#staying competitive in trucking

[artisticdivasworld]

Everything Changes, Even Trucking

It’s no secret that our industry is changing at lightning speed, and adapting to these changes is key to staying on top. One of the biggest shifts we’re seeing is the rise of technology in trucking. From route optimization to automated loading systems, tech is becoming a huge part of our daily lives on the road. Embracing this technology can feel overwhelming, but it’s crucial for staying…

[roanofarcc]

GETTING EVEN

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader

summary. after tyler owens saved your ass, you return the favor. (part 2 to this fic) 

warnings. descriptions of injuries and tornados. reader is the daughter of jo & bill harding (from the og movie!). hurt/comfort (tending to each other wounds? hot). tyler’s the number one loverboy and I stand by that.

a/n. fun fact, my sister's mother-in-law also survived a tornado by hugging a light pole!

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

You stabbed a piece of pancake on your plate, determined to ignore your mom as she spoke from the stove. “Would it be the worst thing in the world?” 

“Yes,” you and your dad answered at the same time, meeting each other's eyes with a small smile. 

Your mom, Jo, sighed deeply and spun around to face the two of you, one hand on her hip. “He’s nice! He’s handsome and-” 

You groaned, feeling a teenager again, mortified that your parents are bringing up any aspect of your love life. Ever since Tyler Owens had helped you to the hospital after a tornado took you and your friend by surprise during a chase, your mom wouldn’t let you go five minutes without bringing him up. 

You were back in town, staying at their farm as another slew of storms were forecast for the surrounding area. Your team was due in later that night, all crashing with your parents, which was their idea. They wouldn’t admit it outright, but that was one thing they missed the most about their storm-chasing days, the friendships formed within their team. Your mom brought out her aunt’s recipes and cooked a big dinner, and your dad was harassed into telling stories of their storm-chasing adventures- which he secretly loved. 

Since the storms were predicted to be pretty wicked, you knew Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers would be around. And while you would rather die than tell your mom, you were excited to see him again. The competition between the two of you for an arbitrary ‘best storm chaser’ title was left behind after you woke up in the hospital to see him still there with you. Instead, your relationship inched more toward friends; though, your mom seemed convinced it was something more. 

“Look, if our daughter isn’t interested in running away with some tornado-wrangling cowboy, I don’t think we should encourage her to,” your dad, Bill, said. 

“I don’t have time for a relationship, anyway,” you added. You were too engrossed in your research to think about a relationship, serious or not. You were content with your team. And your mom’s little fantasy would require Tyler to be interested in you, which you found unlikely.

Yet, your mom persisted. “We did it,” she said, pointing between herself and Bill. “We balanced both work and a relationship. It’s not impossible.” 

You snorted. “Yeah, and you two almost got divorced.” 

Your dad laughed into his coffee mug, hiding it as your mom huffed. 

The thrill of storm chasing, running down backroads as a twister roared beautifully across the ground, wasn’t the only reason you did it. That was only one part of the job. Then there was the research. But the hardest part was trying to help people. Tornados were wondrous but dangerous. They ruined lives, tearing through towns. And while warning systems and radars had advanced significantly since your parents' days, nothing was perfect. That’s why you were the first people to rush into a crowded town directly in the path of a storm and do what you could to ensure people’s safety. 

When a member of your team noticed one of the storm cells you were watching was heading towards a little downtown area not too far from your parents’ farm, you all decided that was where you needed to be, instead of chasing after the storm further west. 

You were close, beating the storm to town, and when you arrived you realized the Wranglers had the same idea. The second you stepped out of your truck, the harsh winds knocked into you. The sirens just started, warning the people of the quickly approaching storm. People were running down the sidewalks, hurrying into buildings to shelter. 

You jumped into action, hurrying some slightly dazed people to safety, along with your team. The storm inched closer, and you knew you only had a few more moments before you needed to take cover yourself to ensure you didn’t get whisked away. You’d lived through enough tornados to know what to do with little fear, but ever since your close call with your team member Frankie, earning you a couple stitches on the back of your head and a newfound appreciation for Tyler, your nerves were a little heighten; you become a little more cautious. 

You turned on your heel to hurry towards one of the buildings, but you caught sight of the tornado wrangler on the other side of a parking lot, searching for something. 

Pressing your lips in a hard line, ignoring the drum inside your chest that started to beat a little faster with the closeness of the storm, you took off after him. 

“Tyler!” you yelled above the howling wind that threatened to knock you off your feet. Rain beat down against your skin, soaking you to the bone. You called his name once more as you neared, finally earning his attention. 

“Harding? What the hell are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Taking a mid-day stroll?” 

He shook his head, forced his wet hair out of his eyes. “Some kid’s dog got spooked, ran this way, but I can’t find her.” 

You glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds giving the allusion of nighttime. There was a little tremble in your hand, but you steeled your nerves. “Dogs are smart. She’ll find her way, but we’re goners if we don’t get a move on.” He frowned, clearly torn between helping a lost dog and saving himself. “My team and I will help you look after; I promise.” 

With a sigh lost to the wind, he nodded and pointed toward the building others had filed into. “There’s a basement in the library.” 

Together, you two took off in the direction of the library, but the storm rolled in much quicker than you anticipated. It came in with a vengeance, peeling objects off the ground, big and small, with ease and tossing them all around. You ducked, nearly missing a chair that once belonged to one of the downtown restaurants' patios. Your heart started to race uncomfortably, inching toward fearfully. 

Tyler grasped your hand, tugging you to the side as more debris whizzed past you. The rain made your grasp slippery, but you squeezed his hand tightly. There was too much distance to cover, and the tornado was determined to put every possible obstacle in your path. 

It became harder to run but you felt so sure you and Tyler would make it; that was, until the tornado came around the block, tearing into a building and sending the debris in your direction. You didn’t even know what hit you until you felt Tyler’s hand slip from yours and your chin collided with the pavement. A cry of pain fell from your lips, but you rolled over quickly, in search of Tyler. He wasn’t far, just out of arms reach, on the ground. 

You half crawled over to him, tugging on his shoulder until you noticed the look of pain twisted on his face. Your gaze trailed down to his leg and found his foot stuck under a heavy beam plucked from the building the tornado tore through. 

“Shit,” you whispered, grasping the beam with your slippery hands and desperately trying to lift it off. It wouldn’t budge, crushing Tyler’s ankle. 

“You gotta go!” he yelled, trying to wave you off with his hand frantically. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and the rain clouded your vision. There wasn’t a chance you were going to leave him. Your chest felt impossibly tight, pulling more and more with an indescribable fear you’d never experienced before. Using some kind of strength you didn’t know you had until that moment, you managed to lift the beam just enough for Tyler to pull his bloodied ankle out from under it. 

“Come on,” you cried, trying to help him to his feet. He grunted in pain, pale and breath labored. 

“We’re not gonna make it,” he wheezed out, talking about the library the tornado was already upon. You made a sharp turn, bee-lining toward the building you landed directly in front of. 

There wasn’t even time to get inside. Instead, you half helped half dragged Tyler to where there was a large light post cemented to the ground. It wasn’t much, but there were no other options. Tyler sat on the ground, pulling you down quickly beside him before he wrapped his arms around the pole. You hooked one arm too but kept your other pressed against Tyler’s head. You could take another hit, but you weren’t sure he could. 

You closed your eyes, sending a silent prayer that everyone would be okay. The storm roared, stinging your ears and tugging on you harshly. But, somehow, the both of you remained hugging the light post until the tornado dissipated after an excruciating amount of time. That was the thing about tornados, when you were chasing them, they never seemed to last long enough, but when you were in them, they never seemed to end. 

Shaking from a mix of adrenaline, fear, and cold you unwound your arm from the pole before you brushed your hands along Tyler’s shoulders, drawing his attention, and making sure he was still there. 

You two sat nearly nose to nose, droplets of rain decorating his face, falling his lashes as he tried to blink them away. “Are you okay?” you muttered, voice shaky. 

He let out a breath and tried to shift in his position, but his face twisted up in pain once more before he cursed under his breath. You glanced at his ankle, his jeans were stained with a smear of crimson, but the rest was hidden under the fabric. 

“I think it’s just a sprain,” he said, trying to shrug it off but you saw through him. You struggled to your feet and moved to help him, but he tried to stand on own. He leaned heavily on the light pole, trying to hide a wince. 

You heard his and your name being called in the distance. You hooked an arm around his torso, gazing at him for a moment. “Come on,” you said, gently guiding him back towards the road. As soon as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you spotted your team and a couple members of Tylers. 

“Holy shit!” Frankie gasped, running towards you. “What happened to you two? We thought you were right behind us?” 

Tyler tried not to lean on you, but you felt his grip tighten on your shoulders with each step. “I think we need to take him to the hospital,” you said, worry seeping into your voice. 

Kate and Javi snapped their gaze at Tyler, who shook his head. “No, really, I’m fine. I think it’s just a little sprain,” he repeated. 

Kate looked at you, half ignoring Tyler. “What happened?” 

“His ankle was crushed under some debris.” 

“I’m right here,” Tyler said. “And I said I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. But we’ve gotta find that dog-” 

“You mean this lil’ guy?” Boone asked. He and Lily stood with who you assumed was the kid who lost the dog, but who was now cuddling it in his arms with a wide smile on his lips despite the destruction all around them. “He came runnin’ out just a minute ago. Smart dog.” 

You smiled softly, looking at Tyler who sighed in relief. “I told you.” 

“I think the nearest hospital is…” Javi trailed off, looking at his phone with furrowed brows. “Twenty minutes south, just off the interstate.” 

“I’m not goin’ to a hospital. I’m telling you guys, I’m fine-” 

You huffed loudly. “Are you always this stubborn?” 

At the same time, Kate, Javi, Boone, and Lily all replied, “Yes.” 

You realized you probably weren’t going to convince Tyler to get his ankle checked out at the hospital. “Fine,” you sighed. “But you’re not gonna patch yourself up in some grimy motel, got it? My parents don’t live too far from here. You all can crash there.” 

“Are you sure?” Kate asked. 

“Positive. My parents were thrilled to have my team staying. They won’t mind a couple more people.” 

“Wait,” Javi said. “Your parents. Like, your parents as in Jo and Bill Harding?” 

You chuckled. “Yes.” 

He and Kate exchanged a look that bordered on giddy. 

Tyler shifted at your side, pulling out his truck keys and you thought he was out of his mind if he thought he was going to try to drive with his clearly busted ankle. You reached over and snatched the keys quickly. “You’re riding with me, cowboy,” you said before tossing the keys at Kate. She caught with between her two hands, eyes slightly wide before a smile broke out across her lips. 

“I’m driving!” Kate said before she quickly turned on her heel before anyone could protest, Javi following close behind her. 

“You be careful with my truck Sapulpa!” Tyler shouted. 

You all arrived at your parents' place and helped a limping Tyler out of your truck. He tried once more to hide just how much pain he was in, but it didn’t work. As you walked up the driveway, he smirked, a little lopsidedly. “Already taking me home to meet the parents, huh?” You wanted to smack him but decided his sprained ankle was enough punishment already. 

Instead, you rolled your eyes. “Don’t you be talking like that in front of my mom. She’ll start planning the wedding.” You were only half joking. You knew the second she opened the front door and saw you standing side by side with Tyler’s arm slung around you, even though it was strictly to keep himself upright and pressure off his ankle, her imagination would run wild. 

He was quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat and said, “At least let me buy you dinner first.” 

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the front door was swung open and out stepped your mom. Her eyes flickered between the two storm-chasing teams all trailing behind you before they landed on you and Tyler. You saw the little twinkle in her eye, but it vanished when she noticed the state everyone was in, soaked clothes, a little in pain, and in a slight daze. 

She hurried down the step, grasping your face and gazing at the nasty cut on your chin from where you collided with the road. “Everyone okay?” she asked, eyes drifting over to Tyler. 

“Not exactly,” you replied. “Tyler’s got a busted ankle. I think everyone else is pretty okay. But cold and hungry.” 

Your mom clapped her hands together. “Well then, let’s get you all fed and cleaned up then. Come on,” she said, ushering everyone inside and exchanging greetings. 

You helped Tyler into the bathroom before you dug around for the first aid kit underneath the sink. 

“You know-” Tyler started but you glared at him. 

“If you tell me you’re fine one more time Owens…” He held up his hands in defense, pressing his lips together. Once you found the kit, you sat on the floor and carefully rolled up the leg of his jeans. Whatever damage his ankle took was hidden under his boot. “This is probably gonna hurt,” you said. 

You tried to be as careful as you could, tugging off his boot, and he tried to act like it didn’t hurt like a bitch, but the way his eyes screwed shut and hands clenched into fists in his lap told you otherwise. As soon as it was off, he let out a shaky breath and you assessed the damage. His ankle was swollen, bloodied, and overall in pretty bad shape but considering he could put a little bit of pressure on it told you it wasn’t broken. He was right about the sprain, but it was a fairly bad one. 

Working quickly but carefully, you cleaned up the dirt and blood before wrapping his ankle. “Feel any better?” you asked. He nodded as you stood to your feet. “Good. Are you hungry? I’m sure my mom’s made enough food to feed an army-” 

“Wait,” he said, grasping your hand, turning you back around to face him before you could reach the door. “You fixed me up, now it’s your turn.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What?” His eyes dropped down to your chin, where you’d smacked it against the road when you fell. “Oh. No, it’s just a little scratch-” he cut you off. 

“Are you always this stubborn?” he teased, using your own words against you. With a sigh, you slumped your shoulders in defeat. 

“All right, but at least sit down. Your ankle’s not gonna heal otherwise.” He listened, retaking his place on the toilet lid as you sat on the edge of the tub right beside it. He grabbed an alcohol swap from the kit and grasped your face with one hand. His fingers were cold from the rain but gentle as they tilted your head upwards just slightly so he could clean the cut on your chin. 

You couldn’t help but study him. The brightness of his eyes and how they narrowed when he concentrated, and how he pulled his bottom lip just barely between his teeth. Something twisted in your stomach, and you were suddenly very aware of just how close he was. You had been nearly nose to nose with him earlier, in the aftermath of the storm, but the calmness of your current setting made the closeness feel different. The way his hand softly held onto your face made your breath hitch, and it was impossible for him not to notice. His eyes flickered up from your chin, awkwardly covered with a band aid, and met yours. 

“Thanks for saving my ass out there,” he said, voice just above a whisper, like he too didn’t want to break the calmness that was steady in the room. 

You tried to ignore the patter of your heart that quickened as with his little smile. “I owed you for saving mine.” 

“Guess we’re even know, huh?” 

You nodded, words lost on your tongue. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but you dropped your gaze onto his lips for just a moment before you met his eyes, searching for something. But your wishful thinking died with a startling knock on the door that caused you both to flinch back and away from each other. 

“Everything all right in there?” your dad’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. 

You cleared your throat, quickly standing to your feet. “Y-Yeah. We’ll be out in a second!” A shaky laugh left your lips as your turned to Tyler, who stared back at you with cheeks slightly pink. “We should…” 

“Yeah, y-yeah.” 

After everyone showered and cleaned themselves up, your mom and dad handed out plates and everyone dug in. With full stomachs and dry clothes, the collection of storm chasers all crashed around the house. You lay in your childhood bed, squished alongside Frankie while two other members of your team were asleep on an air mattress on the floor. You tried to sleep, but all you could think about was Tyler, who was just downstairs in the living room. The rest of the evening consisted of you two tip toeing around each other, bordering on avoiding each other in the company of everyone else. 

With a quiet groan, you slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen, careful to be quiet. Your mom’s words followed you, gushing about Tyler. Would it be the worst thing in the world? You had said yes, but you didn’t really mean it, how could you? This was Tyler. Sure, he was a little reckless and you’d seen him get a little rowdy at a country bar, but he was also the kind of person that looked for lost dogs in the middle of a tornado and who stayed by your bedside at the hospital until you woke up. He was obnoxiously great. You didn’t know how to deal with it. 

In the bathroom, just hours ago, you wanted to kiss him. And a part of you thought he wanted to kiss you too, but the moment was broken too fast for you to know for certain. 

You poured yourself a glass of water before leaning against the counter, eyes focused out the window at the sliver of moon that poked out from behind the clouds. Somewhere behind you, the floorboards creaked, causing you to spin around with a start. 

Tyler paused, wincing at the noise he made before he whispered, “Sorry.” 

You didn’t do it on purpose, but it was like at the sight of him your lips automatically tugged upwards in a smile. You felt a little ridiculous about it but tried to play it off by clearing your throat. 

“I told you that couch was uncomfortable,” you said, voice low to not wake the snoring Wranglers in the next room. 

“It’s not,” he replied. 

“You should be elevating your ankle.” 

“I know, I know. Doctor’s orders, right?” He smiled too. “I was just grabbing some water.” 

You said nothing as you reached back into the cabinet and pulled out another glass before filling it at the sink. You handed it to him, your fingers brushing for just a second before he took the glass with a quiet ‘thanks’ and you pulled away. 

“I should…” You pointed behind you, ready to retreat back to your bedroom and let your Tyler-occupied mind slip away. But he caught your elbow and set down his glass of water. He didn’t say anything as his hand slid up your arm to your shoulder, then to your cheek in a similar way he held you earlier. You were back to being nearly nose-to-nose for the third time that day. Only this time, it was Tyler whose gaze flickered to your lips before he closed the short distance. 

Softly and quietly, you pressed your lips against his, pressing your hands against his chest. His hands were warm on the sides of your face as his lips moved against yours. You parted after a moment, breathing a little heavier, and your chest beat with something new. 

You leaned in once more, kissing him a little harder but pulling back quicker. “Good night, Tyler,” you breathed out. 

He beamed, cheeks rosy. “Good night, Harding.”

[sleepyangelkami]

PERVERTED II c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3.5K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - carl decides to go through with this weeks saturday sleepover. so far, he's been able to control himself. until, that is, he hears you whimper his name in your sleep.

