#yes i know its thursday SHUT UP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

ace sex on fire chapter six

this entire chapter is me making up for 1. the golfing line in chapter two, and 2. joel's entire experience of tlou2. naughty dog i'm waiting for ur response. 24 hours to reply

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel takes you on a day trip to go golfing. it turns out to be more fun than you expected

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) golf. idk what else to say. age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, more sugardaddy!joel, discussions of pregnancy + reader perhaps not wanting children, sort of possessive!joel?, praise kink, unprotected piv car sex, daddy kink, exhibitionist fantasy, creampie, more teasing + flirting, angst + pining, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 9.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Good girl. He there?” The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare. “Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel. “He watching?” “Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily. “Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

The cab squeaks to a halt right outside the office, dropping you at the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to the revolving door. There are already bodies filtering in and out of the building, despite how early it is.

You thank the driver – Mick, you’ve come to learn. He seems to run this route on weekday mornings; it’s always him who shows up at your apartment when you can’t be bothered to walk to work, or miss the damn bus. Mick tosses a thumbs up over his shoulder and you swing out into the brilliant sun.

It’s Thursday. You’ve been home sixty-five hours, by your count. Joel gave you a couple days after landing stateside to catch up on sleep, readjust. He’d gone back to work Tuesday morning, though, 8AM sharp. Martha had text to ask where you were, and had sent six laughing emojis back when you replied with, How the fuck is he back already?

You make the climb up the steps, back to work, back to normality. It drags like a weight at your heels, the thought of returning to that gray office after three days wandering around picture-perfect, painted-pink Paris. After three days of Joel.

That split-open feeling, the cavity between your ribs – it’s sewn itself up since you got back to your own apartment, your own space. Since you showered a couple times, washed your clothes, started smelling like yourself again instead of Joel. Its sutures are made from the sound of the subway squealing to a halt, the smell of Chinese takeout from the place across the street.

But there’s a tiny piece of you, small enough to stay hidden from even yourself sometimes, that you know misses it. Misses…him. It only hurts when you touch it – the sewn-up scar, messy in your frantic attempts to close it up – it aches when you remember his hands on your waist whenever you wanted them there, his lips below your ear whenever you needed him.

As you approach the glass doors, you hear a whistle from behind, and turn to watch Joel slip out of his Rolls and jog up the steps. There’s a sports bag hanging from his left hand.

“Am I a dog?” you ask when he reaches you.

“It was an endearin’ whistle.”

“Very endearing. Don’t do it again.”

He nods once. “Yes, ma’am. Feelin’ awake yet?”

“Almost.” You follow him into the building, clicking along the polished marble floor at his side. “You didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things, I hear.”

You both nod good morning to the receptionists, and Joel hits the button to call the elevator.

“I’m an important man, baby,” he says, shrugging. “My job ain’t just answerin’ the phone ‘n making coffee.”

You scoff, slapping his back as he leads you through the sliding doors, which closer over and shut you both into your first moment of privacy in almost seventy hours. Joel immediately turns to face you, words behind his eyes that he can’t seem to sort into a coherent sentence.

In what you hear as an attempt to summarize, he says: “Back to reality.”

You brush the shoulders of his blazer, tug on his tie to straighten it. It’s the most you can bring yourself to do that doesn’t involve throwing yourself at him. There’s a throbbing right below your chest, like a magnet tugging you towards the man stood in front of you. Touching the padded shoulder of his suit will have to do. For now.

You lift your eyebrows, staring at the knot of his tie. “Yep.”

It’s pretty reductive, Back to reality. But then, what else is there to say? What else that wasn’t said between your bodies in Paris? A line was crossed there – you both went somewhere you can’t come back from so easily. And moving forward the way you had been before, seems equally as impossible.

There are eyes on you here. There are people who care to know what might be going on – whether they like it or not doesn’t matter. No more strutting out onto the terrace, running your hands all over one another, connecting skin and tongue in ways you wouldn’t have dreamt up two weeks ago.

No. This stays secret. A secret between you, Joel, and the French skies.

Joel places a hand on the small of your back as the elevator doors whip open. He ushers you out, and then, once in view of Martha’s desk, sidesteps to an appropriate distance.

“Welcome back,” your colleague greets you as you approach her desk. “Missed you, kid.”

You smile coyly. “Thanks,” you mumble. Guilt isn’t the easiest of emotions to hide.

Joel taps your arm gently and then nods towards his office. “Catch-up,” he says, and Martha rounds her desk to follow after him.

You drop your jacket and purse over the back of your chair and slip in behind them, leaning back on one of Joel’s leather couches with your arms crossed.

“Alright,” Martha sighs, “few things needing done this morning. First…”

You take a deep breath and slump down until your ass sits comfortably on the couch cushion, your knees draped over the arm, cradled inside your elbows.

Joel notices, and smirks to himself. He dials into his voicemail, hits a button, and a familiar voice echoes from his desk.

“Hey, Joel,” Drew’s voice says, “hope you enjoyed Paris ‘n aren’t still too hungover. I know what Jean-Marc’s like…”

Martha moves to the next bullet point, tilting her pad and tapping the tip of her pen to some messy scrawling you can’t read. You nod, eyes flitting up to watch Joel.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re still good for later. S’posed to be a good day for it. Let me know if you need any help with directions. Alright. Looking forward to seeing you two soon. Cool.”

The machine cuts. Joel sits back in his chair, rests his heels on the wood in front of him. Black, shiny, ridiculously expensive shoes crossed over on top of a black, shiny, ridiculously expensive desk.

“…now, Ken needs to receive this as soon as possible, alright? I said I’d have it done by end of day yesterday – I did not, so I need you to –”

“Who’s you two?” you ask Joel, peering over Martha’s notepad.

He looks up, tossing a rubber band ball in his hands. “You ‘n me, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry,” Martha declares, “am I talking to myself–?”

You push her notepad out of your view, still staring at Joel. “What do you mean, you ‘n me?”

Martha drops her hands with a sigh. You repeat your question.

“Us,” Joel says, hint of irritation in his voice like you’re supposed to be in on something. “We’re goin’ golfing with him.”

“We’re going golfing?”

Martha, now exasperated, swings the pad under her bicep and crosses her arms over her chest, makes something of a growling noise. “You two are unbeliev…Are you listening to me?” she demands, clicking her fingers in front of you.

“No,” you reply simply, eyes locked on Joel’s.

His lips curve with a soft laugh. “You ain’t read your emails?” he asks.

Your head darts between him and Martha. Bewildered. “I was catching up on sleep, thank you very much,” you assert, nodding with finality at the blonde updo hovering over you.

