#the way i worded that is giving ‘catch me outside how bout that’

[american-horror-whore]

y’all boutta see me w/ new hair

[the-secret-formulaone]

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

[madebycloud]

pt 2 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, parties, drinking & vomiting (jinx), kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 4.8k notes: R wears combats boots for the plot... — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Mrs. Kiramman escorts you out of her office, clicking her tongue. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn't show your face here for at least a week.”

“Guess I just couldn't stay away from you, Mrs. K.”

Jinx stands outside the guidance office, waiting for her turn. When the door opens, her gaze lifts, landing on you. One arm folded over her chest, a lollipop sticks out of her mouth, which she's quietly sucking on.

Mrs. Kiramman glances between you and Jinx, her eyes narrowing under her glasses. “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. K shakes her head before grabbing Jinx's elbow and shoving her into the guidance office, spinning around to point a finger at you. “For the love of God, stay away from her. If you two ever decide to have children, we'll have an evil incarnate walking around school.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Kiramman closes the office door, the sound of the latch shutting ringing through the hallway, leaving you alone. You glance through the glass window, catching Jinx giving you the middle finger.

You chuckle and blow her a kiss, not missing the way her jaw clenches.

—

You knock three times on the door, looking behind your shoulder as you wait. Footsteps approach, and you’re about to be greeted—

And a pink-haired girl opens the door.

“Who are you?” Vi asks, looking you up and down. You open your mouth to introduce yourself, but Vi cuts you off before you can get a word out. “Hold up, I think I recognize you.” She snaps her fingers, pointing straight at you. “You're one of Caitlyn's friends, aren't ya?”

You nod. “Yes,” you reply, with a gulp.

“So, what are you doin' here?”

You give a shrug. “I'm here for Jinx.”

Vi snorts. “Hah, figures.” She looks up, calling out behind her shoulder. “Jinx!” she yells. “Someone's here for you!”

You hear some shuffling above, and then the sound of footsteps stomping down the stairs.

Vi turns back to you, raising an eyebrow. “Sooo, are you and…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jinx interrupts, appearing behind Vi's shoulder. Vi just snorts again at her sister.

“Nine-thirty right? I'm early.” You grin, but it is wiped out by Jinx's groan.

“You're going to Caitlyn's?” Vi asks, turning to look at her younger sister.

Jinx shakes her head hastily. “No-”

“Aw, come on. Your friend came all the way here for you.”

Jinx grits her teeth. “She's not even my-”

“Please?” Vi grins, looping an arm around her sister's shoulder. “Besides, I'll go to the party anyway.”

Jinx crosses her arms. “Seriously?”

“Pleeeeease,” Vi pleads. “You know how boring I get when I have to go somewhere alone.”

Jinx looks at you before dropping her arms to her sides. “Fine. You owe me.”

Vi smirks, ruffling her sister's hair and earning a glare in return. “See? she said yes.”

“I said fine.” She scowls and turns away. “Let me get ready first,” she grumbles, disappearing upstairs.

“Don't take too long!” Vi calls after her.

Jinx's only response is a door slamming shut from upstairs.

Vi rolls her eyes before turning to regard you. “Sorry 'bout that. She's a bit of a handful.” She scratches the back of her head awkwardly. “She'll come around. She's always hated Cait for some reason, but she'll come around.”

Upstairs, you can hear muffled curses and sounds of thudding and banging coming from Jinx’s room. From the sound of it, her room is now a total disaster… not that it wasn't before.

“It's fine. It's not like it's your fault.”

“Still, she could be a little more… pleasant,” Vi mutters, leaning against the doorframe. “She wouldn't want anything to do with Caitlyn,” she continues. “Whenever Cait visited, she would hide in her room until she left.” Vi sighs, rubbing her face. “Even when Cait was just mentioned, she would roll her eyes and throw stuff at me.”

“Do you know what she has against Cait?” you ask.

“Not a damn clue,” Vi grumbles. “Caitlyn's never done anything to Jinx, as far as I'm aware. The hostility comes from Jinx's end.”

Jinx's door slams open upstairs, and stomping footsteps can be heard heading back down the stairs. 

She’s no longer dressed casually in sweatpants and a band shirt, instead wearing a black pleated skirt with a studded belt snaking around her waist, ripped fishnet tights covering her legs, and ending at her combat boots with the laces loosely tied. Her cropped tank top shows off her stomach, a leather jacket hung over her shoulders, and multiple leather bracelets and necklaces. Her eyes have smudged eyeliner, and her lips are painted with dark lipstick. 

This is far different than the normal Jinx you’re used to seeing at school all the time. Seeing her dressed up and looking like that was…

Damn. Damn.

You realize you’ve said something.

Then you realize you've said something out loud.

“Damn…” Vi repeats, taking a glance at her younger sister. “You look good!”

Jinx grunts, snatching her car keys and heading for the door. “Whatever. I'm driving.”

—

The Kirammans' house is like a beehive of activity. A full-blown party for all of Caitlyn's friends from her college. If Mrs. K found out about this, she'll be pissed as hell. Thankfully she's out of the house—otherwise you'll be kicked out before the party even properly begins.

Inside the house, there's a crowd of college students, probably twenty of them, maybe more. The only people from high school were you and Jinx.

Vi turns towards you, leaning in to speak in your ear over the loud music. “I'll go find Cait.”

You nod back, watching as she disappears into the crowd.

Jinx heads up the stairs towards the balcony, pushing her way past the numerous students.

There are about seven college couples making out on the steps and the walls of the hallway leading to the balcony. What the hell were they putting in the drinks here?

You try to follow behind, but it’s difficult to keep up with her in the crowded staircase.

A very, very drunk woman rushes up to you out of nowhere, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glassy. She throws her arms around you with a sloppy grin on her face. “Kiss me!” she exclaims, stumbling and bumping into you.

“Nah, not tonight,” you laugh awkwardly, pushing her into the lap of some lonely guy sitting in a chair who blushes at her. “Kiss him,” you instruct, making a shooing motion with your hands.

She giggles, turns to him, and then begins smothering him with sloppy kisses, her drunk hands clumsily pawing at his clothes.

“T-thanks,” the guy stutters, grinning at you over the drunk girl's shoulder as she begins showering the side of his neck with sloppy kisses.

You grimace, turning away to look at where Jinx was standing a few seconds ago.

Oh, crap.

She's gone.

—

“Jinx!” Caitlyn grins, approaching her as she walks past. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes glassy.

Jinx groans.

Caitlyn's eyes flash, taking in Jinx’s outfit. “Looking good!” she says, clearly trying to be nice. She looks around, searching for any sign of her sister. “Where's Vi?” she asks, her eyes scanning the dancing students.

Jinx smirks. “Hell if I know. Off trying to hook up with someone, probably,” she jokes, snickering to herself.

Caitlyn's smile drops instantly. Her eyes narrow, and her shoulders tense. “What's wrong with you?” she mutters, bumping her shoulder roughly against Jinx on her way out.

Jinx stumbles, nearly losing her balance. She quickly turns, watching as Caitlyn storms off. “What the hell crawled up her ass and died?” she says to herself, frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. She brushes off the shoulder that took the hit, then heads back into the living room.

—

The party is loud, cramped, and way too hot. People kept running into you. Spilling drinks that reeked of alcohol all over your clothes. Not to mention the fact that a lot of them kept getting too flirty for your taste. 

Finally, you manage to spot her in the living room, chugging down a glass of amber-colored liquid into her mouth.

“Right on, sister!” says the guy who gave her the glass, giving Jinx a high-five and then disappearing into the sea of people.

Before she can take another sip, you snatch the half-empty glass from her fingers before she can finish it. “What's this?” you ask. “I've been looking for you everywhere.”

“I'm getting trashed, maaaaan,” she mocks, smiling lazily at you. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?”

“I dunno. I say do what you wanna do.”

“Funny, you're the only one,” she replies with a scoff, pushing her way through the crowd of loud strangers. “Later.”

She's gone before you can even respond. You swear you can still hear the sound of her muttering and grumbling to herself, but it's completely drowned out by the loud music and drunken yelling.

It's honestly annoying how many people there are, most of whom are completely drunk and high out of their minds, bumping into you like a bunch of toddlers and spilling their disgusting alcohol all over you as you try to squeeze through them.

This party sucks.

—

You pass by the same drunk girl and the guy from earlier, who are still feverishly sucking face. The guy grabs your clothes, stopping you from walking away. “Really,” he says between sloppy kisses. “Really! Thank you!”

You roll your eyes and give him a pat on the shoulder before wrenching yourself free from his grip, continuing your way through the horde of drunk students.

You made your way down the stairs, hoping to find Jinx to be less drunk and more coherent, and you wouldn't have to deal with the crowd of idiots and drunk frat boys upstairs.

Of course, your hopes were quickly dashed when you saw Jinx swaying back and forth on her feet, her hand gripping a fresh shot of god-knows-what.

“Hey, why don't you let me have this one, huh?” You grab the glass to try and pry it out of her tight grip.

“No! This one's mine.” Jinx clenches her grip on the glass and scowls at you, refusing to let it go. “Find your own.”

You manage to take the glass from her, and she lets out a sigh before stomping off. You try to follow after Jinx when suddenly, a strong hand grabs you by the shoulder.

“Where's Caitlyn?!” Vi yells over the blaring music.

“I don't know!” you yell back, just as loud.

The crowd in the next room suddenly goes wild when someone turns on the radio and blasts it at an eardrum-rupturing volume.

You and Vi glance at each other before turning to look at Jinx dancing on a table in the next room. Her leather jacket has fallen away, exposing her stomach and arms, leaving her in just a cropped tank top.

Her braids slap against her back, sticking to her skin from all the sweat. She swings her hips back and forth and twirls her arms in random movements. The crowd cheers, and a group forms a circle around her table, clapping and laughing wildly.

“Jesus,” Vi mutters, her eyes wide. “I didn't think Jinx could dance like that.”

Jinx is completely drunk, absolutely drunk. She has her eyes closed, oblivious to the attention and the amount of alcohol running through her system.

You push a few people out of the way as you get closer.

Her body moves on its own, to the music, to the beat. Her hands travel up her body and into her hair, her skin slick with sweat.

She spins her head around, and BANG.

She headbutts a chandelier hanging on the ceiling.

You watch as her body sways and her eyes roll back in her head. Before she can fall, you manage to catch her just in time.

The drunken and rowdy crowd starts to cheer and clap, thinking that this is all part of her drunken show.

You set Jinx down on her feet, your hands grasping her arms tight to keep her steady. “Are you okay?”

She groans and opens her eyes, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. “I'm fine.” She tries to pull away from you, trying to swat your hands from her arms, but as soon as she tries to walk on her own, she stumbles on her own feet. You grab her again, holding her steady.

“You're not fine. C'mon.” You sling her right arm over your shoulders, wrapping your arm around her waist as you guide her down the hall.

“I jussssta needa lie down somewhere,” she slurs, leaning heavily against your side.

“The minute you lie down, you'll be passed out,” you respond as you keep her moving. 

“I know, just let me go to sleep. Sleep is good. Good, good, good.”

“Yeah, well, not if you have a concussion,” you retort, grabbing her tighter around the waist to make sure she doesn't just fall face-first onto the floor.

“Okay, I'll just… sit on the floor,” Jinx mumbles, trying to plop down onto the ground right in the middle of the hallway.

“Nooooo, we're not doing that.” You grab her by the arms, hauling her back up to her feet.

“But I'm tired. I'm sleepy. So sleepy.”

“I know.” You guide her to the garden, where you manage to find a bench. You help her sit down, keeping your arm around her side in case she accidentally tips over. “Come on,” you say, slowly lowering her down. “Lean back, lean back. There you go. Just... keep your head up. Hold your head up.”

Jinx reaches up and touches the spot where she hit her head earlier, wincing as her fingers touch the lump that's already starting to form.

You're just starting to kneel down in front of Jinx when suddenly, a hand grabs your arm. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Caitlyn standing behind you.

“We need to talk,” she says, sounding strangely urgent.

“Right now?” You look back at Jinx, who is still slumped against the bench, one hand on her head while the other is propped up on her knee. “I have my hands full at the moment.”

“Can you give me a second?” she insists, pulling you further away to the side. She lets go of your arm and runs a hand through her hair. “It's off. The deal is off.”

“What are you talking about?”

Caitlyn sighs. “Vi never wanted me, okay? she's... she's got eyes for someone else. I know it.”

You have neither the time nor the patience for this. You glance back to check on Jinx. She's starting to drift off to sleep, her chin dropping down towards her chest, before a sharp shake of her head brings her back to alertness.

“Cait,” you start, turning back to Caitlyn. “Do you like her or not?”

Caitlyn nods, looking down at her feet. “Yeah…”

“Then is she worth all this trouble?”

She hesitates. “Well, I thought she was, but...but I....”

You cut her off before she can finish. “She is or isn't. See, first of all, are you going to give up on her over a bit of competition? And secondly,” you poke her on the chest with your index finger. “Don't ever let anyone, ever, make you think you don't deserve what you want. If you want her, then go for it.” Then, you turn away from Caitlyn. “I gotta go.”

Jinx starts to fall off the bench, and you quickly catch her before she face-plants on the ground. “Okay, that's it,” you murmur to yourself as you hoist her up and begin walking away.

—

You march Jinx through the streets, her arm around your shoulder to keep her from falling over.

“Ughhhh.” She groans. “This is so patronizing.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.”

She shoves you, trying to walk on her own. “I don't think so.” Unsurprisingly, she falls to the ground.

You reach down and try to bring her back to her feet, pulling her up the small hill until you reach the playground outside of Caitlyn's house.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Jinx asks, leaning against you for support.

“I already told you.” You lift her arm a little higher up onto your shoulder. “You might have a concussion.”

Jinx breaks free of your grip and walks a few steps forward. You keep a close eye on her and continue to walk at her side, making sure to be within arm's reach in case she trips and falls.

“You don't care if I never wake up,” she mumbles, stumbling over her own feet.

You chuckle, catching her from falling. “Sure, I do.”

The two of you reach a pair of swings, surrounded on all sides by thick vines.

She stops in front of the swings, turning to face you. “Why?”

You take her hands in yours, keeping her straight and steady. “Because then I'd have to start dating girls who actually like me.”

“Yeah, like you could find one."

“See that, there?” You gesture with one hand to Jinx. “Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I just... I wanna sit down for a while.”

“Alright.” You lead her over to the swingset and sit her down in one of the swings, guiding her hands to hold onto the metal chains. “Don't fall off.”

She grins, her eyes locking onto yours.

And then, she suddenly falls backward, only to be caught, again.

“Jesus,” you mutter, propping her back upright. 

Jinx chuckles but doesn't say anything.

You move to sit on the swing beside her, the two of you swinging back and forth. The chains of the swing creak awkwardly. “So…” you start. “Why do you hate her?”

“Who?”

“Caitlyn.”

Jinx's face wrinkles up, and she frowns, glaring straight ahead. “I hate her.”

You nod. “I know. You don't look like the type to chug shots of tequila. Must be serious.”

She turns to throw you a glare. “Hey, I can be 'cool.' I can be 'laid back' like everyone else.” She snickers, half to herself. “You don't think I've got it in me?”

“Thought you were too good for that.”

“Well, you know what they say…”

“Nope. What do they say?”

You turn, only to find Jinx fast asleep, her head resting against the swing's rusty chains.

“Shiiiiiit!” You spring out of the swing and rush towards her. “No, no, no, no! Jinx! C'mon, wake up!” You kneel down, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells!” you sing loudly, patting the side of her face.

Her eyelids flutter as she responds to the sound of your voice, slowly and groggily blinking her eyes open.

You exhale, feeling your shoulders relax. You stand up at your full height, releasing your hands from her shoulders. “Thank fuck.” You sigh, looking down at her.

Her gaze lingers on you, her mouth slightly agape. “Hey…” she murmurs. “Your eyes are pretty.”

...

What?

Jinx just... complimented you?

You're floating up into cloud nine—no, no. This has to be some kind of trick.

But... that smile on her face. An unfamiliar, genuine smile. You're floating higher and higher, about to touch the clouds...

Jinx is actually complimenting you. Jinx is-

HRRRRRK!

HRRRRRK!

...and that's when the evil dragged you back to earth.

Your mouth turns down in a grimace, and you look down at your combat boots, which are now covered in a mixture of bile, alcohol, and... wait, is that bacon?

What. The. Hell.

“Oh for fuck's sake!” you exclaim, backing away to avoid the vomit. “Seriously? Seriously?” You shake your boots, splattering globs of puke onto the grass. “Did you have to urp puke on my boots?”

Jinx leans back against the swing, regaining her breath. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her mouth with one hand. “I guess I should've said, 'Pretty. Pretty gross.'.”

You glare down at your boots—ruined, stained, and completely disgusting.

You shake your boots again, trying to get rid of as much of the gross liquid as you possibly can. “Damn it, Jinx!” you yell, kicking off your boots and standing barefoot in the grass. “These are my favorites!”

“Not anymore.”

“UGH!” you shout, throwing your hands up into the air. “I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU, CAIT!” You look up at the sky, yelling at the moon, the stars, and whatever god might be listening. “YOU HEAR ME, CAITLYN?! I'M GOING TO CURSE YOU FOR THIS!”

—

Caitlyn, the benevolent goddess from the heavens above, kindly let you borrow her shoes.

You, being the kind and humble person that you are, graciously accept her offer but insist that you would return the shoes back when you can. But she insisted back, saying that the shoes were your size after all, so you may keep them.

You thank Caitlyn once more before accepting your new pair of shoes, thanking the gods that you have such a generous friend.

Blessed be Caitlyn Kiramman.

You now stand outside Caitlyn's house as the students who attended the party begin to drive away or head home. Jinx is currently in the bathroom, washing herself up and preparing to leave.

Vi walks up beside you and speaks up. “Can you give Jinx a ride home?”

You look over at Vi, giving her a nod. “Yeah, sure thing.”

She gives you a tired smile, her lips red and swollen.

“Wait—you're not gonna come with us?”

She shakes her head, giving a vague gesture with her hand. “Nah, I'm gonna... hang out a bit more. I'll get a ride home later.”

You raise an eyebrow curiously but shrug. “Got it.”

“Well, I'll get going then.” Vi pats you on the shoulder before turning away and walking back towards the house. Then, just as suddenly, she stops and turns back to you with her finger pointed in your direction. “And don't you do something stupid to my sister.” 

You laugh it off. “Don't worry,” you reassure her. “I would never do anything stupid to Jinx. I'll make sure nothing bad happens, I promise.”

Her expression softens. “Good.” She gives you a pat on the back. “I know you're not a bad person. But I still gotta look out for my little sister, y'know?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “I get it.”

You watch as Vi turns around and walks into the house without another word, leaving you standing alone outside. You stand by yourself, watching the remaining people from the party head home one by one.

Suddenly, Jinx's voice snaps you to attention. “Let's go. I'm driving.”

Spinning around, you find Jinx standing behind you, and you frown. “Hell no. You're drunk. I'll drive.”

Jinx waves a hand dismissively. “Pssh, I'm fine. I can drive. I'm not that drunk.”

“Bullshit.” You open the passenger door, gesturing for her to get inside. “Get over here.”

Jinx groans but obliges, walking over to the passenger door. She reluctantly gets into the passenger seat. You head around to the driver's side and slide in, taking the car keys she hands you.

Starting the car, you take one last glance at her face before putting the car into gear and pulling away.

—

Jinx fiddles with the radio dial, flipping through various stations until she finds a song that suits her taste. But you quickly change it before she can get too comfortable.

“Hey!”

“I'm driving, so I get to pick the song.”