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, slight angst, somnophilia, thigh riding (kinda), fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, wet dreams, sex dreams, innocence kink, corruption kink, dom!carl, sub!reader, noncon, heavy manipulation, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

"you sure you don't wanna come?" rick questioned as he took a box from his son, landing it inside the back of the truck. "we could use the help."

carl watched his dad place a hand on his hip before shaking his head, hand on his hat. "no, i promised y/n i'd stay over. can't miss saturday sleepover can i?" he'd laughed yet he knew he wouldn't wish to miss it for the world, either. rick gave him a look, lips slightly perking up as if he knew something. "what?"

rick wasn't born yesterday either. he was well aware what it was like to have a silly crush, especially at that age. but this... this was much different. "nothin'" before packing in the last box. "you be good, alright? don't ruin the house while glenn and maggie are gone."

the two were going on the supply run with him, along with many more of the fighters. "bye, dad." watching him get into the rusted car.

and so, the day went on.

by the time lunch rolled around, carl still hadn't seen you. however, he wasn't entirely alone. he soon found ron who decided to help him look for you. in return, you'd also be looking for his also missing girlfriend, enid.

"they're always running off." ron muttered under his breath. he knew enid was close with you, possibly your best friend had carl not been thrown into the mix. enid was always running off with you, slinging you around by the arm. "hey, what's the deal with you two anyway?" carl's head peeked up, brows knitting together. "is she like your girlfriend or something?"

his mind moved like puzzle pieces. girlfriend. carl had never had a girlfriend before but he was pretty sure you had to kiss and all that to actually be in a relationship. then again, you don't touch yourself with your 'friend's panties sitting on your dick. he cleared his throat. "no... no we're not together."

saying you were his friend didn't seem all too right but saying you weren't his girlfriend didn't seem right either. you were something.

but ron didn't look convinced, rolling his eyes with his brows raising slightly. "whatever, dude." was it really all that obvious to everyone aside from you? carl thought that if there was a competition on the most oblivious person alive, you'd win.

but perhaps that was the easier option. would he have preferred you to know? everything seemed so easy with the fact that you were so oblivious. it was like a reminder that he could do anything he wanted right under your nose.

"finally." hearing the mutter from ron, carl looked up. this was when he was met with the sight of you, as pretty as ever, sat next to enid on a bench near the town's pond.

carl could barely look at you. the way you sat with your legs folded, smiling away innocently, completely unaware of what he'd done last night. you wore a pretty skirt, enough to slightly hike up your legs, giving carl a view of the pretty plush of your thighs.

he could only imagine digging his hands around the plush, holding it and kneeding the skin. he could only imagine grasping your thighs, holding them close while he rammed his di―

"there you guys are!" ron exclaimed causing carl to shake his head, ridding himself of the thoughts he'd been having. "carl and i were looking all over for you." he had this voice he used when he spoke to girls, one that carl could guarantee was not the voice he used with him.

enid only rolled her eyes. the sight of her boyfriend and carl was enough to have her smile drop. "well, we weren't looking for you." she mumbled. some may say she didn't like anyone aside from you, not even her own boyfriend. carl didn't think there was much of a point of being with someone that you didn't even like. "hence the getaway pond."

ron must have thought she was joking because he came up to pinch her side and kiss her cheek. the sight alone had carl's stomach turning.

however, the sweet sound of your lulling voice was enough to bring him back. "hi, carl." you beamed at him, smile as wide as ever. he hadn't even registered you moving from the bench to his side. all he remembered was the feeling of you snaking in next to him, your body so close. suddenly, he felt so dirty. "we were feeding the ducks." smiling like a child on christmas. you always smiled like that, like you had a thousand things to be smiling about. it always made carl wonder if you were truly made for this world at all.

when he was around you, he was fighting off his own smile. yours was so contagious. the way his lips curved upwards told you he was happy for you, he always was. "that's great ba― y/n." correcting himself as his expression faltered, smile wavering.

he watched as your entire face fell.

he was unable to bring himself to call you those cute names. baby, sweetheart, like an old couple who'd spent their entire lives together. he couldn't bring himself to say such things after he imagined himself fucking you just the night before. it didn't seem right, not when you were so oblivious to the dirtiness behind his words.

the smile wiped clean from your face, carl was sure you could have cried.

you reminded him somewhat of a kicked puppy.

he'd been the one to kick you.

he never called you y/n, unless speaking to someone else like his father or even ron. this was because they'd hardly understand who you were if he was referring to you as sweetheart.

the point was, he only used your name if it was wholeheartedly necessary.

you wondered what'd changed.

your mind ran back to the night before. when he'd entered your house, looking awfully suspicious and at the sight of you, he practically rushed out the door. had you done something wrong? your heart ached at the idea that you may have upset him. a heart of gold, some people said you had. carl had to beg to differ. the look on your face explained all he needed to know, a heart of mere paper.

he regretted it the moment he said it.

he knew how you got, how all up in your head you could be. he could only imagine how you'd be for the rest of the day, going over every interaction you've ever had with the boy and wondering where everything went wrong, where you messed up.

the moment your name slipped from his lips, he thought it may have been better to call you anything else in the entire world. even if it was laced with the dirty undertone.

he felt your body move slightly away from his, eyes cast down on the ground to avoid any glances. "'m gonna go see aaron." you announced, rather loudly too.

"okay." enid responded, her eyes glancing you over before turning to carl, a slight glare, if you will. she didn't particularly like carl, though carl hadn't the foggiest idea why. perhaps it was because she was so protective of you. carl had to roll his eyes, if anyone knew what was good for you, it was him. "don't stay out too late."

you didn't respond, grasping your bag that sat at the bench before turning onto the footpath.

carl had to purse his lips. "wrong way." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

with slightly wide eyes, you realised he was right. spinning around on your heel, you began walking left instead of right. "thanks." you mumbled under your breath before continuing your walk to one of your favourite people in the entirety of alexandria.

back at the pond, carl was cursing himself under his breath before turning around to find two accusing pair of eyes sat on the bench. one pair belonged to enid, the other to ron. "what did you do?" was enid's accusing tone, her face hard as stone. carl was on the receiving end of this look very often, he didn't fear it... well, he feared it a little but not as much as before... okay he feared it.

"what do you mean what did i do?" he instantly fell to defending himself. despite the fact that he knew he was the reason for your declining mood. "i didn't do anything."

whether it was to intimidate carl or that she smelled the sort of fish smell of ron that carl had smelt earlier, she perked up on the bench, loosening her boyfriend's arm across her shoulder. "she looks like a deflated balloon." she argued.

"yeah." ron nodded his head. carl couldn't stop the glare he sent his way, what did he know. "everyone knows aaron's like her very own guidance councillor, his boyfriend too." he shrugged his shoulders. "whatever you did, i'd say fix it quick."

the brunette boy only glared at the couple. "thanks guys, for that enlightening advice. but i don't need it, okay? i didn't do anything."

on the contrary, he was well aware that it was his fault. he needed to fix it and he needed to fix it fast but he didn't need enid and ron whispering in his ears. nobody knew you like carl, they didn't know what they were talking about. they hadn't seen you crying over some stupid movie you watched. they didn't see you smiling the way he did, they didn't take notice like him.

they'd never understand what it was like to know you. only carl would. and he'd make sure of that.

the sun was setting by the time carl had made it to your house. you'd opened the door, taking him in with your eyes before allowing him inside. maggie and glenn were on the run so the two of you headed straight towards the bedroom where'd you'd begin the movie night. however, carl was more focused on the fact that you'd spoken barely four words to him tonight rather than which disney movie you'd force him to watch this time.

he knew you were in your head but you wouldn't utter the words because what were you meant to say? hey carl, why didn't you call me baby? something so simple had ruined your entire day.

however, carl couldn't keep it in anymore. "are you okay?" he blurted out after many moments of silence as he sat atop your pink bed sheets.

you, at the foot of the bed pursed your lips. you pressed play on the movie and allowed the credits to begin. you weren't the type of person to insist that you were fine if you weren't. carl liked that about you, he never had to guess. "are you mad at me?" voice meek, like a childs.

the realisation hit carl that despite what he was feeling for you, he'd have to push it down in order to continue your friendship. at least, he couldn't take it out on you. "'course not, baby, c'mere."

the name fell from his lips like sweet relief.

it suddenly occurred to the boy that you needed him. desperately so. something as simple as calling you by your first name had thrown off your entire day. carl should have been worried, concerned even. instead, his heart fluttered a little.

you truly did rely on him.

with a sigh of relief, you found yourself crawling up to the boy. today had been so long with you being in your own head so when you felt the feeling of his hands sneak around your waist, it was like coming home after a long day at work.

you couldn't see his face but if you could, you'd see the sheer nervousness on his face. he needed to control himself but he wasn't sure how that was possible while you cuddled up against him beneath your bed sheets, clad in your pretty pale blue shorts and your white spaghetti strap top.

your knee was bent, extending over the top of his legs. there was a sharp intake of breath as your knee gently bumped against the prominent bulge in his shorts. you hadn't noticed, he knew you hadn't noticed and to make sure you wouldn't notice, he reached over to switch off the light, clearing his throat. "so, uh, what are we watching?"

"the princess frog." you answered, turning your head up to look at his face as he groaned.

a look of displeasment was evident on his face. "it's so boring!" he practically gushed.

offence hit you like a truck. "excuse me!" you battled. "i'd like to see you opening up your own restaurant all by yourself." even carl had to admit, you got him there.

carl never understood why you picked movies that you fell asleep so early during.

he heard your soft snores and your gentle breath hit the crook of his neck within the first half hour of the movie. though he couldn't blame you. truthfully, he could only blame himself in how he had your head messed up, practically knocked off your shoulders for the entire day.

it took until almost a full hour into the movie for you to stur.

at first, carl thought he'd misheard it. a little noise falling from your lips. then, he heard it again.

he held his breath as he heard the whimper leave your lips.

then, he felt it.

the gentle roll of your hips against his thigh had him practically seeing stars. the boy glanced to the tv hoping for some kind of a distraction from his obvious hard on. he couldn't wake you up, not because he actually couldn't. but because he wasn't too sure if he wanted to.

admitting it sounded like nails on a chalkboard but he'd be lying if he said he did want to. the little whimper you let out, sleepily and lowly albeit, into his ear was enough for him to almost completely loose his control.

it was like he was dreaming, it was everything he'd dreamed of, especially the night before.

you sounded even better than he'd thought.

he shouldn't have laid so still. you weren't aware of the way your hips bucked onto his leg, a little whine stretching from your lips. he reminded himself that you were too busy sleeping to understand what was going on. he couldn't engage with you, that'd be wrong.

so... wrong.

then he'd swore he heard it. "carl." a mumble in your sleep, enough for him to not know whether or not you were actually sleeping. he took a glance at your face, eyes screwed shut.

he was imagining things, he had to have been.

you soon rolled over, leaving him laying very stiffly as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening.

you were having a wet dream, obviously. that'd never happened before, at least not while cuddled up against carl. but he could have swore he heard you say his name. he shook his head, knowing he was wrong, he was so caught up in what had happened the night before that he was imagining you breathe his name.

then, he heard it again.

this time it was more stretched out into a whine. due to the movie on in the background, he could vaguely make out the way your cunt rutted onto nothingness, the mattress maybe but it wasn't enough to cause any real friction.

his mind stirred. if you really were having a dream about him, surely it was only his duty to... help?

but it was dirty, downright perverted.

but your noises were growing needier, obviously the bed wasn't enough for you to create real friction from. he had to help you. "poor girl, can't even get herself off." he mumbled under his breath, not enough to wake you up.

if he were to touch you, it wouldn't be for him. no, he was doing this for you.

he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't wake. on the contrary, you'd sleep through an asteroid should it hit your home.

he reached his hand down beneath the covers, holding his breath. he was helping you, he reminded himself, helping you. this was for you, making sure you felt good as your dream continued. your dream of him.

suddenly, he wasn't the all too dirty one. perhaps you were.

his fingers gently felt the core of your shorts, taking an intake of breath upon feeling just how wet you were. it practically seeped onto his fingers, it was a wonder if his sweatpants didn't have a wet stain on them from how you'd been rolling your hips against them.

he breathed in, gently massaging the area you needed him the most, you all but moaned into the pillow, eyes screwed shut.

carl had dreamed of this moment for as long as he lived, he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

the way your hips jutted into his hand, creating all the friction you needed and you whimpered again, still stuck in slumber, had carl's confidence through the roof.

it was as if saying his name, he realised you wanted it just as much as he did.

how he ended beneath the covers, he wasn't too sure. perhaps it was the newfound confidence he'd gained.

he'd spent too long dreaming of this moment to stop now. he breathed as shallow as a man could before his fingers travelled back to your shorts, gently pulling them away from your aching cunt. that was when he realised you hadn't been wearing panties. did you do that often around him? had you been... expecting something?

nonetheless, carl was more than willing to give it to you.

his breath fanned your pussy, prettier than his sick mind could have ever mustered. the image would be burned into his head, it'd never leave. one thing was for sure, this boy wasn't leaving the next morning without putting his mouth to your cunt.

and that was exactly what he did.

his tongue reached your pussy, licking a long stripe and feeling your thighs jump and your body jolt. obviously, never been touched.

he knew it'd be him who touched you first. now, it was just him making sure of it.

he licked again, your wetness gathering on his tongue. he tried to hold back the groan that spread throughout your entire body. yet, you still lay sleeping. it somehow only egged him on further. he knew you wouldn't wake. to him, your body was his for the taking. and he was going to take it.

his tongue found your cute hole, hands against your thighs, holding them, trapping them down.

tongue dancing across your clit, he heard you moan even louder, still trapped by slumber. his lips curved upwards, tongue circling your clit. he moved one of his hands, using his middle finger to gently slide into your sopping hole. so wet for him, already.

he cursed enid and ron for thinking they knew you. he cursed all of the people who thought they knew you. the truth was, the only person you could ever rely on would be him, he'd make sure that you got what you needed, make sure all your needs were fulfilled at all times. perhaps this was just him making sure of that fact.

his tongue moved away from your clit, moving his other hand to meet it. he saw the way your body writhed against his hands. he couldn't wait to do this when you were awake.

it wasn't until your thighs actually began to shake that he knew what was happening. "s'pretty." he mumbled, dazed as drool practically dripped from his mouth. you truly were, the most beautiful thing he'd ever encountered his entire life.

mouth moving back to your cunt, he moved his tongue back against your clit at an alarming pace. with his now free hand, he held your thighs down, trapping them under him as your body shook against him, jutting your hips back and practically rolling your hips against his face. he relished in it. you were practically getting off to his pretty face which told him all the more just how much you loved this.

he felt your hips force themselves back to the bed, shaking and vibrating until your juices poured out onto his tongue.

you'd came.

he lapped you up without second thought, tongue dancing over your hole and licking the juices off the single finger he'd pushed inside of you.

licking his lips, he finally rose. he watched your face lull in your sleep, obviously content and finally getting your sweet relief. he gently moved your shorts to cover your pussy again, as if nothing had happened at all.

it took mere seconds for you to roll back over and onto him, cuddling against his side. he couldn't help but feel even dirtier.

you'd never even know.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

Part Seven

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️

A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish. 

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day. 

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner. 

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.) 

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week. 

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home. 

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library. 

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this. 

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs. 

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick. 

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee.. 

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something. 

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions. 

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case. 

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check. 

That’s when things spiral. 

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can here everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: guess who's not listening in her calculus lecture rn. also, wifi is acting funny rn.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

2020

There have been a lot of new protocols to follow. Social distancing. Wearing face masks. Races being rescheduled. Australia, China, Netherlands, Monaco, Azerbaijan, Canada, and France are canceled. Vietnam is postponed. The first race of the season takes place in the Red Bull Ring in Austria and Max gets a fucking DNF.

After exchanging Instagram accounts in December, Max has spent a normal amount of time stalking your feed. That's what you do when you’re trapped inside your apartment alone because of a global health crisis, you explore the online world.

It seems like you’ve been operating the account since your university days and a lot of your posts show a side of you that’s different from the manager he knows. He learns that you play billiards competitively. You've even reached an Australian tournament. He learns that you watch NASCAR and motocross and drift racing. He learns that you know how to drive a firetruck. He learns that you like partying in LA and you took up volunteer work in the LA fire brigade around your sophomore year. He learns that you’re particularly fond of taking pictures of the skies at different times of the day and the things you’re studying. He notices that you only post group selfies or low angle blurry selfies of you. You don't take pretty pictures of just you.

The oldest post is a photo of you offering a middle finger while smiling and filling up the gas tank of a truck. You're also wearing a red sweatshirt with the letters USC written at the front and skinny ripped jeans. If you swipe right, the next photo shows a picture of you and your group of friends writing on papers on the hood of the truck. Max sees numbers and scratches and crossed out sketches. Max notices a canned beer on your other hand while you press down on your scientific calculator buttons and shakes his head. You do not change.

The latest post is a photo dump of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2019. A picture of the aerial show, grainy zoomed in pictures of the garage, selfies with the mechanics, a bathroom mirror selfie, and a blurry picture of a beer in your hand from the after party. He presses like in every post, latest to the oldest.

you: fucking stalker

max: fuck you

max: *sent a photo*

max: nice teeth by the way

you: i hate you

you: *sent a photo*

you: ya think im the only one who looks ugly with braces?

Since then, Max’s relationship with you has considerably improved. The two of you spend a lot of nights dm-ing each other on Instagram and sending each other reels.

max: SOS

you: ??

max: I THINK THE STOVE IS ON FIRE

you: the stove is supposed to have fire

max: ITS ON FIRE

You and Max sit on the floor, back against the kitchen counter, chest heaving in quick breaths, shoulders bumping against each other. You hold the fire extinguisher close to your chest and your eyes are closed and your lips are parted a little. Max observes your side profile.

You're not a categorically attractive woman. But with the way the sun rays enter Max’s kitchen window and hit your face at all the right angles, you look like someone worth missing a sunset over. Max allows himself to stare and mentally tries to convince himself that this is a very normal amount of staring at one’s manager slash friend.