You know she cares about you – at least enough to water your monstera deliciosa while you were gone – but Martha can be sharp; her outspokenness is something to admire and to fear, in one small five-foot-three frame.

She snorts, glancing over to Joel with a disbelieving shake of her head, but he doesn’t take her up on it. Just looks at her blankly and then turns back to you.

“We’re meeting Drew up at Aspen Heights. Few of his buddies are in town, he wanted to introduce ‘em to me.”

“And I’m coming – why?”

“Because he met you last week, musta liked you, ‘n he invited you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, some retort to bring into question the need for your presence at a fucking round of golf, when Joel and his words cut yours short in your throat.

“And I want you there with me.”

Martha raises her eyebrows when you look up at her. The thing is: this all seems very normal, from her perspective. You did such a good job at keeping Joel right in Paris, didn’t you? He made his flight there on time, he met with Jean-Marc without a hitch, and he was actually an hour early for his flight home.

That last part was because you’d woken up with the sun and couldn’t get back to sleep, so you woke him, too and…well. Kept each other busy until you physically couldn’t anymore. There wasn’t much point hanging around in the hotel suite when your cases were packed and your bodies were…fragile, so you left for the airport.

To her ignorant eyes – and bless her – this is all just networking. It’s you building work relationships, Joel at the helm overseeing everything and setting it all up for you. This is clear – that that’s all she thinks – when she says:

“He’s doin’ you a favor, sweetheart. You should go.”

“I don’t even have any golfing gear. I’m in suit trousers.” Your eyes trail down your black pinstripe pants, legs dangling from the arm of the couch.

“And you look fantastic,” Joel quips, though you know he’s half-serious, “but you do gotta find somethin’ more…” he waves a hand, “…golf.”

“Something more golf. That’s helpful.”

“Here,” he says, stretching into his back pocket. His hips lift from the seat of his chair, and your eyes land on the space just south of his belt buckle. He pulls his credit card from his wallet – the same one you could probably recite the numbers of by heart at this point – and holds it out. “Go grab somethin’ nice. My treat.”

My treat. Like he didn’t treat you all damn weekend.

You pull yourself up and take the card from his fingers.

“’n what about my list?” Martha asks.

Joel shrugs. “Ken can wait one more day. You got two hours,” he tells you, and then sits up straight, rubber band ball placed safely next to his Newton’s cradle. “I’ll have Rand take you.”

You follow Martha out of Joel’s office when his phone starts ringing and his head falls into his hands, letting you both know it’s not a call you want to be around to hear. As he lifts the handset, he lightly calls your name, and you exchange a sly smirk as you slip out the door.

Martha wanders off behind her own desk as you pull your purse over your shoulder. She loads her computer back up, chin lifting as she squints through her glasses at the screen.

“There’s a golf shop downtown,” she tells you, two index fingers tapping away on the keys. “Alan uses ‘em. Don’t think they’re too expensive, either. Wouldn’t know for sure, though, he spends so damn much anytime he’s in there.”

You watch her for a moment, nodding along. “Thanks, Martha.”

She holds up a finger as you walk past her desk toward the elevator. “Remember you still got my to-do list to tackle, so don’t be long!”

----------

Rand drops you on a quiet side street. He gives you his number, tells you to text him once you’re done, and the sleek black car rolls off.

On the corner sits Ace’s Pro Golf, a small, charming store, peeling wooden front painted fern green with golf-themed decals decorating the windows. You set off inside, passing under two transparent putters crossed over one another on the window above the door. An old brass bell rings out from overhead when you enter.

Its exterior is misleading. This store is huge. Overwhelmingly huge. Walls stacked with bags, clubs dangling from pegs. Baskets of balls and tees and other accessories dotted all over the creaky wooden floors, which are lined with racks upon racks of golfing clothes – shirts, trousers, dresses, skirts.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, edging towards the rails.

You slip between them, hand running along the multicolored choices, when your phone starts to ring, vibrating somewhere deep in your purse.

“Hey, Mom,” you mutter, slipping your cell between your cheek and your shoulder as you begin to search through the shirts in front of you.

“Hey, baby,” her voice sings to you. “Wasn’t expecting to catch you, thought you’d already be at work. Where you at?”

You sigh. “I’m shopping. Joel’s taking me golfing later.”

She almost chokes down the line. “Golfing?”

“Yeah. It’s this friend he went to school with, I met him at lunch last week. There’s a few of ‘em going, so he asked me along, too.”

“Nice guy. So, you’re shopping for an outfit?”

“Mhm.”

“Any…dress code?”

“Dress code?” You straighten up, switching the phone to your other ear. “Like, golfing gear? I dunno.”

She laughs. “Alright.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing, baby.”

“Meant something, Mom. Tell me.”

“No, I just…” She sighs. “You’re sure this isn’t, like…It sounds an awful lot like a date. Like, you’re going on Joel’s arm.”

You’re silent. You suck in a deep breath, fixing an order of words in reply, when your mom cuts in again.

“I bet I’m way off. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, gross,” you refute, metal hangers squealing against the rail when you unfreeze. “No. Not a date. It’s, like, networking, or whatever.”

Mom snorts. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not – a date,” you repeat.

You’re relieved when she changes the subject. “Show me what you’re looking at.”

You huff, pulling the phone down and switching to FaceTime. In a second, your mom’s bright, swollen cheeks and ringlet curled hair are on the screen, and she flashes you a pearly smile.

“Was thinking maybe this…?” You angle the phone to show her a navy-blue polo shirt. “And then a white skirt?”

“Nah,” she cuts, and you flip your camera back to your face.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too blue. You look better in neutrals. Try beige or brown. Boring colors, y’know? Blend into the walls.”

You hiss something she doesn’t need to hear under your breath and then follow it up with a slightly more polite, “Screw you.”

Her image on your screen shakes violently with how hard she laughs at herself. “I’m messing with you. You know you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose. Wait a second, though – can you even golf?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever touched a golf club in my life.”

“Thought as much. Does Joel know you’re about to embarrass him like this?”

“He’s aware.”

“Please get him to take some videos. I gotta see this.”

“You know what,” you grumble, holding back your own laughter now, “I’m hanging up. You just solidified your place in the nursing home, you know that?”

She’s still laughing, words pushing through her cackles in desperate punches. “Wait, wait! I gotta tell you why I called you.”

“Alright, go. Thirty seconds.”

“Riley’s pregnant.”

Your face screws up. Lips curl upside down into a grimace. “Oof. Good…good for her…?”

Your mom throws her head back with a roar of laughter. “Be more enthusiastic about it. A little niece or nephew for you!”