She scowls, reaching back to change it back to her preferred station. “It's my car.”

You reach over and change it back again. “And I'm in control of it.”

“But it's Letters to Cleo!” she protests. “I know you like them! I saw you there.”

You swallow hard, and with a sigh, you let her listen to her song. 

“So, tell me,” she says, turning to face you. “Where were you last year?”

“I was busy.”

She squints at you, her intoxicated brain trying to interpret your response. “Were you in jail?” she asks again.

“Maybe.”

“Pfft, no. You weren't.”

“Then why'd you ask?” you retort, shooting a side glare at her.

“Why'd you lie?”

You don't answer, instead grabbing the volume knob and cranking it up to keep her occupied. She starts to bob her head drunkenly, singing along to the lyrics like she's in a concert, headbanging wildly with a grin on her face.

Despite yourself, you find your fingers starting to tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

“I should do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” She points to the radio.

“Start a band?”

“No,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Install car stereos.” She laughs, then sighs. “Of course, start a band, dumbass.”

“Why don't you, then?” you ask, keeping your eyes glued to the road.

“As if anyone would want to hear me play.”

“And why's that?”

“Everyone thinks I'm scary. No one would want to be in a band with the girl that makes all the other students crap their pants.”

You steal a sidelong glance in her direction. Right now, she is far from 'scary'. “I'm no picnic myself,” you reply, looking back at the road.

Jinx glances up at you, then laughs. “True. You're no walk in the park either.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, huh?”

She grins, leaning back in her seat. “Fair enough.”

You park the car in her driveway and shut off the engine. You can feel her gaze on the side of your face, and you look over at her. “What?”

“Nevermind,” she replies quickly, looking away. She bites her lower lip, trying to hide her smile. You catch her looking at you in the side-view mirror, but she quickly averts her gaze when you notice. There's a tint of pink in her cheeks... It wasn't there before.

You look away, focusing on the road.

Was that... a blush?

No way.

She's probably still feeling the effects of the alcohol. Don't overthink things, that's stupid, you tell yourself, ignoring how your own body starts to warm up.

“You know…” Her voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see her fully facing you. You watch as she runs her tongue over her lower lip, the tip just barely touching the corner of her mouth. “...you're not as vile as I thought you were.”

Your eyebrows shot up at her words. Where is this coming from? “What changed your mind then?”

“Eh, you weren't bad company,” she says with a shrug. Her tongue darts out of the corner of her mouth again, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

You notice how... soft her mouth looks, even with her lips curled in a half-smirk.

Get it together.

You stare at her, your brain taking a second to process what she just said. Must be the alcohol talking.

She doesn't think you're good company for real, she's just saying random crap.

“Not bad, huh? and here I thought you hated my guts.”

“I did.” Her eyes dart down to your mouth for a second, almost too quick for you to notice. “Or at least I thought I did.”

It must be the alcohol.

It's definitely the alcohol.

Because there's no other reason for why she's leaning in, her eyes fluttering shut, lips parting slightly, moving closer and closer...

Wait, what.

She's...

There's no way she's actually leaning in right now...

She is.

She's leaning in.

You can feel her breath on your face, the smell of tequila mixing with the smell of her perfume. Your body is on fire. You're going to explode. You're going to combust.

Oh, hell no.

This is not happening. She's still tipsy.

This isn't right, this isn't right.

You forcibly tear your head away from hers, your stomach twisting. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

Her eyes snap open. She looks pissed. She looks like she's about to murder you, and honestly, right now, you'd let her. Her brow creases together, and she frowns, looking away. She mutters a few swear words before getting out of the car, shutting the door behind her with a bang that makes the whole car rattle.

She stomps up her driveway, disappearing through the front doorway as the door slams hard enough to nearly shake the glass window.

Your head is spinning.

 What just happened? how did things go tits up so quickly?

This is not what you signed up for. Five minutes ago, things were fine, then the mood suddenly shifted, and she was all up in your personal space.

And then things got all weird and awkward.

She's drunk. She'll forget this even happened, and everything will be fine.

Yeah, no biggie.

She'll probably wake up tomorrow morning with a hangover, but nothing else. Right? Right.

“Fuuuuuckk.”

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty

[junedenim]

at the heart of what the business is

part two

if you work with him every day, you might as well fuck him

warnings: smut, eating, blowing, fingering, fucking, etc.

word count: 4.7k

He looks like he has had one too many drinks and you're almost certain he hasn't been without a cigarette in his hand all night. His hair makes him look scruffy like a stray dog. You're filled with a desire to kick him, not out of cruelty, but to see if he'd react. He's got a shadow of stubble that looks like sandpaper. You think if you run your hand down his cheek, scratches would cover the palm of your hand. He's disgusting. Before walking down into the restaurant, he spat on the stairs, leaving a blob of salvia just begging to be slipped in. (You're disgusting; covered in a want for you to be that cement stair).

You two haven't taken to one another exactly. He hasn't acknowledged your presence and you scoff whenever he speaks. There's an obligation to work together but you don't have to interact with him outside of it. You don't hate him, you find him strange in a fascinating kind of way. He definitely hates you, at least you think.

He's across from you at the table though neither of you has made eye contact. He's talking with Ben and you're talking with Elizabeth. Except you and Elizabeth are watching him out of the corners of your eyes and talking about him. 

"Is he looking at me?" She whispers harshly.

You glance over. "No, he's still talking to Ben."

"What about now?"

"Still talking to Ben."

She groaned. "Whatever. I give up. He'll just be the one that got away." She sighed heavily and sank into her hand.

You laugh. "I don't think you're missing out on much."

She gasps. "He's so dreamy. What are you talking about?

You shrug and sip your wine. "He's always seemed a bit arrogant to me."

Elizabeth sneers, "You've never even talked to him."

You object to this. "I talked to him at work today and he was a prick." He ignored you and instead talked to your project partner, Jeff. You took the slight as misogynistic. A fact Elizabeth vehemently denied when it came to Alex. To Elizabeth, Alex was a god. He could have no faults. 

The wait staff came out with everyone's orders and the conversation dissolved into a more central conversation as Ed, everyone's boss, asked after his crew. He seemed to know every detail about everyone. "And Alex, how's that lady you're seeing?" Ed exclusively called people "lady" or "fellow." It amused you every time. You giggle into your napkin.

"Uh, um." He awkwardly moves in his chair. "We aren't seeing each other anymore." Elizabeth practically shakes the table in excitement, which causes you to laugh louder. Alex's eyes land on you and you turn red at the embarrassing idea he thinks you're laughing at the demise of his relationship. You cover it with a cough into your napkin, but it sounds and looks fake.

Ed looks solemnly toward Alex and says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Al." Ed and Alex have about 30 years between them but got along like they had gone to university with one another—a fraternity of brothers. You often felt work was a good ol' boys' club, even if Ed was a great boss and the company was diverse, the upper management mainly consisted of men. 

"Her loss," Elizabeth remarks.

The comment makes you burst into laughter again. You're flushed with red before you have time even to catch yourself. All eyes were at the table directly at you from the sudden outburst. You cover your mouth with your napkin again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You alright, little lady?" Ed asks.

You clear your throat one too many times for anyone to believe the act. "Yeah, yeah. Yes. I'm sorry. Ignore me."

"Nonsense," Ed dismisses. "Your father doing okay?" That's the kind of boss Ed was. Your father had several bouts with his health that caused him to be hospitalized a few times this past year. Ed was always forgiving with your work attendance.

You dip a hand in your glass of cold ice water and tap your wet fingers on your hot cheeks. "Yes, yes. He's been feeling much better this past month."

Ed cheers, "Excellent. Please give him my best." He lifts his wine glass up in acknowledgment.

"Yes, mine too." Your eyes dart across the table. Alex is leaning back in his chair, that burning cigarette in the ashtray the restaurant provided—you wonder how much he paid them to allow him to smoke in here—and his glass up in the air.

You nod silently and dive back into your dish. Your cheeks are still flushed with mild humiliation but also smiling at the hilarity of it all.

Elizabeth sighs beside you and whispers, "Well, he's looking at you now."

You lift your head, your eyes meeting his, locked in a stare. You swallow your food and lean yourself forward on your elbows on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you," you try to assure Alex. "Just something Elizabeth said."

He waves away your apology. A smile cracks upon his lips. "That's alright. You can laugh at my misfortune if you want to."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't do that. At least I don't think I would."

His smile grows wider. The heat on your cheeks forces you to disappear into your glass of wine. He lifts his cigarette to his lips. You feel entranced by the smoke as you watch him exhale through the blur of wine. He's chatting away with Ben again, making him laugh at some joke you didn't hear. You've never not been intrigued by him. You just didn't think he was ever intrigued by you.

You filter through conversations with Elizabeth and listen to Ed's ramblings but your eyes always return to the man across the table. You swear he must have unbuttoned his shirt a button or two. His chest is exposed deeper. The chain around his neck is more visible and the pale skin of his chest unclothed. It was all a hypnosis wheel. 

Ed orders dessert for the table. Tiramisu. You feast away on your small cut. You lick your spoon eagerly tasting the mascarpone mixture. You feel his eyes on you and it ignites a lust in you that's undeniable. You're reminded that hate sex is the greatest form of passion. Well, you don't really hate him but you can fake it if it makes the sex that much better.

"Did you know tiramisu means 'pick me up'?" The question isn't necessarily directed at anyone, but your eyes are on him.

He has a trace of cocoa powder in the corner of his lips. It makes you giggle. You're becoming more and more endeared by it. You're convinced it's due to your newfound desire to bed him tonight. "No. I didn't know that one," he answered.

"It was created for pleasure-seekers." You try your best to pierce him with your gaze. "Ladyfingers is such an interesting name for a dessert. Who'd want to imagine eating fingers with cream?"

He chuckles at the remark before sinking back into his dessert. He glances up with a smirk and you return with a tight-lipped smile.

*

Ed leaves after dessert, paying for the tab causing his employees to cheer for him as he exits. Various people scatter. Some for the bar. Some head home. Some, like you, lean back in their chairs. You copy Alex's carefree mannerisms. Your hand fiddles with the stem of your wine glass. If you focus for long enough you think you could bore holes through his clothes.

Suddenly, Alex stands up and rounds the table. He stands before you. His hand grazes the empty chair Jeff left. "May I?"

"I don't owe the chair. By all means," you invite.

He places his glass down first, instantly forming a watermark on the cloth tablecloth. He pulls the chair out far enough for it to be turned to face you. He sits in it silently and takes a sip from his glass. 

"I liked that project of yours," he complimented with another swig of alcohol.

You can't help the smile forced upon your cheeks but you narrow your eyes. "My part or Jeff's part?"

Alex scoffed, "Jeff's a dickhead." You split into a peal of laughter, forcing you to cover your mouth once again. It incites a laugh from Alex too. "You've got a nice laugh."

You sip your wine to diminish the last ripples of giggles. "Oh, stop it. I've got a witch cackle going on."

He shakes his head. His hair is less styled than it was at work, growing unkempt as the evening has dragged on. It bounces with his movements. "No, no. It adds character. It's contagious."

You shrug. "Well, okay."

For the first time, you notice he has these beautiful eyes: downturned and brown. It's hard not to—the man gives good eye contact. "You're a good talker."

You snigger. "I'm pretty sure Jeff did all the talking."

Alex points a finger out from his hand wrapped around his glass. "Exactly."

His knee brushes up against yours. He doesn't seem to notice, but you sure do. The fabric of his suit feels luxurious against your bare skin. You're not sure what overtakes you. His eyes. His words. His hair. His hands. His knee. You reach down and place your delicate hand on his knee. A smirk covers his face and his eyes gaze longingly at you but he doesn't say anything. "Thank you, I suppose," you tell him.

Alex leans forward. His body practically huddles around you. If you wanted, you could nest in him. Take harbor in his suit jacket and stay there hibernating through winter. "Not sure if I'm allowed to say this," he whispers in your ear.

You turn your head and if you were an inch closer your lips would graze his. It might not be the most proper thing for him to hit on his subordinate. It wouldn't be right for him to leave you hungry either. "Go ahead."

He places his hand on your bare inner thigh, just above your knee. It's cold, still chilling from the glass. It's orgasmic, its effects. "Do you know how fucking hot you look?" His earnest tone makes you emit a horny giggle. "Seriously, pretty sure you're a pick-me-up."

"I could probably sue you for that," you joke.

His hand travels further. "Yeah, you probably should. I'm a piece of shit."

"We'll probably get fired if we move any closer to one another."

He pulls back slightly. "You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in front of HR?"

*

In the haze between the restaurant and his bed, you lost your dress and he lost his pants. He grabs your ass picking you up for long enough for you to land your back against his soft duvet. He tries to blanket you with his body but you stick your leg up, pressing your foot into his chest. "Lose the jacket," you command.

Alex is quick to shed. He wraps his hand around your ankle and lifts the foot to his lips, kissing the heel, then the ankle, slowly puckering his way to your center as he kisses your shin. He drops the leg and undoes the rest of his shirt, leaving him in just his underwear. You watch, propped up on your elbows in your lacy bra and panties. 

He covers you like a dark cloud about to rain down on you. His lips are softer than you imagined and his hands that caress their way up you are as rough as you imagined. His kiss is dominating and his figure is pining you down like you're on a bulletin board. His hand grazes over your clothed cunt. You moan into his mouth.

He pulls back and stands up completely. "Take it off." He gestures to your chest and his pussy.

You reach around and undo the hook. You slip your bra off and toss it off the bed. You reach down to the hem of your underwear but stop before pulling it off. "You too."

Alex listens, discarding his underwear on the wood floor. "You're a bossy bitch," he says. You let out a delighted giggle. "I fucking love it."

"I want to suck your cock," you announce. You sit up on your knees but wait for him to move toward you.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Okay, fuck." He comes closer and you crawl toward him. You wrap your hands around his shaft.

You look at him, eagerly. "Spit in my mouth," you say, leaning your head back and widening your mouth.

He looks slightly stunned but a smirk takes over his face. He wraps his hand around your neck and leans down, spitting directly onto your tongue. "You're a little slut, huh?" He asks it like a serious question as if you're sitting down for a job interview.

You shrug and take him into your mouth. He sighs as if letting out a breath that he's been forced to hold all night. You pop him off your lips and say, "You can decide at the end of the night."

He's large in your mouth. Your tongue moves around him in your mouth as you move up and back. His face is controted in pleasure and you're determined to continue it for as long as possible. You want to suck him dry. To take everything in him for yourself.

He has other thoughts. Roughly, he yanks you off of him by your hair. You land on your back, staring up at him like a beetle on its back unable to turn over. "I don't like you very much, you know," you tell him.

Alex snickers. "I know." It's a word battle of who can turn the other one on more with their insults. His hands move their way down your thighs and soon, his mouth follows. Alex buries his head between your legs. He starts off slow, lazily flicking his tongue around your heat, as if to test it. You shake at his touch, moaning and grinding your hips towards him, begging him to keep going. 

He scoffs, "You're so desperate." He trails his fingertips up your body, barely touching anything, soft strokes causing heat to gather. His tongue dances around your clit, teasing you, before finally giving in and allowing it his full attention. You tremble and he adjusts to a faster rhythm, a stronger pressure, finding just the right angle to make you quiver so hard he needs to hold your legs in place.

You're on the edge, arching your back, ready to fall over, when he suddenly lifts himself from your center and backs away to the foot of the bed. You groan and flatten out. "You're a fucking jerk, Turner."

He chuckles evilly. "Calm down, love." It brings a rare affection to the whole exchange. Of course, two seconds later he pulls you closer to the edge by your legs and flips you over, slipping a few fingers in you just for good measure. The thought of Alex fucking you right now is almost more than you can bare; the satisfied laugh he lets out only adds fuel to the fire.

He bends himself over to grab your breasts. You can feel his cock grinding against your ass, the pressure in your cunt growing with each passing second. You push back against him and he tightens his grip on your waist. Finally, he enters your dripping, throbbing cunt. Then, he slaps your ass. It's light. Probably won't even make the skin red but it makes you gasp, which encourages him more. 

He's bucking into you in such a provoking fashion it makes you loudly moan. He's stretching you out in a glorious way that adds such fervency to the pattern in which you're fucking one another. You're reassured that you feel as good for him as he does for you when he lets out a noisy, "Fuck."

Alex is holding onto your shoulders as he pounds into you from behind, each thrust making it even more intoxicated. He thrusts slowly, hitting the spot, his fingers digging into your hips. His cock slicked wet, covered in you. He grunts, pounding with more force.

He pulls out, flipping you over again. You wrap your legs around his back when he enters you again, groaning at the feeling of his hard cock once again meeting your warm pussy. He moves deeper, pushing himself all the way in. He leers over you and says, "I want to come in your mouth. Can I do that?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, but can you make me come first?"

"Fuck yes." His pace is brutal but charged. You're clawing and desperate. You don't think you've ever been this desperate before. He's caused something in you that you can't label. He's shaking, trembling, and losing his rhythm. He's sucked you in and you're panting before he hits that back pocket and has you collapsing. 

He lets you ride out your high with your hips shaking around and your back arching before he pulls out of you. "Come here." He points to the floor below his cock that he is palming. You drop off the bed to your knees and hold your hands on his hips as he pumps himself. He shoots spurts out of himself landing on your tongue. As he comes, you pull yourself forward, shoving him down your throat as he finishes. His fingers claw in your hair and he's moaning and grunting curses out. 

His grip softens and you fall back onto your butt with a sigh. "Holy shit."

Alex chuckles and reaches down to help you stand up. "Good?"

The room is filled with panting and you decide to shrug your shoulders instead of verbally responding. He chuckles and slips off into the bathroom.

You stand in his room, naked and unsure of what to do. Your skin feels cold now that it's lacking his touch. You're unsure what to do. Whether to slip around the covers or slip out. You have plans tomorrow so it seems logical to go home.

You dress yourself and meet him at the door of his bathroom. "Oh," he utters.

"I'm gonna head home."

He nods. He has slipped boxers on and looks so meek. The power that he possessed in his suit is lost. He just looks small and soft. "Okay. You're welcome to stay."

You shake your head. "I should get home. I have some things I have to do early tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at work on Monday."

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good weekend."

"Yeah. You too."

*

You want to be a siren. You won't lie that your attire on Monday wasn't intentional, wearing the shortest skirt you can get away with to the office. It covers you enough for when you bend over but it doesn't leave much to the imagination. Besides, it's Monday, a day you spend mostly in your cubicle so there's little need to dress a certain way. You've come in hungover and in your pajamas on Mondays before so a short skirt and a tight white shirt will make little difference.

You find him in the copy room. You're collecting your printed work and he is standing with a mug of coffee, leaning over one of the copiers. You watch his back. His shoulders are high and his finger firmly jabs the digital screen on the copier repeatably. 

"Do you need help?" You're not sure why you ask it. You had intended to stay silent and collect your work but he's muttering to himself and you take pity on the poor guy.

Alex turns quickly to look at you. He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "Uh, no. I think I got it."

You giggle at his flustered behavior. "Okay."

It seems to soften things and put a smile on your face as you walk to the printer to collect your items. You look over and his finger continues to hit the screen. His face is contoured with frustration. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"No, I just..." he sighs and steps back. "I just can't get the thing to copy."

You place your stack of papers down and look over. The screen is on the copy page and you press okay. The machine buzzes and begins to scan his paper. You look back and he's looking at you all sheepishly. "You've worked here how long and you don't know how to work the copier?" 

A smile seems to come to his face as you laugh at him. "I usually have Jess do it." Right, his assisstant. "She's out sick today."

"Do you need any more help?" You offer.

He shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I'm good. Thanks. Thank you."