He’s crossing the line that divides friendship and something unnamed.

“Do you need me to call maintenance so we can get your stove replaced?”

Max nods.

“Yes please.”

You post a new picture on Instagram after a long period of dryness. Max gets a notification. He checks it out.

The caption reads: meet my full time dog and part time boyfriend

The picture is blurry and grainy but Max can make out your face perfectly. There’s a billiard table. Max sees a person in the background. A man. He's wearing a Williams shirt.

Is that a racer? Max immediately thinks of Nicholas Latifi. You and him are around the same age. But the blurry man in the picture doesn't look like Nicholas. The hair color and the build is different. George, maybe? He’s a year younger than Max. Do you prefer your men younger? Scratch that. That’s impossible. Max knows he has a girlfriend named Carmel or Carmen or something.

max: you have a boyfriend

you: youre fast

max: when did this happen?

you: uh

you: earlier?

Max resists the urge to hurl his phone across the room.

max: details [name]

max: i need details

you: nuh uh kid you havent unlocked that level of friendship yet

you: that's friendship level 8 ur still on level 6

max: i will hunt you down and force you to tell me

max: and don't call me kid i'm one year younger than you

you: id like to see you try

max: i think u forgot im the one who gave you the apartment where u live rn

You introduce Leo to Max a month later.

Leo is a British brunette guy with a face that one would consider mid in Europe but a ten in the US. He is one of the Williams mechanics. You mention that he used to do karting as a kid and even went up to F3 but he’s decided to discontinue his racing career because he thinks engineering and the technical aspects of a formula car is far more interesting than racing.

He’s basically the complete opposite of Max.

He’s a good guy, Max can tell. He’s well-mannered, he’s calm, he knows how to treat you right. Above all else, he makes you the happiest. You have the most genuine and beautiful smile on your face when he comes into your view.

He also handles your relationship very maturely. He doesn't demand. He understands that you work for different racing teams with different jobs and that means different priorities.

The weekly IG posts are also too cute. It looks like it came out of a Pinterest board.

Max will never tell you that he spends a good hour every time you post something with Leo in it like an obsessive freak. He tries to make sense of the feeling in his chest. Something green. Something ugly. Something he can't name.

Max should be happy that you found a guy as great as Leo. But he cannot, for the life of him, be fully happy for you. He doesn't know why.

“PR told me that you received a dinner invite from Kelly Piquet,” you state, sitting down on the empty chair across from him and putting your packed lunch on the table. You carefully lay the folded clothes on the other chair. Max deduces they will be the ones he’ll be wearing for the interview scheduled in about two hours. You already sent him the list of questions in his email but he hasn't opened them yet.

“Yeah,” Max says after swallowing. “She’s been sending invites since two months ago.”

“And you left her on seen?”

Max scoffs, “I didn't leave her on seen. I just…well, I saw them late and declined them politely.”

He knows Kelly Piquet. He’s aware of the history she shared with former Red Bull Racing now Toro Rosso driver, Daniil Kvyat. Max also knows she’s the daughter of Nelson Piquet, retired Formula One champion. He thinks it's rude to take the guy’s ex-girlfriend after he’s taken his seat in Red Bull.

“She’s interested in you,” you claim, opening the tupperware and quickly saying grace before digging in.

Max is not good with dealing with women. Twenty-three years old and he’s still girlfriend-less. But he knows how to recognize people who are interested in him. A significant number of women have tried their chances with him since he began racing professionally and he may have used you as some sort of getaway driver to get him out of all the awkward situations where he has to deal with women who are interested in him.

You have a very scary resting bitch face if you try hard enough. Its efficiency in scaring off people is proven to be, well, efficient.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Are you interested in her?” you question.

Max thinks about it. Really thinks about it.

“Do you think it’ll be good if I get a girlfriend?” he throws you a question instead of an answer.

“You're twenty-three, man. It's about time you start doin’ somethin’ about your empty dating history.”

Max nose scrunches but doesn't say anything because it's the truth. His dating history is hilariously empty.

“What’s your opinion of Kelly?”

“Uh, cool pussy, I guess. Don't really care.”

Max rolls his eyes, “You’re so crude.”

You shrug uncaringly.

“But I don't mind who you wanna date, man. I mean, it's your life. Date who you wanna date. Live the life you wanna live. All the jazz and shedazzle.”

Max accepts the dinner invite.

The 2020 season ends with Hamilton standing at the top, officially becoming a seven-time world champion. Bottas is behind him. Verstappen, like 2019, still stands in third place. Max vows 2020 will be the last year Hamilton becomes a world champion. The team doesn't hold a big afterparty like it usually does and Max flies home to Monaco immediately.

It's been months since he's started seeing Kelly and the woman is pleasant company. Her daughter, Penelope, is the most adorable human being that ever stepped on Earth. Max loves the little bean with all his heart and he himself is surprised that he’s capable of loving a little human this much. He’s practically convinced that he’ll be a shitty father one day. He does not have a good model figure to look up to when it comes to fatherhood.

Little P, Max learns, is obsessed with crocheted things. Max sees her little bags and little hats—all crocheted. Kelly says she pays their housekeeper to make things for little Penelope because she likes them so much.

Max decides he wants to learn how to crochet. He buys the material and learns through hundreds of Youtube videos. His first masterpiece is a bag. It's white and light orange. He shows it to his mum, who questions how on Earth did her son take an interest in a hobby other than racing or anything car-related. Despite that, she compliments it and Max feels confident that you’ll like it, too, now that he’s gotten his mother’s approval.

He finishes making it by the eighteenth day of December and he calls you, hoping he has the chance to give it before you fly down to Texas for the off-season. But you already left Monaco, just the day before and are now spending the first few weeks of the break in New Zealand with Leo.

“So it's serious?” Max asks you over the phone. He stares at the dark sky in Belgium. There's no stars tonight. Only the moon and it’s looking down at him like it's mocking him. Max wonders what the sky looks like in New Zealand right now.

“Of course,” you say.

“Well then, enjoy the holidays.”

“You, too, man.”

The call ends.

2021

Max sees you enter the Red Bull hospitality. The first thing he notices is that your shoes are brand new. Same model—the black and gold YSL Opyum heels, yes he knows the name because he searched it on Google—but brand new. Your bag is also brand new and it’s not the old cream-colored tote bag with peach prints. It's a cream-colored tote bag with Van Gogh’s painting—the Starry Night—printed at the front. You show it to Max excitedly and tell him that it's from Leo, the bag and the shoes, and Max fakes a smile the whole time. When he returns to his room in the evening, he throws the crochet bag he made over December in the trash bin. Kelly sees it but she doesn't question it.

“PR suggests that you film a Tiktok.”

Max groans, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Tell them no.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” you encourage him, shaking his shoulders. “There's a lot of dance trends right now.”

“I said no, [Name].”

“Max.”

You throw your hands on your waist, looking at him pointedly with your lips pursed. Max returns the stare.

He gives up after five seconds.

“Fine.”

You huff in triumph.

“But you’re doing it with me,” Max bargains.

“Oh come on,” you throw your hands in the air.

“Now you know how it feels. Tell PR that I’m not going to film a Tiktok unless you film it with me,” Max smiles cheekily.

You're not going to film a Tiktok video with him. He knows you hate filming yourself and posting it for the public. There's a reason why you avoided cameras as if it’s the sun and you're a vampire and had all your social media accounts in private.

You pull an unexpected move and you nod your head.

“Fine.”

Max’s smile drops.

You film a Tiktok using Red Bull Racing’s official Tiktok account. A simple dance. Max does not know the title. The steps are simple and it's easy to memorize. He believes he can do this fairly easily. You don't look like you’re having fun while memorizing the dance steps but you're not overly struggling.

You film the video in three takes. When Max sees the final outcome, he cringes. His long limbs look awkward as he performs the steps despite thinking that he’s doing fine while filming it. You, on the other hand, look fine.

You look good while dancing actually. There’s a certain grace that accompanied your movements.

“You dance good,” Max comments.

“It’s the Latina in me,” you claim, raising your chin a little.

Max snorts.

You show the draft video to the PR team. Without hesitation, they scratched it.

“Why?” Max asks, brows furrowing.

“Apparently, they're too tired releasing statements that we’re not dating. They're afraid that the Tiktok video would bring back our dating rumors,” you roll your eyes. “They’ve decided to just make you do a Tiktok filter game.”

Max does the one filter where he has to solve the simple math equations projected on the screen. He has to tilt his head to the side where the right answer is placed and he needs to do it quickly.

Max is not bad at Mathematics. He’s not good at it either. He’ll say that he’s just average at it like every human being on Earth.

You sit beside him, barking him the answers before his brain can even process and perform the required operations.

“60 points. That's not good enough,” he says.

You nod, “Damn right. You're not tilting your head to the right answer fast enough.”

“Maybe you're not giving the answers quick enough.”

The video gets more than ten takes. The two of you don't stop until you get the perfect score.

Monza is a disaster. To summarize: the 53-lap race is won by Daniel Ricciardo, who has now moved to McLaren. He capitalizes on a good front-row start and the crash between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton to take the race lead. Lando, Daniel’s teammate comes in second with Mercedes' Valtteri Bottas in third. Max and Lewis—DNF.

Max doesn't remember the last time he’s been that angry and the anger doubles when he sees the seven-time world champion celebrate on the tracks. Max then decides that he’s going to be more risky, especially now that he knows how safe the car is. Max is willing to risk his life for number one.

Max lies in the medical bay and he hears voices outside. Too many voices. He’ll appreciate it greatly if the voices disappear. He's too angry right now that the noise of the outside world is too much.

“Max?”

The voices disappear and it's only you he can see, he can hear, he can feel. You're everything.

You said it. His name. It sounds even better than he imagined.

“[Name].”

After making sure he’s okay, you tell Max that you wish to go to Danny and congratulate him for winning. Max grabs your hand, unwilling to let go.

“You're not his manager anymore,” Max reminds you. “You're mine.”

He’s very much aware that he sounds like a child who refuses to let his older brother borrow his favorite toy but he cannot find himself to care. Screw Daniel.

You give him a long look but follows his demands anyway, “We’re gonna congratulate him later whether you like it or not. He’s our friend and he just got P1. We’re gonna be happy for him 'cuz that's what friends do. I’ll drag your ass to his hotel room if I have to.”

Jos Verstappen is not happy. When has he ever been happy with Max anyway? He calls Max after the Monza race and proceeds to yell because that’s all he ever does with Max. He yells. Max is embarrassed that he’s twenty-three and he’s still getting yelled at by his own father.

“Your Dad’s an asshole,” you stated after he ends the call. Max knows you heard his father’s voice even though he has not put the call on loudspeaker.

“Don't talk to my Dad like that,” he reprimands, though not unkindly. “But yeah, he is.”

You snort, “You okay?”

Max lets out a shaky breath, nodding weakly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You would think that after all this time I would get used to it but I don't know. It still makes me feel so uncomfortable and like I'm doing everything wrong even though I've been doing that for such a long time now and I've achieved so many things he asked for."

Your gaze softens and Max mentally begs that you stop looking at him like that. He does not want your pity. Pity is for the weak. Max is not weak.

You open your arms, “Rein it in, big guy.”

“What are you doing?”

“You need a hug.”

Max hesitates but he invites himself to your arms anyway. He allows himself to melt. In your arms, he feels like he's home and that he's good enough.

The breakup happens two race weekends later. Max is not dumb nor is he so emotionally indifferent that he cannot sense if a person is going through a breakup especially if that person is someone so close to him. He already knows there’s something wrong and he knows exactly what’s wrong and yet he still asks, “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say a little too quickly as if you already know that Max is going to ask the question.

“[Name],” his fingers circle around your wrist. “It's not nothing. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

He wants you to open up. He wants you to say something. He wants you to share the heartache you carry so it won't feel heavy on your shoulders. He wants to be someone who’ll carry your problems with you when the world feels too big and you too small.

You sigh shakily, forcing a polite smile. Your hand comes up to squish Max’s cheek in between your palms and Max’s brows rise slightly at the action. Your hands feel cold and they’re trembling slightly and Max wants to point it out, but he sees how your lips wobble and his mind just blanks, “It's not important. You only have one thing to think about and that is to win. You hear me?”

Max considers marching to the Williams Racing livery and demanding for Leo Stark but he chooses not to. You won't want him to, anyway.

Max never realizes how horrifying blood is until he sees it dripping down the side of your head. He watches as your face changes from shock to realization to absolute anger. It’s like watching you transform from human to a rabid animal who wants to shed blood. At first, he tries to pull you away and calm you down. When he sees the girl’s boyfriend appear, Max joins the fight. No man is allowed to hit you. Not on his watch.

The higher-ups are not the happiest when they learn of what happened. The PR team is having a field day as well. Someone captured the event in video and posted it online. Max has been given a script for the video he’ll have to do to save his image but it’s written differently. Different in a way that the way the words are arranged feels odd to him unlike the way you write your scripts for Max. You write the scripts as if Max is the one who writes them. You write the script in a way Max will write them. Because you know him enough to know what kind of words he wants to use and how he’ll phrase things. You choose words that are easy on his tongue and you structure the sentences so that he can memorize them easily.

Helmut is the one who says, “She should leave the team.”

“If you fire her, I’m leaving,” Max decides.

Christian narrows his eyes at him, “You won't dare.”

“Try me,” he challenges. “I am willing to pay millions to leave if she leaves.”

The other teams want him, Max knows. They know he’s rising to stardom, a racer who can stand equal to Lewis Hamilton in the right time. Red Bull is too afraid of spitting out their star now. Not when Max is already giving Lewis Hamilton a big run for his money this year. Not when Max just showed the world that he’s capable of more than just being third place.

The wretched Hamilton fan decides to sue and Max calls upon his mother’s help to find the best lawyers to fight for you. Sophie willingly helps him.

Max is going to protect you, like you always do to him.

[redr0sewrites]

Bestie, heard your cry for requests, no worries. Adam and Lute brainrot is real 😭. Perhaps something with Adam and Lute having this sort of crush on the gn!Reader who’s probably a member of the exorcist army. Like they both develop feeling for the person separately but once they find out, it goes into the direction of polycule? Love your writing and hope this helps!

THIS REQUEST>>>> EVERYTHING ELSE

🥀Cw: poly!guitarspear x reader, fluff

both adam and lute having a crush on you is definitely an accomplishment, and its both the best and most infuriating thing to ever happen to you

if you're in the exorcist army then you're def interacting with them alot, but no matter where you are in heaven there's always at least one of them at your side

adam would fall first, and he'd start shamelessly flirting with you

whenever you were training he would come over and bother you, he'd use the cringiest pickup lines and call you every pet name under the sun

adam lays it on THICK, he really wants you to like him

lute just couldn't understand why it bothered her so much- i mean, adam had flirted with a lot of people before, right? why did she care if it was you?

her feelings hit her like a truck

the two of you were just relaxing together, and she couldn't help but realize how truly beautiful you were

after seeing what adam sees in you, she lowkey started to get jealous

adam caught on pretty quickly that she liked you, and it soon turned into a competition of sorts

adam and lute are close friends, but when it comes to you, they definitely have a petty "rivalry" going down

adam will purposefully send lute away so he can flirt chat with you, and in turn lute will rat on him to sera about how he's not getting his work done

meanwhile you're just sitting there having a bi-panic over the two of them

eventually you sit them down and have a convo about how you like both of them, which eventually leads to them agreeing to share you

however i genuinely think that they both have feelings for eachother too, and those would probably come to light once the three of you are in a relationship

once you three are officially together, they both dote on you SO much

adam is definitely more outgoing, and his love languages are quality time and physical touch. in contrast, lute's a bit more private, and her love language is definitely acts of service through and through

this leads to interesting dates for the three of you, some nights you're all crashing at one of your apartments and bingeing shitty movies, other nights your going out to clubs and dancing your hearts out

adam is so cuddly, and while she pretends that she isn't, so is lute

yall def have full on cuddling sessions where you all just lay together (usually on top of adam)

yall have the cutest mornings together!!!!! lute is def an early riser, and she methodically gets up at the same time every morning

meanwhile adam is pretty much a wildcard, sometimes he'll stay up ridiculously late and end up sleeping in until noon, and then other nights he'll crash super early and then wake up pretty early too. then sometimes he'll just pull all nighters and you and lute will come downstairs to find him curled up on the couch

lute works out in the mornings and will probably go on a quick morning run before coming back inside and getting ready. she often will help you get ready and will lay out things you need for the day. adam is usually the last person ready, he's always begging for one more minute of sleep!

yall r literally just so domestic

yall split chores too, lute usually does the cooking, adam does the laundry and clears dishes/plates, and then you do whatever other chores that are necessary. you all rotate when it comes to cleaning tasks such as sweeping, mopping, dusting, etc and while adam will sometimes pout, he actually does clean up after himself

adam and lute are both protective in different ways, and everyone in heaven knows not to mess with you

adam is more of the jealous type, and will get protective if he thinks someone else is flirting with you

meanwhile lute is more of the "worried about your safety" type, and will get more protective if she thinks you're in danger

overall, yall are genuinely such a power couple and you really have a sweet, adorable dynamic

I WILL MAKE A PT 2 WITH NSFW HCS. ALSO PT 2 OF THE ADAM FIC IS COMING SOON I SWEAR IM SORRY FOR KEEPING YALL WAITING😭

[twistersobsessed]

hiya! loved the scott x reader you posted:) i also have a little request for him, it's two ideas i combined together so please feel free to choose one or the other if you don't like them together! one was that reader likes to anonymously leave little presents for scott on his seat in the truck, just snacks or little trinkets from the convenience stores. especially if it's one of those little solar powered dancing figurines that you can mount on the dashboard. the other thought was that reader likes to make bracelets to relax before going to bed in various hotels. first it starts off just making them for the people that she regularly teamed with until she makes so many that she ends up making enough over time for all of them out on the road. when scott finally finds his bracelet on his truck seat he realizes who was leaving all the other presents:) thanks in advance!!