“’s more like a…second cousin, or whatever. I bet Aunt Rose is over the moon.”

“She called me screaming this morning. I just thought you’d like to hear, being that you’re in a permanent state of baby fever.”

“Ha,” you state, blank expression never changing. It causes her to erupt into another fit of giggles. “That’s nice, I guess. For Riley. Tell her I said congrats.”

“I will. And I’ll leave out the part where you almost threw up. Alright, I’ll let you go. Good luck golfing. Come back with a hot millionaire boyfriend, maybe! Love you!”

“Yep. ‘kay. Love you. Love you, too – ‘kay – bye – bye, Mom.”

You hang up mid-laugh and her caramel cheeks disappear from the screen. You drop your phone back into your purse and slot the navy-blue polo under your arm, spinning to the rail behind you to find a skirt to go with it.

Riley, pregnant. That’s fucking insane. You two used to spend entire summers riding your bikes around your hometown, spending all of your allowance down at the mall. You swear you’re not old enough to have babies yet. Swear you’re not even old enough to be out of Mom’s house, living on your own in the city.

But then here you are, five years in, making a mental note to buy a baby gift for your cousin, on top of the pre-existing ones reminding you to message that girl who lived across the street when you were kids to say, Congrats on your engagement, and pick up a new home card for your two friends who are on their third mortgage.

Your mom finds it funny – always has. The instant repulsion you feel, the way you recoil whenever you’re asked about kids, about a partner, about a three-bed-two-bath in the suburbs with a big yard and good school nearby.

You don't think any of it's for you. And that’s fine, and every time you skate over the topic, your mom tells you it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s –

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your daydream, clutching a white skirt in your hands, “sorry. I’m sorry. No, I’m good, thanks. Sorry.”

The assistant smiles kindly and nods. Then he spins on his heel and waltzes off, disappearing behind a cardboard cutout of a golfer mid-swing.

It’s not lost on you, by the way – what your mom said. Sounds an awful lot like a date. You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t also crossed your mind. Joel, wanting you there with him. Giving you his card to buy somethin’ nice, which, after the last week, you translate roughly as: something I’ll like. Something he’ll see, and his second thought will be ripping it off your body.

His first thought will be what you’d look like taking it off for him.

And for that reason, you slip the short skirt under your arm beside the polo, and head across the store to find some more stuff to waste Joel’s money on.

----------

Rand pulls up by the curb a few yards down from Ace’s, where you’re sat on a bench enjoying an ice cream. He rolls the window down and lowers his black sunglasses.

“You bein’ paid for this?” he asks, grinning.

You nod, gleeful. “By the hour. Want an ice cream?”

He snorts when you hold Joel’s black card up between two fingers, tilting it in the sunlight. And then he puts the car in park, climbs out, and jaunts over to the ice cream cart by your bench.

He orders a three-scoop cone, and you nod in approval when he sits down alongside you, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“Respect it,” you say, cheersing your own half-finished cone against his.

----------

When you get back to work, Joel’s already changed into a crisp, clean golfing outfit. It weakens your knees a little when you saunter into his office.

A long-sleeved, dark polo shirt that shows off every curve and flex of his toned arms, paired with gray, just-tight-enough trousers. And pristine white shoes so sharp and clean you’d swear he’d had them polished just for the occasion.

You ignore the way your head lightens at the sight of him and throw yourself into the chair to his right, white back from Ace’s falling between your ankles.

“Alright, Tom, thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says, arms folded, sat back against his desk. He leans back, places the phone back in its cradle, and looks you up and down. “Have fun?”

You shrug, leaning forward to pick a piece of lint from his thigh. “Didn’t know what to get for the most part, so there’s probably stuff I don’t need in there.”

He squints down at his cell phone. “Like, uh…Duke’s Scoops?”

You stare back at him, mirroring his cheeky smirk. Your leg swings, arms cross over your chest, covering the way your breath falters. He’s seen the transactions.

“You gonna grudge me three dollars on an ice cream, Miller?”

“Six fifty,” he mutters, glancing down at his phone again to double check. His tongue runs across his top lip. You want to replace it with yours. “So…that’s at least two ice creams, pretty girl.”

“It’s a hot day. Rand deserved something to cool down. We sat on a bench in the shade ‘n had a nice chat. He taught me how to swing. Verbally,” you add, when Joel’s eyebrows lift.

“Taught you how to swing,” he echoes, and you nod.

“Did you know he used to compete? Junior league?”

He pouts his bottom lip. “Mighta come up in the, what, fifteen years since I met him?”

You beam in reply, standing up and hooking your fingers through the string handles of your shopping bag. “I’m gonna go get changed now.”

“Could just get changed in the car on the way, ‘s a thirty-minute drive.”

You lean in close, eyes flitting over to Martha’s desk to make sure she’s not watching. Your lips brush softly against his ear. “I don’t wanna take any time away from other stuff we could get up to,” you murmur, and Joel’s hand locks around yours, attempting to pull you back as you skip off.

“Be right back,” you call, letting the door fall shut on his suggestive smirk, his tight trousers, and the hard bulge beneath them.

You return five minutes later in your getup. Joel has much the same reaction as you did with him, though he’s not half as good at hiding it. He sits upright in his chair, fingers tight around the armrests.

“Uhuh,” he says, eyes diving to your legs and then resurfacing somewhere around your chest. “Let me just –” he leans over to his phone, “– call Drew, let ‘im know we ain’t comin’…”

“Shut up,” you scoff. “Looks good, though, right?”

Joel’s eyes are still trained on your bare thighs, one crossed over the other. “Looks…better than good.”

You bat your eyelashes. “Still mad about the ice cream?”

“No, ma’am. Not mad at all.”

He stands, slinging both his bag and yours over his shoulder, and walks around his desk to meet you. You give him one final warning.

“You know I’ve never played golf before, right?”

“I know,” he affirms.

“So…bringing me is kinda pointless. I am not gonna bring anything worthwhile.”

“You in that outfit,” Joel mutters – and as he passes by, he makes sure to brush his swollen crotch up against your ass – “makes it worthwhile already.”

----------

Aspen Heights is a hundred and fifty-acre course, vibrant green fairways rolling over hilly land laid out like crinkles in a sheet of green felt. Rand drives slowly up to the clubhouse, gravel crackling under the tires of the Rolls as you and Joel lean over to stare at the landscape – the unkempt, sprawling wild plants guarding the pristine course, the bunkers like giant splotches of white paint on the grass.

You turn back and look to Joel, brows knitting in an expression which could be translated as amazement, could be intrigue, or could simply be: What the fuck are we doing here?

He mirrors it, shaking his head. And it makes you laugh.