"No problem," you tell him, picking up your stack of papers.

You head for the door when he says, "You look nice today." You turn around and his back is to you again. His shoulders are down. The tense that was once there has dissolved away. He's cocky again.

"Thank you."

He turns around slowly to full face you. He leans his back against the copier. "What about me?"

You ask dryly, "What about you?"

"Aw, come on," Alex says. "I can't be so bad. I wore my nice shirt today for you." He's got a white button-down on. It looks exactly like the one he wore on Friday and you can't tell if he's mocking you or being truthful.

You bite your lip. "You look handsome."

"Well," he looks down at his shoes, "I like that skirt of yours that you're wearing." Alex feigns this shyness like he can't look you in the eyes. Then, he'll stare you down and tell you he wants to fuck you. It's very contrasting.

"Uh-huh," you sound. "You're very assertive."

He lets out a chuckle. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

You narrow your eyes. "You are the one hitting on me in the copier room."

Alex hums. "Yeah." He grabs his copies and walks over to you. "That's interesting." He grazes by you, passing you, and opening the door.

"What are you getting at?" You ask.

He turns back. The door is only open a crack but his head peeks through just right in the open slot. His smirk grows and that glint in his eyes only grows brighter. "I like your skirt." He ducks out.

You're forced to stand still, taking a moment to digest what has occurred (and drench the thirst he's left). You shake him off your mind and head back to your cubicle. 

*

An hour later, a knock sounds on your cubicle's wall. You turn and there's Alex.

He invites himself in, not that there is much room to be "invited in." He leans against the edge of your desk. "I'd really like to touch base with you," he says.

"I'd really like that, too," you say, tempted to tell him to move his ass, and continue, "But I'm just swamped with this right now."

He glances at the Amazon website open on your computer and you nearly bury your face in your hands—rookie mistake. 

He looks amused by the display. You feel like a child making up excuses to not do their homework, but you can't avoid him forever, that much you know. 

"Ten minutes, I swear," he says.

You cock your head back. "Oh, I think you finish a lot quicker than that."

Relief washes over that he laughs at that. You're desperate for things to not grow more awkward. "I remember things differently. But seriously."

You sigh, "Alright, lead the way."

His office smells like him. Cologne, coffee, and cigarettes. There are unfinished mugs of coffee scattered around the room. He has no pictures on his desk, the height of mystery, but has several posters on the wall of projects he has worked on. He sits down in his desk chair and gestures for you to stand beside him so he can show you something on his computer.

You follow his hands, his pointed finger, as he explains his idea to you. Your head is filled with much different thoughts that don't concern the project or work. He's asked you a question, he's looking up at you waiting for an answer, he's calling your name, and all you can think about are his lips.

You lean down and kiss him, trying to fuse some idea in him through the transmission of lips. He wraps his arms around your waist and to fix the height difference with him sitting down and you bent over he pulls you into his lap. You swing your legs over to straddle him and he whispers into you, "We really shouldn't be doing this at work."

"I know," you whisper back. "But I've only ever had a cubicle before and I'm taking advantage of a closed door."

He's kissing down your neck and any concern about what you're doing or about to do at work seems to fade into the background. "Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? I don't think we'd get away with that."

"You want to finger me under my skirt?" You offer.

He kisses up to your ear, his teeth fiddling with your earlobe. "What about what I want?"

"Oh," you sigh, "I think this is what you want."

And then, Alex's fingers slip under your skirt, under your silk panties, finding your slit with ease. He breathes a silent groan against your neck as he slips a finger inside your pussy. He comments on the wetness. "Anticipating this, huh?" Sliding in and out, in and out with ease. He slowly draws his hand back up, rubbing soft circles around your clit. You tremble, swirling her hips against him in a matching rhythm.

If it hadn't before, all thought goes out the window. 

Alex pushes your skirt up around your waist. He lifts you both up, propping you on his desk. You gasp when he guides you to spread your legs further apart, pushing in two fingers and then three. You're arching back and shaking with pleasure, so he goes in deeper and harder. He curls his fingers inside, which causes you to grab a tight hold of his neck, moaning in his ear.

You can feel his boner rub up against you and you're certain you've knocked over his cup full of pens. He slides his hand up your dripping core, slowly moving his fingers up and down your clit. You jerk forward, and he holds you steady, quickening the pace. He hits the spot just right and he keeps hitting it and hitting it. "Don't stop," you beg and he doesn't.

Your whole body jerks forward as the orgasm rips through you. You hold yourself up against his shoulders as you try to catch her breath. "Fuck," you exhale. You relinquish your hold on him and let go. "I've never done anything like that before."

"What? Orgasm?"

You laugh and push him back. You notice the protruding boner in his pants. "No, have sex in a place that could get me fired."

"Oh," he laughs.

Your eyes widen at his reaction. "You've had sex at the office before. Ew. I think I should report this to HR."

"Hush now. Let's just say a lot happened before you worked here."

"Yuck," you let out again.

Alex sits back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I've never gotten a blowjob here before."

You snort. "Subtle."

Alex moves his hands down and undoes his belt. He pulls his zipper down and looks up at you like a cocky little bastard. 

You nod. "Real subtle. Shall I grab Ben to take care of that for you?"

"Come on. A bit quid pro quo." He exposes his dick, laying hard on top of his zipper.

"That is definitely sexual harassment," you say as you get on your knees.

You take him in your mouth and it feels just as good as it did on Friday, except it's different. It's softer and he isn't forcing your head down on him, instead rubbing the back of it, fidgeting with the tips of your hair. He moans and you're more determined than ever to taste him again.

"You feel so fucking good," he tells you. 

You dive into him, taking him to the back of your throat. Your nose brushes his pubic hair, something that tends to be unappealing, except he smells nice. Something you find even weirder. You suck on him like he's a bottomless mimosa brunch. You lick him like a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You want to consume all of him, but you'll take just this part.

He's close, grunting and pulsing in your mouth. There's agony and pleasure written across his face. His cum washes down your throat. This time you taste it on your tongue. It lingers as you swallow it down. He is slumped against his chair. His head is thrown back and he looks blissed out. You stand and tuck him back in his pants for him. He kisses your elbow as a thank you. "That'll get me through my meeting with Jeff." 

"You better not be doing that with Jeff."

*

a/n: i don't mean for all my fics to have semi-public sex or whatever, they just do.

[oargasm]

Prev!

syp ; the school’s popular pretty girl is also an otaku

“That’s it?” And he nods in return “You make this so easy for me, I’ll be the bestest friend you’ve ever had!” You smile “One thing though, I can’t be seen talking to you in school. Not that I’m embarrassed of you..” you trail off “Then what are you embarrassed of?” He retorts - offended “Being apart of the occult..” you mutter with your head hung low

“You’re such a poser, a true fan would never be ashamed!” “Well if you were as popular as me you would understand!” “Pish posh” he exasperates “You’re really bratty” you huff earning an eye roll from him

“Nevermind that though, give me your number!” You ask as Takakura fights back the flush from his cheeks - he knew what you were implying. It was the fact that a pretty girl was asking for his number. He slowly nods his head pulling his phone out for the exchange.

You put your contact name as 'Y/N :p' seeing this Ken decided to put his as 'Takakura :)' “Awesome! I’ll text you to plan our first hang out!” You wave as you depart

“Hang out?” He mutters to himself

There stood Ken Takakura outside a manga cafe, Takakura reminisces your previous words ‘It’s perfect! We can eat and read, what’s not to like!’

He sighs before walking in and sees you already enjoying a pastry as you discreetly try to read a magazine about the fake moon landing.

You look up seeing your new found friend and smile at him “Hi! I got you something!” You say as you dig in your tote bag while Takakura pulls out the chair across from where you’re sitting

You pull a book out from your bag and push it towards him “What’s this?” He asks “Turn it around!” You chirp doing what you say his eyes widen “WHAT?!” He shouts making the cafe look at him “Ah, sorry…” he says embarrassed "How’d you get a book signed by the author?! No one has ever been able to see him!”

“One of the perks of having money!” You flaunt “That’s my prized possession ya hear? Take good care of it!” “Well why are you giving it to me?!” He says as he tries pushing the book back towards you

“Think of it as a thank you for keeping my secret!” You explain as you wink at him

A few days later you catch him lost at a beauty store “Hiya Takakura!” You wave he looks at you startled at pushes his glasses up “Oh hello Y/N..” “Whatcha doing here?” “My mom’s birthday is soon and I’m hoping to find her a gift.” He looks over your appearance and a lightbulb appears above his head “You know a lot about makeup right? Could you help me?” “Of course!” You grab his hand dragging him to the aisle you came here for

You grab a lip gloss tester off the shelf and apply it on yourself “Hmm I can’t tell since I already have something on..” you say looking into the mirror “Cmere, you try it on!” You inch the applicator closer to him “No way you just used that!” “So what? Stay still.” You scold

You grab the strings of his hoodie bringing him down as you apply the gloss onto him, both of your lips inches from touching. Takakura can hear his own heartbeat from his ears, it was as if there was no one else in the busy store “Ooh this is a nice color!” You admire leaning away from Okarun’s red face then dragging him to the mirror you were at before grabbing his face making himself look at the mirror “How bout it?” “Huh?” “Do you wanna get it for your mom? If not I’m happy to keep looking with you!”

“This is fine..” he stutters out grabbing the tester from your hand and setting it back into the display and grabs a new product “Uhm which way is it..” he mutters nervously

🛸༄␥⋆｡°✩

You were walking back home from comic book run when you’re hit in the head by something blunt. Irritated you look up seeing a big flash ‘the hell?’

On the floor you pick up the golden ball that had hit you “I’m selling this!” You say out loud as you skip home

After Takakura missed one day of school he appeared the next day with a perm - it was kind of a look for him however you did like his bowl cut

Y/N :p : I’m digging the perm!

You hit send and giggle internally but as class went on he didn’t bother responding- it’s okay maybe he’s just focusing in class!

During lunch you caught him locking lips with Momo Ayase - the gyaru from class B. Oh! He has a girlfriend now! Very weird for this to happen after his absence yesterday..

At the end of the day you decide to tease him - the hallways are crowded no one’s going to see u talking to him anyways

“Takakura!” “Eh? Y/N? You’re talking to me.. now?” “Seen you have a girlfriend now!” You tease “No I don’t!” He’s quick to deny “Then is it a girl you like?” You wiggle your eyebrows as he looks away

Suddenly you feel your arm getting dragged and see your friend drag you along leaving Takakura behind “Say Y/N why were you talking to that otaku?” “I had a question about class that’s all!” “Oh he’s lucky for even being in the same presence as you!” “Bet he’s never had a conversation with a cute girl!” “Yeah, he’s totes head over heels over you!” “Y/N you player!”

“Woah don’t talk about him like that.” A big metal bang echoes in the hallway as you’re on the floor startling Takakura but is unable to check on you as Miss Ayase is wrapped around his arm obnoxiously shouting praises about him

“Some girls deserve washtubs falling on em instead of guys falling for em!” She says as she makes eye contact with you a giant translucent hand following behind almost as if it was waving goodbye

As the week goes on Takakura continues to ghost you, ignoring the messages of you wanting to hang out or just you simply checking up on him. Not only that but you’ve been seeing a woman in a red dress lately and it’s starting to drive you crazy to the point where you are now sliding down the hallway walls crying as your friends stare worried

You meet their gaze and quickly wipe your eyes “Hiya guys!” You quickly put a facade on “You okay Y/N? Is something bothering you?” “I’m fine just some personal issues..” “Are you sure?” This was the final straw for you “No! I’m not fine! At all! There’s a freaking ghost lady - I don’t know if you guys can even see her, she just gets closer and closer!” You shout as people start peeking their heads out of their classroom

“Ahem, um I’m just going to go to the nurses office..” you quickly stand up speed walking away

Not sure if you can tell but I plan on having Y/N replace Aira ++ I don’t know if I should make this a full on fic which would be published on wattpad 🤔

[guiltyasdave]

constellations in his eyes

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

word count: 736

tags/warnings: infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

a/n: this is based on the song high infidelity by taylor swift and written for @beskarandblasters’s taylor swift drabble challenge. i love taylor and this song and dave, so this was very fun 🫶🏻 check out the whole challenge masterlist here!

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

It’s your birthday, April 29th.

Rain is soaking through your dress, the drenched fabric clinging to your skin, wet strands of your hair sticking to your forehead. Unfamiliar lips are pressed against yours. You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this happy.

You’re supposed to meet your fiancé for dinner tonight. When you call him, you’re already seated at the table, waiting for him to meet you there.

“Give me a break,” he sighs at your demand for an explanation, “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to buy you dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. None of those guys from your office available tonight?”

“Fuck you.”

You slam the phone back onto the table, swallowing down the angry tears that are starting to well up in your eyes. You have been dealing with his unreasonable bouts of insecurity and jealousy because you’re working in a male-dominated field for way too long. You had hoped that he would get over it eventually, but it had rather gotten worse, mixed with remarks about how he made more money than you and how thankful you should be that he took care of you.

After staring down at the table for a few moments, you pick your phone back up again. If this is what he thinks of you any way, you might as well give him a reason to.

“Hey. Can you come and pick me up, please?”

Of course Dave could. You’re often assigned cases together, are often huddled up in the office when it’s already dark outside and your colleagues have gone home. You like working with him, like how quiet but straightforward he is, how he understands your way of thinking. You like him.

You’ve been out for drinks before, to celebrate successfully solved cases, but nothing more, no matter how many times he hinted at being interested in more. Because you’re not that kind of woman, despite what your fiancé apparently thinks.

Until now. It’s your birthday and you’re gonna spend it with someone who actually likes being around you.

When you walk out of the restaurant, he’s waiting for you, his brow furrowed in concern, immediately asking if you’re alright. You nod, mumbling something about a change of plans, nothing to worry about. You can tell that he doesn’t buy it.

He’s walking you down the block to his car, one hand at the small of your back. You feel yourself melting into him and his calming presence beside you, into the self-assured way he’s taking charge.

Neither of you had expected the sudden downpour, soaking the both of you to the bone within seconds. You stop in your tracks, staring at him in surprise for a second, before you burst out laughing.

You stumble over your own feet as you try to keep walking and instinctively grab his arm. He turns in your direction and steadies you, an amused smirk on his face, his hands a heavy weight on your hips, his touch burning into you.

You lean in and kiss him before your mind catches up with your actions. He stills for only one moment before his lips start moving against yours with a caressing urgency that makes your heart clench with longing.

Your hands cling to him, to his shirt underneath your fingers that’s just as drenched as your clothes, to the broadness of his shoulders that’s sending a rush of excitement through you. The absurdity of the whole situation makes you giggle against his mouth and you feel the rumble of his own laugh more than you hear it while his arms are wrapping tighter around your waist.

You don’t care that you’re in the middle of the sidewalk, that rain is still pouring down on you, that this is not the man that you’ve agreed to marry.

Because when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, the lights of the city reflecting in his dark pupils, like constellations that you want to get lost in. For the first time in forever, you feel seen. Your fingers burrow into his hair and you pull him closer again, connecting your lips with his once more.

When you reach his car, he opens the door for you and asks if he can take you home with him. You say yes.

None of it feels real, but you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a long time.

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, commenting, sending an ask or interacting in any way. it’s really what keeps writers going <3

[chaussetteblanche]

hobie taking care of drunk!you

pairing : hobie brown x gn!reader summary : the ways hobie takes care of you when you've had too much to drink warnings : none word count : about 1k

You had been shocked when Hobie had agreed to come to the party. You’d been begging him for days to come with you, not only because you wanted him to accompany you, but also because there were a few people you were convinced he would get along with. Other anarchists and punks. His kind of people. It was one of your friends’ birthday, and a perfect excuse to drink just a bit too much on a Friday evening.

“Aight, I’ll come along, but the second they get some of that shitty modern music playin’, I’m outta there, you get me?” he’d warned the day before. You had just beamed, lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes to give him a sweet kiss. He had hummed, heading back to the couch to resume his Bakunin book.

He was now staring at you across the room, you were in the kitchen with a dozen other people, throwing back drink after drink. He had known it was over when you’d started mixing alcohols. He’d have to stay the whole night, even if it was just to look after you. But it wasn’t as bad as he had expected, a few friends of yours had interesting political views and made for rich conversation. He internally winced when he saw your behaviour alter, thinking of how shitty you’d be feeling the following day.

“Hobie!” you cried loudly, wobbling over to him. He had a hand out as soon as you were within reach, hovering over the small of your back in case you were to stumble. "You alright there?" he asked. You nodded happily and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek, smiling widely. “How are you liking the party with these two?” You motioned to your two friends, who chuckled at the state you were in. “I told ya you’d like ‘em,” “I do, they’re very nice, aren’t they?” he chuckled as you swayed lightly besides him. “How ‘bout you come with me for a sec, luv?” You looked down, shuffling your feet which seemed unusually far from you. “Not here, Hobes, we can’t…” Hobie let out a bark of laughter at the way your mind worked. “Nah, luv, I’m not tryna have sex right now, but let’s ‘ave a drink, though, yeah?” “Oh,” you nodded, a twinkling laugh escaping your throat, “sure,”

You wobbled enthusiastically to the kitchen, Hobie catching up with you within a few quick steps. “Lemme get ya somethin’ to drink, alright, luv?” Whenever you were out together, he would always make you drink some water without ruining your fun. You didn't always notice. “Sure, baby,” you smiled, all wet lips and pretty white teeth. Hobie let his eyes roam your face before tearing himself away and getting a shot glass. He filled it up with water and handed it to you. “Here ya go, dovey,” You stared sceptically down at the clear liquid in front of you, frowning. “It’s tequila,” he added, hoping to make you take the shot, like the dozen you’d taken before. You met his eye, brows low. “Like fuck it is.” He held his breath, sucking his tongue. Curse you for being so attractive when you acted defiant. “I’m not that drunk, you know, I can still differentiate water from tequila,” you spoke, chin lifted high. Hobie scanned your face, holding back a smirk. Glassy eyes, slurred speech, no balance whatsoever. He knew you well. Of course you were very, very far from sober and of course you wouldn't admit it. “Just drink it, alright?” he pressed, pinching the bridge of his nose to cover his smirk. “Fine, I’m drinking it, but it’s only because you’re so pretty, okay? So, it’s kind of a ‘fuck you’, just so you know.” He chuckled and nodded despite not understanding what you meant.

You run off after that and he returns to his conversation about neo-anarchism. But he loses sight of you for a few minutes and excuses himself, wanting to check up on you. He finds you outside, trying to convince your even drunker friend to come inside rather than sleeping in the grass. You’re lightly shaking her shoulder, whispering to her. “C’mon, babes, come inside. You can sleep on the couch, just not here, okay? I promise it's so much more comfortable.��� Hobie’s heart warms at the sight of you caring for your friend despite the state you’re in. “Look, if you don’t get up, Imma give you a real slap and see how you like that,” you finally threaten, fed up. Hobie laughs when your friend gets up, grumbling, and heads inside.

“There y’are, lovely,” he speaks warmly, “’was looking f’you,” You tear your eyes away from your friend’s retreating form and look up at him. He looks even more beautiful under the moonlight, his silver piercing reflecting slightly. “Were you?” “Hmm,” he hums, lifting your chin and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Was worried ‘bout you,” “I’m fine,” you assure, grinning widely. “Really?” he cocks an eyebrow. You’re about to answer and say that, yes, really, you’re fine, but your stomach lurches and next thing you know you’re hunched over, the contents of your stomach spilling out into your friend’s bushes.