Of Trinkets, Treats, & Bracelets | Scott x Reader

Summary: You show Scott you like him in small ways. Scott shows you he likes you in a big way.

A/N: I love jealous Scott if you can’t tell.

Honestly, Scott had thought maybe it was Javi at first. The little gifts that would be left on his seat in the truck everytime Storm Par stopped at a gas station or truck stop. After all, he and Javi were pretty close, and Javi was a nice guy like that. But when he asked, Javi denied it with a smile. “Nah, that’s not me, man.” “So who?” Scott’s brow furrowed. Javi just smirked.

It was always either one of his favorite snacks, his favorite drinks, or one of those little solar powered figurines you put on the dash. Or his favorite, a pack of gum. He stopped trying to figure out where the gifts were coming from, because Javi sure wasn’t telling him.

It was a Tuesday, and Storm Par was stopped at a truck stop, glaring at Tyler and his crew who had just pulled in. Scott’s attention was stolen from their competition however by you, flouncing up to James, the Storm Par member you drove with most often.

“I made your bracelet,” you beam, outstretching your hand. James smiled and took the bracelet you were offering him. “Aw, thanks, (Name). Now we’re all matching.” “And Javi!” you exclaimed brightly.

You turned your attention to Javi and Scott. Javi held out his hand to accept the offering. “Thank you, (Name),” he grinned. “Yours is coming soon,” you promised Scott with bright eyes. Then you turned away, heading to the convenience store.

Scott watched you go, oblivious to Javi watching him. You bounced, that’s the thing about you, you didn’t walk you practically bounced, towards the store, when you were stopped by Tyler.

Scott’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t hear what Tyler was saying to you from the distance he was at, but he watched you smile and greet the hillbilly warmly.

“You’re glaring holes into their heads,” Javi commented, and Scott’s attention was torn away. “What? No. Shut up.” He scowled. Javi chuckled. “Whatever you say, man.”

Scott turned back just in time to watch you wave goodbye to Tyler with a grin on your face. He rolled his eyes and turned back to Javi to talk about their plan for the day.

Ten minutes later, it was time to head out, and when Scott opened the passenger side door, Javi was driving, there was a pack of gum and a coke on his seat.

That night, you were curled up in your bed in the motel Storm Par was staying at. You were working on Scott’s bracelet, as you’d promised him. Everyone in Storm Par had a bracelet (Scott had noticed earlier), and Scott’s was the last one. You wanted to take your time with it; Scott was your favorite.

You made it blue, his favorite color. You added the final touches before snuggling into bed, giddy to give it to him tomorrow.

The next day came and you didn’t have a single opportunity to see Scott. He wasn’t at breakfast, and as you usually (unfortunately) were, you weren’t in the same truck today. So when Storm Par stopped at a gas station, you did with the bracelet what you did with everything else you got Scott: left it on his seat.

Scott was in a bad mood today. No particular reason why, he’d just woken up on the wrong side of the motel bed. Javi was avoiding him; Scott didn’t blame him, his bad moods were infamous. Despite getting out of the truck to use the bathroom, Scott didn’t feel like standing outside and socializing, so he went to get back in the truck when he was done.

He stopped in his tracks when he opened the door. On his seat was a bracelet, matching the ones the other Storm Par members wore. The bracelet you’d promised him.

Suddenly, everything clicked. It was you, who always left him his favorite snacks, his favorite gum, his favorite drinks, stupid little tchotchkes. He picked up the bracelet, turning it over in his hand.

His cheeks warmed.

“Hey!” Your cheerful voice suddenly behind him almost made him jump. He turned to face you, face neutrally blank. Your eyes fell to the bracelet he was holding. “I see you got my gift.”

“I did,” Scott confirmed. “And I suppose it’s you who’s been leaving me all the snacks and gum and stuff.” You blushed. “Yeah, I hope that’s not weird or anything.”

“No, it’s…” Scott swallowed. “Sweet.”

You smiled bashfully. “Not creepy?” you joked. Scott shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, maybe it’s a little creepy that you know all my favorites.”

You turned your nose up. “I’m observant,” you smirked.

Scott looked like he wanted to say more and you waited, but he was cut off by someone shouting your name. You looked over your shoulder and he looked over you to see… Tyler. He frowned.

“Well, I hope you like the bracelet.” You turned back to him. “I made it with lots of love. We leaving in five?” Scott nodded wordlessly, his eyes tracking you as you ran over to Tyler.

“So you figured it out,” Javi smirked, coming up beside Scott. Scott chomped on his gum. “That she’s the one who’s been leaving me stuff?” Javi caught Scott fiddling with his bracelet. He let out a whistle. “Oh she likes you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all of our bracelets are matching to a degree but they’re each personally customized. Your bracelet is like an exact match to hers. How cute.”

Scott hadn’t even noticed. “Doesn’t mean anything,” he mumbled.

Javi rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Scott. She knows your favorite snacks and drinks, hell, she knows your favorite gum. She goes out of her way to get something for you every time we stop. She doesn’t do that for anyone else, not even me. She made you matching bracelets.”

Scott was glaring daggers at Tyler as he pulled you into a hug. Javi followed his gaze. “She likes you, man. Go do something about it.”

Before Scott could stop himself, he found himself marching over to you and Tyler, fist clenched. “Well howdy, Clipboard,” Tyler greeted, noticing Scott before you did. You turned around, smiling when you saw him. “Scott–”

You were abruptly cut off when Scott stopped in front of you, leaned down, and pressed his lips to yours roughly. Immediately forgetting you had an audience, you melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and resting your hands on Scott’s chest, gripping the material of his shirt.

Scott pulled back after a moment, leaving you stunned. He rested his hand on your waist, pulling you into his side. He squared up to Tyler. “Back off, Owens.”

Tyler grinned, eyes shifting from Scott’s scowl to your shocked face. He raised his hands in surrender and walked away, still with that shit-eating grin.

Scott led you back to Storm Par.

“Well that’s one way to do it,” Javi smirked.

[issdisgrace]

A RIVALRY, A CRASH, AND 3 SIMPLE WORDS

WARNINGS: kinda sad, car crash, burning, hospitals, idk what else to put

A/N: This is for @marksbear2. I hope you like it. Also sorry it took a while I have been procrastinating.

You and Lando have been rivals since day one. Always trying to finish higher than the other, always trying to score more points than the other, and ALWAYS bickering when you weren't on track. Whether it was about the actual race or not, you guys always found an excuse to bicker.

And in hide sight it was so clear you guys were in love with each but neither of you knew what you were feeling towards the other and it was so confusing so it was just easier to fight with each other than figure out what you were feeling.

So you guys continued like this for a while as both of you climbed the ranks to Formula 1. And in the end of both were called up at the same time Lando of course to McLaren and you to Mercedes.

While so many things changed for the two of you and you now had to be more civil to the other than in prior years. Ultimately, that didn't change how competitive you guys were and it didn't change your bickering.

And from the very beginning of your guys' F1 careers there were bets in all the garages, included your guys on who would confess to who in the first place. The bets were split in almost every garage, but they more leaned to Lando, confessing first and boy where they wrong.

It was Monaco 2024. It was a race you guys did every year. You thought it would be just like last year's smooth sailing. You qualified good not as good as of course you wanted to but good none the less. Then the day came and with it came a deep dread in your stomach. Something bad was going to happen. You knew it.

Then Checo had his crash in lap 1 and that dread only grew stronger, so strong you thought you were going to throw up. But you pushed the feeling to the side and got ready to start up once again. Before you knew it was lights out and away you go again. It was lap 39, halfway through the race when engine trouble started.

Your team told you to stay out. That it would be fine and they would figure it out. That definitely didn't make you feel any better than before. Then at the beginning of lap 78 you were suddenly on fire, not smoking, not anything like that, on fire. Before you could think, you lost control and crashed into the wall others still flying by.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried free yourself from the car. You could see and feel the flames burning. It was burning through your suit. You couldn't feel anything as you continued to try to free yourself and just as freed yourself help arrived. Climbing out of the burning car, when you stumbled towards the medics. Multiple people with fire extinguishers put out the flames on your body.

It was only when you were loaded into the amblulance and on the way to the hospital when your senses returned. The overwhelming pain hitting you like a semi truck along with a putrid smell you thought was the smell of your burnt flesh. But you didnt really have time to fully process it because before you knew it you where at the hospital and being rushed into to surgery.

Lando was almost to the finish line when he heard over radios that you were on fire and then crashed. He felt like he was going to be sick, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. The loudest thought by far was you were going to die and he would never get to tell him he loved you. He was scared, no scared didn't even describe how he was feeling. He was petrified.

As he got out of his car and rushed to Zak Brown, the team CEO to get details of your crash and if you were ok. He told Lando you were ok as far as he knew. Lando felt a little better hearing that but he told Zak once podium was held he was going to that hospital to be with you. He didn't care of the consequence he needed to be there.

Zak being the man he was told Lando not to worry and he would handle the FIA if they gave him a hassle. Lando thanked him profusely before heading to podium.

It was over before Lando knew it and he was rushing back to his driver room to change, gather his stuff, and head to the hospital. Once he was there at the hospital, he rushed in and started asking about you. He lied when the nurse asked him what his relation to you was and said he was your husband.

The nurse told him that you were just prepped for surgery and were on the way to it. And it wouldn't be for a couple hours until you would be out of it. So he would have to wait until he was allowed to see you. He spent the next couple of hours pacing up and down the waiting room anxiously waiting for you.

It felt like a million years had passed before the nurse came and got him. He grabbed his stuff and quickly followed the nurse to your room as she told him the surgery went well and graphs were a success and that it probably be awhile until you woke up because of the anesthetic and the pain meds they pumped through your system.

His heart broke into millions of tiny pieces when he saw you in the hospital bed. He immediately made his way to your bedside and pulled the chair that was nearby towards you and sat down. He didnt even notice the nurse leaving as he gently grabbed your hand. It was now that all the tears he had been holding back started to flow and he ended up crying himself to sleep.

When Lando woke up, his head now rested on your chest as you combing your hand through his hair. He looked up at you surprised that you were awake. He pulled away from you question after question spewing from his mouth. You just hushed him and pull him back into. I love you; you said as you rested your head against his. I love you too; he said back as he wrapped his arms around you. His body would sure complain about the awkward position later, but he would deal with that later.

He needed this. You need this right now. You guys would talk about what your relationship was going to look now on later. You just need to be in the moment with each other.

[faithsxoxo]

pairings :: rachel amber x reader x chloe price warnings :: ridiculous amounts of fluff note :: @sm1lt hope u enjoy <33

they're completely infatuated with you, obviously

they both feel like they have issues, but you're the light of their lives

they would worship you, but especially chloe. we all know she doesn't have the best temper, but being around you just shuts her down. she could be fuming after a long day and all she needs is to wrap her arms around you

rachel is sort of a special case. of course, she's usually the beloved one. i mean, she's chloe's angel - but often she feels like she needs to pretend. she's a 'human chameleon', but never around you two. you and chloe bring out the best in her, the side of her where she doesn't have to fake it. she can show anything and she knows you'll both shower her in love

chloe generally needs gentle loving. that's when she'll come to you. of course she needs rachel, but sometimes she's more intense then chloe needs. she has her moments when she gets insecure and wonders how you both could possibly love her, where you'll have to reassure her. her love language is physical touch, so the best way to comfort her is to hold her while she talks

rachel's love language is words of affirmation. she'll completely melt when you compliment her, or if you whisper all your feelings about her as you lay together. she loves feeling loved, and you telling her how beautiful she is fufills that need. you and chloe take advantage of this often, and get into joke battles of who can compliment her the most. chloe being as competitive as the is will end up exaggerating to the point of ridiculousness, leaving rachel flustered and both of you giggling.

every moment turns into a sweet moment when you're all together. whether you're blazed in chloe's bedroom, running the length of the beach, or stuffing your faces at the two whales diner you always end up soaking in eachothers presence. you all love eachother so much, and genuinely everyone can tell

speaking of the two whales, joyce absolutely adores you both. all she knows is that you and rachel make chloe happy, and thats all she needs. often enough you find yourself waking up to her calling up the staircase for breakfast, a aroma of fried diner food wafting up from the kitchen. chloe will fight to stay in bed, but you'll all end up at the kitchen table anyway

rachel's parents might take a little more coming around to, but they end up liking you anyway. they think you're respectable, certainly more than they think of chloe. plus, they've never seen their little girl's eyes light up more than when she sees you, so they wouldn't want to get in between her happiness.

adventures are a must, of course. no matter what kind of student you were previously, these two could coerce you into skipping class to wander the towns with them. since chloe has her truck, the three of you can pretty much go anywhere. you explore anywhere possible. if you get in trouble at school, they immediately take the blame. it was likely their idea, so they would give up anything for you

most nights end with all of you together; either camped out in your dorm, rachel's house, or chloe's house. you're consistently trapped in a sandwich between them, arms and legs all curled together. good luck trying to squeeze out of that in the morning, because they'll just grip you tighter

[cowboybeepboop]

Can you write something with Javi and Tyler with reader? Maybe like a 3some if you write those. I don't have a plot but I love how your writing them huge fan of yours!

A/n: Hi! Thank you for the request (and ofc your compliment) 😣🙏 I just don’t write threesomes so this is like a “choose your own adventure” type thing if that makes any sense at all. I really don’t know what I'm doing. I just thought this would be an interesting way to work this request while staying in my comfort zone.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! reader x Javi Rivera

Warnings: 🚫 NOT A THREESOME 🚫 and a little bit of awkward fighting

You and Tyler Owens are the top tornado chasers in the country, each with a reputation that precedes them. You’re known for your methodical, data-driven approach, while Tyler is famous for his daring, instinctual chases. Your rivalry is legendary—every storm season, you find yourselves competing to capture the most intense footage and data, often ending up in the same storm, glaring at each other from across the swirling chaos.

Despite your professional rivalry, there’s an undeniable spark between you. Your banter is sharp and filled with double meanings, your competition fueled as much by mutual respect as it is by the desire to outdo each other. Friends and fellow chasers joke that the tension between the pair of you could power a storm all on its own.

Your team pulls into the motel that Tyler and his team are also staying at. You hop out of the passenger seat stretching as you leave the truck. Tyler, leaning against the side of his truck, notices you stretching from across the parking lot. His eyes roam over your form with more than a hint of appreciation, before he pushes himself off the vehicle and saunters over to you.

"Look who it is," he drawls, his voice laced with a familiar smirk. "You just can't stay away, can you?" Crossing your arms over your chest you give him a playful glare.

“And how am I supposed to stay away when this is the only motel in the area?” You walk past him brushing his arm with your shoulder. Tyler falls into step beside you as you make your way towards the motel entrance. He glances down at the spot where your shoulder brushed against his arm, his gaze a little darker than usual.

"Oh, so you're just here for convenience, huh?" He teases, his smirk never leaving his face. "Here I was thinking you just couldn't resist the opportunity to see me again."

”What would make you think that cowboy?” Your lips curve into a smile as you turn on your heel, looking up at him sweetly. Tyler chuckles, his arms crossing over his chest as he grins down at you. His eyes roam over your face, slowly taking in every feature.

"You know I could list countless reasons, darlin'," he drawls, his voice dripping with a southern twang. "But they'd all just boil down to one simple truth – you can't resist my charm."

”Charm?” You giggle, “I wouldn’t call you charming.” You turn once again, getting the key to your room from the front desk.

”No? Then what would you call me?” Tyler's smirk only grows wider as you turn away, his gaze locked on you as you retrieve the keys. He follows you to your room, his broad shoulders filling the hallway, making it feel far more crowded than it truly was.

"Coz let me tell you, sweetheart" he murmurs, stepping so close that his chest is nearly pressed against your back "Charm seems like the right word to me." Unlocking your door you swing it open, standing in the doorway.

”I’m thinking something more along the lines of arrogant,” your voice laced with amusement. “Yes, arrogance is the perfect way to describe you,” your playful smile widens.

Tyler laughs, his hand braced against the door frame as he leans into the door to loom over you. “Arrogant, huh?” He echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I like to think of it as confidence. I know what I’m about.”

He reaches out, his fingers trailing a path down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Besides, darlin’, you've never had a problem with my arrogance before. Seems more like you're trying to rile me up...”

You look up at him, your eyes landing on his lips. “Why would I want that?” You put a hand on his chest. Leaning toward him you stand on your tippy toes, “What would I get out of trying to rile you up, cowboy?” You murmur against his ear.

A shiver runs down Tyler's spine as your breath fans over his skin. His heart rate increases, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly. He swallows hard, trying to maintain his cool facade, but the heat in his eyes gives him away.

"I can think of a few things, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with barely concealed lust. He grips your hip, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Yeah?” You run a finger over his jaw, “So are you gonna keep playing games or will you come inside and do something about it?” Your eyes darkened by desire as you look up at him. Tyler's self-control snaps with your words.

With a low growl, he pushes you back into the room, closing the door behind him with a slam. He pins you against the door, trapping you between the hard wood and his hard body.

He towers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, caging you in. His gaze rakes over you, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and barely suppressed need.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, darlin'," he warns, his voice rough. "But I never back down from a challenge." Your arms wrap around his arms pulling his face close to yours you hover your lips over his.

”Are you sure about that, Owens?” Tyler's eyes lock onto your lips, his breath hitching at the closeness.

"Absolutely sure," he murmurs, his breath fanning over your skin. "And don't call me 'Owens' in that voice. It drives me crazy, damn it." he murmurs before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss is fierce and possessive, his tongue demanding entrance as his hands snake around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Your arms pull him closer as you let his tongue in your mouth.

He breaks the kiss to gasp for breath, his forehead resting against yours. "You really enjoy pushing me, don't you?" He pants, his chest heaving.

”Of course I do, Owens.” You smirk, he growls lowly, his eyes narrowing at the use of his last name.

