding on the tiles as she moves. Her soft dark hair is up in a messy bun, a pencil and a paintbrush stuck through it. The whole house smells amazing, whatever she has cooking sure to be well worth the light lunch. There's a painting started on a canvas set up in the living room, just a soft gradient of blue and gold. And best of all, when she does a little spin and notices him at last, she beams at him. "John! You're home!"

"I am," he agrees, grinning back when she throws herself into his arms, squeezing him tight around the middle. He wraps his own arms around her shoulders, relishing the press of her soft little body against his. "How was your day, Doll?"

"It was really nice! I had a good time chatting with Mel, and I made dinner. And dessert even." She doesn't make any move to pull away, just looks up at him, pretty dark eyes fixed on his face. There’s an echo of relief in her eyes too, like she had been as worried about him, as he had been about her. "I'm glad you're home safe. You really go all the way down to London every week?"

He nodded. "I could change doctors, but I get lunch with a friend while I'm there— Kate. You'd like her. Maybe, once you're settled in a bit more, we could invite her and her wife up for dinner."

"Oh, that would be nice. So long as she's more sane than the friends I've met so far."

"Considerably. Can I kiss you hello?"

She hummed, as though she were considering it, although the laughing look in her eye said yes long before she gave a verbal affirmation.

He's the luckiest man in the world, he thinks as he leans down to kiss her soft lips.

Things are looking up. Things are good. And it's all thanks to to her.

He's going to make her the happiest woman in the entire world. She deserves nothing less. She deserves his best too, and he’s determined to be a better man than he has been in a long while.

She breaks the kiss by dropping her heels back to the floor. “Are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready. We have time for a cup of tea first, if you’d like.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Image Credits: Banner - Banner Background - Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[eowynstwin]

gravity

previous - neighbors - next

John takes you out to dinner. cw: alcohol, somewhat heavy drinking

It’s a cold and windy morning that, as you hover just a little closer to his warmth, you ask him about decent places to eat nearby.

“Fancy pub food?” he asks in response, and it takes you a moment to process what he’s said. Today he’s in a thick, soft-looking knit sweater, which makes it infinitely difficult not to imagine huddling up against him.

You think he’d let you. You’re not sure how you know this. Maybe it’s the way he positions himself next to you, standing at an angle toward you just slight enough to be casual, but open enough to be purposeful. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to warm you up with his eyes alone—he asked you once why you always bundled up to be outside, and you told him you were just sensitive to the cold.

Since then, you’ve often caught him checking on you, surreptitiously. Simple once-overs that you think are searching for evidence of discomfort.

What would he do, you wonder, if he found any? Would he send you inside, as he had the first morning?

Part of you thinks that would be better. It would give you an out, open up a path diverting away from whatever this thing is that hangs in the air between you and John Price, this thing that you pass back and forth between the pages of borrowed books.

It’s a thing that breathes with the both of you into the early morning, and you don’t know how to look at it. You don’t understand its shape. It’s a thing you wish you wanted to walk away from.

“Who doesn’t?” you reply, sipping at the cold dregs in your cup.

“How ‘bout tonight, then?” John says, and you swallow a little too quickly.

“W-what about tonight?”

He smiles at you, as if he’s thrown you off on purpose. “Dinner, on me.”

You blink several times. “You—I—I mean—really?”

He shrugs, easy and casual as you wish you could be. “Could show you what’s best on the menu. And I wouldn’t mind having dinner with someone besides m’self.”

You hesitate, because your gut reaction is to say yes, John, I’d like nothing more, and that is not a reaction you want to satisfy. These past several mornings have been nice—nicer than you could have expected. You’ve stopped interrogating yourself as to why you keep bothering, because each time his smile greets you as you step outside is answer enough. The routine has been easy to settle into, even comforting.

You need to protect that comfort, you know, even from the allure of something more.

John does not press for an answer, seeming content to savor the last few inhales of his cigar. You wonder if he’s guessed at your inner conflict, wonder if the quiet he’s giving you is an intentional moment to sort yourself out.

He never presses for anything, ever.

“I suppose I could meet you after work,” you finally say.

The smile that breaks across his face nearly knocks you off your feet. You’re relieved when he says, “Sounds good to me,” because if he’d said it’s a date you think you might have dissolved on the spot.

John texts you the pub’s address, and it’s close enough to walk to. You arrive that evening, in your usual two coats plus a knitted hat, to find that the place exceeds a set of expectations you didn’t know you had. The patio seating is closed in with a white picket fence and hung with strings of fairy lights, and it flanks a red brick building with a large, friendly lantern hanging over the door.