Hobie lets out a curse and quickly gathers your hair and pulls it back at the nape of your neck, getting it all out of your face. He rubs your back soothingly, whispering sweet things into your ear. “It’s okay, let it out, let it all out, baby, you’ll feel better afterwards.” When you���re done, he hands you a Kleenex and wipes your teary eyes, pouting slightly. “I’m so sorry, that was so fuckin’ disgusting,” you moan. He would probably be disgusted with you for weeks and would never want to ever look at you again. Your eyes started to well with tears. “Luv, y’know I don’t care ‘bout none of that,” he grins, kissing your cheek. “How ‘bout we get ya home, yeah?” “Yeah,” you look down, “that’s probably a good idea,”

When you’re back at his apartment, you shower together, and he helps you into bed. You’re out like a light, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, placing an Ibuprofen and a glass of water on your nightstand for the next morning. He smiles softly when you turn around to face him when he slides between the covers, your gentle breath fanning his face. You were a dumbass sometimes, but you were still his dumbass.

[jetblack4realz]

lake days vii - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - after the mission, you and the dagger squad take it back to texas ;)

pt i , pt ii , pt iii , pt iv , pt v , pt vi

warnings - no

word count - 3.8k

______________________________________________________________

you weren't surprised when maverick chose bradley and then fanboy and payback. they worked well together and as you'd all come to learn, you and rooster did not. you didn't exactly know why, but you all knew it wasn't going to work. and well, you knew maverick couldn't trust jake. it was hard for anybody but you to trust jake.

and so you were content sitting back in the radio room, waiting for their two minute timer to go up and them to come home. you walked phoenix out to her jet with a smile, clapping her on the back and giving her a quick hug before she climbed into the front seat, bob already seated behind her.

when you went to see jake, who was waiting in his own f-14 in case they needed help, you were stopped by rooster.

"hey," he breathed out.

you smiled at him. "hi."

"look, i don't know if i'm coming back from this and i just wanted to say that i'm sorry and that i-"

"it's okay," you laughed lightly. you rested a hand on his arm assuredly. "don't worry. sure, it was frustrating in the moment - or moments, but i know you're a good pilot and you weren't doing it on purpose. we're good brad."

"good. thank you," he said.

"anytime. we're friends for a reason, aren't we?" you asked. his expression changed slightly and you were frustrated to have seen it, but you continued anyways. "good luck."

you patted his shoulder and passed him, heading for where jake was waiting for you outside his jet. as you approached, you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, something you'd grown accustomed to over your time together. but, you couldn't and you were really starting to hate it.

it seemed like you two were on the same page.

"now would be the perfect time to out ourselves," he mumbled with a slight frown. "i still don't like the way bradshaw's lookin' at you."

"well, he's officially been friendzoned, so it's fine," you answered. "and honestly, i really don't think now's the time to get in his head. he's got a mission to complete, and as much as you seem to hate him, even you want to see him come home."

he sighed dramatically before nodding. "yeah, you're right."

you watched him carefully, brows furrowing slowly. "this really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"well, yeah, hell it's kinda killing me," he answered, looking passed you and to where bradley was getting in his own jet. "he shouldn't be allowed to look at you like that."

"hey," you said quickly, raising a hand to his cheek to pull his attention back to you. you smiled softly, finger brushing his cheekbone. "even if he is looking at me like that, it doesn't matter. i ain't lookin' at him, i'm only looking at you, baby."

he caught your wrist in his calloused hand, his face still stoic as he nodded. "yeah. alright."

"trust me, honey," you told him, pulling you hand away after catching sight of maverick walking onto the runway. "we'll get one hell of a reaction when we finally let it out. i think coyote's reaction alone will be worth all of this."

"i'm betting on phoenix," he said with a smirk. "she keeps talking 'bout how i should really back off of you now, that you want nothing to do with me. it'll whack her right upside the head when she learns that you're marrying me."

"i think she might have a heart attack," you laughed. an announcement echoed over the loudspeakers and you sighed, glancing up at jake's plane with his callsign inscribed on the side. "stay safe. don't break protocol, okay? only go in if you have to."

"promise darlin'," he told you, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips. "i wouldn't do anything to risk leaving you."

"good," you answered. "i'll see you later?"

"you will," he affirmed with a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. "go on, you gotta get back inside."

"okay. i love you."

"i love you too, darlin'."

and then you were off.

and then they were off.

hearing maverick get taken down over the radio terrified you, and as you heard phoenix yelling at rooster to not do anything, you had a sinking feeling in your stomach that he would. and he did. when bradley went down you gasped, hand covering your mouth as tears pricked your eyes. coyote put a hand on your shoulder, watching the radio as if it would suddenly say that both your instructor and your flight school best friend were back in the air, but you both knew it wouldn't.

"permission to fly out," jake said insistently, three separate times, each getting progressively more desperate, but he was denied each time.

you were both pissed and intensely grateful. you couldn't take it if you lost him, especially after already losing bradley.

you were muttering quiet prayers as you paced the halls, hours after phoenix and the other boys returned. you'd resorted to walking the ship, not able to get ahold of or find jake, so you didn't hear when maverick and rooster clicked on their locators. and you didn't hear that jake got sent out to save their asses.

"coyote!" you yelled, brows furrowed as everyone rushed down onto the tarmac. "what the hell is happening?"

"they're coming back!"

"who?"

he grinned, ushering you along with him with a wave of his hand. "maverick and rooster!"

"what the hell?" you asked, a smile spreading across his lips as he grabbed your arm, beginning to pull you down the stairs and towards the runway. "how'd they get back?"

"a bag of ass f-14," he told you as you threw the doors open to follow the crowd of cheering people. "caught some bogies and we thought they were gonna go down again, but hangman shot out the last one."

"jake went out?" you cried, brows furrowing as you searched the crowd for where you knew your fiance would be grinning and accepting claps on the back.

"yeah," he laughed, following you into the sea of people. "that's his second live kill. he's a legend."

"mav's a legend!" phoenix corrected as she found your side. "he's an ace now."

"no shit!" you exclaimed with an excited laugh as you glanced at the girl. "he is a legend!" your eyes returned to the crowd and suddenly your face fell, your feet carrying you forward even quicker than you were already moving. "holy hell."

you flung yourself into jake's arms, gasping quietly in his ear as he chuckled heartily.

"miss me, sweetheart?" he asked with a grin when you pulled back.

"you didn't tell me you went out," you said with a narrowed gaze.

"it was last minute. i didn't know mav and rooster were coming back so soon," he defended, hands in the air.

"could've radio'ed me," you muttered.

"i'm sorry," he sighed before a small grin creeped onto his lips. "but aren't you proud of me? that's two."

you laughed lightly, settling back on one foot as you crossed your arms over your chest. "yes, i'm very proud of you hangman."

another voice caught your attention.

of course, it was bradley, but to both yours and jake's surprise, he wasn't calling for you - he was calling for jake.

you stepped back, allowing the two men to shake hands with the most camaraderie you'd ever seen from them.

"thank you," bradley told him, a certain genuine tone to his words. jake grinned widely.

"anytime, rooster."

bradley's eyes fell to you for a moment and you offered him a smile.

"i'm glad you're home safe, bradley," you told him.

he hesitated for a few moments before he opened his mouth, his brows furrowed slightly. "y/n, i-"

"bradley!"

maverick had perfect timing, you decided. the two hugged and it was an awfully sweet moment, one you were happy to clap for, jake and phoenix coming to your sides and doing the same.

"so, this is our group now?" you asked with a grin as maverick addressed the lot of you. "the dagger squad?"

"yep," mav answered. "you'll stay stationed here in miramar, all of you. you're my team now."

"sick," fanboy laughed, leaning back in his chair.

"and our first order of business," maverick continued, walking down the length of the hangar that served as the classroom. he grinned as he looked at hangman and rooster. "beach day."

"what do you have against the beach, bronco?" phoenix asked with a laugh as she pushed you towards where fanboy had set up a few umbrellas.

"nothing," you answered, dropping your cooler of beers on the sand and letting the boys unpack it into their own hands. "there's just not much to do."

"not much to do?" coyote almost sounded offended at the prospect. he gestured to the beautiful oceanside. "look at this! there's a whole world of things to do!"

"like what?" you asked, hand on your hip as you chuckled at your friends. "we do the same things every saturday. volleyball, football, tan, eat, fall asleep, watch rooster build sandcastles, and repeat. not much else."

"and what's wrong with that?" rooster asked with raised brows.

you laughed as you popped the tab of your own beer. "i have nothing against the beach, guys. it is fun hanging out with y'all. i'm just more of a lake girl myself."

"what can you do at a lake that we don't do at the beach?" coyote asked.

"bronco here has a boat," hangman answered for you, grabbing your beer and taking a swig of it with a smirk. "and damn does she love her boat."

"what do you have a boat for?" rooster asked.

"lake days!" you exclaimed with a laugh. "i grew up boating and trust me, it's so much better. have y'all never been on a boat?"

"just the carrier," phoenix hummed. the rest of them shrugged.

"you're in the navy!" you exclaimed, looking at them with wide eyes.

"we don't hang out on boats, bronco, we just land on them," rooster said with a goofy grin.

"that's a shame," hangman said, his smile wide. "boats are a good time."

"and how would you know that, hangman?" phoenix asked. "and how did you know bronco's got a boat?"

"i've been out on her boat, and let me tell you her family is wild for water sports," he laughed. the team stared at y'all in surprise. "what?"

"you hung out with her family?" bob asked.

"we were both stationed back home in texas. i thought i'd invite him out, what's the big deal?" you asked.

"well, when are we getting invited out too?" coyote asked. "i'd like to see what all the fuss is about."

"well, next time y'all are in texas give me a shout," you said with a grin. "i'd be happy to take you out."

you didn't know exactly how it happened, with a bit of jake's coercion you were sure, but you'd managed to plan a memorial day lake trip, convincing your friends to buy cheap $60 plane tickets and stay with you. admiral simpson had surprisingly allowed y'all an extra two days off, making the five day weekend more worth the trip.

"welcome to texas everybody," you said with a smile as you walked out of the airport towards the parking lot.

"home sweet home," jake said, jogging to catch up to you as two large trucks pulled up, hooting and hollering coming from them. "if it ain't mr. l/n!"

"jake seresin!" you dad laughed through the rolled down window. "throw your things in the back and get in, i wanna hear all about your adventures in fightertown."

"i can't tell you much more than your girl here can," he said with a grin.

"she'll be preoccupied with her brothers. get on in, son."

the daggers stared at each other in pure shock - since when had hangman been so close with bronco's family?

"how's your parents?"

and her family with his?

"what else aren't you telling us, bronco?" rooster asked with raised brows. you smiled innocently.

"whatever do you mean, roo?" your grin returned as you approached the other truck, whooping as the window rolled down. "gideon! how's life?"

"hey bradshaw!" hangman caught the man's attention quickly. "get in the truck! you too trace!"

"nah," phoenix said with a smirk. "i'm going with bronco and her fine-ass brother."

the daggers filed into the two trucks, their duffles in the beds as your brother tore out, your dad on his tail as you all made your way back home to the l/n house.

hangman was the first to greet your mother when you walked in, you having approached your father for the first time since you arrived. he pressed a cheek to the older woman's cheek, earning a smile and pat on the arm.

"how are you jake?" she asked as he moved around her to set his bag on the floor beside the island.

"wonderful now that i'm back in texas," he answered truthfully. "y'all gonna be joining us tomorrow?"

"no, no," she said with a wave of her hand. "you guys should have fun without us dragging your party down."

"nah, you're one hell of a party mrs. l/n," he told her with a grin.

"what the hell is going on?" phoenix whispered to bradley for the nth time today.

"i have no clue," he whispered back.

"well, guys, my place is just down the back way if you want to follow me," you called. "don't worry, we'll be back for dinner later. i just want to get your spots set up."

"you don't live here?" bob asked, looking around the large house as you chuckled.

"nah, i built a cute little place just down the road when i was in college. still on the property, just my own," you answered. you grabbed your keys from your pocket, exiting out the back door with the rest of the daggers following you.

"want me to drive?" jake offered, holding his hand out for the keys.

"she's your baby, ain't she?" you asked, tossing them to him as you approached a gorgeous vintage ford f-150. it was a beautiful blue color and in as best a condition as jake could get it in your short visits back home.

"nice truck bronco," payback said, admiring the car.

"thanks," you laughed, climbing in the bed, sitting on the edge as hangman got in the driver's side. at this point, everyone was tired of asking questions, payback ending it with a stern, "you're telling us what's going on later."

bob, phoenix, and rooster joined hangman in the cab whilst payback, fanboy, and coyote sat in the bed with you, hangman pulling out of the back driveway and down a well-worn dirt road towards your humble home.

except it wasn't exactly humble. it was two stories and the picture of a perfect farm house, finished with a wraparound porch and beautiful white shutters.

"woah," coyote mumbled. "i didn't know it was this nice."

as you all carried your bags inside, you started explaining.

"my parents had a deal with us kids," you started. "we could have property out here if we built the place. so, when i wasn't paying off student loans, i was paying for this beauty to get built. i didn't think i'd be joining the navy at the time and was getting ready for a family. and well, you know, plans change. means i've got enough space for y'all. phoenix, you've got a room down here, there's two twins in the other one, and the rest of y'all get air mattresses."

it didn't go unnoticed how jake brought his things upstairs or how he knew where you kept the air mattresses. it didn't pass them by how he hung his keys up on the cowboy hat hanger by the door as if he'd done it a million times or how he mumbled to you something about groceries.

"damn hangman, i knew you liked her, but i didn't think y'all were actually a thing," coyote said with a laugh once you and phoenix had gone to unpack your things. hangman shrugged, leaning against the counter.

"who said we were?"

"everything about this whole situation," payback laughed, gesturing to the room in a circular motion. "you're all close with her family, know her house like the back of your hand, and somehow have rights to drive her freaking beautiful truck?"

"hey, i fixed up that freaking beautiful truck," jake said, pointing at him with raised brows. "of course i get to drive it."

"you fixed it for her?" bradley asked with raised brows.

"'course i did," jake answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "you seen her with a bag of tools? great pilot, terrible mechanic, that girl."

"can't say we would know," bradley answered, looking terribly displeased with everything that was coming out of jake's mouth.

"and why, exactly, do you?" coyote asked with raised brows.

"spent over a year with her," he answered with a shrug. "you learn things."

"and her family?"

"what about 'em?"

"why do you know them so well?"

"you know bronco, she's very charitable. when she learned i didn't have any family nearby she invited me over and it became a recurring thing because i got on well with a few of her brothers. that is the answer to all of your questions, ok?" jake said with a roll of his eyes. he pushed off the counter. "i'm gonna go unpack, i suggest you boys do the same."

"so, what's with you and hangman?" phoenix asked as she pulled a few swimsuits from her bag and placed them in the top drawer. "why does he know this place like the back of his hand?"

"i told you, he's been here for lake days," you shrugged. "no big deal."

"i don't believe that for a second," she laughed, staring you down for a few moments. "and what do you have to say for your truck - or is it 'his baby'?"

"he helped me pick it out when we were last here and fixed it up for me," you said with a wave of your hand. "no big deal."

"and how his things are upstairs and he knows your house like it's his own-?"

"shut up, phoenix," you laughed. "hurry up so we can eat dinner."

dinner with your family was rambunctious, your brothers and their wives joining you all to meet your navy family. your nieces and nephews were excited to meet the aviators, clinging to their legs and asking them a million questions a minute. you could tell that rooster and bob loved it, coyote more than okay with entertaining the four year old eli with his plane stories. your second youngest niece, kayley, refused to leave jake, though.

"come on kaykay, all i want is a hug," you whined, holding your arms out to the three year old as everyone worked on their burgers. she scrunched her face and shook her head, hugging jake around the chest as he laughed.

"told you i'm her favorite," he teased you with a wink. he turned the girl around in his arms, requesting she eat more of her potato salad to which she agreed.

"so, how long have you all known jake?" phoenix asked with a smile, eyeing the man at the other end of the table.

"oh, it's been, what, five, six years?" your dad guessed, his eyes on you. "how many years have you and jake-?"

"six," you said, clearing your throat and offering the daggers a small smile. "he met them six years ago. then he became a regular."

"we love him," your sister-in-law brynlee said. "he's such a sweetheart to y/n."

the daggers nearly choked on their food. hangman, a sweetheart? they had to admit that out of everyone he was the nicest to bronco, but still not particularly kind. always making uncomfortable comments, flirting in all the wrong environments, making sure you never won a game of football.

"well, uh, that's good," bob tried with a smile.

"y/n, what's the plan for tomorrow?" your mom asked.

"we'll be up early to take the boat out," you answered. "these losers haven't been out a day in their lives, so we thought we'd change that. any of y'all are welcome to come, we've just gotta be out of here by seven tomorrow morning."

"we don't want to intrude," tyler said with a shake of his head and a smile. "you guys have fun though. show 'em a good time."

"sure will," you answered. "they're gonna learn all the things; wakeboarding, kneeboarding, wakesurfing, waterskiing, the works. i've even got the murder tube ready to be blown up."

"the murder tube?" payback repeated with raised eyebrows.

"yeah," jake laughed. "and for y'all who've never been tubing before, it's basically a guaranteed wipeout."

kayley caught his attention again, giving you way to continue your talk with your siblings.

"i can come if you need, though, so you can do it all too," your younger brother, darren offered. "or is jake halfway competent?"

"i can drive a boat!" jake defended with a laugh. "i'll drag you with us later. y/n and i have a few tricks to show the squad."

"more?" coyote whispered to payback with wide eyes, earning a chuckle from the man.

"well, sounds like a plan honey. you guys need any help getting everything loaded?" your dad asked.

"nah," you said, leaning back in your chair as you grinned at your friends. "that's what the navy's prepped 'em for."

after you all finished dinner off with some apple pie, your siblings and their kids went home, you and the daggers heading back to your place. they all settled on your couch in comfy clothes, flicking through netflix as you grabbed your keys.

"anyone have any requests for lunches and snacks?" you asked, your phone out with the grocery list.

"cheetos!"

"lunchables!"

"meatballs!"

"beer!"

you winced at that one, jake snickering from behind the couch as he sent you a teasing wink.

"about that..."

"what?" rooster asked, sitting up, a beer in his hand.

"no beer on my boat," you said.

"why?"

"what?"

"but you love beer!"

"you're right, but dehydration mixed with the sun mixed with physical activity leads to a lot of drunk aviators a lot sooner than normal. and that could get dangerous and frustrating really fast, so we'll just stick to sodas, alright?" you said. they all hummed in annoyed agreement.

"makes sense," bob said with a smile. "you got dr pepper?"

"of course i have dr pepper, bob," you laughed. "alright then, well i'm heading to the store. text me if you need anything."

"i'll go with," phoenix offered.

"don't worry about it, trace," jake said as he passed her, holding the door open. bradley was baffled at the whole situation, but jake could tell he was starting to get annoyed, which only pissed him off. "she's already got company."

his grin was wide and satisfied as he followed you out.

phoenix rolled her eyes, looking at the rest of the guys. "this will definitely be an interesting trip."

[kechiwrites]

white flag toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader part 5/?

synopsis: maybe it's time to give up the ghost. lord knows you tried.

wc: 2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt and some comfort (finally), language, allusions to postpartum depression, abandonment issues, trust issues, no gendered language, discussions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: the talk is finally here! i hope you enjoy, i am very proud of it. new to baby blue? start here.

It’s almost one in the morning when the bed creaks under Ghost's body, signalling his departure. The immediate absence of his warmth, the loss of his skin on yours makes you miserable in a way you wish you didn't have to examine. It makes you feel weak and yearning and empty and wistful all at once, tumbling all the emotions together until it spills out of your mouth unbidden.