"You're walking a thin line, sweetheart." he warns as his hands slide lower down your waist, his fingers gripping your hips almost to the point of pain. "Keep it up and I'll have to put you in your place." His lips brush against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You push his chest away from you, moving past him and hopping onto the bed. “I’d like to see you try,” your smirk grows as you slip your shirt off, tossing it to the side of the room.

Tyler's eyes widen at the sight, drinking in every bit of flesh revealed with hungry eyes. His jaw clenches as his fists clench, resisting the primal urge to pounce on you right then and there.

With a low, frustrated groan, he takes a step forward. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" he mutters, his gaze glued to your body.

He stops at the edge of the bed, his eyes roaming over your form, his breathing ragged. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart. I hope you're prepared for the burn." You pull him to you by the loops of his jeans, your hands sliding up his shirt.

Tyler lets you pull him closer, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands make contact with his skin. The touch of your fingers against his bare flesh sends shivers down his spine.

"You're going to be the death of me," he gasps out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to maintain control.

But the sight of you, half-naked in front of him, threatens to break his restraint. Lifting up the fabric of his worn shirt, you motion for him to pull it off as your lips trail kisses over his abs.

Tyler obeys your order without hesitation, quickly pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He looks down at you as you kiss his abs, his breathing becoming more ragged with each touch of your lips against his skin.

His hands tangle in your hair, holding your head against his stomach, silently encouraging you to continue. A loud knock interrupts you, “Hey Y/N are you in there?” Javi’s voice rings through the air.

“Yeah, just a moment,” you respond, shoving Tyler toward the closet. “Hide, don’t make a sound.” You warn, your voice a quiet demand. Tyler's eyes widen in surprise, but he obeys your command without question. He slips into the closet and shuts the door softly behind him, just enough for him to peek out.

He watches you through the crack in the closet door as you respond to your friend, a mix of annoyance and amusement playing across his face. You open the door completely forgetting about your missing shirt.

Javi glances towards the closet, only to see... nothing, his eyes widen slightly as he grins, "Aha! You got a man over don't you." He chuckles, leaning against the doorway.

He gives you a nod, "He's in there right?" Javi continues, his tone turning to a more questioning one. He eyes the door that was in front of the closet before turning his head towards you. His face now is a mix of both confusion and amusement.

”No,” you laugh stiffly blocking him from moving toward the closet door. Javi takes one last glance at the door before turning his attention back to you, giving you a teasing smile.

"Alright, alright, I believe you." His eyes dart back to your exposed chest for a brief moment. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you.

Javi notices you become a bit more defensive, a smile plays on his lips, "What's the matter? Aren't we good friends?" He leans in, kicking the door shut, his tone turning seductive as he eyes you with a small smirk on his lips.

”We are,” you draw out as he steps closer to you.

Javi continues to step closer to you, his smirk becoming more apparent the closer he gets, “Then what’s wrong?” He begins to lean down slightly, almost as if he’s planning to steal a kiss from you.

A flush creeps up your neck as Javi brushes a stray hair out of your eyes. Javi leans in, his smile still prominent as his hands reach around your waist, his lips gently pressing against yours, but only for a split second. His eyes gaze back into yours before he pulls away.

Your eyes widen as he pulls away, your breath hitching as you hear Tyler clear his throat, stepping out of the closet. He steps into the room and makes eye contact with Javi, raising an eyebrow as he eyes you both.

“What the hell are you doing, Javi?” Tyler's voice is filled with rage as he balls his fist.

Javi raises an eyebrow, a grin appearing on his lips, "What? Is my girl not allowed to get kisses from me?" Javi crosses his arms, looking from you to Tyler as if he's daring him to continue.

"Your girl?" Tyler crosses the room, getting right up to Javi as he looks him in the eyes, "Since when did you own my girl?" You step between the two of them.

“Okay boys, let's be civil,” you glance between them sighing as you try to think of what to do next.

"Civil?" Tyler’s face scowls as he looks back at you, "He kisses you and you're asking for civil?" His eyes look at you intently as he puts his fists on his waist.

Javi crosses his arms, glaring at Tyler. "Alright, listen," he holds up a finger, "One, she's not yours, get that in your head," his eyes now only focus on Tyler, his brows furrowed, "Two, you're lucky it was just a kiss and not something a lot more"

Tyler's now right next to you, looking at Javi with a look of pure anger in his eyes, "You have some nerve," he continues to clench his fist as his temper rises, "Thinking you can kiss my girl then threaten me, you’re lucky I don't beat your ass."

Javi grins, a hint of madness in his eyes. He looks Tyler in the eyes, "What are you gonna do about it?" His eyebrows furrow, "Cause I sure as hell have no problem taking a swing at you."

”Boys, seriously stop it,” you say sternly, narrowing your eyes at them.

a/n: this is like the choose your own adventure part of this idek, but this is the Javi version if you’re interested in his over Tylers idrk.

“Javi, just go okay?” You push Tyler away from Javi as you try to calm the situation. “We’ll talk in the morning. We can just talk in the morning.”

Javi gives a nod, looking from you to Tyler. He rolls his shoulders, "Fine," he walks towards the door before turning back to look at you, "We have a lot to talk about."

“I know,” you sigh as he leaves, slamming the door behind him. Tyler stands in silence for several long moments after Javi leaves, his chest heaving with anger and jealousy. He turns to you, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes burning with barely concealed possessiveness.

"What in the hell was that?" he growls, his voice dripping with venom. "He just barged in here, kissing you, and you just... let him?" Your hand goes to his arm as you look up at him.

“Ty, I didn’t know what to do, it was completely out of nowhere,” your eyes scan his face, your eyebrows furrowing as you try to read his expression. Tyler's jaw clenches tighter at your touch, his body rigid with tension. He takes a step closer to you, his eyes boring into yours.

"What do you mean you didn't know what to do? You should have pushed him away, told him to back off,” he grits out. “You’re supposed to be mine, damn it!" You flinch softly, taking a step away from him.

“Tyler.. I didn’t…” your voice trails off as you drop your hand from his arm. Tyler's heart clenches at the sight of your flinch, his hand immediately reaching out to grab your wrist, preventing you from backing away from him.

"Hey, hey," he says, his voice a little softer, "I just... I didn’t like seeing him paw all over you like that, especially since he had no right to." He steps closer, his free hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

”I know, I should’ve done something..” a sigh leaves your lips as you set your hand on his waist squeezing his bare skin softly.

Tyler's tension eases slightly at your touch, the feel of your fingers on his bare skin sending a shiver down his spine. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his body relaxing a bit.

"You should've," he agrees, his voice still a little gruffer than normal. "But I understand... it was unexpected, I get it." He lets go of your wrist, his hand coming to rest on your hip, pulling you closer to him.

You press your cheek to his chest, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tight. Tyler's arms wrap around you, holding you against him, his hands running up and down your back in slow, soothing motions.

He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as he tries to calm himself down. "I just... I can't stand seeing him put his hands on you that way,” he murmurs, his voice muffled as he talks into your hair.

”Maybe you can talk some sense into him tomorrow,” you mumble against his skin, “but.. can we not let that ruin what we have going on?” Tyler's hands still on your back, his fingers pressing into your skin. He leans his head against yours, his breath fanning your ear.

“Yeah.. yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I’ll knock some sense into him, make sure he keeps his hands to himself from now on,” he mutters, his voice still holding a hint of anger.

But then his tone softens, and he pulls away slightly to look down at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "But you’re right, we shouldn’t let him ruin our night, right?"

“Mhm,” you press a kiss onto his shoulder moving your hands up his back, onto his shoulder blades. Tyler’s eyes flutter shut at your kiss, a soft hum escaping his lips as you press yourself against him. He lets his hands wander up your sides, his fingers brushing over your bare skin.

He shivers at your touch, his mind quickly turning from anger to desire. He turns his head to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks. “You’re so damn distracting…” he mutters, his hands gripping your hips just a little tighter.

”A good distraction,” you murmur in between kisses “I hope…” your hands slide down his back as you press your chest against his.

“A very good distraction,” he agrees, his voice low and gravelly. His hands slide lower down your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. He sucks in a breath as you press yourself against him, his body reacting instantly to the feel of your bare chest against his.

“You're making it real hard to think straight right now,” he groans, his eyes slowly raking over your body. You smirk and crouch leaving a trail of kisses down his body as you lower yourself onto your knees in front of him.

Tyler watches you with darkened eyes, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches your lips travel down his body. His hands reach out to tangle in your hair, his fingers gripping the strands tightly as he watches you move lower and lower.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he grits out, his voice strained, his body already reacting to what he knows is about to happen.

You look up at him through your lashes, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Tyler," you murmur, your voice sultry and filled with promise. Your hands make quick work of his belt buckle, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Tyler's breath hitches as you free him from his confines, his eyes never leaving yours.

You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently, watching as his pupils dilate with need. His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you closer as you lean in, your lips parting to take him in your mouth.

His hips jerk at the contact, a groan escaping his lips as you begin to suck and lick with a practiced skill that leaves him trembling. His eyes fall shut, his head tilting back, as he gives in to the pleasure you're giving him.

You continue to suck him off with a fierce dedication, your mouth moving in a rhythm that leaves him gasping for air. Tyler's eyes fly open, locking onto yours, the intensity of your gaze sending a bolt of electricity through him.

His hips rock into your mouth, the pressure building as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you faster and deeper, his breathing growing erratic.

You can feel him swell in your mouth, his muscles tensing as he nears the edge. You don't relent, taking him as deep as you can, your other hand cupping his balls, gently massaging them as you suck.

His legs wobble, and a string of curses fall from his lips as he finally releases, the warmth of his cum filling your mouth. You swallow it all, not breaking eye contact as you slowly pull away, leaving him panting and thoroughly satisfied.

With a fiery hunger in his eyes, Tyler pulls you to your feet, his grip on your arms firm yet gentle. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground and tosses you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath your weight.

His movements are swift and deliberate, fueled by the passion that's been building between you for what feels like an eternity. You giggle in surprise, your cheeks flushed with excitement as he crawls over you, his eyes never leaving yours.

He pins your wrists above your head, his strong thighs straddling your waist, and captures your mouth in a demanding kiss that leaves you gasping for air. His tongue tangles with yours, tasting the remnants of his own desire on your lips as his hips grind against yours, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

His kisses turn into nips and licks as he trails his way down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. You arch into him, your body responding to his touch like it's been starved for it.

With a growl of pure need, Tyler releases your wrists, he takes in the sight of your heaving chest with a hunger that makes your pulse race. His thumbs hook into the fabric of your bra, pulling the material down to expose your nipples. He takes one into his mouth, suckling it hard as he plays with the other with his thumb and forefinger.

You moan, arching your back as pleasure spikes through you. He kisses a trail down your body, his mouth watering at the thought of feeling more of you. He reaches your jeans, his hands deftly unbuttoning and unzipping them before sliding them down your legs, along with your panties.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your wetness, a testament to how much you want him. He lines himself up with your entrance, the anticipation almost too much to handle. With one powerful thrust, he enters you, filling you completely, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

His strokes are deep and rhythmic, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. Your legs wrap around his waist, urging him closer as you meet each thrust with equal fervor. The electricity in the air is palpable as you move together in a dance of passion and desire.

He fucks you with desperation and hunger, his hips pounding into yours, each thrust punctuating the unspoken words of need and longing that hang in the air between you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to keep up with the ferocity of his movements, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Your bodies are slick with sweat, sticking together as if trying to become one. Tyler’s eyes never leave yours, his gaze a mixture of fierce possession and blazing desire. He’s claiming you in this moment, marking you as his own in the most primal way possible, and you can’t help but feel the same need to claim him back.

The tension in the room is thick, the tumultuous passion unfolding on the bed. Each stroke feels like a declaration of war, a battle of wills, but one that you’re both eager to lose in the sweet surrender of climax.

As your bodies reach their peak together, Tyler's hips stutter to a stop, his cock pulsing deep within you. You tighten your legs around his waist, your muscles clenching around him, as you both let out a symphony of moans and gasps.

The tension breaks, and in the aftermath, Tyler collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His breaths are hot and ragged against your neck, his chest heaving with exertion. Without breaking the intimate connection, he shifts slightly, his mouth finding your skin once more.

He sucks hard, leaving a dark hickey in the crook of your neck, a brand of his ownership that sends a shiver down your spine. You arch into his touch, the sting of his teeth mixing with the sweet ache of your release. His hands roam over your body, possessive and tender, as he marks you with more bruises of passion.

Finally, he pulls back, his eyes locking onto yours, the heat between you still smoldering. "Damn, darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse with need. "You're mine." Your heart swells at his words, the intensity of the moment etching itself into your soul. You stroke his cheek, smiling softly. "Always have been, Tyler." You murmur, your voice filled with a quiet satisfaction.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he rolls off of you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there, tangled in the sheets and each other, finally at peace in the eye of the tempest that is your rivalry and desire.

[kentosovertime]

(n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are

toji x afab!reader, fiance!megumi - 2.7k words

A/N: here's a comeback fic for my blog resurrection, had this idea before I stopped writing and FINALLY got to it, enjoy~

CW: explicit content, explicit language, age gap, revenge cheating, manipulation, humiliation, dubcon language, your dad will do, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding, non consensual videotaping at the end, anger issues (rip the reader)

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | Open Request Event | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

“For fucks sake!” You screech, the sound of your rage swallowed by a bus that screams by the side of the road as you slam the hood of your smoking car shut. 

“At least it’s not in flames-” Starts a random passerby walking their dog, but is sent running when you send them a withering glare. After the weekend you’ve had and it’s only Friday night?

You open your phone, your glare turning to the long list of outgoing calls to every hotel within an hour of your apartment, all booked to no vacancy for a local festival. Your landlord really picked the perfect weekend to kick all their tenants out for “emergency” maintenance for an issue that was reported months ago. 

Someone must have threatened to report the living conditions, as his attitude quickly changed when he offered to reimburse the hotel costs if his tenants were forced to stay at one. 

Your gaze softens as you scroll through those calls to where Megumi contacted you, letting you know he had made it to the martial arts competition he was coaching this weekend. His soft spot and skill for taking care of children was what initially drew you to him, but right now you wished more than anything you could press on his name and he could come to your rescue like always. 

Calling a tow truck to bring your car to the mechanics wasn’t necessarily the issue… but being on the streets for the next couple nights was. With your car in this condition, it wasn’t like you could sleep in it, given your inability to find even a shity motel room in the worst part of town. 

You take a moment to mourn the fact that you didn’t move closer to where your family lives before realizing you really only have one option in front of you; Toji. 

The contact information for your boyfriend's father mocks you on the screen, daring you to call him, a perfect stranger, to come and save your ass. The lack of familiarity wasn’t based on a lack of effort on your part, having tried repeatedly to get Megumi to open up about his family. The most that you were able to glean was that his mother had passed away and his father wasn’t often present. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers on the first ring. You didn’t even realize you had pressed his number before he was on the line. “Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro? This is Megumi’s fiance…” An awkward, lasting silence stretches out between the two of you before you clear your throat and try again. “I’m very sorry to bother you, but Megumi is out of town and m-my car is billowing smoke a-and all the hotels are booked-” 

Toji smirks as you ramble, rather cutely he may add, grabbing his wallet and keys before he’s even told you yes to both of your requests. He chuckles under his breath as you struggle to not fill the silence, letting your words hang in the air again. 

“I’m on my way,” He hums as he twists the keys in the ignition of his car. “Get your stuff out of the car in case it explodes.” 

He barks out a laugh as he hangs up and hears a distressed noise of dismay leave your throat. You’re so easily worked up, he wonders if this is why Megumi has done everything in his power to prevent the two of you from meeting… a valid concern. Considering how that ex of his used to try to hang off of Toji. He shudders in disgust at the memory of the girl, still in high school and thinking she was worth a second glance. 

Something tells him you’d be a prettier sight. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

This is why Megumi has been telling you no… It takes everything in you to keep your jaw snapped shut as you watch his father prowl up to where you're standing over your suitcase on the sidewalk, nervously glancing at the vehicle he made seem may blow up at any second. 

You approach the car hesitantly when he waves you over, shocked that your legs work from how tightly your wound. He opens up the hood to take a look at what’s causing the smoke while you wait for your tow. 

“Here, sweetheart.” It only takes him a second to point out what's wrong with your engine, gently redirecting your finger when you point to an area in question. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope that this is worth fixing… you may be looking at a new set of wheels.” 

Anger and frustration well up in you again, even as a flush of heat cascades down your spine at the small touch of his skin on yours. You’re thankful for the distraction the anger provides, given the other option is avoiding looking at how his tight black t-shirt stretches across his torso or drooling like a pitiful little girl. Your fiance is attractive, but there’s still a softness to his face. He lacks the hard planes and sharp angles his father possesses. 

“One thing at a time.” Toji squeezes your shoulder with a smirk, leading closer than he should. How is he supposed to help himself when you seem ready to snap with how tightly you’ve wound yourself? The tension in your back only winds further with how he kneads your skin. “If you need it, I’ll pitch in to help Megumi get you around for a bit.” 

Your mouth opens to stutter out a reply… or maybe a denial for such an open ended offer, but the horn of the tow truck stops you. 

“Let me handle that.” He hums. “I wouldn’t want the tow truck driver to try to take advantage of you.” 

Watching him leave, you pull the phone from your pocket, sending Megumi a quick update about where you’re going before your phone dies. You shove it back into its spot after you’ve powered it off, saving what’s left of the battery for when you’re able to dig out your phone charger. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Toji holds the door to his house open for you, bracing his hand on the small of your back as you cross the threshold to a surprisingly tasteful living room. 

“What?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, the shock must be written all over your face. “Expect a futon couch and a mattress on the floor?” 

“M-Maybe..” You rub your neck with a sheepish look, managing a small chuckle as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is the room you’ll be using. “Something about unmarried men and the lack of dining room tables and living out of laundry baskets.” 