You might have expected something a little grubbier, if you’d given the place any more thought beyond this is John’s pub and he’s having me for dinner here.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, and your gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to a table further in—John has already seen you, and beckons you over with a wave.

He’s still in the knit sweater, and his fleece jacket is hanging on the back of the seat across from him. He stands as you approach, rounds the table, and pulls that chair out for you when you join him.

You don’t know why the chivalry makes you falter, makes you want to turn and sprint all the way back home. All you know, as you sit down, is that you can practically feel the aura of his presence behind you as he helps push your chair in, can feel it move as he leaves your side to return to his seat. You feel yourself gravitate into it, leaning a little over the table as if trying to keep it close.

“This place is tidy,” you say earnestly, trying for that morning normalcy, as you begin to shuck your layers.

“It’s alright,” he agrees. He’s smiling gently, the cool blue of his eyes vivid in the contrast of warm lamplight.

“Do you—” and then you can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a cliche question “—do you come here often?”

He grins, huffs that little laugh. “Too often,” he says as he sits back in his chair, putting a hand on his stomach. “It’ll start showing soon, probably.”

You look at the flat of his stomach, the broad paw of his hand. Remember the trim waist of that very first morning. “You know, somehow I doubt that.”

He meets you eyes, laughs again, and it warms you to the bone.

Seeing him like this, at night, is an unknown quantity. The John you know how to interact with exists on his front doorstep, painted in the cool palette of sunrise, cold air, cigar smoke. This tableau, composed upon the table between you, might as well turn him into another man entirely. Who is this John, awash in warm light, nearly twelve hours older than the man you spoke to this morning? Who are you, now, seeing him after work and before the end of the night?

You feel a little untethered. Your feet still itch for the door, for the measured, predictable floorboards of your own home.

Maybe John notices, because he takes a menu from the stack of two at the end of the table and offers it to you with a reassuring lift of his brows. “Hungry?”

That question, at least, has an easy answer. You smile a little. “Starving.”

His advice turns out to be necessary—everything looks good, and you both end up ordering too much food. Over a spread of fresh, hot chips, halloumi kebabs, and katsu chicken served liberally with curry sauce, John also has a bottle of scotch brought to the table.

“No, that’s too much!” you protest as the waitress sets the decanter down with two clean glasses. “John, really.”

He sets to pouring, his expression pleased, though you’re not sure what about. “Humor me, love. I don’t get to share very often.”

He hands you a glass, and lifts his own above the food. You acquiesce, and clink the rims.

“Do I take a shot or a sip?” you ask, bringing the glass up to your mouth.

“A sip,” says John, and his expression is genuinely distressed. “Please, don’t ever suggest shooting scotch again. That hurt to hear.”

You smirk, and take a slow drink. It hits your tongue with the prologue to a burn, rolling across your taste buds as the twinge fades and you close your eyes. The flavor opens like smoke exhaled into still air; you purse your lips a little and swirl it in your mouth; nutmeg, vanilla, and even a little apple expand across your palate. When it hits the back of your tongue, a short floral burst surprises you, and you swallow it down eagerly.

You find John watching you when you open your eyes.

“Where did you learn to drink like that?” he asks, and there is a new tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

It’s low. Resonant. Almost—purring. The look in his eyes, too, is different, the pale blue sharper somehow. Focused keenly, and with some unknown, honed intent, on you.

It pins you where you sit. John is looking at you. John is seeing you.

“Doesn’t everyone learn to drink at uni?” you reply, trying for airy and light. It doesn’t work. Your voice trembles, just a bit.

He’s still watching you, and you think he sees that. Recognizes, perhaps, a change in your expression, some telltale sign that he has shaken you. He looks away from you, takes a drink of his own scotch, and when his gaze returns the keen edge of it has softened. You breathe, and realize you hadn’t been.

You seek something comfortable, something you can measure and control. “How is Actium treating you, then?”

He smiles, and it’s a little rueful. “Octavian’s being a cunt.”

As talk of the most recent book he’s borrowed carries you into more comfortable territory, the two of you make your way through dinner, which is every bit as delicious as John had promised. The food is hearty, greasy in a way that isn’t too heavy, and pairs perfectly with John’s scotch, which you indulge in liberally.

When the alcohol has outpaced the food that is meant to offset it, you think back to what he’d said earlier, about not often getting to share.

“So am I the first person you’ve brought here?” you ask. “Or do you take every neighbor out to dinner?”

John lifts one dark brow, leans in with a tilt of his head. “Only the pretty ones.”

You give an unladylike snort and swirl a cut of chicken around in curry sauce. “You’re incorrigible, John, really.”