“What?” he asks, smiling.

“You could buy this place, easy. Don’t act like you don’t fit in.”

“If you think I fit in here,” he grunts, getting out of the now parked car, “you think very highly of me, angel.”

He doesn’t deny that he could afford to buy it.

The clubhouse is…much the same. Huge, grand, surrounded by a wide-open porch and fronted by a dome-shaped room, paneled by windows that reflect the scene before them.

You follow Joel’s lead, climbing the steps to the double doors by his side, staying close enough that he can guide you with a bump of his arm against yours, but far enough apart that it doesn’t look like you’re showing up together.

Inside, you follow two smartly-dressed attendants through to a room finished in dark oak, shining wooden floors under bare-bulb light figures, a solid marble bar in the center and six perfectly symmetrical high tables surrounding it.

You glance nervously around the room. Drew’s stood over by the windows with three other men – a tan guy with a white baseball cap on, fluorescent orange polo buttoned up to his neck, a shorter guy with tight black curls, fiddling with the cap of a bottle of water, and finally, a guy with dark hair combed within an inch of its life into perfect place, shoulders almost ripping through his blue polo. He looks like he’s been copy-pasted straight from a magazine called Golf Weekly, or something.

Joel takes one step across a patterned rug and Drew notices you both. He breaks off from the group.

“Hey, man.” He grins at Joel and leans over to shake his hand – well, it’s more of that slap-hand thing. They slap each other’s palms, fingers lock, one quick shake of the wrists together, and then a nod of the head. You know?

Then he leans over to you, kisses your cheek. “Sorry it’s just us guys,” he says, hand on your arm. He looks over to the three men by the window, now looking out over the course and pointing. “My girlfriend was supposed to be joining us, but she got called in to work. You two woulda gotten along, you ‘n Rach.”

You smile warmly. “That’s okay. Thanks for asking me.”

“You play much?” Drew asks, leading you both over to the windows.

You shake your head and Joel breathes a laugh.

“Total beginner,” you admit.

Drew bats a hand. “We’ll show you the ropes. This is, uh, this is Steve,” he points to Fluorescent Orange, “Caleb,” Water Bottle holds his hand out to shake yours, “and that’s Daniel.”

Up close, Daniel’s handsome. Sharp jawline, shadowed by the beginnings of stubble, a dimple in the center of his chin. He steps forward, holding a hand out, and you take it. His palm engulfs yours and squeezes – soft but sure. And then you pull away.

The men all nod to Joel, who probably nods back from behind you, and then catches you gently in his arm, cradling it around your back out of view of the others.

“We’ll be getting started soon,” Drew says, “they’re just fixing up a few buggies for us.”

Joel nods, lets go of you, and crosses his arms. You knot your hands awkwardly at your waist. He stays right by your side, though, which you’re grateful for. The last thing you need is another Jean-Marc, some cloaked assistant swooping you off away from the comfort of Joel.

“How’s business, Joel? Drew was tellin’ us about some deal you’re tryna nail.”

Daniel’s eyes are sharp, cerulean blue drilling deep into the warm brown of Joel’s, which calmly stare back. He looks a little younger than Joel, maybe on the cusp of forty, only a few light strands of grey through his deep brown fringe. There’s no wedding ring on his finger. You don’t know why you’re even looking at that.

Joel doesn’t reveal much in the way of answers. Typical of him – or typical of the Joel he is to the rest of the world. “Yeah, ‘s good. Just takin’ my time, we’re workin’ on it.”

Daniel nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging, and then rounds on you.

“You gotta be run off your feet, chasing after him all day, huh?”

You tilt your head toward Joel. “He keeps me busy, yeah.”

Daniel leans into you, laughter crooning from his lips. It wobbles you a little, forces you one step nearer Joel’s side. You smile back, as pleasant as you can muster the courage, and he eventually leans away.

Before he can ask another question, Drew’s calling you all over to the sliding patio doors. Daniel hops back a step, nods to you, and says, “After you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Joel cuts, stepping into the space the blue-eyed man had left specifically for you, sweeping you off as he goes.

----------

There isn’t anything about golf that intrigues you. Not even remotely. You’ve never watched it, never wanted to play it – the most you’ve dabbled in it is minigolf, and even that became a fucking bore after two anniversary dates in a row there with Blake.

Still, you watch patiently and politely as the men take their shots one by one, starting with Drew, all the way through to Daniel, who gives his driver a quick shine with a gloved hand before stepping up. On your left, Joel scoffs quietly to himself.

Daniel swings back, and his biceps swell under the tight sleeves of his shirt. You watch as his arms follow through, sending the ball hurtling through the air and well past its three predecessors.

Joel nudges your elbow.

“Ow,” you mumble, running a hand over the skin.

He gives you a perplexed look. “I said, you can use my clubs. You in there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little too defensively. “Just…paying attention.”

“Hm.”

The men on your right groan as Daniel strides back over to join them, a satisfied grin across his face. Your eyes trace him as he leans on his driver, one white pant leg crossing over the other.

When you turn back to the tee box, Joel’s lifting his own club from his bag. His broad, muscled shoulders flex under the dark material of his shirt; his tall figure walks over to the tee, delicate fingers dancing along the handle of the club, and he clears his throat.

And suddenly, the memory of Daniel and his stupid biceps is dust in the wind.

Joel takes, like, half a practice swing. Doesn’t even have to aim, not really. Just pulls his arms back, sucks his waist in, and goes for it.

His ball lands a couple meters ahead of Daniel’s. And you wonder when the fuck golf became this sexy.

He turns back and runs his tongue over his top lip, breathing a little heavy. The sight drives you fucking insane for the second time today. And then he’s smiling at you, jerking his head in a gesture for you to join him.

You step forward, a little shy, a little hot, and wander mutely over to him.

“I got you,” he says, and reaches for your wrist.

You move to take the driver from his hand and Joel clicks his teeth, shaking his head.

“Said I got you,” he utters, and pulls your body into his, shelling around you. His beard scratches lightly against your ear.

“Joel,” you whisper, laughing nervously and tossing a quick glance back over to the men standing just feet away. Drew just said something apparently hilarious. Caleb gives him a solid whack on the shoulder and doubles over laughing. Steve’s watching a butterfly float by.

“They ain’t watchin’,” Joel says, curving his arms around yours and fixing your hands on the handle of the club. “s just you ‘n me.”

You wriggle under his grasp and feel the hum of laughter from his chest between your shoulders, the weight of his belt riding on your ass. Your cheeks heat when his chin rests on your collarbone.

“Alright,” he says, hands tightening around your own. “You’re gonna line it up, stand with your legs a little apart, little more…”

The toe of his shoe taps your heel and you widen your stance.