The drive over had taken longer than you expected, he lives on the edge of the city, the houses given more space than what you’re used to from your apartment in the city. But it had given you the opportunity to partially acclimate to his overwhelming presence. All you had to do was not look at his face… easy. 

“I did have a wife.” He hums in thought. “The art of furnishing a house isn’t lost on me… Anyway.. This one is you.” He flicks on the light as he enters the spacious room, moving until he gets to another door, turning that light on too, the cocky humor back on his face by the time he turns back to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You have your own bathroom… shower head’s detachable.”  He tacks on, watching you empty your overnight bag, setting your night clothes out before you turn your phone back on and get it attached to a charger.

“That’s not- I wouldn’t-” A shocked squeak flies from your throat as your eyes widen in embarrassment. 

“Your face is…” He howls in laughter. “Absolutely priceless. My room is down the hallway, last door on the right. In case you need me.”

“I-” His tone drips with innuendo, making the blush on your face deepen to a shade of crimson. So much for not thinking about him inappropriately. 

“So innocent, sweetheart. You’d think you’re still a virgin.” You watch in mortification as your future father-in-law leans cockily against the door jam to your bathroom, your mouth opening and closing, urging something to come out, an explanation, a lie, anything. Just something to make him not make fun of you. “Oh my god… you are. Even when you’re engaged to my son?” 

“He…” You wring your hands together, your voice barely above a mumble, looking down at your engagement ring in confusion, as if it could tell you the Toji’s lying to you. “He said he wanted to wait until w-we were married. That he’d wait…” 

He never said that it would be his first time, you realize. As quickly as your embarrassment comes, it's replaced with a low, burning fit of rage that’s ready to lash out. 

“Wait! You thought Megumi was a virgin?” He snickers meanly. “That’s fucking rich, hun. That ship sailed in fucking high school.” 

You listen, shaking with the anger that’s boiling inside of you, as he describes Megumi’s relationship with a girl named Himari, how he walked in on them more than once. 

Your mind starts to spin in circles, fueled by this rage that has nowhere to go. As insufferable as Toji is about this, you find your anger can’t be directed at him. It's Megumi that lied to you for the entire duration of your relationship, not his father. 

As your mind circles, every insecurity that you’ve had about your relationship that you so easily dismissed before bubbles to the surface one by one. He’s always working or volunteering somewhere. The apartment has just become a place that he sometimes sleeps, if he ever makes it home because he travels around so often. He even said he didn’t like his father. Admittedly, you can see how they would clash, but was that it? Or did he just not want you to meet Toji so his cover wouldn’t be blown?

Toji approaches you, leaning into that delicious anger to purr in your ear. “I could show you what you’re missing, sweetheart…” 

Your body doesn’t flinch as your eyes slide to meet his gaze directly for the first time. You nod ever so slightly in consent, your breath uneven from the anticipation that’s built in your core from when you first saw him. 

“I’m going to need a little more than a nod, swe-” It’s the spite that pushes you to kiss him first. Spite that doing this will hurt Megumi has much as he hurt you, and spite that if you have to hear Toji call you sweetheart one more fucking time you’d explode. 

The groan you swallow from Toji as he presses against you wipes any doubt from your mind as you press against his broad chest to push him to the guest bed and crawl up his body to grind yourself into the bulge in his pants, hungrily seeking out his lips again. 

“Eager little virgin, aren’t we?” He growls as he yanks your head back by your hair, baring your neck to him so he can nip at it. The lack of marks there by his son is a further invitation to take you for himself. 

“Ah-! Mr. Fushi-” A whimper escapes your mouth as he carelessly shoves a hand beneath the band of your leggings and panties and you squirm to pull away as his fingers immediately shove past your entrance to scissor you open. 

“Uh uh. That’s enough of that shit.” He bites a harsh mark into the juncture of your neck, grinning when you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, fat tears welling in your eyes and spilling over, your core spasming around his digits he continues to bully into you. “I’m not fucking stopping until your dripping, sweetheart. I’m going to have you crying that its too much and I’m not going to fucking stop. Even if you beg.”

It stings, the foreign feeling inside of you, but that feeling is quickly replaced by a rapidly approaching orgasm. You can take him, you think as you reach down between you to palm him through his sweatpants. You’re ready for anything he could give you. 

Your efforts leave you breathless and end with you managing to work his pant’s down his legs as he rips your leggings from your body along with your panties. 

“Fuck-” He growl as you take ahold of his length and line him up with your entrance as you hover above him. “You better slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re too cocky for your own- oh fuck-” You hiss as you allow the head of his cock to breach your entrance. The sting returns and flares into white hot heat at your core, making you double over into his chest as each inch rips its way into you. Your hips rock needily into him, trying with desperate circles to work yourself open. 

By the third circle of your hips, Toji loses his patience. His hands reach out to grapple your hips, using his momentum to flip the two of you before he thrusts violently into you, fully seating himself before pulling from your heat to slam home again. 

“Broken in now, aren’t you?” He growls, slamming into you a few more times before the sting completely abates, making sure you really feel what he’s taking from you. “Took what you wanted like a greedy fucking whore. Now shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m giving you my cock.” 

He pulls out of you to manhandle you until your chest is laying against the covers, wasting no time before he’s hauling your hips back into where he kneels behind you, entering you roughly again and setting a punishing pace. 

“You take me like a trained bitch.” He pants, grunting as his hips slap against yours, sending the vibrations straight to your clit as you sob into the duvet. “You lying about this being your first time?” 

You don’t answer, your face planted into the covers from the angle he has you bent into. Toji growls in annoyance, gathering your arms behind you to pull you up against his chest before his free hand snakes around your front to deliver a harsh slap to your center, ripping a scream from you.

“Go on slut. Answer, daddy.” He slaps your clit again and you feel yourself gush around his length, pushed to the edge. 

“M’not lying, Mr. Fushigur-” Another slap has you trembling, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks as you build impossibly higher. “D-Daddy- M’not you just f-feel s’good. I’ve b-been wet since you showed up.”

“Greedy little thing’s so ignored by Megumi you have to result to fucking his dad?” He coos down at you condescendingly, degrading you further. His voice takes on a cruel tone as he starts circling your clit. “How are you going to explain to your precious fiance that you’re carrying his brother?” 

“W-What- n-no T-Toji you c- shit!” You cum suddenly around him, the image of you leaking his cum banging around your head until you're clamping so hard around him you’re pulling his orgasm from him. Shivers wrack your body as you feel the ropes of his cum pump into you and leak from where you’re connected.  

The two of you breathe heavily, your panting filling the room as you come down from your highs. In your haze you don’t notice Toji video taping his cock pulling out of your cunt or the cum that gushed out in its wake before playfully slapping your ass and walking into the guest bathroom to get you a towel. 

You slump against the covers, wincing as you reach for your phone when you see the screen go off with worried messages from Megumi about being near his father. Followed by numerous missed calls with the same message, pleading with you not to stay with him. That he’d rush home tonight to help you so you didn’t have to stay there. 

You scowl at the message, sending off something that gets right to the point. 

<Who’s Himari?>

You decline the immediate litany of frantic calls, fully shutting off your phone and shuffling out of bed to join Toji in the bathroom. Maybe the shower could be round two… and if not, you’d happily sneak into the master bedroom to make that a reality.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210@rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[roanofarcc]

A PIPE DREAM

Pairing. boone x reader

Summary. storm chasing was all fun and games until you started crushing on one of your team members. and boone had a bad habit of falling hard. 

Warnings. alleged one-sided feelings, mentions of a small injury, fluff

A/N. big thanks to the person who requested a boone fic bc I love that Arkansas hillbilly

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

Besides the epic tornados, Boone's favorite thing about storm chasing was the sense of community, oddly enough. Sure, everything was a competition between storm chasers, but when night fell, you’d find everyone gathered in some shitty little motel, tailgating in the parking lot. 

The Wrangled arrived as other teams were passing out cans of beer and greasy burgers they bought from the diner just across the road. Boone was eager to swap stories and relax after another exciting chase, but he couldn’t ignore the painful burn across his upper arm, which dulled his mood a little. 

He wanted to get a good shot of the tornado for the viewers but overestimated the amount of debris the storm had picked up. Tyler urged him to stay in the car, so Boone thought hanging out of the window was just as safe until a flying tree branch from god-only-knew where sliced his arm real good. He didn’t drop his phone, thankfully, but he did ruin his shirt. Tyler had bandaged it up before they headed off again, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

He hopped out of the truck and glanced at his wrapped arm, cursing when he realized he’d bled through the gauze. 

“Boone!” Your voice sounded from behind him, happy and full of energy despite the long day. You loved tailgating almost as much as he did. The two of you had a tradition that started with shot-gunning a beer and ended with you both being the last to turn in for the night. “Look what I got!” You held up two cans of beer with a bright smile on your face, but you stopped short in front of him, your smiling fell quickly as your eyes landed on his bloodied arm. 

“Shit, Boone,” you said, grasping his arm just below the bandage. Your fingers were cold from the beers, but he felt himself flush under your touch. It was stupid, he thought, his crush on you. He knew it was a pipe dream, but he couldn’t help himself. The second you joined the Wranglers, with an insane amount of knowledge of storms and a certain sweetness that could make even the meanest assholes crack a smile, he knew he was done for. It didn’t help that you were too nice. He sometimes wished you were a little meaner, then maybe he’d be able to shift his affection somewhere else, but you didn’t seem to have a mean bone in your body. 

He cleared his throat and shot you a reassuring smile. “It’s just a little scratch.”

Your frown deepened as you examined the bloodied gauze under the dim light in the parking lot. “Looks like a little more than that.” You tugged on his elbow gently as you said, “Come on. I’ll change the bandage.” 

A part of Boone wanted to decline your offer, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you guided him toward the building and away from the rowdy crowd in the parking lot. 

You led him into your motel room, switching on the lights and grabbing a first aid kit you always kept stocked for moments like that one. Boone stood, shifting in his shoes as he felt himself start to panic. It was one thing being with you and the rest of the team; they, unknowingly, acted as a sort of buffer between him and his feelings. But being alone with you was a whole different ball game. He knew it was all in his head, one-sided longing that he wished would go away but refused to. 

“Earth to Boone,” you called out, patting the edge of the bed beside where you sat. He sat down, only to have you scoot closer and grab his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Carefully, you unwrapped the bandage and revealed the cut; it looked worse than he thought it had been, but that explained why his whole arm ached each time he moved it. “A little scratch,” you huffed under your breath. “How’d you even manage this?” 

Boone ducked his head sheepishly. “I wanted a good shot.” 

You gazed at him for a moment, closer to his face than he was sure you’d ever been before. He could see the little flecks in your eyes and the pretty line of your face. A small smile curled on your lips, and you asked, “Did you at least get it?” 

He copied your smile. “Hell yeah.” 

As you rummaged around in the first aid kit, you hummed. “Then at least it was somewhat worth it. But you should be careful.” The smell of alcohol filled his nose. “This gonna hurt, okay? But here,” you held out your opposite hand toward him and he stared at you, confused. “Squeeze my hand. It’ll help, a little.” 

His face felt on fire. He was a grown man, but he felt back in grade school, harboring a school-boy crush on his friend. Maybe it was a little pathic, but he grasped your hand because it was probably the only time he’d have an excuse to. You weren’t lying about it hurting. He hissed through his teeth and squeezed your hand as you cleaned off the cut with the alcohol pad. 

When you were done, you pulled your hand away, and he tried not to let his disappointment show. It only took you a minute or two to re-wrap his arm; you’d done it a million times between the rest of the crew when they sustained little injuries here and there. 

“There,” you said, running your finger across the bandage softly until you trailed up his arm to where his sleeve sat on his shoulder. You fixed it back into place before smiling sweety once more. “Better?” Boone’s breath caught in his throat, so he nodded. 

After that, you two rejoined the Wranglers and the other storm chasers outside. You continued your tradition, shot-gunning beers before you both tossed them to the ground with heavy laughs and a high five. Only when Boone’s hand met yours, you wrapped your fingers around his for just a moment, giving his hand a light squeeze as you grinned in the moonlight. Boone felt his heart quicken in his chest. 

You lingered beside him the whole time, which wasn’t unheard of but for some reason, to Boone, it felt different. He thought maybe he was too much in his head, reading into every little thing too closely. 

Gradually, everyone petered out and retreated to their rooms to get a couple hours of shut-eye before they met another day of chasing the brewing storm cells. But you and Boone remained seated on the tailgate of the rig, nursing another beer and watching the stars that emerged after a day full of cloud cover. You had your head tilted upwards, mouth slightly parted in awe, which is how you looked every time you saw the stars. Boone thought it was cute, how something you saw nearly every night still captured your attention like that. 

He found himself watching you more than stars, finding you more stunning. But he didn’t realize you had caught him until you cleared your throat and his eye widened almost comically. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, a light, teasing tone in your voice. 

Boone fumbled for a response but managed to say, “You look nice. Pretty.” 

A softness rolled across your features that made him feel even more out of his league. He was worried he overstepped; did friends call each other pretty? Was he just overthinking it? 

You turned your body towards him, you knee bumping against his thigh as you leaned just a little bit closer to him with a smile. “You look pretty too,” you said, earning a light chuckle from Boone. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious!” 

“Sure you are,” he said, brushing you off as he fiddled with the tab of his beer can. He expected you to drop it, switch the subject because you had no idea of the feelings that bombarded his heart and brain, but you did the last thing he expected.

You grasped the side of his face with one hand, gently but with just enough force to get him to meet your gaze. He felt hot and confused, looking at you almost nose to nose. Boone swore his heart was about to beat right out of his chest and land at your feet. 

“I can prove it,” you whispered, low and slow.

Boone’s brain short-circuited; he was surely dreaming. Maybe the tree branch that sliced his arm really knocked him in the head and he was in some comma. 

Whether it was real or not, he didn’t move for fear of messing it up or breaking the dream he was surely having. Your thumb brushed across his cheek and your eyes searched his for something, sparkling in the starlight. Slowly you leaned forward, and his body moved without help from his mind, meeting you halfway. 

The kiss was light, sweet just as you were. Boone wasn’t sure there were words to properly describe his feelings in that moment. All he knew was that he needed you, and he had you. His hands found your waist as you brought your other hand up to cup his face, deepening the kiss just slightly. He could have stayed like that forever, forgoing breathing, but you pulled back just slightly and smiled widely. 

“Wow,” he whistled. 

 “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” you admitted. 

Boone still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he was going along with it. “Really?” You nodded. “Me too,” he said, suddenly a lot braver than he had been. He closed the small gap between you two again, kissing you like he’d thought about since he first lied his eyes on you.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Reclaim (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request Dean's bf taking him out to just spend a day or two doing whatever childhood things he never got to do, no matter how much he huffs about it not being a big deal.  Just fluff and carthartic stuff, that kind of thing

A grumpy bearded man glares at you from a swingset that is far too small for him, his bowed legs bent pretty far.

"Are you happy now?"

You chuckle. "You didn't even swing."

"It's too small."

"Then go use the big boy set. Not my fault you wanted to go for the kiddie swings."

He huffs and stands indignantly.

you laugh harder. "This was kinda supposed to be fun, Dean."

"But, like... this is all kid's stuff."

"You're never too old for some of this stuff!" you cry, and pull him along to the swings. "Don't you have any fun stuff you used to do as a kid?"

"Uh... target practice with Dad?"

"Wow. Yeesh."

"What?"

"So, like... you never really got to have a childhood."

"Dude. You can't just say crap like that to someone's face. Besides, it's not a big deal. I can-"

"I know what we're doing today!"

"Oh boy."

You challenge Dean to see who can get higher on the swings before you chicken out - mainly to stop your competitive boyfriend from trying to go all the way over.

And then when you hear the tinny calliope noises of an ice cream truck you go running, calling out for Dean to come with you, and you both chase down the truck.

It's silly and stupid, but then the ice cream salesman tells you about the fair in town, and you give Dean an excited stare.

"......"

"...."

"...fine."

Dean usually doesn't get to stay in any town long enough for any local events, so a county fair is still relatively new to him.

The overwhelming amount of sight and sound is enough to burst his bubble of attempted adult disapproval, and you catch a glimpse of the goofy kid he probably would have been.

He grins, and eventually takes the lead in pulling you to the different attractions.

You gorge yourself on fried county fair food - Dean is in fried heaven, defying all the angels to come up with a food better than the fried oreo, but even his insatiable appetite can't conquer a huge funnel cake with a dollop of ice cream that won't even melt all the way on the hot day because it's so big - not without your assistance.

You make him do the petting zoo, and he tries to impress you at the dunk tank, pitching a fastball that sends some cute local guy splashing.

He wins you prizes, accepts those you win for him, and admits that it's probably just about as fun as that time his dad took him into a bar for the first time and showed him how to hustle pool.

For now, you'll take it.

He even lets you drive home, since he's tuckered himself out so much. You let him lean against you, and you grin to yourself when you hear him quietly ask-

"Can we go again tomorrow?"

[thetriumphantpanda]

retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car

Oh look, it's a new instalment of our favourite neighbourhood DILF. Thank you so much for your continued support of this silly little series of mine. Please continue to reblog, comment and like if you're enjoying this!

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary | Joel drives you out of the way of prying eyes for a 'date'

Word Count | 3.4k

Warnings | As usual, just dbf!Joel in general, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, fingering (f), unprotected PiV sex (Don't do this) and talk of contraceptives.

Part 1 | Part 2

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late afternoon sun is beating through the kitchen windows as you rinse the plates in the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher. You smile to yourself as you place them exactly where Joel had told you during your party, before your mind wanders to more unsavoury thoughts of him. 

Your parents are sat in front of the television as you wrap up clearing up for dinner, making sure the leftovers are packaged in the fridge. You’re about to grab a cold beer for your dad to enjoy whilst he watches his shows when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Joel.

Fancy going for a drive? 

Sounds ominous. This hasn’t been your plot all along has it? Sweeten me up so you can take me down a back road and murder me? 

Joel. 

Damn. You caught me. Guess I’ll just have to take you down a back road and fuck you instead. 