“Will you stay?” You whisper it, almost as if you want it to go unheard.

It's heard.

Immediately, Ghost stops moving, stops dressing. Hell, you're almost positive he'd stopped breathing.

“You want me to?” he turns to face you, expression typically placid but his body frozen with tension.

You feel like you’re going to be sick all over your sheets when you croak “yeah” out into the stillness of your bedroom, spitting your white flag at his feet, for him to accept or trample over. 

Neither of you move for what feels like an eternity. Staring into each other's faces like they hold the answers to all the bullshit questions you made in each other. 

You break first. 

"C'mere. Please." You shift under your blanket, nodding your head towards the indent he’d made in your mattress, the sheets still warm from his heat.

Ghost is quick to move, reclaiming his spot in your bed, sliding under your covers and into your grasp, where you can cling to him like you wanted to years ago. Like you want to now. 

Your head sits on the swell of his chest, his heart beating even and quick below your ear. The position you're in makes your lower back twinge, but neither of you move, your legs now twisted in his. Initially, when he’d returned after Tommy’s fourth birthday, you’d been worried about what you’d say to him, how you’d finally tell him everything you’ve been thinking from the moment he left you. Now, the words are easy. They come when they are called, straight from your mind, stewed in your grief, pinched, sorrowful words, soaked with your tears, spoken into the dark, thin fabric of his shirt.

“I hate you.” You gasp, and wind howls through the cavern in your chest, “I hate you so much, I wish I never met you.” Hot tears burn your eyes and slide over your nose and cheeks, you hiccup through your burning throat and just speak.

"You ruined my life, you gave me this person, this little person who needs me for everything, and then you abandoned me. For so long I hated you and I hated him." Ghost's chest stops rising and falling for a moment when you confess it, the shame and anger catching him off guard. It's clear he can't quite believe it after seeing you with Tommy day after day, being who your son needed you to be, raising him, loving him, all like it was second nature. And why should he? He was off God knows where, doing God knows what while you tumbled through heavy bouts of depression and self loathing. Days where you wanted to stay rotting in your bed, but Tommy's reedy, desperate cries forced you to rise, to resist. 

"I hated my own son. My baby. Because of you." The window in your bedroom is open, and the rain outside gets heavier, like it’s trying to drown out the sounds of your confession, your accusation, like it wants to bury your humiliation and vitriol under the rushing white noise. Fill the cavern with water instead of letting it close.

“Why couldn't you just stay for me, Simon? Why couldn't you be who I needed you to be?” 

He’s breathing again, slow and steady but you can hear his heart thud irregularly in his chest, like it’s trying to follow the thread of your thoughts, but it can’t quite keep tempo. 

‘He’s scared.’ you think, and for the first time, in a long time, it doesn’t feel good. 

“I felt like I was dying. Tommy has your big ass head,” your laughter sounds like a death rattle, but you press on, spilling the dark, black ichor of the past onto Simon, into the bed you share. "It hurt so bad, the worst pain I ever felt. And I was alone. You left me alone. I wanted to die so bad.”

“I'm sorry.” he finally speaks, and it’s always a little surreal to hear his voice without it being muffled by a mask after so long. Strange to hear how deep and clear his voice can be when there isn’t a barrier between you, or your blood rushing past your ears. 

Ghost is holding you so tight, like you’ll get up and bolt at any minute, and maybe you will. Cause he’d deserve it. He’d deserve to be left behind. Just this once.

“Why? You knew what you were doing to me. You left knowing I wanted him. Knowing I'd do it all by myself. And now you're back, and you want to what? Fuck me? Break me? What do you want, Simon? How can I make you stop this…game you're playing.” You’re crying again, a small headache beginning to form at the base of your skull, reminding you what sorrow costs, what getting it all out will bring you. Pain. Pain that leaves you feeble and empty and bone-fucking-tired.

Somehow, his arms tighten around you further, feeling all at once like attachment and hatred and deep deep longing for intimacy with the one person who saw you as you were and decided he didn't want to stick around to see the rest. 

“And you know what? I know that none of this means shit for you because I let you fuck me again. Because I have no goddamn self control." You have to rein yourself back from shouting into the dark. "No self respect. A-and I can't stop missing you, missing you and me together, because it felt so real, it felt like you loved me." You anchor yourself up, letting the tears that collected on your nose and cheeks fall onto his chest. The pressure in your ears changes and you sniff against your runny nose. You feel pathetic, tiny in the wake of the all encompassing ache he brings with him everywhere. You can barely see him in the dark but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "If you ever, ever cared about me, if you care about your son, Simon, you will stop trying to break me down. You will give up on being a family. You lost your fucking chance. And it's not fair for you to come back when I know - I know - you're going to leave again."

You're short of breath and light headed when you finally stop, gulping down air and springing up tears for the third time, burning hot on your face, stinging your eyes so badly you worry the pain will never subside.

He waits a moment, before he sits up too, like he wants to be sure you got it all out before he tries and inevitably fails to make everything better. 

"I fucked up. I get that. But I can't let go of it. Of this." His voice creates this itch inside your head, like it needs something specific to go away. You’re sitting between his legs now, hands fisted in your soft white blanket, the body warmed fabric poking out between your fingers. 

“I’m trying, and you don’t want me to. He doesn’t need me to. But I want to.”

You both sit with it for a while, chewing on each other’s regrets, on his mistakes, on your heartache. It’s strange, hearing an actual apology from him, like you’d dreamed about early on. Cloudy blue and pink fantasies about opening your front door and seeing the father of your child on his knees, begging for forgiveness, grovelling for a second chance. It hadn’t happened, of course. And you’d let him into your bed anyway, because you’d missed him, four years and five months had passed you by and you still felt his absence, still felt cold at night, still felt empty in the morning. So when he knocked, you let him in.

And maybe that’s where the next question you ask him comes from. You were rarely jealous when you were actually "together", but now, the idea of Simon, your Simon, cuddled up with someone different? Enjoying himself while you toiled? Chuckling deep and low while you cried to your ceiling? It made your stomach turn. Maybe you weren't so much jealous as you were bitter. Bitter, you knew. Bitter was your closest friend. Bitter stood by your side while you raised your son, paid your bills, scrubbed your floors. Bitter was all you could taste lately.

"Was there ever…anyone else?"

He shifts next to you. Tries to play it off like a stretch. Like the line of questioning didn't burrow under his skin like a mite, eager to lay eggs that hatch guilt into his blood.

But you know better. You know him better. 

"No one important." He mutters. 

"Well that doesn't matter, I wasn't important and you knocked me up!" Your laugh smacks of your best friend, its acrid taste settling in your mouth.

"You were important. Are important." He asserts, circling his hand around the back of your neck, squeezing once before he lets go.

"Not enough for you to stay. Or call." You mumble.

You aren't even looking at him and you know his hand is up over his face, shielding him from God knows what. 

“I needed you to stay the same. And you couldn’t anymore.” You want to turn and face him, argue that he changed you. You didn’t make your son by yourself after all. He stops you, keeps you facing your bedroom wall while he hunches over to press his face into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

"And I don’t want to need anybody, I haven’t in a long time."

"Least of all me, huh?"

“You know that isn’t true.”

“I don’t know shit.” You gesture around your hands waving over the entire of your bedroom. “Clearly. If I knew what you thought of me, we wouldn’t be here. In this fucking…mess. Right?” 

It’s another white flag, if you were being honest, an opportunity for him to take your olive branch and not smack you across the face with it. A sign that the fuel for this particular fire, at least, has begun to burn out, leaving little but glowing embers behind.  

In lieu of speaking, his arms tighten around you again. It’s not an answer, not really, but you leave it alone. You push on a different wound. And another. And another. You poke and prod Simon with every question you’d had while he was gone, and you don’t care about the blood you leave in your wake. 

“Does the force know?” They do now.

“How?” I told ‘em.

“Why’d you tell them?” It’s…You’re important.

“No we aren’t. Not to you.” A shake of the head and a quiet rebuttal.

Eventually, it feels like the two of you keep speaking in circles, he asserts things are different, you doubt and lay righteous blame, he apologizes and asserts things have changed now, and so on and so forth until the late hour tugs at your swollen eyelids. He pulls you down to the mattress, lays back and arranges you across his chest once more. Your legs fit together a little better now, and you can feel sleep slowly taking hold of you. 

Before you slip under, you murmur into his chest; "Simon.” He makes a low noise in his throat, an indication of his attention. “Do you love me? Did you ever love me?" It’s a plea for the truth, for an answer so irrefutable that it finally soothes the ache, scratches the itch, mends the torn fabric that lays between you.

"You're as close as I ever got." You feel his lips press against the crown of your head before you fall asleep, succumbing to a simple, dreamless slumber.

When you wake up the next morning, he's there. Not sleeping. His hair is a mess, and his face is bare. He's reclined against your headboard, reading a romance paperback you borrowed from the library, frowning at the yellowed pages like it's written in Latin.

When you start to cry, he holds you until Tommy stirs awake, knocking at your door for Sunday morning pancakes.

so...what'd we think? this one made my husband cry :)

series masterlist here

support city girls who like sad broken men, reblog what you like.

[yayll]

Hiii i hope you're feeling better soon :(( I was wondering if I could request a Dazai x reader fic where the reader has PTSD? Specifically, the beginning of autumn kind of triggers her (sorry if it's a confusing i dunno how to word it lol) Could it be fluff/comfort? Btw I love your writing style so badly so pls tweak the idea if you think it would work better! And no worries if you'd rather pass :33

hii angel i genuinely am sorry that this took me a while! (work and life happened a little more than usual, GOT SICK and barely had time to sit down and write.) it was so ivover but i am fine now thank u so much bub!

i REALLY hope you like this and that it's what u wanted, i've never written someone w PTSD before and i was just rlly hoping i didn't mess this characterization up for ur request ahhh. i had such a nice time writing it and i rlly wanted to explore the impact it could have around reader and dazai and him going out of his way even if it could be a little goofy and sappy to make u feel at least a little better even if u can't talk abt it.

i love uuuu thank u again! <3

~ a little something about Dazai noticing harmful patterns and loving you through them ~

He's been watching you sit by the window for the past half hour as you stare at what seems like the beginning of the new season outside. You were quieter than usual, more withdrawn and jumpy, which could only mean that you weren't sharing something with him- or rather having trouble processing something to the point where you didn't realize he could tell something inside you was on high alert.

Dazai would rather die than see you in such a state, especially during what's supposed to be such an exciting time of the year that's full of the things you usually love to do. Whatever is impeding you from enjoying the leaves falling has to be dealt with the most delicate of methods, but especially with love. If you taught him anything about the past haunting you to the point of mental distress, something he suffered bouts of every now and then when memories made days grow dark, it's that all you need is one person to truly witness you. Just like how you've seen the ugliest parts of him time and time again yet you still look at him with all the stars in the sky, stars he consumes like a black hole waiting to be filled.

Luckily for you, he has an arsenal of things he can try to soothe you with, because he wouldn't be a good detective AND boyfriend if he didn't keep all those context clues in his pocket for a bad day. Mainly though, he was just completely attuned to your every need. You are his happiness, and your wellness isn't up for debate: It's mandatory. He stands up from the loveseat with a deep exhale as he walks over to you, his lips curled in a lazy smile as he tests the waters to see what you could need from him without asking.

"You know, if you stay any more still I could probably paint you like one of those fancy paintings. What do you say, be my model?"

You look over at him from the window, and he can visibly tell you haven't been at ease lately. He suddenly realizes he's just fallen even more in love with you. That there is nothing in this world that could ever let him see you as anything but his heart.

You murmur, a faint smile decorating your serene face.

"Mm, I'm not sure. I don't think I could pose for that long, you know? It would probably be hard to catch my likeness, heh."

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes with a playful smirk. Oh how he wants to lean in and worship your likeness with his loving touch, but he decides to take it easy on the physical affection for now, not until he knows you're feeling up for it. He can be a good boy, something he usually isn't.

"Well, I wouldn't mind being the brave young knight who tries~ Shall we take this outside for better lighting?"

You instantly don't give him a good reaction to that. You shrug, seeming conflicted and unsure of yourself, but unable to really bring yourself to explain with words, something uncharacteristic of you.

No problem! Dazai thinks to himself. If you don't want to go outside, he can bring outside to you in the comfort of home. He'll enhance your safe space, and tailor it to just what you need. He hums, tapping his temple in an exaggerated manner as if he were thinking really hard and when he sees that it gets a small giggle out of you, he knows he's on the right track.

"Hm, I know what we should do instead. Wait here, angel.~"

He disappears into the hallway and you sit there as the sound of cabinets opening and rummaging around fills the air. You smile to yourself, and shake your head at the mental image of Dazai becoming a tornado to find whatever he's looking for right now, hoping he doesn't make too much of a mess. You fidget with your hair, twirling it in between your fingers as you take a deep grounding breath while you wait.

A moment later, he comes back with what seems like art supplies and a ton of mini candlesticks.

He knows you're intrigued when you tilt your head in confusion, but then again that's probably just the confusion... Dazai sets down two canvases along with the candles, flashing you a mischievous grin. If you couldn't process your feelings through words, art was always there! You look over the activities he's laid out for you both, awaiting his silver tongued explanation.

"You know when I want to be the little spoon but I don't say anything?"

You laugh softly, and nod.

"Mhm, you get all moody and weird."

He nods back, a half smile on his face as he rests his hands on his hips. He wants to tell you that the only reason he even knew such intimate luxuries is because you showed him that he's worthy of it, of being loved, but he doesn't say anything. He lets the sweet memories between you swim through his mind as fuel for the day he's trying to create for you. His voice sounds more like he's talking out loud now, lost in a thought..

"You make me moody and weird. You also make me want to grab your soft little face and just..."

He then snaps back to the moment, and his tone picks up.

"... But alas, there is no time to waste! Come, sit, I'll get the other things ready.~"

He zooms off to the kitchen, and your heart softens at how much he fusses over you, though you also hope you aren't being too much. You know he'd hate to hear that, so you simply sit down and look over the supplies you had honestly forgotten you had.

Dazai makes tea, because he knows it helps with your fidgeting and you like how the mug feels in your hands, he also begins to set the candle sticks all over the living room, lighting them one by one. You flash him a look of faint concern.

"Feels like Dracula's castle. You sure this is safe, Osamu?"

He simply grins impishly.

"It's called 'mood lighting', cutie. There is an atmosphere to be created!"

"Yeah, and possibly a wildfire."

"Boo, you're no fun. Besides, that sounds like a problem for future us. We live in the moment."

Dazai would never risk your safety and you know that, which is why you don't push the topic any further.

You two settle in, the candles illuminating you both with a warm flame that feels more comforting than you'd like to admit, you feel yourself becoming more immersed in the random little doodles and brush strokes you create as you both talk for hours about literally nothing while sipping on your tea. Nothing feels nice, for once and Dazai can see it in the way you slowly become less and less tense. So mindful, so beautiful.

After you fill your canvas, you set it down, and peer over at Dazai's.

"What'd you paint?"

He smiles sheepishly, and hides his.

"Not finished yet. No peeking!"

He stands up and in one swift motion, runs outside, while leaving you bewildered at the spontaneity of the situation. A few moments later, he runs back inside, huffing with his arms behind his back. He sits back down on the floor with you, criss crossed. He grabs his canvas, and puts something on it as he slowly unveils his work to you.

It's a single crisp leaf he must have plucked from the grass when it fell, the orange and reddish hue placed on the canvas that shows a cartoonishly painted tree as well. He murmurs, eyes trained lovingly on you but with that familiar playful tone.

"I wanted you to get a little air. It's good for one's mood, you know."

You slowly take the leaf, and twiddle it in your thumb as you begin to smile to yourself. You mutter back.

"The weather changes, moods change, it's so overwhelming sometimes..."

He slowly leans in a little closer and places a hand on the small of your back, inching you closer to him too. He wants to distract you from those thoughts affecting you, but it's getting harder when all he can think about is how much you affect him. He whispers.

"My mood never changes, you're the most precious thing I have ever seen all year round."

You look up at him, your eyes communicating what you feel, and he picks up on it with a silent confirmation. You hold each other's gaze for a long quiet moment and when you feel ready you lean into his chest, nuzzling into him. He envelops you in a hug that feels like the remedy you've been searching for this whole time, and it almost brings you to tears. You don't know it also does the same to him. He gives you a soft squeeze and leans down to your ear, his warm breath feeling like the way life is supposed to feel. You mumble, your voice slightly muffled against him.

"Thank you, Osamu. Love you."

He smiles at that. To be something so soothing to you, to be of use for once in his life, it's a feeling that he could never describe. He'll have to find the words when he covers you in kisses from head to toe later, when he makes sure you feel the full extent of his devotion to you through thick and thin. He exhales deeply.

"Change of season, change of mind... It doesn't matter to me. It's still you. It will always be you."

[dazed--xx]

💔You Broke Me First💔

Summary: Now suddenly you're asking for it back Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had. But I don't really care how bad it hurts…..When you broke me first

Member: Hyunjin x Reader

T/W: Mentions of Cheating, Break Ups, arguments, drinking, manipulation, crying, heartbreak, ANGST…, swearing, mentions of being drunk, yelling, sad ending

Word Count: 2.7K

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself But you should've told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else…

“I know…”

You state stoically, your eyes stuck on the quaint maple table that sat between you and your boyfriend. You brushed your tongue over your bottom lip biting back tears “I know about her..” Your voice is just above a whisper. “Y-Y/N…” His tone is full of pity and guilt, you scoff to yourself shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why?… What did I do so wrong?”

“Nothing…”

“Then how could you?”

“I-I don't know…”

You stare blankly, not able to find the words to express how you feel right now. Your head grew heavier and heavier the longer the silence continued. You could feel Hyunjin’s gaze burning holes into your face. “I do care about you, Y/N…please don't think that I don't.” He sighs, his fingers fidgeting with each other as he bit the inside of his cheek. “She just made me feel…different. I’m sorry…” Another scoff is released from your chest, rolling your eyes at his apology. “I mean you could have told me you didn't love me anymore…” You mutter, trying your hardest to seem strong in this moment. “That someone else was catching your eye…instead of stringing me along for a while just to throw me away,” you growl as anger bubbles in your gut. “Y-Y/N—That’s not tr—It's fine, Hyunjin” you cut off his stammering.

Finally meeting his eyes, you could see the exhaustion and hint of something you couldn't quite place. You take in his image. Allowing yourself for a moment to memorize every single inch of his face, your heart ached the more time passed. You should have known this was coming eventually. He was always just out of reach when it came to you. Hwang Hyunjin was an enigma when you first got together, your relationship was passionate and lustful. Spending every moment you could in each other's arms or beside each other; as the honeymoon phase left your relationship so did Hyunjin. Whilst, He physically stayed beside you; emotionally you could tell he checked out. He was no longer interested in what you were doing, or if you were safe. Your sex life quickly became nonexistent and soon so did you. He was never the most open with how he felt, but you stayed. As the months passed you continued to reach out and try to attempt to get closer to your boyfriend once again, only to be met with unanswered calls and missed dates. You couldn't understand why, that is—until two weeks ago.

You couldn't understand why it had taken you accidentally stumbling upon the two, inside this very cafe, on a date. You had been walking home from your part-time job and in your tiredness you stopped outside of the quaint little coffee shop and contemplated going in. Until you saw that familiar mop of midnight locks. You had seen the way he stared at her longingly. Hyunjin broke your trust and after you avoided him for two whole weeks he was now here to break your heart.