The smile he gives crinkles the laugh lines around his eyes, and you feel yourself want to melt at the sight. It is unfair how handsome he is, in that warm sweater, in that golden light, haloed softly in the haze of your verging intoxication.

“When will you believe me when I compliment you, hmm?” he asks, low and resonant in the depths of his chest.

You shoot the rest of your scotch in answer, stuff the chicken into your mouth, and proffer the empty glass.

John squints at your heresy, but obediently pours.

“I suppose your line of work isn’t really great for your social life, then,” you comment. “Always coming and going.”

“My calendar’s certainly empty,” John agrees. “Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve sat down with someone like this. I suppose I’m out of practice.”

“You’re eating with a fork and knife and not your hands.” You grin. “I’d say that’s pretty good already.”

He smiles back. “Would that chase you off?”

You sip your scotch. “Not if you keep pouring.”

“And she complained when the bottle came out. What about you, then?”

“What ‘bout me?”

“How many blokes have you been to dinner with, lately?”

You scoff at that and wash your food down with a sip. “None. As if they’re throwin’ ‘emselves at me.”

John’s expression changes, and it’s slow grin that spreads across his face, a smile you have never seen on him before. It isn’t the sad smile he’s given you at times, melancholy and resigned; nor is it the one he gives when he sees you in the morning, warm and soft and friendly.

No, this one is—energized. Invigorated. As if someone has given him good news he hadn’t been expecting.

“They’ve got to be,” he says, and his tone is humorous. “You must have your pick of the lot. And none of them have struck your fancy?”

You press your hands to your too-warm face. “John, don’t tease me.”

“Seems I’ve got to count myself lucky tonight, then,” he continues, leaning his elbows on the table. “If you’re as choosy as all that.”

You give him a droll look, and swirl your drink around in your glass. “If you must know, I got out of a relationship not long ago.”

John’s brows lift, and you want to smack yourself for letting that little detail escape you. “Is that so?”

You drink. “That is so.”

“What kind of idiot would let you get away?”

“My head is already spinning, and you’re abusing that,” you protest.

“Sorry, love,” he says, clearly not sorry. “But now you’ve got me curious.”

You sit back in your chair, staring at your plate to avoid his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s not all that dramatic. It just…didn’t feel right. I guess he liked me more than I liked him. We would go out, and I would think, ‘I want to leave him and go home.’”

And you still felt guilty about it. You hadn’t liked him that much in the first place, when he’d asked you out—you’d just said yes, because it seemed like the right moment in your life for something like that to happen. When you’d ended it, your extended social network had scratched its collective head, because there truly hadn’t been any good reason.

You just weren’t happy.

“Suppose I didn’t give it enough of a chance,” you say, downing the last of your glass.

“Hey,” John says, soft and gentle. You look up to meet his eyes—the expression on his face is a mixture of sympathy and resolution. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure, John.”

“Love.” His brow creases, insistent. “You deserve something you want.”

You press your lips together tightly, and suddenly you’re struck again with that sensation from earlier, that feeling that John’s presence is a tangible aura, something that rolls and settles across your awareness like a physical touch. You realize you’ve been leaning into it again, drawn toward him like a comet into the snag of a planet’s gravity.

“I’m definitely drunk now,” you say, because the only other words that want to come out are an emphatic I want you.

John smiles. He doesn’t press the issue. “Will I be carrying you home, then?”

“Oh, John, really!” You give a scoff, surprised at the sudden humor. “You couldn’t carry me all that way.”

One dark brow lifts.

“No,” you say. “You’ll have to put me down. I’m not light.”

The smile remains.

You hold his gaze, suspicious, and finish the last of your glass. It does not take long to polish off the last of dinner, and when the two of you agree that the last chips have finally gotten too cold to eat, John pushes his seat back and stands.

“Done, then? I’ll settle the tab. Love, put that away.”

You sheepishly lower your half-lifted wallet back into your purse.

Accounts settled, you make it outside the pub, and then you have to lean against a wall as John watches you, amused. The world is swaying, its pendulum arcing near-horizontal at the amplitude of each swing.

“I just need a minute,” you whisper.

John does the worst thing he could possibly do—he gives you his back and kneels down, arms a little open. “Come on.”

“Come on? Come off it, John, really, you’ll drop me!” you exclaim.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “I won’t.”

You don’t know what convinces you to do it. Tomorrow, you’ll blame the many glasses of expensive scotch, but in the moment you know it’s the way the hanging lights limn his silhouette in gold. You know it’s the soft expression on his face that you are already too fond of. You know it’s the quiet confidence in his reassurance, and above all those things it’s the familiar comfort of his kind blue eyes.

“All right, John,” you say.