“Good girl,” he whispers. A pulse shakes through your body. “Now, on your backswing, you’re gonna want your left shoulder under your chin, ‘n your hands above your right shoulder. Yeah?”

“Got it,” you mumble, so unconvincing that it makes you laugh after you’ve said it.

He gives your waist a tiny squeeze and steps back, watching as you carefully lift the club and curve it around your shoulders. You hear him from behind.

“’attagirl. Keep your knees bent, you got it.”

You take one good swing, and hit the ball on your first try, but it’s…it’s bad, for sure. It’s pretty terrible. The ball lands on this side of the fairway, muddled in amongst the longer grass of the rough. But it’s your first ever shot – least not with colored balls and spinning windmills in the way – and so when you turn back to Joel with a huge beam across your lips, your expression is reflected in his.

“Good job!” he chuckles, stalking back over to you.

“Good job,” you echo with a laugh, handing him the club. You twist and hold your hand up to shield your eyes, staring down the course. “Look where it is, ‘n look where yours are.”

He glances back over to where your sad little ball sits. “We’ll get a few drinks down those guys,” he whispers, hand on your back. “See how good they are in a few holes’ time.”

----------

You’re back in the clubhouse after finishing the eighteenth hole on something of a high. Joel managed to worsen the accuracy of your competitors only so much – your end of the deal was to improve as the round went on, which you try to argue you technically did, given that you began to land your shots on the fairway around hole seven, but your argument is let down by Joel’s reminder that, on hole thirteen, he had to dig your ball out of the bunker for you.

“And I am eternally grateful to you for agreeing to never fucking talk about it again,” you say through gritted teeth, and he laughs.

“Last time, promise.”

Drew joins the pair of you at your table and slaps an arm down on Joel’s shoulder.

“Your round, asshole.”

Joel grumbles, gives your elbow a cursory tap, and slides off to the bar. Drew takes his seat, nudges your arm.

“I am impressed,” he tells you, slurring his words a little.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods. “I didn’t think I was so good.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, “you weren’t. I meant I’m impressed you stuck it out.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss.

He snorts, head bobbing with the alcohol bubbling in his blood. “I’m kidding. You were great, for your first time. I’m really glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you admit.

Drew opens his mouth to say something else when a clatter from across the clubhouse interrupts him. You turn at the same time to see a waiter on his ass at the other side of the room. His metal tray rattles against the wooden floor, flutes smashed in a pool of champagne by his side.

“Oh, shoot,” Drew mumbles, setting his glass down on the table.

You push off your stool, sliding your drink alongside his, but he motions for you to stay.

“I got it,” he says, palm lightly tapping your wrist. “I got it.”

He shuffles off to the waiter, now being helped to his feet by Caleb. The last you see is Drew bending to grab the silver tray, before he’s swept out of your view by –

“Poor guy,” Daniel muses, fist locked tight around a lager. He pulls Joel’s stool out and slips onto the cushion, elbow brushing against yours.

You readjust awkwardly in your own chair and pull on the hem of your skirt.

“So,” Daniel clears his throat, the bottom of his glass scraping along the wooden tabletop, “how’d you find your first round of golf?”

You smile politely. “Uh, good. Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to be much, but it wasn’t too scary.”

He chuckles. “Yeah? Think you’ll be back?”

Your shoulders jerk with a shrug. “Maybe.”

He nods and dives headfirst into some long ramble about golf – something about the time he brought his sister and her kids here and how much worse they were than you, so you should really be proud of yourself, and he’d love to see you around here again sometime – but you’re only half listening. You’re stealing glances over at the bar, hunting for a chiseled jawline and monochrome beard.

You spot him locked between Steve and some other guy in all black, waiting for the bartender to draw up his order of drinks. He’s nodding, saying words back to the pair, but keeping his eyes locked on you.

You give him half a smile, half a, There you are, what the hell’s taking you so long? Can you come the fuck back? and hope he reads the words across your face.

“…so, as long as you stick with what you know, it’s actually a really enjoyable game.”

Daniel stares at you blankly, waiting for a response.

“Sure, sure,” you answer, after too long a pause to convince him that you were listening. “Sorry,” you close your eyes and give your head a shake, “was just checking on that waiter.”

Daniel nods. Follows the trail of your eyeline across the room, and looks back to you. “So, uh,” he clears his throat nervously, “I know this place downtown – Italian, has this big open rooftop seating area. If you’re interested, I’d, uh…I’d love to take you, sometime.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, frozen. Like, actually convinced the air in your lungs has turned to ice, frozen. Your eyes probably look like they’re about to burst out of your head, your mouth stuck in a dumb O-shape as you search frantically for the words to form a reply.

He smiles awkwardly. Watches as you blink straight back at him.

“I…” you manage, after what feels like fucking hours. “…That’s – so nice, Daniel, I – really – I’m flattered. Um…”

He interrupts, and it’s like a cold flannel on an acid burn. “Oh, Jesus. I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry.”

“No,” you shake your head, suddenly animated, “no, listen. It’s – you’re –”

Daniel’s still apologizing. “Are you – sorry, I don’t mean to assume – are you and – you and Joel…?”

His head jerks. One eyebrow cocked. His fingers press into the table, making counter-rotating circles across the gleaming surface.

You stare from his hands to his face, open-mouthed. “N-no,” you tell him, with a single shake of your head. And then you realize he’s being serious. “No, no, we’re not – no, absolutely not. We’re just – friends.”

“Right,” he says, brows knitting. “It’s just – the guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time I’ve been sat here, so I just figured…maybe…”

You follow Daniel’s gaze across to the bar again, where Joel’s still standing, this time with Drew at his side. He’s mouthing Yeah, in reply to whatever Steve’s gabbing about, but not fucking listening to a word of it.

“No,” you say again, looking Joel dead in the eye. “We’re just friends.”

You turn to look back at the slick-haired man by your side, and he nods.

“But, uh,” you look into your glass, the ice suddenly more interesting than Daniel’s hopeful expression, “you’re a really nice guy, and I appreciate you asking, but I’m…not…exactly looking for anything right now. I’m – yeah.”

“Right – no, absolutely,” he says again, flustered. His fingers wrap tight around his glass and he shifts as if to stand. “That’s absolutely fine. I just thought I’d ask, y’know?”

He laughs nervously. You feel kinda guilty. He’s being so decent about it, and he means well, but you really just wish he would…fuck off.

He isn’t given the option.

Drew comes bounding over like a golden retriever and leans in to Daniel, another freshly poured pint swinging in his fist. “You’ve improved your game, Gilbert,” he sings in your suitor’s ear. “Must be years since the last time you scored an eagle!”