Give me twenty and pick me up at the end of the road. 

You pull out the beer for your dad but leave the bottle you were going to take for yourself, walking it through to the living room. You hand it to him but don’t sit down like usual. 

“I’m gonna go for a drive,” You announce, “Been cooped up here all day, just want to get out for a bit.” 

Your mom looks up for her gossip magazine and raises an eyebrow, “You be careful now,” She warns, “And be back by eleven, okay?” 

“I’m twenty-five mom, do I still need a curfew?” 

“Whilst you’re living under our roof without paying rent, yes you do.” 

You sigh but relent. You must admit she is right. You hadn’t wanted to stay longer in New York once you’d graduated, thinking the job market in Austin would be less competitive, but it was still a slog trying to find a job that paid well enough that after your student loan payments were gone, you still had money to enjoy life. 

You grab your keys and head out of the door, driving your car a few streets over to make it look like you did indeed go for a drive on your own, parking it up in the parking lot of the church. You say a quick prayer of forgiveness to the Lord for leaving your car in his driveway so you could go and live in sin for a few hours, before you’re jogging the few streets back over to wait on the corner of the street for Joel. 

Within minutes he’s pulling up, rolling his window down with a wicked smile on his face, “How much for a few hours, sugar?” He finishes with a wink. 

“I’m outta your price range, Miller.” You shoot as you round the front of his truck and slip into the passenger seat. 

“Huh, weird,” He comments as he pulls away from the curb and starts driving, “Last time I checked you were free for me.” 

“Well then, aren’t you lucky?” 

“Very.” He says with a smile, as he free hand snakes to rest on the skin of your thigh, squeezing gently as he continues to drive to God knows where. 

You smile when you realise he’s pulling the truck into the reserve a little ways out of the suburbs. You’d been here before, sometimes on your own when you needed to clear your head, Sarah had asked to go hiking one weekend when Joel and Tommy were both working, and you think you briefly remember a high school boyfriend bringing you here so he could kiss you. 

The spot that he pulls into is secluded. There are trees that shade the small area that he parks in but there’s still a nice view of the lake through the windscreen of the car. The sun is starting to set, creating a mix of orange and red hues in the sky and it’s quite a romantic spot, you think to yourself. 

“You knew exactly where to come,” You muse as you undo your seatbelt, “You bring all your girls out here, Joel?” 

You turn to look at him and he has a smirk splayed across his lips, “You want the truth?” 

“Always.” 

He chuckles, “I used to bring Sarah’s mom here, when things were still good,” He points to a tree in front of you, “I actually think Sarah was conceived against that tree over there,” You gasp in shock at his admission, swatting at his bicep which has him laughing, “You asked for the truth!” He accuses. 

“So, you bought me here to reminisce?” You ask, “Gonna fuck me against the tree to relive your youth?” 

“You want me to fuck you against the tree?” 

You shake your head, “Not really, don’t think my hips and my back are up to the job.” 

“Don’t be so silly,” He chuckles, “You’re the young and agile one out of the two of us,” He’s finally undoing his own seatbelt, “But that’s good because I definitely don’t have the stamina to hold you up and fuck you like you deserve.” 

You look out to the lake, you can see the slight breeze is lapping the water to the shore and it’s so hot that you think dipping your toes into the water might offer some relief, “Wanna dip your toes, Miller?” You ask, nodding your head to the water. 

You don’t give him much time to respond, opening your door and stepping down from the truck as you break out into a jog down to the water’s edge. You can hear him open his door and the crunch of the gravel under his shoes as he moves to join you. By the time he catches up to you, you’ve already shed your sandals and you’re into the water up to your mid-calf. It’s not as relieving as you thought – the sun has been beating down on the water all day, so it’s like a lukewarm bath. 

Joel is kicking off his boots and tucking his socks into the top of them. You watch intently as he rolls the bottoms of his jeans up past his ankles before he’s wading into meet you. You can sense he doesn’t want to get his jeans wet, so he’s not moving any further once his ankles are covered in the water, so you wade into the shore a little, scratching the itch of desire to be closer to him. 

When you’re within reach, he’s taking hold of your wrist, turning your gently before his other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. You lean your head against his shoulder as you listen to the sounds of the breeze rustling the trees, the water lapping at the shore and the odd whistle of birdsong. 

“This is nice.” You mumble, turning your head to look up at him. 

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, bending down just enough to kiss you chastely on the lips, “Wish I could take you out properly, darlin’.” 

You spin in his arms so you’re facing him now, a teasing grin spread out on your mouth, “Has Joel Miller brought me here on a date?” You tease. 

“Maybe I did,” He smiles at you, “There’s even a cooler with beer in the truck.” 

He leads you from the water, stopping to let you put your shoes back on, so you don’t hurt your feet on the gravel. He motions for you to sit in the bed of his truck once he’s laid down a blanket for you. He pops the cap off two bottles of beer, making sure he insists he’s only having one so he’s safe to drive you back later. 

He settles into one of the corners, letting you sit between his thighs, leant back on his chest. It’s weird, sitting here like this, not worrying about the fact someone might see you, or hear you, but you can’t say that you hate it. After a week and a half of stolen moments and sneaky fucking, you wonder what it is the both of you are doing together, but you don’t bring it up. You want to enjoy this before launching into the inevitable question of ‘what are we?’ 

You finish your beer quickly, Joel opting to savour the singular drink he’s allowing himself, but he tells you to help yourself to another from the cooler, which you do, “This all seems very wholesome Miller.” You comment. 

You feel him shrug behind you, “Just wanted ya to know I’m not just here to get my dick wet,” You hear him take a sip, “I mean, I am because it’s fantastic, but I don’t wantcha feeling like I’m usin’ ya.” 

You want to add something meaningful to the conversation but you’re treading on dangerous ground. In all your fantasies about this situation it was never meant to be something serious. He was going to fuck you once, tell you it was a mistake and that would have been it. Nowhere had you imagined being led against him in the back of his truck like this. 

The sun is setting fast now, and you can sense that the darkness won’t be far behind, then you’ll need to go home. You put your half-finished beer back in the cooler, moving around so you’re still between Joel’s thighs, but just kneeling to face him now, “Kinda want you to get your dick wet now though.” 

“That so?” He raises an eyebrow and finishes the rest of his beer in a big mouthful, “You’ll need to come here then, won’t you?” 

His hands are dragging down your sides to reach your hips before he’s shifting his legs, so they’re not as spread, settling you onto his lap in a similar way to how you’d been the first time you’d done this. You settle yourself down on his lap and let your lips crash to his. 

He’s squeezing his hands on your hips, gently moving you in his lap so you’re grinding against him, just enough that there’s friction for both of you, whilst he opens his mouth when you rub your tongue along his plush bottom lip. You let your tongue mix languidly with his own as you continue to grind your hips into his, there’s no need to rush, not when you don’t have to worry about your parents walking in on anything, so you’re going to savour every second of this.

“Look so good on my lap, pretty girl,” He praises when you pull away, just a touch, from his lips to get some air, “Feel what you do t’me?” He’s bucking his hips up into yours where you can feel his growing erection in his jeans. 

You move forward to kiss him again. This time it’s more desperate, a clash of teeth and tongue. You take his bottom lip between your teeth at one point and nibble, which causes a hiss from his lips of mixed pleasure and pain. His hands have dropped from your hips and their now rooted under your skirt, gripping fingers into the meat of your ass so hard that you think you might bruise there tomorrow. 

You let a moan fall from your lips when he bucks his hips into you again, feeling the bulge in the front of his jeans rub at the front of your underwear, but it’s not enough anymore. 

“Joel-” You gasp, “Need- more.” 

“What do you need?” He whispers, “Tell me, pretty girl, and I’ll give it to you.” 

“Want you to make me come.” 

He doesn’t say anything in reply, just moves his hands to hook into the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips enough so he can pull them down, but he doesn’t seem concerned about taking them all the way off just yet. 

“I’ve got a feeling of déjà vu.” You breath out, referencing the fact that you’re in exactly the same position as you were that first time, even down to the way his thumb is teasing along the seam of your pussy right now. 

“At least this time there’s no risk of your dad waking up and shooting me.” 

“I kinda- ohhhhh,” You trail off as his thumb dips between your folds to gather your slick before achingly bringing his finger up to touch your clit, “I kinda like the risk.” 

“Naughty girl,” He’s muttering, but he doesn’t seem to care all that much because he’s thumbing tight circles on your clit that have your hands gripping at his shoulders and your head thrown back in pleasure, “Might not be your daddy that catches us tonight, but still, plenty of opportunity for someone else to walk by and see me with my fingers in your pussy.” 

He's keeping his thumb on your clit, but you feel one of his thick fingers slip inside of you and curl in the way he’s learned makes you come undone with minimal work. You listen as he chuckles when you start grinding your hips down into his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers, “Always so tight for me sweetheart.” He praises. 

You’re letting out little gasps and moans as he works another finger inside of you, thumb never leaving your clit where it is rubbing tight and purposeful circles. You’re sure if anyone were to stumble upon you it would be hell of a sight. You with your head thrown back, grinding down onto Joel’s hand to meet the upward thrusts of his fingers, his name falling from your lips a mile and minute and Joel with his head buried in the crook of your neck, licking hot stripes with his tongue along your skin. 

“Don’t stop,” You gasp out, “God I’m so fucking close Joel, don’t you dare stop.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it darlin’.” He mumbles against your hot skin. 

Within seconds you’re clenching around his fingers and crying out into the canopy of the trees as he pushed you over the edge into oblivion. When you hear the shout of his name echo around you, you bite down on your bottom lip to stop any other sounds alerting someone to your presence as he works you through the aftershocks. 

He’s pulling his fingers from you, looking straight into your eyes when he brings the fingers that were inside you to your lips, “Go on, baby, clean yourself off my fingers.” 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He presses the two fingers onto the flat of your tongue and you’re sucking them into your mouth, rubbing your tongue over them to clean your slick off him. It’s depraved but the look in his eyes makes it worth it, he’s hungry for you, looks like he’s about to devour you in a second. 

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own tongue. You can hear him groan when he tastes you on your own mouth, “Fuck, you taste so sweet, pretty girl.” 

You don’t have the brain power to respond – instead, your hands grip his belt and start to undo it, pulling it through the beltloops. Then, he’s the one undoing the button on his jeans, tapping your hip for you to sit up so he can shuck them far enough down his thighs, along with his underwear, so that his cock is finally free. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing as you feast your eyes upon it. Sure, you’d felt it inside of you not two days ago, you knew he was big, but seeing it in front of you was another story. What you wouldn’t give to wrap your lips around it right now. You would, but you were desperate for him to fill you. 

You reach a hand out as you’re settling yourself back on his hips again, guiding his cock to rest at your tight heat, “Go on sweetheart,” He encourages, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “Sit yourself down on my cock for me.” 

You do exactly as you’re told. Joel slides into your slick pussy easily, despite the stretch, and its mere seconds before you still yourself for a moment when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his quickened breathing below you – it’s good to know he feels the same as you do when he’s enveloped in your warmth like this. You start to move your hips, grinding into his own and the friction it creates is delicious. You can feel him nudging the sweet spot inside you as he moves. 

You look down at him, his eyes glazed over and his head leaning against the truck. He pushes himself forward as his hands lift your shirt up and over your head. You make no complaints when his fingers pull the straps of your bra down your shoulders and he pulls the cups down, freeing your tits in front of his face. 

“Knew you’d have such pretty tits, baby.” He’s mumbling before he takes a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the hardened bud whilst his other hand is working on your other. 

Everything that he’s doing is spurring you on. You feel him bring his knees up to rest against the back of your thighs, which gives you more leverage to start bouncing on his cock in earnest. His mouth doesn’t leave your chest except to switch from one nipple to the other, rolling each between his teeth, using the flat of his tongue to soothe each when he’s done. 

You’re half aware of the fact that your combined ministrations are causing the truck to shake beneath you – a squeak added to the sounds of you both gasping each other’s names, but if Joel doesn’t seem to care, then neither do you. 

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” He’s breathing out as his mouth finally pulls from your chest, one of his arms is wrapping itself around your waist, pressing you into his chest, the other rests on the back of your head, bringing your face to his neck where you start peppering kisses as he takes control, “So fuckin’ tight, and those pretty sounds you make in my ear, I’m close.” 

He’s fucking up into you now. You’re so wet you can hear him sliding in and out of your pussy, the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin with every upward thrust just another added stimulant in what proves to be an orgasm that catches you by surprise. 

As you’re moaning Joel’s name into his neck and clenching around him, you’re vaguely aware that he’s moaning your own, pulling your body off his cock as he spurts thick ropes of cum across your inner thighs. You stay still, listening to the sounds of your combined heaving breaths before he’s whispering into your ear, “That was fuckin’ close baby, didn’t wanna pull out.” 

You’re leaning back a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your sex-scrambled brain talks before you think, “Maybe I should go and get the pill?” 

His hands are cupping your face now, searching your eyes for evidence that you’re telling him the truth with your words, “You want that?” He asks, “Want me to be able to fill your sweet little pussy full of my cum?” 

You’re climbing off him now and shimmying down the truck bed, picking up the edge of the blanket to wipe yourself clean, “I’ve never let anyone do that before,” You admit with a shrug as he’s pulling his jeans back up around his waist, “I think I’d like it though.” 

“Well, I ain’t gonna pressure you sweetheart,” He says, following your lead in getting down from the truck bed, setting the blanket and cooler back in the truck, “But if you don’t wanna do that, might be an idea for me to start wearin’ something whilst we fuck, I’m sure as hell not wantin’ another kid right now, and I’m sure you don’t either.” 

You can’t deny that he’s right, you’ll have to think about it when you don’t have a million and one hormones running through your body telling you to scream that you just want him to bend you back over and fill you up regardless, “I’ll have a think.” You promise as he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss you. 

What was supposed to be a quick peck on the lips turns into five minutes of you pressed up against the truck door, making out like horny teenagers who don’t want to say goodbye to each other. You suppose that really is what you are, just horny adults instead. 

“Come on,” He says, breathless, when he pulls from your kiss, “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” 

Joel Miller Taglist - @winwin70@jessie8605@trulybetty@amanitacowboy@morning-star-joy@tieronecrush@leeeesahhh@babeincolor@beee-haw@kirsteng42@mirandablue1@sixxslut@impala1967dwinchester@flash2412@gimmebackmysoul@kelp-dreaming@gracie7209@voteforpedro09@brittmb115@karokaroxx@amb11@heartfairy @grumpy-the-tired @Lillilotus @doctorstatic@morallyinept@southernbe@elissaa@pop-sugar102@u-luciferssatanicdaughter@alyhull@purplerain44@harryleatherfit@lovely-ateez@emilianamason @bootyliciousposts @lorilane33 @casa-boiardi

[soul-controller]

Father-Son Bonding

When Scott Matthews first found out that his girlfriend was pregnant, the 20-year-old college student was ecstatic. Despite the newfound stress he now felt in terms of finding a career that could sustain a wife and kid, there was nothing else that he wanted more than to be a father. 

In his youth, the man found great solace in his close relationship with his father, so when Scott and his wife went in for an ultrasound and discovered that they would be parents to a boy, the man was eager to replicate it with his first-born. Just like his father, Scott was an incredibly athletic and handsome guy, which allowed his father to help mold him into a standup guy who was both instantly charismatic to others and appealing to the eyes. His father helped coach him in sports and do fitness training with him on the weekends, so the concept of doing the same for his own kid was extremely exciting for the expecting father.

But as his son Jacob was born and began to grow up, Scott was disappointed to learn just how different his life was in comparison to how he envisioned it. Firstly, the man had never considered the concept of being a single father, but he was forced to accept it after losing his wife to cancer a few weeks after Jacob’s sixth birthday. Even prior to the death of his wife, being the main breadwinner was a lot of stress and hard work so the fact that he now had to handle his roles on top of his wife’s after her death made him feel incredibly overwhelmed.

Additionally, the warm tight-knit relationship that Scott aimed to form with his son never really materialized. Attempts to play catch or be active outside were instantly rejected by the young boy, who would have much rather stayed inside to read books and watch television. Despite his own disappointment in not having a sporty son, the man still viewed his son’s behavior adorable as it just reminded Scott of how much Jacob resembled his mother. But in the aftermath of his wife’s death, it soon became a painful reminder of what he lost and thus only caused the duo to become more disconnected as they both grew up. 

By the time sixteen years since his birth had occurred, Jacob had also come to realize a similar case of disappointment and resentment towards his relationship with his father. Unlike his popular and athletic father, Jacob was more of a reserved academic – who found flexing his intellect more interesting than his muscles. In school his father was a straight C student, so the 16-year-old wasn’t too shocked to realize that the mid-30s man didn’t have much understanding or interest in most of his hobbies or coursework (including the AP courses he took at school).

Yet even if his dad didn’t understand anything, Jacob still would have loved it if his dad ever attempted to show up to his various events and provide some encouragement. But unfortunately, the young man was forced to attend mathlete competitions and Science Olympiad events utterly alone with no one to cheer him on. Of course, his dad said that he couldn’t get off of his factory job to go, but Jacob knew deep down that his dad just simply didn’t want to go. He always knew that he resembled his mother more than his father, so sometimes when he’d sit and think about why his dad wouldn’t come, he’d feel guilty believing that he was a constant reminder of his father’s loss and suffering.

Eventually, their tensions reached an all-time peak after his father didn’t come to the final mathlete competition of the semester. As they drove home, Jacob was the one to break the tension, asking why his dad hated him so much. From there, their conversation bounced between annoyance to tear-filled responses as the duo finally purged themselves of all of their innermost thoughts. Once his dad’s truck pulled into the driveway, Jacob exited and headed into the house with haste before slamming shut his bedroom door and falling into his bed.

Despite wanting to patch things up with his son, Scott’s own tear-filled eyes caused him to choose to give the duo some alone time so they could properly comprehend their emotions. As a result, the duo simply fell asleep crying into their pillows, wishing that somehow someday their bond would be unbreakable and the duo would equally understand each other. 