As you wrap your arms around his shoulders, John scoops your knees up into the bend of his arms, and you can add now the feeling of his strength to your mental registry of his body. He is broad against you, the width of him obliging your thighs to part farther than they have in a long, long time.

It brings a heat to your face that dwarfs the low simmer of your inebriation. When he lifts you, straightens up and hoists you a little on his back, like you weigh almost nothing, you are unable now to shove back and contain what he has inspired since that first morning.

“This feels nice,” you murmur, tucking your chin on his shoulder. The scotch has the reins of your tongue now. There is no stopping the words that come out. “I wondered if it would. This morning.”

John’s reply is low, humming in his throat as he begins the trek home. “This morning?”

You breathe. “You always look warm and soft. You’re so handsome every morning. Even the first. I wanted to touch you back then. I wanted you to hold me.”

He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s trying to focus on the walk back and not dropping you in the middle of it. He hoists you a little, cupping his hands beneath your knees, squeezing.

His silence prompts more of your honesty. “I don’t want to go to dinner with anyone else, John. Even if someone did ask. You’re the only one.”

“You’re drunk, love,” John says. You don’t recognize the tone of his voice, why it sounds…pleading.

Your face is very close to his, your chin pillowed in the fleece lining of his collar. You resolve fully to blame what you do next on the scotch, and touch the tips of your fingers to the coarse umber on his cheek.

His thumbs press into the divots beneath your kneecaps. John says your name, low and breathy. It must be the strain of carrying you that shows in his voice.

You lean in. You press your cheek against the bristles of his beard, inhale, take in the ever-present Maduro that saturates his skin. The friction is a million little pinpricks of sensation, and you think in that moment that if his beard doesn’t leave hot, welted scratches on your face, you might fall asleep crying.

“Oh,” you murmur, not recognizing the languorous, almost wanton sound of your own voice. “Feels good, John.”

“That’s,” he huffs, and audibly swallows. “That’s good. We’re—ah—we’re almost there.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing against him, settling fully into the expanse of his back.

You doze, unburdened now by what you’ve admitted. He does not waver once on the walk, makes no complaint of your weight as street lights pass and the night moves slowly by. He is as steady, when he makes it to your front door, as he was when he first picked you up.

“Where’s your key, love?” he asks.

“Oh,” you murmur blearily, “um. Let me down.”

Even after your feet are back on the ground, his steadying hand does not leave you, ballasting your elbow as you dig around in your purse. It seems like an embarrassingly long time before you find your keychain, and when you try to unlock your door you miss the slot twice.

John’s big hand wraps around yours then, engulfing it with long fingers and broad palm, and guides the key steadily into the lock. The slide of the deadbolt is loud in the quiet night. You have to lean against the door, suddenly devoid of the strength to turn the knob as you look up at John’s concerned face.

“Let me help you in, love,” he says, brow creased. “Please. I’m worried you’ll fall and hit your head.”

Your entire body feels like it’s sinking into a glass of champagne, his words caressing you like rising bubbles, little pearls of air tickling your face as they touch you. You openly stare at him, watch his throat work as he swallows again, rest your eyes along the broad tendon that flexes as he tilts his head.

“Sure,” you whisper, too out of breath to speak aloud. “If that’s what you want.”

So John turns the knob, loops your arm around his shoulders, and walks you inside.

It is very hard to focus now, as John sits you down on your couch. There isn’t much you can hold in your mind besides the moment his hands leave you, and you inexplicably want to cry at their loss. You don’t see where he goes, vision going dark and blurry around the edges—you think he might have left until he comes back with one of your glasses, filled with clear, cool water.

He kneels in front of you and proffers it, doesn’t let go of the glass until both your hands are wrapped around it. He watches you as you take a sip.

“Drink all of that, alright?” he says. “You had a lot.”

You hold the glass back out to him. “You did too.”

His brows lift, lips parting. Have you surprised him? He pulls the glass closer with a little tug, puts his lips to the rim and tilts it from the bottom as you hold it. His eyes do not leave yours as he drinks, as he takes only a little, and then he pulls away and gently pushes the glass back toward you. Your gaze falls from his eyes, down to the little droplets of water clinging to his mustache, down again to the steady line of his mouth.

You bring the glass back up and take a deep gulp.

“Good girl,” he says, low and rumbling, and heat floods your body.

You realize then that his other hand is on your knee, the weight of his palm heavy and broad, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into the edge of the cap. You are washed in the blend of his warm comfort and the sudden, almost violent sear of your own desire.

When the glass is empty, he eases it from your hands and sets it aside on your coffee table. When he turns back to you, your hand comes up, unbidden, to curve itself along the angle of his jaw. Umber bristles are coarse beneath the sweep of your thumb.