You saw the way he stared at his lap, struggling to find the words he wished to say. You should have known that when he suddenly started paying attention to you again, it was the guilt that ate at him. You know because he felt he'd wronged you he wouldn't just leave you alone, so you decided to do what he couldn't. He released a heavy sigh placing his hands around his cup on the table “Y/N—It's okay, you don't have to say it…” you cut him off once again, giving him a sad shrug. “N-no I do…I-I—Hyunjin!” you stare at him as you reach across the table to take his large hand in yours.

“I don't resent you. Thank you for the memories you've given me…” a small glint of something appeared in his eye, and it looked almost as if his face was about to light up. You give him a mournful smile “But let's stop” you state, your voice cracking at the end. He stared at you in bewilderment as his mouth hung open. “Y/N..” He gasped almost inaudibly the rest of his words not coming to him. You nod in response “I'll leave first…I hope things work out with her and she makes you happy” Your tone is laced with dejection and sadness. You stare at where you had connected your hands, even now as you hold his hand tightly; he sat with his sitting loosely on the table. With a final nod, you pull your hand away and lift yourself from your seat. Hyunjin stared at where your hand once was, flabbergasted. Disbelief decorated his face as you made your way out of the cafe.

You found your resolve breaking as soon as you turned the corner. Your legs finally give way as a sob rips through your chest. You release all the pain, anger, and sadness you held back. You felt broken, forgotten, and useless. You cried and cried feeling deep in your soul, that while Hyunjin will be completely fine you sat here broken.

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now I know you, you're like this. When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it, And like me, I did But I ran out of every reason….

“Y/N He's drunk!” Felix pleaded as he grunted from the other line. “That's not my problem anymore, Lix” you grumble as you chew on your bottom lip. You hear him whisper something to whom you can assume, is Hyunjin. A heavy sigh is heard through the line “He won't listen to any of us right now!” Felix argues as you hear a shuffle “…You came any other time…He needs your help right now. He's hurting” Felix confesses, his tone is pleading and almost enough to convince you. Almost…and while Felix was correct you had run to help Hyunjin, a lot in these past two months since you had broken up. You no longer wished to do it “I'm sorry Lix, truly I am. But it was no longer my responsibility to take care of Hyunjin and I made the mistake of continuing to help after we ended things. But I don't owe him shit if he needs help then you should probably call his girlfriend.” you state matter of factly.

“Y/N He doesn't—” you cut the call off not wanting to hear any more of what Felix had to say; you toss your phone to the side onto your couch. As Guilty as you felt for not going to help Hyunjin; it was no longer your place to. It had taken these few months to stop running to help the person who had betrayed you. Every time you received a call from either Hyunjin himself or a mutual friend, you always found yourself dropping everything and rushing to assist him. When you finally had enough, you received a text from Hyunjin stating his car broke down and he asked for your help bringing him to the store and then his friend's house, only when you got to the house a familiar face popped out of the door. You scoffed to yourself as you saw the girl he had cheated on you with give him a bright smile as she waved at him. Quickly peeling away from the house, you laughed at your stupidity as well as his audacity. Ever since that moment every call from Hyunjin has gone unanswered and when requests from your mutual friends came in to help Hyunjin with something, they were rejected. You'd finally run out of reasons to continuously correct his mistakes and come running to his rescue.

You were no longer together so you no longer needed to be at his beck and call.

Now suddenly you're asking for it back. Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had But I don't really care how bad it hurts When you broke me first…

A loud panicked knock against your door pulls you out of your sleep. Quickly checking the time on your phone 3:32 AM. Your eyes widen as another round of raps begins on your door once again. Pulling yourself out of bed ready to tear the head off of whoever has the nerve, the AUDACITY to wake you up at such an ungodly hour. You state out the peephole only to be met with the view of the street, you crack your door slightly. You're met with Hyunjin drunkenly leaning against your door. His arm supported his head against it. His free hand shakes nervously as he attempts to bang on your door again, that's when you hear it.

The most heartbreaking sob tears through his chest. He whimpers inaudible words to himself as he opens and closes his fist before allowing it to fall limp at his side. “Hyunjin?” you question visibly confused. His head whips up “Y/N!” He slurs almost excitedly, and the smell of liquor quickly fills your nose, “You opened the door…” his voice cracking behind his drunk smile.

“Do you know what time it is? You smell like a distillery” you growl at him as he tries to shove his way inside. You roll your eyes pulling the door open fully making him stumble forward. “Why are you here, Hyunjin?” you don't mean to be so hostile but you were very clear with Felix earlier. His hands encase your face, his eyes meeting yours as tears continue to cascade down his cheeks. His eyes are bloodshot, and his lips look swollen and raw, probably from biting them as you notice him repeatedly doing it. His hair was a tousled mess.

“Y/N…” He lets out a sigh of relief, placing his forehead against yours something he always did when you guys were together and happy. Your hands tug on his wrists at the familiar action. “You didn't come...why don't you come for me anymore?” He whines as he squeezes his eyes shut trying to steady his breathing. “I shouldn't come for you. There's no reason for me to…” you respond stoically.

“You just disappeared on me…” his words becoming more incomprehensible as he cried “Why did you abandon me?”

“Hyunjin! We aren't together anymore. You can't just expect me to pick you up or help you out anymore!”

“How else would I see you then?!?”

“You shouldn't be seeing me! We shouldn't hang around each other, it's too painful for me. I understand our relationship didn't mean much to you but it meant a lot to me…” you state sadly, Hyunjin’s pitiful expression now replaced with a puzzled scowl. “Who told you that?” disgust filled his tone. “You're kidding me right?” you counter. Hyunjin bites his bottom lip once again before clenching his jaw “No, who lied to you like that?” you stare at him wide-eyed “You did! With your actions or lack thereof. You cheated on me and ignored me for months” You snap. He can't be serious… you think to yourself.

“B-But I was trying to fix it!” He cried, seeming almost sober at this point. “You-you weren't supposed to find out!”

“So what?” you snarl “You would have continued to just string me along? String us both along?!” He shakes his head rapidly “N-No! I-'m sorry I should have explained better that day…” His tone is laced with regret and panic. “I-I ended things with her…Y/N—I wanted to fix things. I never wanted you to know...” He confessed behind shaky nervous breaths, he finally released you as he steadied himself. Slowly, taking a seat on your couch he quickly buried his face in his hands; his elbows resting on his knees as he took a deep breath “I didn't—I didn't want this to happen...I missed you so much I just—I wanted everything back to the way it was. You loved me so much and when I realized what a huge mistake I was making I ended it. I swear I ended it before we ended things…the last two weeks, when I couldn't see you I was only trying to see you. I only wanted you, I didn't want to lose you. W-When you told me you knew about her…it felt like my entire world was collapsing around me.” He rubs his face and tries uselessly to wipe away his tears. “I just wanted to explain. And when I processed what was going on—what you said…you were gone..” his soft cries turn back into full-on sobs.

“I was trying to fight for us those nights I begged you to come and see me, to talk to me only for me to be ignored while you went and made damn sure you had time to see her. And to make things worse, you used my feelings for you to manipulate me into driving you to her house?! You made me look like a fucking idiot! I'm wondering where the hell do you get the nerve to sit here and act like this?” you snap. He winced at your words “T-that wasn't her house! I-I don't know why she was there that's Seungmin’s new place I swear!” Every second you spent glaring at him felt like another stab to the heart. He knows he made so many mistakes, but he felt like he was dying with you looking at him. He wished he could go back and tell himself how it feels right now. How it felt to watch your hand leave him but deny that it was happening at that very moment. He'd tell himself how embarrassingly hard he had cried when he noticed she was no longer in her seat in front of him. How he'd run out of the cafe not knowing which direction you had gone in but how desperately he felt he'd needed to find you…how dejected and nauseous he felt when he couldn't. How he'd cried himself to sleep every night since you had left his life.

Your blood boiled as you saw him sitting there staring at you apologetically. “Y/N…Please” he swallows his tears “please just give me a chance to fix this…” he pleads. “What did you think would happen?” you question your voice laced with venom as you glare daggers at him. He can't meet your eyes only able to stare at the ground near your feet. He hung his head low “Not this…Not me being without you. Not being this hurt over the mistakes I made. I love you…when you ended things before I could have a chance to fix them, it broke me” He confesses staring up at you. You can't help the genuinely demeaning laugh that rips through your stomach. “Of-fucking-course it did. God, you really are something huh? You have some nerve to come in here to ask me for another chance. You want to know something?” you challenge raising your eyebrow as you cross your arms over your chest allowing all the anger pain and hurt to spill into your tone “I don't care…” you shrug before you throw your hands in the air as Hyunjin stared at you in horror.

“Y-You don't mean that…” He stammers in denial more to himself than to you “Yes, I do Hyunjin. I don't care that you're hurting. I don't care that you're finally opening your eyes. I don't really care how bad it hurts” You confess shaking your head “Not When you broke me first now see yourself out and move on…”

He stared at you for a moment, not wanting to give up on you, on the love he still has for you, but he could see it. You truly meant your words, you wanted nothing to do with him. He sighs heavily as he wipes his hands on his jeans before he lifts himself from the couch and makes his way toward the door; stopping in front of you he yearns to hold you one last time but the way you won't meet his gaze makes him sigh. He continues on his way pulling your door open he stares back at you only able to hear the pain in the words that are now circling around in his mind.

“You broke me first…”

⏪| ⏸️| ⏩

taglist: @yangbbokari @slayhyunjin

[marleyybluu]

Thinkin’ Bout You

Spooky Diaz x fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Content warning: 18+, gets a little hot at the end, overall fluff and mush, everyone’s in love and high, reader smokes weed, reader described to have thick thighs (of course tf), pretty sure I'm missing some sorry

A/N: I took a break from my break to post this lol I was gonna leave this as a stand-alone(it can still be read as such) but honestly? it’s giving two and counting lore… so I’ll put it as a part of that series.

(not mine, got it off pinterest but awooogaa!)

Friday. What a glorious day to be off work. You slept in, hell you'd say you deserved putting up all those work hours at the hospital, and after finally crawling out of bed you rolled a small joint for the morning, and smoked it on the balcony outside your bedroom. The neighbourhood was quiet, the air was crisp and a bit cold but it's nothing one of Spooky's sweaters couldn't fix. You wrap your arms around you, the sweater is warm and it smelt like his cologne, you close your eyes and smile at just the mere thought of him. You always think about him it was crazy how one man consumed your entire being but you were so glad it was him.

You wished he was home, wished he was here to smoke with you but he got called into work earlier than usual, you didn't even get a goodbye kiss which you were missing right now, the vacancy of those lips— soft as a cloud and always on top of yours so delicately— depending on the context of course.

Without him here the day seemed to pass on slower, you checked the time what seemed like every ten minutes which also didn't help. To distract yourself you clean and cook, call your mom until she is ready to, quote, "Go and do her own thing." And hung up on you.

You lay upside down on the couch, feet crossed as they hang over the back of the couch and your head hangs off the seat cushions, Living Single reruns consumed your screen. You were well distracted until you heard a car door slam and various keys jingling together, you sat up and gripped the back of the couch for dear life.

The lock turns. The door opens. And there he is. You scream with excitement. "Hi, babyyyyy."

He chuckles, not even ten seconds inside and you already had him smiling. "Hola mi corazón."

You roll off the sofa and run over to your man, leaping and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He squeezes you so tightly you swear he'd crack a few bones but in the name of love, you wouldn't care. You pepper his face with kisses before you finally land on his lips and you mould into him, his hands firmly grasping your ass that barely fits in your shorts.

He smiles in the middle of your kiss and it's an instant chain reaction. "Missed me that much?"

"You have no idea."

He gives you another small kiss before he puts you down and you fight the urge to pout and demand to be picked back up, you just want to live in his skin 24/7, but you let him catch his breath. Let him put away his things, grab a Corona while you ogle him and the way his enormous arms flexed when he twisted the cap off and the foaming bubbles sliding their way to the top... almost spilling over... but then he saves it with tongue. You lick your bottom lip and zoom in on the involuntarily sexual act, oh, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with every sip... fuck.

"Bebita," He calls. You slowly nod, still in your love-stricken daze. "You're droolin' a little bit ma."

You rub your chin and frown at him, there is no drool. He winks at you and you turn your face to the side to avoid any more butterflies in your stomach. "You smoke already?"

You nod. "Wanna smoke again or you good?" He sat his blunt, which magically appeared from his jeans, between his lips and nodded to the back door. "Nah, I'll smoke with you."

"Good, vamos."

••••• Your head lays in his lap, his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed your skin. After you two smoked, you ate and had a blissfully shared shower, now you were sprawled out on the sofa still high as fuck watching Bridget Jones's Diary, he remembered you uttered something about wanting to watch a rom-com for once. You were in the mood to watch a love story, "or something."

But you were hardly paying attention to the screen, so lost in your own world of love, you pinch his chin aiming his at an angle so he'd look down at you. Make eye contact.

"Do you think about me?" A question asked so innocently. "Course I do, baby."

You run your finger down the column of his neck, over the lump of his Adam's apple. "What do you think about?"

He pauses the movie and focuses on you. "What's this about?"

"Nothing."

"You pregnant?"

You hit him. "Spooky! No!" He was obsessed with the idea of a baby. "Just answer my question."

He sighs, nostrils flair, he hated telling his deepest feelings but, "I think about you... and me, and what our life could be like. We could get married, could have a couple of kids. I always thought about gettin' like a summer house or something. Hit it every summer with them."

You smiled. "You think about all that?"

"Fuck yeah. I see us dropping them off on their tío, he watches them... we still get to have some us time, dates, trips...whatever you want."

You swear he makes you fall in love with him all over again at least once a week. "You think I haven't pictured the wedding? I know what I'll say in my vows already."

"Liar," You teased.

"Mi amor, the day I saw you-"

You quickly cover his mouth it'd be like spoiling a movie you hadn't seen yet. He licked your palm but you were quick to wipe it on his face. "Puta." He muttered. "Bastardo." You retaliated. "So how many kids do we have?" You sit up and adjust yourself so that you are now sitting with your back against the support of the couch and drape your legs over his thighs, the cold metal of his rings hits your hot skin when his hand contacts your leg. "Five."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" You exclaim. "I've seen childbirth live and I think we can have one and a dog." He rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

He leans over to kiss your forehead. "You think about me?"

"Once in a while." You joke, his jaw drops. "Once in a while!? That's how you feel? Ay, cariño, you're breaking mi corazón."

You place your hand over his and offer him a side smile before you kiss his cheek. "The way I jumped on you when you came home isn't proof enough."

He pulls you on top of him, your legs now sitting on each side of him with his hands gleefully squeezing every pound of flesh that makes up your thunder thighs that spread every time you sit and it makes him call them pancakes sometimes. "I might need a refresher."

"Oh, getting short-term memory already, Diaz?" You hum pressing your lips to his. "Just a little bit." He answers. Your hands fumble with the bottom of his shirt, he raises his arms and you break the kiss for just a second before you're back with tongues in each others throats and you're making out as if you're life depended on it, as if he's being shipped off to war and you don't know if he's coming back. Now it was your turn to pull back in need of some air. His smile is shaky, almost like a shy expression.

"Still kinda hazy."

You rid yourself of your top, with nothing under it.

"Oh don't worry," You lean in. "I'm about to make it real clear."

Not tagging anyone in this, I'm just testing something. if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 4)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt. Setting: Highway outside of Atlanta. 

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, degrading behavior, season 2 Daryl, smut, oral (m receiving)(kind of) weird. Just weirdo perv (out of desperation) Daryl. 

Word Count: 3200

A/N; Daryl’s POV 😩🤷‍♀️ 17+ mdni

masterlist

Been keepin’ Merle’s stuff pretty well hidden. Guess I should probably just get rid of it, right? But I can’t. S’not mine to get rid of. So I just hide it. Separate bag from the rest of his meds, all the way at the bottom of a backpack, stuffed under the seat of my truck. 

Beatle says she’s been sober off spazz shit for three years. Pretty sure three years ago s’when I met her though, so I’unno how she figures that. 

But now we’re ditchin’ the truck and I gotta find a way to carry it without Beatle finding it. Don’t even have time to be upset about my truck. Had it for at least the last ten years. Loved this thing like it was the only thing I had. Basically was for a while. 

Takin’ Merles bike. It’s got some dumbass Nazi shit on it, but ‘m not complainin’. That shit don’t matter anymore. Neither does bein’ upset over a truck that’s not gonna do me any good without gas. 

Pack myself two bags. One goes with Beatle in Dale’s RV, the other is the pack I’d had stuffed under the seat. Spazz gets hidden underneath a few shirts, smokes, the couple sips left of girlwhiskey, and the rest of Merle’s scripts. Stuff I don’t trust Beatle with.  

I think she knows, too. She doesn’t say it but she gives me a look when I tell her ‘m holdin’ onto it. I offer her a whole cigarette. All for herself. And it shuts her up enough not to push it. 

Don’t know if I like when she’s happy or not. Kinda makes me feel sick so I try not to think about it. Dunno. Whatever. Don’t got time to think about that shit anyway. S’always somethin’. 

Don’t really even got the time to think about what a shit show the CDC was. Just gotta keep movin’. Guess the plan is Fort Bennet? Don’t know. Don’t care. ‘m just goin’. 

It’s nice to be back on a bike again. Can’t feel nothin’ but the vibrating underneath me and the air in my face. Can’t hear nothin’ but the engine. By myself. Like all this shit hasn’t happened…

No use in thinkin’ ‘bout it that way, though. Has happened. And I ain’t gonna be one of those sorry sacks that wants to pretend shit ain’t the way it is. That’s one thing I like Beatle for. She don’t pretend shits gonna go back. Don’t miss nothin’, ain’t lookin’ for no one. Far as I see it, she’s happy mostly. Guess it’s easy when someone’s takin’ care of everything for ya. Me. Giving her my smokes and buildin’ fires for my damn self, thinkin’ everything tha’s mine is hers. It ain’t. 

Other people makin’ plans. Other people findin’ shelter. Other peoples food. 

Too many people in this group ain’t pullin’ their own weight. It’s gonna catch up sooner or later. Beatle’s a weak player. Can’t decide if I should help her out or not. Can’t decide if I should protect her or not. Cuz she don’t want it, she don’t think she needs it. But she’s gonna need it. Sooner or later. 

Cuz I know I hate her and all that. Dumb fuckin’ bitch for sure. But after what happened at the CDC? Thought we were gonna die. Thought she was gonna die. Fuck. I’unno. Guess I felt somethin’. 

I’m in between knowin’ it and hatin’ it. It can be both right? Cuz it’s definitely both. One more thing I gotta care about. Real fuckin’ stupid. 

We’re only on the road a few hours before shit blows. Literally. Dales radiator. Good ‘n done. Then more bullshit happens but ain’t that the way shit is now?

A whole herd of ‘em come through and everyone’s fine. Andrea’s havin’ a panic attack ‘bout the geek that almost ate ‘er, Carol’s kid run off into the woods, and T-Dog’s all but bled out. But to me? Basically fine. No one’s dead or nothin’. 

Don’t know where Beatle was when the herd came. But she’s fine too, and any worryin’ I’d been doin was a waste of fuckin’ time. Not gonna waste any more of it bein’ mad I was worried in the first place. That I couldn’t think ‘bout anything else. Just images of her stupid happy face gettin’ ripped apart. Guess I care now. At least ‘bout her not bein’ dead. ‘Bout her bein’ here.

She’s standin’ outside the RV with me, sharing a cigarette cuz I don’t know how else to tell her I’m glad she’s alive. Can’t stop lookin’ at her. She’s either ignoring my staring or pretendin’ I ain’t doin’ it, and ‘m grateful. Don’t wanna talk ‘bout that shit. Just wanna look at her, and fix all those images in my head. Her face still happy and perfect and smilin’ at me like it wasn’t bein’ eaten by monsters a few minutes ago. 