Upon waking up that next morning, both men were shocked to find that their bodies had been swapped. Of course, such a shock caused both men to decide that they needed the day off to fully focus on figuring out what happened and how to swap back. So now forced into the fatherly role, Jacob called into his father’s job before then calling his high school to state that his “son” was sick and thus staying home for the day.

For both men, it was equally uncomfortable and unnerving to find themselves in each other’s bodies, especially due to Scott’s new teenage morning wood refusing to dissipate and thus forcing him to deal with his son’s boner. The same could be said for Jacob upon waking up in his dad’s body, especially as his father slept nearly nude besides his underwear so the teenager was forced to look at a rather scandalous amount of his father’s muscular mid-30s dadbod.

Despite their best attempt at finding some sort of online solution or consulting with supposed “magical consultants”, no solution to their body swap problem ever presented itself to the duo. As a result, the worries of both income and teenage truancy meant that they were left with no other choice but to live the lives that they had been magically forced into.

Understandably, the adaptation period was quite rough for both men as they adapted to the new roles that they were either 20 years too early or too old for. For Jacob, it was an instant struggle adapting to being the hardworking breadwinner of the family. Additionally, the teenager wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty or be physically active, so the concept of going to work in a factory was incredibly daunting and terrifying quite frankly. In fact, there had been several instances in his first week as his dad that the young man had nearly gotten himself severely injured by a machine.

As for Scott, the popular and athletic man had quite a rough time adapting to his son’s life. Rather than the countless friends that he had growing up, Jacob only had three best friends who were a part of the same programs and clubs as Scott’s son. As a result, his social life was relatively limited and thus meant that he had a lot of free time to just wander around town or find somewhere to hang out to avoid going home and interacting with his son-turned-father. Additionally, it was an absolute mindfuck for the straight C student to suddenly find himself tasked with living up to his son’s potential. He could barely pass biology and chemistry yet now he was expected to ace AP variations of these courses!

Over time though, the initial distance between the duo faded as they found themselves needing each other to best adapt to their new scenarios. With the several near-injuries that his son experienced at his job, Scott worked hard to help teach Jacob what to do in addition to teaching him about his co-workers and how to stay safe 24/7. In response, Jacob returned the favor by helping tutor his father in those tricky AP subjects that he did in addition to showing up to Scott’s various Science Olympiad and mathlete competitions due to his intense nerves. 

As six months passed, both men had ultimately begun to accept that they would most likely never be going back to their old lives. Yet despite how most would mourn such a loss, neither the new Scott or Jacob felt that way. As time passed and they got into the routine of their new lives, the duo had truly felt as though they had been given a new lease on life. While “Scott” was able to be more mature, it also meant that he had the ability to help improve the family’s situation by beginning night school courses at a nearby college for engineering. In time, the 36-year-old hoped that one day he’d be able to leave the mechanic position at the factory entirely and instead get himself promoted to one of the engineering positions which provided a much more appealing salary.

So as Jordan lifted up his phone to take a selfie with his father at the county fair, both men’s smiles couldn’t have been more genuine as the son’s finger pressed on the camera button. Through some magical interference, the father and son had grown closer than ever and after being able to say they’ve lived both of their lives, each man could confidently say that these were the bodies and lives that they were meant to have.

Eager to read more stories like this? Head over to my Patreon to discover tons of hot transformation fiction including monthly mini-stories like this one!

[sports-on-sundays]

our tree / CL16

Summary: Charles x childhood friend!reader - Another little idea.

Warnings: four time skips, little kiss scene, kind of melancholy at the end

Requested?: Take a wild guess.

Author's Note: I hope you read and enjoy, because I'm super proud of this one! 🥹🥹🥹. I actually think I was reading a fantasy book when this one came on me strangely enough.

"Alright, well, make sure to stay together! And stay in the orchard!" your mother called as you and your friend rushed out the door, running to get out the moment your mother said it was okay.

"Okay, Mama!" you called back, slamming the screen door behind you. You and your friend, a light haired boy with bright eyes and the name of Charles, ran together, racing each other automatically, without even establishing it, both of you just being very competitive kids.

Yes, Charles was a competitive kid, alright. Everyone knew that much. Definitely probably more competitive than you, but that wasn't very hard. Charles was more competitive than most people.

The young boy was running so fast, trying to beat you, that he tripped, falling right on his little chubby face. "Charlie!" you gasped, bending down next to your friend. But then you scolded, "Charlie, you gotta be more careful. Remember what Mama told us?"

Charles looked up slowly. He had a little scratch on his cheek and a mark of dirt across his forehead. His bottom lip curved forward for a moment, before he sucked it back, sniffing, refusing to cry. "I'm okay," he assured, pushing himself back up to stand.

"Are you sure?" you asked nervously.

"Of course," the little boy said, brushing himself off, still pouting a little. But he raised his hand to wipe his eyes and continued on.

You frowned. "Your knees are all scraped up. Maybe we should go back to the house..."

"No!" Charles frowned right back. "Come on. I'm okay." He showed his little toothy grin, which wasn't full, as he had a few gaps in his mouth where adult teeth would soon grow in. He held his hand out to you.

You took his little hand in your little hand and said with a little pout, "As long as we just walk now."

"You sound like my mama now!" he groaned, but agreed to it.

The two little kids walked along, until they reached the bottom of the hill that your house stood on and got to the little dirt path that led through the apple trees.

"Can I show my favorite tree, Charlie?"

His tiny little cute nose crinkled up as he asked, "How could you have a- a fav- favorite tree?" At that point, you were much more fluent in your speech than Charles, so some of the bigger words you could say just fine, he struggled with.

You grinned. "Come with me, and I'll show you." You tugged him by his hand, leading him through the orchard, until finally, you reached your tree.

It was tall with spindly dark branches and the biggest, reddest, juiciest apples you'd ever seen. There was a little crevice under it where you fit perfectly, and it's old frame provided a large area of shade.

It felt like a magical tree, and as Charles's big hazel eyes looked up at it, you could tell he saw it, too.

"Can I have an apple off it?" the young boy asked boldly.

You nodded and went to the truck, being, at that time, the taller of the two of you. You slipped your foot in the perfect slot in the tree and hoisted yourself up. You climbed a bit as Charles watched you, picked a big, red, ripe apple out of the tree, and tossed it down to Charles. He caught it and was about to take a big bite out of it, before you said, "Wait a second, Charlie!"

He looked up. "Huh?"

You climbed back down and hopped on the ground, grinning. "Do you know how to clean an apple? Make it super shiny?"

Charles frowned, perplexed. "Without water? No."

You grinned proudly and rubbed your apple on your shirt all around, saying, "It works."

He stared a few seconds, before trying it. "I don't know..." he began, studying the apple.

"Either way, it makes it taste better. That's what my papa told me."

"Alright... can I eat it now?"

You giggled and nodded. "Yeah."

You watched as he took a bite out of it, and his eyes lit up. Apple juice ran down his chin as he exclaimed, "You're right! This is the best apple ever."

You grinned. "See? It's my favorite tree."

He beamed back. "It's mine, too," he responded, avoiding having to say 'favorite' again.

About ten years later

"Y/n!" your mother had called one day from the downstairs floor. "Charles is here!"

You hopped out of your bed as soon as you heard that, slipping on your vest, boots, and backwards cap, before heading down the stairs and went to the door.

There was Charles. You couldn't help but smile when you saw the handsome teenage boy, with his dimples and sparkling eyes. "Hey, Charles. It's been a while."

He shrugged a bit. "I've been really busy with racing and stuff..."

He awkwardly glanced away, so you asked, "Well, do you want to go for a walk in the orchard? I mean, if you have time, of course."

He smiled brightly at that. "Yeah. I'd like that."

You exited the house together, letting the screen door slam behind you. You walked down the hill in silence, but once your feet reached the dirt path through the apple trees, Charles muttered, "I've kind of missed you, a lot. And this orchard. I mean, I don't know. As kids, we used to always play in this orchard. We spent hours here. You know?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Totally... Sometimes, I'm sad I'm growing up. Like, I remember when we were little, and nothing was weird and it all felt normal. We were just happy to have fun."

Charles nodded, seeming slightly relieved that you seemed to think the same way as him. "Yeah. I feel the same way."

As you walked, suddenly your hands brushed each other, and both of you felt your faces heat up as you avoided each other's eyes and were more aware to keep your hands to yourselves.

"So... Is your favorite tree still standing?" Charles asked softly.

You grinned. "Of course it is. Charles, that tree will never fall."

He grinned back at this response and said, "So I'm assuming the apples are still good as ever?"

"For sure. Want one? We can go down to it."

Charles grinned even wider at this and said, "Yeah, let's go."

When you reached the tree, you stood on your tip toes, trying to reach an apple to pick for Charles, but suddenly he laughed, saying teasingly, "Here, I'll get it." He grinned and reached up, easily picking the apple. He looked down at you with a smirk. "Now I'm taller than you, huh? You used to be the taller one."

You rolled your eyes. "Charles, boys always get taller than girls in the end."

He shrugged and commented teasingly, "Should I rub it on my shirt? Does that clean it off?"

You blushed, glancing away, feeling embarrassed butterflies in your stomach at his little teasing. "No, no. That's just a stupid little thing."

He chuckled more and took a bite, shutting his eyes, savoring the sweet taste. "Just as good as I remember it," he commented with a grin.

You smiled, kind of nervous to ask this, but said softly, "Uh... Can you pick one for me?"

He grinned. He loved to be able to help you, and immediately picked one for you. You stood by the big tree, eating your apples, before Charles finally said, sounding more tense than before, "Hey, uh... Y/n? Can I say something kind of weird to you? Like, I mean, serious stuff, now..."

You blinked, looking up at him with a concerned look in your eyes. "What is it?"

He sighed and gestured for you to sit down under the tree together. So you sat side by side in the shade, and he murmured, "So... I just wanted to say sorry."

"For what?" you asked in surprise.

"I don't know. With all my racing, we never get to see each other anymore. But I think about you a lot..." He trailed off, avoiding your eyes as his cheeks flushed. "Like, you're on my mind a lot, I mean."

You nod slowly. "I think about you a lot, too..."

He swallowed and muttered, "I know this probably won't mean much in the end, but... I think I kind of like you."

Your head shot up, your eyes wide. "You... Like, like like?"

"Yeah. Like, really like. A lot. More than..."

"More than friends?"

"More than friends," he confirmed, nervously fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie.

You glanced up at each other at the same time. And Charles, without another thought, leaned in and gave you an awkward kiss on your cheek.

Your whole faces flushed as Charles blurted, "Sor- Sorry."

"It's... It's okay," you murmured in embarrassment. "I feel the same way, too, I think..."

About ten years later; current time

Your mother slams open the screen door with a big smile on her face, saying, "What a surprise this is! Look at this- my daughter and son-in-law!"

Charles chuckles a bit, letting go of your hand as you go to hug your mother as he says, "Not son-in-law yet."

"Yes, yes, Charles," your mother says quickly, as if it's clearly obvious the two of you are going to marry each other anyway, so he's basically already her son-in-law. "So," she turns to you with a big smile. "What made you decide to just show up all of the sudden?"

You shrug with a smile, looking back to Charles. After hugging your mother, you connect your hand right away back with Charles's. "The other night we were just kind of thinking about, you know. The old days. Playing in the orchard. And my favorite tree, and everything. And we figured, why not make the trip here to go for a walk through it again?"

"Oh, and not even to see your mother!" she scoffs with a playful smile, saying, "Come here, Charles. I haven't seen you in quite a while." Charles laughs and gives your mother a little hug as well.

"Mama," you say with a little smile. "Do you mind if me and Charles just go for a walk in the orchard? Then we'll be right back to the house to visit?"

She smiles understandingly, and nods. "Yeah, you two go on. And take your time," she says with a wink, "because maybe once you get back, the apple pie I'm making will be ready."

You grin and say, "Let's go! Your pie is the best!"

Charles laughs, entwining his fingers in yours, saying, "Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n. We'll see you in a bit." He waves as we begin walking down the hill together, swinging our connected hands a little as we walk.

It has rained recently, though, so the ground down the hill is a little slick. So suddenly, your foot slides forward, and you squeal, bracing yourself to feel your bottom hit the ground hard-

But Charles's hands are there, on your back and the bottoms of your thighs. He says with a chuckle, "I've got you." He pulls you up and links his arm with you to steady you more as you finish walking down the hill.

When you make it to the path, neither of you guide the other toward your tree, because now, after all these years, you both know exactly how to get there.

You're not sure when 'Y/n's tree' became 'Y/n and Charles's tree', but either way, you like that it's kind of like both of yours now.

When you reach it, Charles immediately reaches up to pick out two of the best apples on the tree. You sit down together under the shade, not caring if your bums get a little wet, and Charles eyes you teasingly as he begins rubbing it on his shirt.

You chuckle. "It does make it more shiny."

"Rubs the dirt off," he comments, taking a bite out of it.

You sit together, eating your apples. Charles has his arm around your back, and you lean against his shoulder. Once you're both finished, Charles comments, "Taste of my childhood."

You grin. "It's just an apple."

"No, but the apples from our magical tree don't just taste like any ordinary apples, and you've always known that."

You chuckle a little. "Good point." You love that little childish side of him.

After a few moment of silence, Charles says softly, "Do you think we have a few minutes to spare before we start walking back up to the house for some of that apple pie?"

You shrug. "Probably. Why?"

He leans in closer and says softly, "Because I wouldn't mind licking some of that apple juice off your sweet lips."

You giggle a little, rolling your eyes, but shift closer to him.

With one hand caressing your cheek and the other gripping the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer, he presses his lips against yours in a heated French kiss. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth. When he finally pulls away, there's a hungry look in his eyes, and he doesn't even seem to realize the string of saliva connecting your mouths.

You let out a little breathy gasp, murmuring (and admittedly probably ruining the moment a bit), "Ew..." as you wipe your mouth to break the trail of saliva between the two of you.

He chuckles a bit and murmurs, "You're adorable. You know that? I just want to have you all to myself. Do what I want to do to y-"

"Hey, hey..." you giggle, patting his thigh a little. "Can't get too carried away, can we? We've got pie to get to eating inside."

"Right," he smiles, taking your hand and standing up with you.

"But maybe when we get home. How does that sound?"

He nods, bringing you closer to himself. "That sounds good. I look forward to it."

About ten years later (warning: just chose a random name for the girl)

You slam open the screen door, holding your little toddler in your arms, saying, "Say bye bye to Grandmama."

Your mother laughs as your daughter waves her chubby little fist and says, "Bye, bye, G'andmama..."

You walk outside onto the porch, where Charles is already standing, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking out at the orchard.

You smile, putting a hand on his back. "Want to take Viola out for a walk in the orchard? Would you like that, sweetie?" you add, looking to the little girl.

"Yes!" squeals the baby, squirming to be put down.

You set her down on the porch, and Charles takes her little hand with a smile. You take her other hand, and the three of you begin walking down the hill together.

Halfway down, Viola slips, but both your hands holding hers keeps her from falling. Charles chuckles and says, "Be careful, sweetheart."

She just giggles, tugging her parents toward the little dirt path at the bottom of the hill. When you reach the bottom, Charles says gently, "Want to see me and Mama's favorite tree, Viola? It grows the best apples in the world."

You laugh as your daughter looks up at her father with big, wide hazel eyes- same as her father's. "The best?"

"Oh, yeah. You won't want to eat any other apples, ever again, after you try these."

You smile. "I grabbed a knife before we left to cut it up for her."

Charles smiles, giving you a little kiss on your cheek as you hand him the knife. "Good idea. You're so thoughtful. And considerable. I wouldn't ever had thought to do that."

"Mama! Papa! C'mon!" your baby whines, and you both laugh, following the toddling little girl down the little dirt path of both your childhoods.

When you reach the tree, this time, Charles reaches up and picks three apples. "It's kind of a magical tree, isn't it, Viola?" he asks with a little smile as he hands you an apple.

But she doesn't respond, and instead stares at Charles in slightly disturbed confusion.

You chuckle, looking to see Charles rubbing the apple on his shirt. He laughs and explains, "It makes the apple shiny, Viola."

"Really?" she asks with wide eyes.

"For sure," Charles respond, exchanging a little look with you. Then you and Charles sit down together under the tree, and your daughter comes over and climbs on Charles's lap, watching as he cuts some thin slices off Viola's apple. "Here," he says, handing one to the little girl.

Her eyes widen even further when she tastes the sweet fruit, and she giggles, "The best!"

"I know!" Charles grins excited, ruffling her hair a bit, which is the color of your hair.

You smile, leaning against his shoulder, watching as your daughter in his lap raves and giggles about the apple.

And, then, Charles starts talking.

He talks about how he used to play with you all the time when you were little.

He tells his daughter how when he was a younger teenager, he began to fall in love with you, but with all his racing, he couldn't see you much and come to the orchard.

He tells her how when he was an older teenager, he confessed how he felt to you.

And how after that, you and him got closer and closer.

Until years later, you had your wedding.

And now here she is, your little girl.

You swallow, suddenly feeling emotional about the story. The story of your lives together.

"Papa...?" Viola says, concerned. "How come Mama...?" she trails off.

Charles looks at you and smiles. "Are you crying, baby?" he teases softly, wiping a tear from your cheek.

You chuckle. "I guess I just like to hear you telling the story."

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, murmuring, "I love you."

You lean into him further with a little smile and shut your eyes, listening as Charles and your daughter continue babbling softly with each other.

Here, in the shade of your tree.

Our tree.

Someday, your daughter will show her friends your tree. And that screen door will never stopped being slammed shut.

But someday after that, you and Charles will grow older, together. Your tree won't always be there. Someday, you'll eat the last of it's apples, and it will say farewell to this world, just like everything else does.

But by then, your love won't need something to symbolize it in order to stay alive.

Because love is the one thing that will never end.

It goes on forever.