Daniel copies Drew’s guffawing, nodding along. He opens his mouth to say something, but Drew jumps ahead, offering to buy him a drink to celebrate.

“C’mon, my treat,” the blond tells him, and swaggers off towards the bar, a vice grip on the blue polo shirt.

The shadow of Joel slips around your back as soon as the two figures are out of view. He brushes against your shoulders and nudges his stool nearer to yours with his foot, before sitting back into it with a sigh.

You stare at him, smirking behind your hand, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. He catches your eye and watches you for a few seconds.

Sorry, he mouths eventually, and sneaks a hand onto your thigh.

You lean into him, feeling the weight of Daniel and his proposal and his fucking Italian restaurant fall like insignificant grains off sand off your shoulders. You trace a finger along the shape of Joel’s knuckles. “I feel bad,” you whisper.

“The hell for?” his voice asks, a deep rumble by your temple.

You shrug, looking up at him. “He’s a nice guy. He asked me on a date.”

“And did you want to go?”

Your face pulls into a wince, lips flinching. “Not really.”

“Then what’d I tell you about doin’ stuff you don’t want to?”

You don’t reply. Your mind sails back to that boat ride in Paris, when he basically told you off for feeling guilty about rejecting a fucking marriage proposal, never mind a downtown dinner. It doesn’t bear thinking about what fantastic rant he’s currently bottling up where Daniel’s feelings are concerned.

Joel’s a no-nonsense guy, you know this. Known it for as long as you’ve known him. He’s rational, he’s pragmatic. He says what he thinks, and you deal with however you feel about it. He doesn’t waste time making anyone feel better with lies or cushion-soft landings. His yes is yes and his no is no. And sure, maybe there’s something in there that you’d do well to adopt, too.

But there are inconsistencies to him that you can’t work out – yet. Something that makes him break his rules. He still hasn’t shared whatever the hell Jean-Marc said to him that made him sweep you off of that terrace minutes later. He won’t admit why he keeps dragging you along to these so-called ‘work’ events.

Part of you wants to break him open, chip away at him like the sculptures in the Louvre until his beating heart is in your hands, the rhythmic pulses sharing secrets like it’s speaking in Morse code.

And part of you – bigger, stronger, wiser – hopes you never get close.

When you come back to the room, sound of glasses clinking and men’s roaring laughter washing away any thoughts of jilted boyfriends or lonely golfers, Joel lowers his head to look you in the eye.

“You wanna go?”

You nod, scrunching your nose. “That okay?”

He leans in close, as close as he reckons he can get without drawing attention, and smiles softly. “You coulda asked to go home the minute we pulled up ‘n it woulda been okay. Let’s go.” And he takes your hand.

Drew’s slung over the shoulders of some argyle-patterned men who you’re sure have spent more time drinking than they have actually on the course. He’s lifting his glass, about to toast to life, or love, or fucking golf, when Joel sneaks by behind him, never letting go of your hand.

The Rolls Royce is sat in park at the bottom of the stone steps, hazard lights blinking. Joel holds the door open as you hop in under the twinkling ceiling.

“Well?” Rand asks, looking in the mirror. You respond with a toss of your head, squinting. “Did you keep your feet straight like I taught you?” he demands.

“Honestly, I was more focused on making sure I hit the ball, Rand.”

He snorts. “Office, Joel?”

“Office, Rand.”

As the partition closes, Joel’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head. You lean into it, tilting to look at him properly through eyes glazed with tiredness, alcohol, relief to be back in only his company.

And he’s staring back, eyes flitting from yours down to your mouth when you speak.

“Did you…did you send Drew over to get Daniel away from me?”

Joel’s eyes stay fixed on your lips. “You didn’t want me to do that?”

You ignore him. You want him to answer your question. “Did you?”

And then he looks up. Searches your eyes for a second, and then says, “Yeah.”

Your stare falls down into his lap. To his closed fist, resting on his thigh. His fingers are stroking the back of your head in lulling movements. You focus on the shine of his watch. And horror sets in.

“You wanted him to stay?” Joel asks, bringing you up for air for half a second.

You’re quiet when you reply. “…No. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

And that’s somehow scarier. That you didn’t want this decent, attractive-enough man around you. That the entire time he sat nipping your ear, your eyes, your hands, your heart was searching all over the room for Joel. Listening for the twang of his voice, looking for him out of your peripheral. Counting every second until he sauntered back to your side.

It’s rolling. The feeling. Like a snowball gaining speed down a mountain. Starts off a twinge, a plucking somewhere buried deep in your heart, and turns and turns and turns until it’s a weight behind your ribcage. Unable to burst free.

You take Joel’s wrist and move his hand to the curve of your thigh, then lock your fingers between his. He lets you. You lift your free hand to the cut of his jawline, training your fingers down his bristled beard, and he lets you do that, too. And when you pull his face down to meet yours, lips warm and wet and starving, he opens his mouth and slips his tongue past your teeth.

Your hands are knotting in his hair. You’re leaning back, trying to pull him down on top of you, but he’s stronger. His hands take a strong grip of your waist and hoist you over the center console and into his lap, your knees pressing into the soft leather either side of his hips.

“You gonna tell me what you’re up to, pretty girl?” he asks, tipping his head back. His shirt smells like his cologne. Fresh, sharp, clean. It sends your head spinning.

Your lips find his jawline and nip kisses and bites along the sharp ridge. He tastes like whiskey, tastes like the sun, tastes like he did four days ago. Sweet and smoky and laced with something intoxicating.

Joel sighs. His hands knead into your hips, and he pushes you down, grinding you into his body.

He’s hard. Already.

“Feels like you already know,” you mutter, still peppering his neck with kisses.

He laughs the cocky way he always does when you’re on this road, heading this way. His hands find your hair again and he pulls your head back, drawing a whine from your lips.

“You gonna take it like a good girl? Take daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, rubbing your damp panties over the bulge in his pants.

Joel unzips his trousers and shifts the waistband loose. You move his hands and peel back the top of his boxers yourself, and he watches from under heavy lids as you take him in both hands.

“That’s – my girl,” he chokes, eyes following your pumping fists. His head tips back with a quiet groan.

You push yourself up, shuffle nearer to him until your cunt hovers over his cock, and pull your panties to the side. You’re fucking soaked, already wet enough that Joel’s thick head catches on the cusp of your entrance as you line him up, stealing a gasp from your lips.

You sink, slowly, letting him push through into your sex inch by inch, feeling yourself pull open around him. Your brows furrow, jaw falls wide at the white-hot feeling between your legs, and you look up to see your expression reflected in Joel’s.