I feel sick. Somethin’… different. 

“Can I just hug you, please?” She asks like she’s been waitin’ to say it. 

“Why?” I squint at her, dragging the smoke. Kinda want to - kinda mad she asked instead of just doin’ it, “Since when do you ask permi-“ I’m cut off by her body wrapped around mine. All four limbs holdin’ on like I’m keepin’ her anchored to the world. 

I hug her back, arms pulled tight around her. Why am I doing this? What the fuck is this? Goin’ fuckin’ soft for some dumb little girl. I can hear Merle laughin’ at me from inside my head, and I drop Beatle back down to the pavement. 

“I’m glad you’re alive.” She says, and I look down at her. Now she’s all covered in the gross shit I’m covered in. She doesn’t seem to care. Doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“Yeah?” I say at her, cuz I don’t know what else to say. Can’t tell her Im glad she’s alive. Can’t give her that. I hugged her back, that’s enough. She should know. 

She nods, smiling that stupid fuckin’ smile that I’m startin’ to like. ‘Fore her face starts wrinklin’ up somethin’ nasty. There it is. She looks at me, then down at herself. “What the fuck, Daryl?” 

Me?! “‘Pleeeease can I hug you, Daryl?’” I mock her. 

“I was worried!! And then you’re alive and okay and I  didn’t have time to look at you covered in guts and shit!” She squeals. I swear she knows it irritates me. I can see her goin’ to punch me in the arm so I let her, then pull her into another hug. 

Grabbin’ at her head to bring it close to my chest, covered in week old decaying monster meat, “C’mon, Beatle. Gimme a hug!” She’s tryin’ to fight it but ‘m stronger. 

She bends her knees and slips down and out of my arms. The blood on my hands making her too slippery to hold onto. She starts runnin’. I run after her til we get to the side of the road and she tries to hide underneath the trunk of a car crashed into the rail. 

Maybe this ain’t the time for fuckin’ around, but it don’t matter. Not when I finally got her cornered. The look of fear in her eyes does somethin’ to me. Not real fear.  Naw, cuz she’s smilin’. Cuz she’s laughin’. Just excited that we’re both still breathing. Still, smile on her face and laugh in her throat, she’s cowering beneath a cars trunk, beggin’ me to stop. The beggin’s doin’ somethin’ to me too. Fuck. 

I pick her up, slingin’ her over my shoulder, she yelps. Don’t she know how this shit works yet? “Fuckin’ quiet, Beatle. Dumb bitch.” I slap her ass once and she fuckin’ yelps again. “Wha’ did I just say?” And I slap her ass again. This time she’s quiet. 

Shit, that worked? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. My dicks hard. 

I’unno if it’s cuz I never carried a girl over my shoulder like this, cuz I spanked her couple times, or cuz she listened. My dick gets even harder and I realize it’s definitely fuckin’ all of it. But mostly that she listened when I told her what to do. Maybe I should tell her what to do more often. Fuck. ‘m not helpin’ myself, or my problem, at all. 

I dip my head down to smell the sick I’m covered in to make it go away. It works. Even with her ass next to my face. So close I could bite it. For fucks sake. I put her down but she doesn’t run away this time. We walk slowly back to the group. Not sayin’ nothin’. Me, cuz I’m trying to focus on the smell of rotten flesh and definitely not Beatle beggin’ me to stop. Definitely not about what her face looked like when she felt my hand on her ass.  

Wonder if she’s quiet cuz she’s thinkin’ about it too.

 Wondering what she’s thinkin’ about and tryin’ to will away a stiffy. Fuck this fuckin’ high school bullshit. Like she reads my mind, I feel her needy little fingers snake into my hand. For a second I think maybe I’m smokin’ a cigarette I don’t remember havin’ but ‘m not. She’s just tryin’ to hold my hand. 

At first it feels nice, and then I feel sick again. Too many questions unanswered. Too much shit that’s already happened. Can’t trust her. So I shake her hand off, “Stop.” 

“Fine. Fuck you.” She stomps away and back into the RV. I’unno what the fuck’s wrong with me that it makes me smile. Do I like when she’s happy? Shit, I dunno. If I did, wouldn’t I not like it when she’s upset? So why does her being mad at me do it for me too? 

✨🏹

Whatever. 

She comes with me to go look for Sophia. Andrea stood up like she was gonna come too, but once Beatle and I are standin’ next to the RV Andrea doesn’t follow us out.

 We don’t stray too far from the road. It’s dark, and mostly just came out here to help ease Carol’s mind. ‘m definitely goin’ soft. But I’unno. Hurts to watch people lose stuff. Their families. Hurts to watch people hurt. 

Gonna hurt Beatle in a fuckin’ second if she doesn’t shut the fuck up. We’re walkin’ through the woods. At night. She’s gotta know this shit by now. “Beatle, keep your fuckin’ voice down. Please.” Did I just say please? Fuck me. 

“Did you just say ‘please’?” Fuck. Me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I know how.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” She laughs, and it makes me smile. And that makes me feel sick to my stomach. Again. 

Her voice cuts through while I’m makin’ myself even sicker thinkin’ about it, “You wanna play another game?”

My eyebrows raise in her direction, “Yeah, that went real well for ya last time.” 

“Nevermind.” Her face falters and she crosses her arms across her chest. 

“What, you don’t wanna get half naked and cry again?” And for fuckin’ once I wish Beatle had somethin’ to say back. Some smartass shit that isn’t even funny but she definitely means it to be. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything. She just lets my question hang in the fuckin’ air and suffocate me. Cuz now I’m thinkin’ about her half naked and crying and my fuckin dicks hard again. What is this shit? Rock hard cock every time I pick on her now? ‘m not gonna be able to do this. She’s gonna notice. Where the fuck is a guy supposed to jerk off and relieve some of this shit? 

On her fuckin’ face.

Shit.

She’s been quiet for too long and my brain won’t stop. It’s just getting worse. Images of her now, her face covered in my cum, her lips humming together making little bubbles with it, smiling. Shit. 

Beatle, say something. Anything.

“How big’s your dick?” Not. Fucking. That. 

She listens… right? She wants it, right? Why else would she ask that? Now, when it’s just the two of us out in the woods in the dark. She wants me to show her. 

So show her.

“Beatle.” My voice is low, barely there. Just a rasp of a word. 

She turns around, ready to explain herself before she even looks at me, “I-“ 

“C’mere.” If I don’t cut her off she’s gonna say she was just jokin’ but we both know she ain’t jokin’. She wants ta know. So she’s gonna know. 

Feel like I can see her blushin’ in the moonlight as she walks toward me, even though I can’t. Just know she is. Smile on her face like I ain’t about to wipe it off with my cock. Shit, hard as a fuckin’ rock right now. I rub my palm over the length of it, and I watch her eyes follow my arm down. Watch ‘em get bigger, wide and nervous, and it makes my dick twitch against my jeans. I pull out a smoke and light one, for a second I see a disappointment in her face, thinkin’ maybe I’d just called her over to share a smoke. Naw. “Down on your knees.” 

And Jesus Christ, does she kneel so fuckin’ fast. She stares straight ahead, and somethin’ comes over me. Can’t wait. Don’t want to. Don’t need to. Beatle does what I ask, at least when it comes to this. Like a good little slut would. That is what she’s good at, ain’t it? 

So maybe it’s a little fucked up that I grab her head and force her against the rough fabric of my jeans. Pushing my cock into her cheek as hard as I fuckin’ can. Holding her by the hair and rubbing her face on me. 

But this little bitch moans. At first I wasn’t sure, but she keeps fuckin’ moaning. She likes this. Somethin’ close to a laugh escapes my throat, past the cigarette between my lips. I take it with my fingers, letting one hand go from her head, the other hand pulls her back to look up at me. Her expression absolutely blown. She just looks at me for a second, before putting her face back on my cock on her own. It’s not the same amount of pressure but it still feels fuckin’ good. And somethin’ about her doin’ it on her own. Like she can’t fuckin’ help it. Like she needs it. 

She’s starts to lick at the fabric right where my head is and my dick spasms again at the sight of it. This time she can feel it underneath her mouth. She smiles up at me, smirkin’ down at her. Putting the cigarette in my mouth, I drag it, before bringing it down to her lips. A little reward for listening. 

She drags it once and I drop it on the ground. Beatle says “Thank you.” In the smallest voice I ever heard come out of her mouth. Fuck. I could fall in love with this Beatle. It’s just your dick talkin’ Dar, don’t get crazy. 

I grunt a laugh and start to unbuckle my belt. Unbutton my pants. Barely have my cock in my hand ‘fore her mouths around it. I pull her back by her hair, sharply. She winces in pain and reaches up to her head where I’m holdin’ on. Her eyes shoot up to look at me. 

God, fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have that image burned in my brain for the rest of my life. Her face, all discomfort and contempt because I won’t let her touch me. Like she’s fuckin’ dying for it. “Nah, keep your mouth shut Beatle. Gotta learn ta do what yer told.” 

She nods, and closes her lips. Looking from my eyes back down my body again. I lean back, takin’ myself in my hand and pressing my cock into her face. 

For a while I just rub myself all over, letting her feel the weight of it. Letting her know just how big it really fuckin’ is. Lifting it off her face and smackin’ her cheeks. Makin’ her flinch, her eyes squish closed but I press my hard cock against her eye and push up forcing her eyelid open. Fuck. I do the same thing with her lips. Smushing and rubbing the head of it into her lips to open them, I fuck against her mouth for a second. Beatles groaning and moaning but she doesn’t open her mouth. Somethin’ about it makes me need to cum. Now. No more fuckin’ around. “Open up.” 

She does. I spit into her open mouth, and she moans again, without swallowing it. Like a good slut. “Fuck, Beatle. Shit. Now stick your tongue out.” 

She does. I can see my spit falling off her tongue and I quickly catch it with my cock, before smearing as much of the slick spit from her mouth onto me. Taking myself from the base, holding hard to cut off the circulation. Always feels better when I do that. Rubbin her tongue with my cock til I can’t fuckin take it anymore. I’m about to fuckin’  cum. I pull away for only a second, my breathings all fucked and I can barely speak, “Close yer mouth.” She looks confused for a second but closes her mouth. Good. Was about to smack her. 

My left hand finds a place on the back of her head again, gripping into her hair to hold her in place. I push my hips forward and put the whole length across her face. My other hand pressing myself down into her from above her. And I fuck myself on her face. Grunting and sloppy and desperate to cum. Never done this before, shit, does anyone do this? But fuck, it’s so fuckin’ hot. Her lips and her cheeks and her eyelids and her nose all squished and being fuckin’ ruined by my cock. Shit.  Fuck. 

Right as I’m about to cum I put both hands around her head and hump her face like… I don’t even know. I feel fuckin’ insane, but she’s still moaning at the feeling of being used. Not even in a way that should be enjoyable to her. 

I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much in my whole fuckin’ life. Most of it ends up in Beatle’s hair, but there’s still a whole lot of it on her face. I mess with it for a second. Swirling my puffy post-nut dick in it before I get oversensitive. 

I put myself away, and sit down on the ground next to Beatle. Still in the exact same position. I let her kneel there, don’t tell her she can move or nothin’. Guess that’s why she doesn’t. Don’t think she can open her eyes either. S’funny. 

Relighting the short I’d dropped to the ground, I pull a bandana from my pocket. “Is it big, Beatle?” I ask her while I wipe only her mouth off, and put the cigarette between her lips. 

She sucks on the filter, and smiles. “Yep.”

Eventually I wipe off her eyes too. Can’t do anything about her hair though, so I promise to find her a hat from one of the cars on the walk back. 

And I don’t let myself think about what this might mean. Who cares? I don’t. Don’t think Beatle does neither. We’re just goin’. 

pt 5

A/N: Yeah okay,  I know. Daryl’s all back and forth. Does he not give a shit about Merle and Beatle? Does he know deep down they never did anything together? Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking about it at the time? He’s confused, guys. He also really doesn’t have all the information (Eventually he’s gonna ask but first we have to deal with Sophia. Sorry. I don’t want to either.)

[sevenpoyo]

some brooklyn slang ik for all the ppl who wanna write for miles and kilometers‼️

feel free to add more idk everything but i i am originally from there and visit a lot this stuff i hear a lot and if you wanna add slang to ur writing this is a good place to start, not all of these brooklyn or ny exclusive but that’s where a lot of american slang starts and u prolly heard some of it b4. imma list it ne ways

don’t use like 8 of these in one sentence bc it will sound weird and i can’t really cover ny puerto rican slang or any puerto rican slang really bc my grandad is a bum so if you know some add it

the city is manhattan, not the other 4 burroughs, just manhattan, cus that’s where everything’s at

to cut ass is to roast tf out of someone , to get your ass cut is get tf roasted out of you

wyling/wilding is being outta pocket, something being absurd or crazy

yeah nah means no and nah yeah means yeah idk why they gotta make it complicated just look at the second word

good looks is like good looking out

it’s bout to be winter and i’m bout to see mad christmas fics and shit but do y’all know the proper way to describe cold ny winters?

if it’s cold as hell, it’s brick outside, not regular cold, ny winter is like nipples so hard i see em thru the bra cold

ex; “how it’s so brick outside i walk to the store wit my hair wet and it deadass got icicles in it” “yeah it’s fr brick outside today” “i’m not walkin wit u in this brick ass weather for a bacon egg and cheese?” (actual convo between my sister and me last winter break)

fronting seem kinda easy to me but is like acting or pretending i can’t explain it with out an example

“why you fronting like you wouldn’t die if they text you asking u to go out with them” “you can stop fronting like you like cars it cool if you don’t” “don’t sit there fronting like u don’t wanna dance wit me”

being tight over something is just being upset or annoyed

rj is so smart they said “We say tight bc you kinda huddle close to yourself when you tense/stressed or angry” i had no idea i just be saying it i aint know it had a reason💀 it make sm sense now.

“who got you tight like that this early in the morning?” “my momma came home tight yesterday for no reason, she threw a boot at me!” “i’m so tight this damn shift change has me working all closers this week”

jack is like claiming someone or something

i talk old as hell idk what the youths be jacking nowadays

cop is basically to get, used to be mostly 4 drugs back in the day my dad said (he don’t know why im asking him this)

“just copped me some retro 3’s” “bout to cop me a few percs in a minute”

speaking of a minute, mostly for my non americans bc that’s who get confused the most when i say this one. depending on the context this can mean a actual minute, a short time or a real long

“i’ll be back in a minute” is short “i ain’t seen y’all in a minute” is long. idk how to explain the difference besides context

bop is a good song, pretty easy but i see ppl on tiktok use it wrong

bangs/banger goes hard is kinda like bob for music but i be using it for anything fr

“this push pop is banging yo”

mad can be used normal like angry but it also means a lot or really kinda like hella ig? i usually uses hella when i would say mad so ppl can understand me easier up here

dumb also mean very in the same way

ex; “my english teacher give out mad homework for no reason.” “she be giving me mad shit over the smallest stuff” “i just had some mad good wings so i’m cooling rn” “this shit is mad spicy u sure you want some?” ''This shit got me dumb tight'' “you don’t need no jacket it’s dumb hot out here”

smacked is like high as fuck idk how to elaborate ur just high

lit is drunk

“Yuuuur!'' A signal, a greeting usually used to catch the attention of someone or something very fun greeting and very hated by schools, it’s weird anywhere outside of ny kinda at least to me.

being hollywood means u get a little fame and think ur all that or just that u got a little fame and they’re jokingly hating

ex; “i saw u on the news the other day, “the prowlers return” u must be real proud of yourself huh hollywood?” “and here comes hollywood wit his trending tiktoks”

real talk is when ur about confess something or say something serious in a not real serious setting or convo

“real talk we play a lot but i love you, my life would be boring with out you around” “real talk i’d never do that to you foreal”

go together is like go out kinda, y’all kinda match behavior cus y’all a couple, this one need a sentence 2 i think. (THIS ONE IS OLD AS HELL ONLY USE IT IF UR TRYING TO RIZZ MOMMA RIO)

“he want ur number? he don’t know we we go together or sum?” “why she wanna act like we go together, ion even know her?” “don’t we go together?”

i can’t even explain it with a sentence y’all just gotta figure this one out 💀

A bodega/deli is a convenience store ik most know this from the movie but some ppl think it’s all stores or all spanish stores when it’s just a corner store

the owners of the deli closest to my granddad house is muslim. and so we keep track of all muslim holidays when he’s closed

an ock is the bodega man, miles knows the man’s name at the deli we see him visit, but at any other store he’d call the guy ock

dipping on someone is changing ur mind last minute, usually canceling plans

ex “we was supposed to go get outfits together but they dipped on me last minute”

staticky is like wanting to fight or still being pissed after a fight

static is beef or on sight energy

you good can really be anything but imma list ones i can think of

it can mean like are you ok? or don’t worry about it, or how are you, or stop, or do you got a issue? or do you want an issue? it’s all in the tone of how it’s said fr

'Word of my moms/dads I saw/ did/did not *insert topic*'' Honest term, no lying present in statement i feel like (my cousins be putting anything on they momma fr risking shit on her for no reason)

'hold it down'' handle buisness / take care of someone or something. can also be in refrence to criminal who handles ''buisness''

NOW EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @rashadisback BC HE CARRIED ME ON THIS‼️

i hope this helps any writers that don’t live here!

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Sixteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: It has been so long since this series got an update, but the meeting with Frank and Birdy is finally here! I ended up splitting this chapter in two in order to get this update out sooner, so the rest of the evening will be in the next chapter. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @danzer8705 @mattys-rat1989

Exiting the bathroom and making your way down the hallway, you spotted Michael and Jimmy standing on either side of the entryway to Birdy's dining room. Both of them were absolutely silent beside the french doors that were splayed wide as you approached. You could feel the tension steadily rising in the house as you made your way over, taking in the sight of the brothers where they stood. Jimmy was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his jacket pockets looking tense, but not nearly as tense as Michael looked with his back to you, his hands tightly curled into fists at his sides. You wondered how pissed at you he still was for secretly meeting up with that Serpent tonight, but now knowing what the biker had wanted, you were grateful Michael hadn’t tagged along and gotten himself killed.

You came to a stop just half a step behind Michael, pausing in the hallway just outside of the dining room. Reaching up, your fingertips gently ghosted over the fresh bandage on your forehead, wincing faintly as the wound stung. Frank shifted in his seat over at the dining table, the movement catching your eye just beyond Michael’s shoulder. Your hand lowered back to your side, your stomach churning uncomfortably at the cold, hardened stare Frank had seemed to reserve especially for you this evening.

A moment later Birdy was making her way down the hallway after you, the sound of her footsteps loud in the growing silence. She had been the one to tend to the wound that the Serpent had given you with the butt of his gun before Michael even had a chance to say anything. The second she’d spotted the blood on your face when you’d appeared on her doorstep, she’d shot Dotser a stern, disapproving look before guiding you wordlessly down the hallway and to a bathroom. She had been nothing but gentle and efficient as she cleaned and bandaged you in silence, though her blue eyes would often catch yours and soften, something that had you looking away and fighting back tears.

But now that your injury had been seen to, you knew everyone wanted to get down to business. As Birdy passed by you on her way into the room and over to the table, you felt one of her hands give your shoulder a gentle, comforting squeeze. Your throat tightened further at the small gesture of support amidst the growing tension in the room–tension you knew was caused by you. The look on Frank’s face had told you more than enough to know that he wasn’t going to welcome you here with open arms tonight. And you figured that once he learned what was going on, he’d be even more displeased with you.