“Not soft, is it?” John murmurs, and there is something stormy and intense in his gaze.

You take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m okay with that.”

His hand grips your knee suddenly, vicelike, and you know this is pushing too far. He does not lean in to you, makes no move toward you, but his entire body is a bank of energy that he is holding, holding, holding back. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His eyes pin you to the couch as he works the muscles in his jaw.

“You’re drunk, love,” he says. It is not the pleading assertion he’d given earlier. It is a conclusion—fond, but resigned.

The room has begun to gently spin, with John at its axis. “I’m drunk,” you agree, whispering and fragile.

It breaks whatever has been building since you’d left the pub. John draws back. Nods. Gives you a smile—that smile. The one that had taken hold of you the first time you saw it. Trying, with every scrap of willpower it had, to be happy, to be alright with what little it had. Failing to do so.

Unable to hide how much it wanted.

“You got a spare key?” he asks. “I can lock you in.”

“Key hook,” you say.

His hand drags down from your knee to stroke along your shin, and then he’s rocking back on his heels, standing to his full height. He looks at you for a moment longer.

“Get some sleep,” he says.

When you blink, he’s gone, and the deadbolt is sliding home.

[brainddeadd]

young player x devils are so cute🥺🥺

okay maybe she’s sick and jack becomes mother hen and nico is just a very worried captain

Sick Day

It was a rare day off for the New Jersey Devils, but instead of relishing the free time, Jack Hughes found himself fidgeting as he checked his phone for the hundredth time. Yn—his teammate, and someone the boys had practically adopted as a little sister—had been under the weather for the last couple of days, and Jack wasn’t having it.

Jack, ever the mother hen, had texted her first thing in the morning: "How are you feeling? Need anything?"

The response, though, wasn’t immediate. Jack frowned, and Nico Hischier, the ever-worried captain, noticed his unease. “She hasn’t answered yet?”

“No, and that’s not like her. She usually replies right away,” Jack muttered.

“She’s probably just resting,” Nico said, though the furrow in his brow gave away his own concern.

Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother, and Dawson Mercer were sprawled out on the couch nearby, equally aware of the situation. They had grown protective of her too. She was the youngest player on the team, and from the moment she joined the Devils, they’d all taken her under their wing.

“She’s tough, Jack,” Dawson said, trying to reassure him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Probably just tired.”

“But what if she’s too sick to take care of herself?” Jack shot back, pacing around the room. “I should just go check on her.”

“You’re overreacting, man. Just give her some time,” Luke said, though he was starting to glance at his own phone more frequently now.

Nico sighed, pulling out his car keys. “I’m driving. Let’s go check on her, just in case.”

Jack’s face lit up, while Luke and Dawson exchanged glances, knowing they couldn’t just sit back now either. So, all four of them piled into Nico’s car, with Jack already texting her, "We're coming over."

When they arrived at her apartment, Jack was the first one out of the car, practically sprinting to the door. He knocked, a little too urgently, and the door creaked open after a few moments.

She appeared, looking pale and wrapped in a blanket, but she gave them a small smile. “You guys didn’t need to come over.”

“You didn’t answer, we got worried,” Jack said, his voice gentle but his eyes scanning her face for any signs of distress. “Have you eaten? Drank water? What’s going on?”

Nico gave her a look that could only be described as 'captain mode,' his protective instincts kicking in. “You should’ve told us if you were feeling this bad. Have you seen a doctor?”

She waved them off with a weak laugh. “I’m fine, really. Just a cold. I didn’t want to bother you guys.”

“Bother us?” Luke chimed in, crossing his arms. “You’re part of the team, you can always tell us.”

Dawson shot her a warm grin. “Yeah, we’d rather you bother us than sit here alone feeling like this.”

Jack, already moving around her kitchen, started rifling through cabinets. “Alright, you need tea, something warm to eat, and rest. I’ll make some soup or something.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you know how to cook?”

“Since right now,” Jack said, determined, and Nico let out a small chuckle as he sat down next to her, still watching her carefully.

“You’ll be back on the ice in no time, but until then, we’re here,” Nico said firmly. “No arguments.”

She looked around at the four of them—Jack, hovering around like an overprotective mom, Nico with his captain’s watchful eye, and Luke and Dawson looking just as concerned. It was overwhelming, but in a way that made her feel like she truly belonged.

“Thanks, guys. Really.”

“No thanks needed,” Jack called out from the kitchen. “Just promise me you’ll tell us next time. Now, who wants some terrible soup?”

The room filled with light laughter, and for a moment, she forgot she was even sick, surrounded by her boys—her team, her family.