His hands clutch at your hips. “So – fucking – tight,” he hums, eyes rolling.

You lock your knees and begin bouncing, resting your hands on top of Joel’s. You’re steadily picking up pace, each nudge of his tip against the edge of your pussy sending another spasm of stars across your quickly-blinding vision.

“Off,” Joel mumbles against your lips, fingers pinching the fabric of your shirt.

“Huh?” you ask back, looking down to where he’s already peeling it up your torso.

“Just the skirt,” he pants, desperate, “nothin’ else.”

You lift your arms and let him pull the polo from your body, tossing it onto the carpeted floor. Joel unhooks your bra and pulls the lace down, before he’s angling his hips up again, hitting you somewhere deep enough inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

And then his lips are on your naked chest, sinking into the valley between your breasts, kissing over to your nipple. His tongue flicks over and over until the bud is pointed, enough to take it between his lips and graze over it with his teeth.

Your thighs are burning. Your skirt sits bunched up on your hips, only just covering your ass as Joel’s hands press into the supple skin, lifting you effortlessly up and down. You melt into his touch, let him do the work for a few seconds as he sits back in his seat to watch your body on his.

“My good – girl,” he groans, voice thick with arousal. “You know how pretty you look right now?”

You hook your hand around his neck, draw him in a little nearer. Shake your head with a filthy smile on your lips. “Tell me.”

Joel laughs shakily. “Wanna – fuckin’ – show you off to everyone, babygirl.”

He’s kissing you slowly, his tongue pressed to yours, when you pull back and separate your lips. He’s planted a seed in your mind.

Joel’s hips stop moving immediately. “Y’okay?” he asks, light hand on the side of your head, keeping your eyes on him.

You nod, breathing heavy. “Mhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “just…”

You look down to your skirt, your bare thighs spread over Joel’s lap. The thought flips over and over in your head, unsure if it’s brave enough to trot down to your lips and show itself to Joel.

“Baby?”

It’s Joel, though. Same guy who bent you over his desk, same guy who fucked you senseless feet away from his flight attendants. Same guy who, a few days ago, you were in this exact position with: writhing in next to nothing on his lap.

Fuck it. Right?

“…want him to watch,” you say, in a small voice.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change, save for the way his eyes narrow. “Want who to watch?”

You look at him a beat longer, and it sinks in. He gets it.

“Yeah, babygirl? That what you want?”

“Mhm,” you reply, shifting with him when he starts moving his hips again. The car moves forward, pushing you closer into him. “Want him to – watch you fuck me.”

“Dirty girl. You want him to watch you cum for daddy, pretty girl?”

“Ye-ah,” you moan, Joel’s hands now pushing your waist down, the stretch of his cock deep inside you almost burning with pleasure.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispers, watching as your face pulls and your brows knit together.

“Only cum for you, daddy,” you whimper.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Close your eyes.”

By this point, Joel’s assured tone, his strong hands on your hips, his fucking length buried inside you, are enough to convince you. You just do as you’re fucking told – as soon as you’re fucking told.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder and feeling him turn, his lips pressed close to your ear.

“Good girl. He there?”

The image of Daniel flits across your vision, bright blue eyes trained on you. He looks…intrigued, and stunned. He’s not breaking his stare.

“Mhm,” you say again, and start to lift off of Joel.

“He watching?”

“Y-eah,” you choke out, bouncing steadily.

“Put on a show for ‘im, pretty girl. Show him what you do for me.”

You focus on the feeling of Joel, cock fucking deep into you, nuzzling against your walls and splitting you open; the sound of his voice in your ear, gently encouraging, sweetly reassuring; the smell of him, the taste of him, the heat from his skin, and…the sight of the steel-blue stare behind your eyes. The tight polo shirt. The round biceps. Watching you.

Watching you be fucked by someone else. Watching you come undone for someone else. For the same guy whose stare he couldn’t shake while he so much as talked to you. Watching your face as it twists in filthy pleasure; listening to you make sounds, whisper words, whisper daddy in the ear of your fucking boss; have him whisper words back that make your cunt tighten around him and push the image of Daniel two steps back with shock.

“Tell me again, angel.” Joel’s voice starts to swipe Daniel away.

Your eyes peel open, the backseat of the Rolls a blur as you roll your head back. “What, daddy?” you whimper.

His hand takes your jaw, holds you in line with his own. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You breathe a laugh. It pulls across your mouth two seconds later. “M-me.”

Joel mirrors your grin. His hips buck once. You cry out. “Yeah?”

“Uhuh,” you yelp, getting louder as he snaps up into you deeper, faster, harder.

You’re drawing around him, warm and wet, feeling him deep in your stomach as your movements become sloppy and staggered. Pleasure swirls like a whirlpool between your legs, tightening, tightening, tightening.

Joel’s face sharpens into your vision. His eyes are fixed on yours. You watch his lips shape the words good girl, before he pulls your foreheads together, noses flush against one another.

“’n who fucks it like this?” he asks into your mouth.

You take a deep breath, inhaling his question, and let a satisfied exhale carry your answer back out.

“Just y-you, daddy.”

And you both fall.

You rock back and forth as the feeling drowns you both; open-mouthed, silently screaming, eyes trained on one another as you ride out your high together.

You throw your head back, eyes losing focus just inches under the stars until they blur into little white halos. Your arms lift up to lean against the tiny dotted lights, steadying yourself.

Joel’s hands clamp around your waist, holding you down on his cock as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside you, mixing with your own and filling you up. Your name escapes his lips hand in hand with a deep, throaty moan.

You body aches. Your cunt throbs around him, still humming with pleasure as your body curls again, falling forward until your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands run up and down your spine, lips press featherlight kisses to your ear, shhing, whispering praise, bringing you slowly back into the car with him.

“Daddy…” you whisper into the soft cotton of his shirt, and you feel the weight of his cheek on your head.

His hands cup your cheeks and he lifts your face until you’re staring at one another. Your eyes are tired, you can hardly keep them open, but Joel holds you upright.

“We gotta stop this,” he whispers, and your foreheads fall together again as you laugh. “I’m gettin’ too old for it, baby.”

He’s still buried deep inside, slowly softening, but you don’t want him to go. Not yet. He reaches for your bra, helps you slip it back on, and you bend back to take your shirt in two fingers.

When you’re dressed, you sink back into him.

Joel laughs, brushing the wisps of your hair disturbed by pulling your shirt over your head. “That what you were thinkin’ about? While he was talkin’ to you?”

You smile lazily. Shake your head no. “Was thinking…about you taking me to the Italian he was talking about.”