“Is somebody goin’ to tell me what the fuck this is all ‘bout now?” Frank asked in irritation, his voice finally breaking the enduring silence. “Why are we suddenly havin’ this impromptu family meetin’?”

He sat forward in his chair, clasping his hands together as his eyes darted between Michael, Jimmy, and Birdy. He was intentionally ignoring your presence now, you noted. Making it only more apparent how unwelcome and unwanted you were–furthering the point that you weren’t a part of this family. Awkwardly you crossed your arms over your chest, swallowing hard and preparing to answer his question since you knew everyone was here because of you. But it was Birdy who was the one to speak up.

“I called ya here because we’ve got another problem, Frank,” she told him from her place across the table from him. “One I think the Kinsellas should be made aware of now.”

“And what the hell is that?” Frank snapped at her.

“Well,” Birdy said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair as her focus shifted to you, “it appears our new neighbor has a bit of a past. One that’s found her here in Dublin. And it involves the Serpents of Hell.”

Frank’s dark gaze abruptly landed back on you and you stiffened. Somehow the frown managed to deepen further on his face as he glared at you in distaste, eyeing you up and down. In front of you, you saw the way Michael’s shoulders squared at Frank’s obvious scrutiny of you.

“How the fuck is any o’ that our problem?” Frank asked, his glare still fixed on you. “We’ve got enough trouble we’re dealin’ with at the moment already, we aren’t takin’ on charity cases for someone who doesn't matter to the family.”

“Watch yourself, Frank,” Michael warned, voice low.

You watched as Frank’s eyes shifted towards Michael. Something like the look of surprise briefly crossed his features, but that was quickly replaced with growing irritation. Though a warmth sparked in your stomach at seeing Michael come to your defense; you figured he must not be quite so angry with you if he was still at least sticking up for you to his family. 

“The Serpents asked her to meet with them tonight,” Birdy continued. “Which is why I had Dotser bring her. And now,” she said, her head turning as her eyes returned to you, “I’d like to know what they wanted. Because I’ve got a strong feelin’ that it’s got somethin’ to do with us.”

All four sets of eyes gradually found their way to you around the room. You took a moment examining each face, noticing how Birdy looked deeply curious with one of her dark brows raised in a silent question. Frank was staring at you with narrowed eyes looking as if he wanted any excuse to tear into you–and admittedly that was making you nervous despite Michael’s presence nearby. Jimmy’s expression looked fairly neutral and hard to place, which once again left you wondering what Michael had told him about you. And while Michael’s face looked stern, his eyes were offering you silent support, urging you to speak up. Licking your lips nervously, you sucked in a breath and attempted to gather the courage to explain what had happened tonight.

“It was one Serpent,” you began, reluctantly pulling your gaze away from Michael and focusing on Birdy and Frank at the dining table. “Just one Serpent who wanted to meet. He appeared to be low ranking from the patches on his cut. But he knows who I am.” You shot Birdy a meaningful look as you continued. “My real name and who I’m running from. Who I’m connected to.”

“And who’s that?” Jimmy asked curiously as he pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he faced you.

“My uh, my ex,” you confessed awkwardly, your hands beginning to fidget at your sides. “His name is Victor, but the Serpents refer to him as the Viper. He’s the Sergeant at Arms for the MC’s mother charter back in the States.”

Jimmy’s head cocked to the side, his eyes narrowing in further curiosity. “Sergeant at Arms?” he questioned. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“He ranks just below the mother charter's President and Vice President. It's his job to uphold MC security and order,” you explained, trying to force memories that were clawing at the back of your mind away. “He’s also commonly used as a sort of…assassin, you could say. The different charters might call him in if they’re dealing with a serious enough problem. And then he…deals with it. Permanently.”

Jimmy’s brows both flew up onto his forehead before his attention shifted over towards his brother. Michael’s eyes met his and you watched as some sort of silent exchange passed between the pair of them. Across the room at the dining table you heard Frank mutter a curse under his breath at your explanation. Clearing your throat, you figured you should probably finish telling them the rest of the truth.

“As you can probably guess, he uh, he wasn’t the kindest to me in the end,” you said, your attention dropping down to the hardwood floor. “Eventually I got away from him and I’ve been running from him for a few years now. Living under fake identities. Moving from city to city. I had no idea there was a charter here in Ireland, though. Or that–that you all were my sister’s neighbors and were involved in the uh, the things that you are.” You paused, noticing the way Frank’s jaw tightened at your mention of their illegal activities out of your peripheral. “If I had, I would have chosen not to come here. But that isn’t exactly the entire issue anymore now.” 

You paused again, your eyes briefly closing as you remembered the encounter from earlier tonight. The threat the Serpent had made to you about giving up Michael and what would happen if you didn’t. Your stomach twisted uneasily at the memory of his words.

“It appears you were right, Birdy,” you confessed.

At the table, the brunette perked up, straightening in her chair. “Right about what, dear?” she asked slowly.

You looked up, meeting her eyes from across the room. “The Serpents want Eamon as their supplier,” you told her. “You were right.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Frank snapped, rolling his eyes and slumping back in his chair. “‘Course they fuckin’ do.”

Birdy somehow sat up even straighter, her blue eyes practically piercing through you at this information. She knew there was more to the story than that, it was written all over her face. 

“And what did this snake want?” she asked, her voice a deadly calm as if she already knew the answer. “How was he plannin’ to get the Serpents a deal with Eamon by usin’ ya?”

Your eyes briefly flew to Michael as he hung his head. Him and Jimmy already knew this part, the part that was making your stomach roil and fill with the urge to be sick. You could still feel the weight of the burner phone in your jacket pocket, opposite of the pocket that still contained the gun Birdy had given you.

“He wants me to give him Michael,” you replied. “Because Eamon wants all of you dead, but the highest bounty is on Michael. And he…knows that Michael and I have spent some time together, so he figured he could threaten me to give him up in order to keep myself safe.”

A dangerous look slipped onto Frank’s face as he abruptly leaned forward in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “If ya even so much as think ‘bout doin’ that, there’ll be a bullet in your head faster than ya can blink,” he growled at you. “Even if I have to put it there myself.”

“That’s enough , Frank,” Michael warned again as he took a step towards him. “Ya won’t so much as even touch her, ya hear me?”

Frank sent Michael a look of disbelief, waving a hand in your direction. “D’ya really think this piece o’ ass is worth the hassle, boy? Ya don’t think she’d throw ya to that motorcycle club just to save her own skin? Did your time in prison really make ya that soft, Mikey? That goddamn blind? Ya damn well know what to do when a threat to this family rears its fuckin’ head.”

“That won’t be happenin’, Frank,” Birdy chimed in, her tone dark.

Michael advanced on Frank, his stride cold and deliberate as his hands once again curled into tight fists at his sides. You saw the way Frank recoiled in his chair under what must’ve been that same murderous look you’d witnessed on Michael’s face earlier this evening. A shudder ran through you at the sight of him once again standing up to his family for you, especially considering the circumstances. 

“Now I know ya aren’t suggestin’ what I think ya are suggestin’ by that, are ya, Frank?” Michael’s cold voice asked. “Because I really don’t think ya want to be insinuatin’ that. Not to me.”

Frank let out a humorless laugh, but you were quite aware of the terror hidden behind it. You didn’t know much about Michael’s past, not having delved deep enough into it once you’d uncovered the information about his deceased wife, but the way everyone appeared to cower from him–even Frank, who seemed to be the one in charge of the Kinsella clan–had you wondering just how dangerous Michael could be. Especially considering how safe and protected he’d always made you feel.

“Oh come on now, Michael,” Frank began placatingly. “Ya know I’m just lookin’ out for ya. She’s just pussy, she’s not–”

Michael slammed a hand firmly onto the table, the noise effectively shutting up Frank. The harsh noise also visibly caused Birdy to jump in her seat as Jimmy took a cautious step forward, a look of uncertainty crossing his features. 

“Call her that again and see what happens,” Michael threatened, his tone dangerously calm despite his body language. “I dare you.”

Silence fell in the room as the tension palpably rose. Michael didn’t move from his intimidating place towering over Frank, one hand still flat along the dining table and trapping Frank in his chair. You figured you should say something, cut the tension and try to salvage the situation. There was a very real issue that needed to be resolved, one you could truly use their help with, and this wasn’t the way to accomplish that tonight.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you blurted out.

The attention in the room returned to you once more and caused you to nervously shift on your feet. Even Michael had glanced over his shoulder, his gaze fixed on you. Though you could still see the dark and dangerous look plain across his face, the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“I don’t want Victor to find me, but I’m also not going to give Michael up,” you assured Frank with a firm shake of your head. “That’s not me. I wouldn’t do that. And if I could just–just disappear like I usually do and have that make this entire situation go away to keep everyone safe, I would. But I can’t. Because if I run, that Serpent will just tell the charter what he knows and then Victor will be out here picking all of you off one by one. And I’m positive he’d include my sister in his body count. So me running isn’t an option this time.”

“So what’re ya suggestin’, dear?” Birdy called out.

“The only logical conclusion I have been able to come to,” you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. “He gave me three days to give Michael up. If I run or don’t do as he asked, he’s telling the Serpents about me and we’re all guaranteed to be as good as dead if Victor comes here.”

Michael pushed off of the dining room table, turning on the spot and leaving Frank forgotten behind him. His eyes were narrowed as they scrutinized you, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“What’re ya gettin’ at, Grace?” he asked.

Your eyes met Michael’s as you held his gaze. You knew he wasn’t going to like what you were going to say, but it was the only plan you could think of when you were in the car heading here. It wasn’t like you had a lot of time to think of alternative options. In the end, you needed to do what needed to be done to protect everyone. Even if you didn’t want this to be the solution.

“I play along,” you answered him, ignoring the way Michael immediately bristled. “In two days I tell him I’ve lured you out somewhere. Somewhere private that wouldn’t seem suspicious. Tell him that you’re expecting to meet me. But when he shows up…” your voice trailed off, your eyes darting to Birdy before they dropped to the floor again. “You aren’t there. And I kill him instead.”

“ No ,” Michael immediately responded, voice firm. “Absolutely not. That is not happening.”

“There aren't really any other options here, Michael,” you pointed out. 

He took a step towards you, his hand swiftly raising up as he dug a finger hard into his own chest. His face was set firm as a dangerous fire burned back at you from his eyes.

“ I'll kill him,” he stated, jabbing his finger into his chest for emphasis. “This isn't a job ya can handle, Grace. There isn't a fuckin’ way in hell I'd let ya even try!”

Your eyes narrowed back at him in defiance, your own hands balling into fists at your sides. His jaw tensed further as he stared you down.

“You don't think he'd see that coming?” you shot back. “Don't think he'd expect it from you? He's going to want to catch you off guard, Michael. And if he can't, you don't think he's going to immediately realize he's being set up?”

“She has a point, love,” Birdy called out.

A noise like a rumbling growl came out of Michael as he turned, his dark glare landing on her. Birdy looked entirely unbothered as she shrugged a single shoulder at him. 

“Now I'm not sayin’ the poor girl needs to be the one doin’ the killin’, but I'm sure this…biker is goin’ to be expectin’ a set up if ya aren't left unaware of what's comin’,” she continued. “He's goin’ to want an easy target, anythin’ less than that is goin’ to raise suspicion, Mikey.”

“I'm not lettin’ her pull the goddamn trigger,” Michael snarled at her. 

“They've both got a point, Michael,” Frank cut in, one of his hands rubbing his chin as he gazed down at his lap in thought. “Though I'm guessin’ she's never pulled a trigger before and I'm not sure I trust her not to fuck this up. But…it does seem to be the only solution. If it's just one man…”

“I can handle it,” you assured him, squaring your shoulders and ignoring the racing of your heart. “But you're going to need a way to dispose of the–” you winced, “–the body after. You won't want a Serpent's death possibly being connected to your family at all or you'll have the whole charter coming down on you.” 

Michael once again spun around, his fiery gaze back on you. “Ya aren't doin’ this Grace and that's final,” he snapped. 

Birdy rose from her chair, a smile on her face as she crossed the room and made her way over to Michael. She wrapped a single arm around his shoulders, though the tension in his body didn't remotely lessen at her touch.

“Grace has had a long and difficult evenin’,” she told Michael as she directed that calm, soft smile on you. “Why don't ya bring her home and make sure she's alrigh’ after everythin’, yeah?” she suggested gently. “Leave the situation to Frank and I to figure out tonight and we'll go over it with ya tomorrow.”

“She's not killin’ anyone, Birdy,” Michael warned her.

“Hey,” Jimmy said, catching his brother's attention as he took a step towards him, “I'll stay and help them figure this all out. I owe ya that for everythin’ ya have done for me lately. Just bring your girl home tonight, brother. Don't worry ‘bout the details o’ all this right now.”

Michael stared at his brother for a long moment, his eyes hard and still alight with something fierce burning in them. Once again it looked as if they were having a silent conversation that the rest of you weren't privy to. After a minute, Michael finally nodded.

“Fine, we'll leave ya to it,” Michael reluctantly replied. “But ya know where I stand on this, brother. She’s not killin’ anyone.”

Jimmy nodded solemnly in response and only then did some tension visibly leave Michael’s body. Birdy gave Michael a quick, one-armed squeeze before she released her arm from around him, shooting you another warm smile. 

“Go. Get some rest tonight, dear,” she told you. “Ya deserve it.”

Michael crossed the few steps towards you before wrapping an arm around your waist. You instantly relaxed into his side, grateful of that safety and protection he always seemed to exude. You let him begin to guide you down the hall and out of Birdy's house as the conversation picked back up in the dining room. You already felt better with Michael at your side, but just as he reached out and opened the front door for you, his next words gave you pause.

“Don't think we don't have things to talk about after tonight, Grace,” he warned you. “Because I told ya earlier that I wasn't done discussin’ this with ya.”

A sinking feeling hit you hard, your stomach nearly dropping to the floor at your feet. All you could do was nod slowly before exiting the house, nervous of the conversation that was about to happen. You should have realized he wasn't going to let this whole situation go so easily.

[keepswingin]

"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers." —skz

"Fuck," Seungmin spits, fear nearly choking him as he pulls the prince closer to him. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this, not because of him. "Jeongin-yah, look at me."

The prince's eyes had closed after his mumble of an answer, and he's not responding to anything else. Seungmin has never felt so terrified in his life.

He's ruined everything, let every single lie he's told been seen, and now the one person who was meant to pay the price from the very beginning has left a mark on Seungmin's life that he won't be able to replace.

What has he done?

"Jeongin," he calls again, louder this time, one palm pushing hard against his cheek in an attempt to wake him back up.

Rain drips from his hair, mixing with the blood that sits at the top of the prince's clothes, watercolor against his pale skin. Seungmin's chest hitches, and the sob that tears from his throat is nearly inhuman.

"Jeongin, please," he begs, thunder swallowing his words and spitting them back out until it's the only thing he can feel. He thinks he's crying. He thinks he would rip his heart out and offer it to the sky on a silver platter if it would reverse time. He thinks he would give his life to go back and stand in Jeongin's place before the younger could beat him to it.

The blade was meant for him, after all.

The shouting from the castle has grown quieter as soldiers march into the distance after a culprit that's long made his leave, unaware that the threat to the crown sits within their own ranks, an imposter from the very start. Seungmin has never thought himself dangerous, but for some reason he feels deadly, sitting here with someone's life hovering in his hands.

He looks to the wound again.

He's tried to clot it the best he could, but between the rain and what's already been stained, it's hard for him to tell if it looks any better. Jeongin needs to wake back up for him to have any type of hope in this situation.

He hates this. Hates himself for not seeing what his people were planning, the way they were so eager to use him as a red herring because that's all he's ever been good for. Was it ever a home, if he was simply used because he was smarter than the rest?

You know, you could stay. If you wanted.

Seungmin leans forward, and presses his forehead to Jeongin's. His heart is beating fast, and the rain doesn't slow. One hand clutches at the torn sleeve of Jeongin's shirt like it can anchor him as he closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

It can't end like this. Anything but this.

I don't belong here.

"Innie," he whispers, desperate. "Wake up. Please wake up. Come back." He hesitates, his next words on the tip of his tongue. Is he allowed to say such a thing, when all he's done is lie? Jeongin doesn't know who he really is.

If he looks close enough at himself, Seungmin doesn't think he knows who he really is either.

"Come back to me."

The next bout of thunder feels like it shakes him down to his very core. The sky is alight with a branching bolt of lightning. There's shouts closer to where they rest, just outside the prince's window. If he lifted his head, he'd be able to see the royal lien blowing in the storm's breeze, curtains curled around the windowsill. Maybe they've finally realized who the real threat is, and how he's holding the prince like he's something that's about to break.

I think that you do.

"I'm sorry for everything, Innie. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for not being who you think I am. I'm sorry for - for getting you hurt."

He can see the blade clear in his mind's eye, the moment replaying over and over. Jeongin's hard glare at the stranger suddenly before them, inching closer to Seungmin and spitting nonsense.

Jeongin stepping in front of Seungmin without hesitation.

Jeongin's quiet gasp, the stutter of his breath. His hands clutching at the wound as if that alone would be enough to stop the blood flow. Seungmin moving to catch him before he hits the ground, arms wrapping desperately around his waist, shock propelling him forward.

"Your people need you, Innie," he whispers, the words poison against his throat. The same people who had run him from his home, the same kingdom that had looked at him like was no better than the very dirt on the ground - but no, not Jeongin.

Jeongin was different than his people, and he was different than the king. He was kind, and curious, and greeted strangers with an open palm. He was the change everyone was afraid of, the change Seungmin's people didn't understand and feared.

The change he was supposed to kill.

"I need you, Innie," he murmurs, heart pounding. He lifts his head and stares down at him like the words themselves will reanimate him, and waits. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

You don't know anything about me, your highness.

"Get away from him!"

Arms callously wrap around him from behind and violently yank him back, Jeongin's sister shrieking his name as she falls to the her knees beside his limp body, her nightgown smearing with dirt and gravel.

She's shaking her brother's shoulder far too roughly, Seungmin thinks, before he's thrown backwards, face hitting the ground. The storm grows worse as he's held there, arms wretched painfully in a way they shouldn't twist, rope tied tightly around his wrists. Maybe they'll hogtie him and leave him out here to drown in the storm.

He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?

His sister turns to Seungmin, tears streaking down her cheeks. "What did you do?" she cries, holding her brother close to her chest. His blood stains the front of her gown. Seungmin's stomach churns. "Tell me what you did to him," she all but begs, hiccuping, far from the prim and posed princess she is supposed to be. "Please!"

Mud and tears clog his throat. His chest heaves with a breath he cannot push out. The guards don't bother to pull him up, instead sending for the doctor who lives on the cusp of the village, far out of reach.

"Seungmin-ah!" his sister shouts amongst a clash of thunder. "They'll hang you for this! Don't you care?"

She stares at him, lips trembling. The cold has chilled Seungmin by now too, his own limbs borderline numb. Or maybe he's just shutting down now that he's failed the one person who meant something to him.

Seungmin's eyes slip back to Jeongin's face. His sister isn't covering him well enough, rain trickling across his lax features, the sharp curve of his jaw.

Seungmin would cover him.

"Not about myself," he whispers as the prince's sister turns back to him, shaking him once more.

He closes his eyes, and wonders what Jeongin would think, when all was said and done. Would he be kind still? Or nurture a hatred even Seungmin couldn't touch?

"Take him away," the princess sobs, curling closer to her brother. "Please."

Jeongin's soft laughter rings in his ears, a memory he can't forget. The knowing curve of his smile, the brush of his warm fingers against Seungmin's skin. The words he whispered after leaning in close to his ear, almost as if they were meant for just the two of them.

I think I know just enough.