Joel’s smile grows bigger. Biggest you think you’ve ever seen him smile before. It breaks into a laugh, a toothy chuckle, and then he kisses you.

You melt into him, tongue and teeth crashing against one another. Joel’s open palms surf along your thighs, molding around your skin. He squeezes the dimpled skin on your hips between his fingers.

“Tonight work for you?” he asks, and you giggle.

“No,” you tell him, “I got Martha’s to-do list to work through.”

He nods knowingly, eyes closing. “You want a hand with it?”

You smirk. “Can we fool around in your office between items?”

His head tips back against the headrest with an obvious expression. “What do you think?”

The car slows to a stop and Rand’s knuckles rap against the glass of the partition. You slip off of Joel’s lap, fix yourselves quickly, and then amble off back to the top floor, still a little weak in the knees.

“Home time, Martha,” Joel calls almost as soon as the elevator doors pull open.

“Excuse me?” she yells back.

He laughs. “I’m lettin’ you go early. It ain’t fair that we get to go have our fun ‘n you’re stuck here ‘til five. Let us know what needs done, ‘n then you can get goin’.”

“Ain’t that chivalrous?” Martha beams, blinking at you.

You saunter by her with a smile and toss your bag under your desk. You spin around, brace yourself against the arms of your chair, and throw yourself back against the comfortable leather.

“So,” she announces, almost fucking skipping over to you with her trusty notepad back in her clutches. “I whittled it down to just six things, so it shouldn’t keep you much longer than five o’clock…”

You lift your brows and nod along.

“…as long as you don’t find anything to distract yourselves with, that is.”

----------

taglist: @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @noisynightmarepoetry @@isimpforfictionalmen @lizzie-cakes @sarahhxx03 @tobuildahomeinthewoods @kittenlittle24 @suzmagine @adaslittleblog @bbyanarchist @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @dizzyforyou @partyofone3413 @whatsliferightnow @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

832 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

Bulletproof (7/10)

Part Summary: “You sacrificed yourself for me,” she ends in a whisper. “I did what?” Knowing you don’t have any family, anyone you’re supposed to care about, the revelation stuns you. Who is Wanda to you?

Chapter word count: 3.1k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay, Still sharing a bed, Memory loss

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

You slide the change across the counter, offering a warm smile to the satisfied customer. “Have a nice day!” you call out with practiced cheerfulness.

You let out a sigh; only six more days until it’s Thursday again.

Without looking up, you mechanically go through the motions of preparing the register for the next customer in line.

“I’ll have the vanilla latte, please.”

The voice unmistakably belongs to the one you've been waiting to hear all week. Wanda stands on the other side of the counter, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, looking every bit as nervous as you feel the moment your eyes land on her. Your heart rate quickens, an involuntary response to the sudden nearness of her.

Subconsciously, you open your mouth to greet her, the words, "Hi, Wanda," at the tip of your tongue. But you snap your mouth shut at the last moment, realizing the slip that almost occurred. You know her name, yes, but not because she's told you. Louisa had been the one to fill in that blank.

“Your... vanilla latte will be right up,” you manage to say, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so out of sorts. The news that she was searching for you last night still lingers in your mind. And though every part of you yearns to question Wanda about it, you're uncertain how to broach the topic with someone who's essentially a stranger.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tongue fleetingly grazing her lip. The sound of her saying your name only intensifies the blush warming your cheeks.

Your hand, as it's done this countless times before, reaches for a cup. Without thinking, without asking, you write ‘Wanda’ on it, surprising even yourself. You pour the milk, steam rising as the frother does its job. A few times, you sneak glances at her, and each time, you find her already looking your way, her gaze unwavering.

Finishing the final touches on her drink, you set it down at the pickup station where Wanda is waiting for it. She steps forward, her fingers brushing yours as she takes the cup. “Thank you, Y/N,” she responds, deliberately emphasizing your name.

As you move on to the next order, you catch Wanda out of the corner of your eye, making her way to her usual spot by the window. It's a table tucked away in a cozy nook that offers a clear view of the counter. You can't help but smile, feeling a warmth of contentment knowing she's there, within reach whenever you want to see her.

Lost in her thoughts, Wanda takes a sip of her latte. It's only when she sets the cup down does she notice the name written on it.

In your handwriting.

How did you know her name? She never let on because she'd signed a legal document that forbade her from telling you anything, unless... unless you remembered something?

She feels her heart rate pick up, and without thinking, she stands up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over. Taking quick strides, she's in front of the counter faster than she realizes.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice catching a bit. You feel a blend of confusion and terror all at once.

“Why...Why did you write my name on the cup? Do you re—”

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Louisa interjects before you can dissolve into a heap of embarrassment on the floor.

Wanda pointedly turns to Louisa, arms crossed in front of her.

Louisa toys with the edge of her apron, her cheeks slightly pink. “Well, it's not like I straight-up told them, but Y/N might've heard your name from me... accidentally.” She gives a small, awkward shrug, trying to dodge Wanda's piercing look.

“Anyway, I've got orders to fulfill,” she adds quickly. Then with a hurried nod, she heads back to her station, leaving you face-to-face with Wanda.

You gulp, struggling to speak up. Your hands feel clammy, and you kind of wish the counter was tall enough to duck behind.

“Why would your colleague tell you my name?” Wanda asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.

Your eyes dart around, looking for an escape, but it's clear Wanda expects an answer. “Um... I might've asked about it,” you admit, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

“You wanted to know my name?” Wanda's voice reaches your ears while you keep your focus on the countertop.

You take a deep breath, mustering up some courage. “I hope this doesn't come off too weird, but ever since you first walked in, I've been curious about your name,” you admit, your gaze dropping even further to your shoes. “Okay, that sounded kind of creepy. Sorry about that.”

Wanda blinks in surprise, processing your words. “Oh,” is all she manages to say. Then, without another word, she returns to her seat by the window, leaving you flustered and second-guessing every word you'd just uttered. From behind the counter, you watch her, heart sinking. You watch as she sips her latte, lost in her thoughts, occasionally peering over the rim of her cup, casting glances your way.

Did you just ruin any chance of getting to know her better? It's probably not a great sign she walked out without reacting to you admitting your crush on her.

From her seat, Wanda’s mind races. A part of her is wracked with sadness. Sadness to see no recognition in your eyes still. How could someone forget something that meant so much? And more importantly, why did fate have to play such a cruel hand?

How could you forget her? Someone you risked your life for?

But then, another realization strikes her.

You wanted to know her name—for weeks now, since she started visiting you on Thursdays. Perhaps you don't remember her from your past, but your interest in getting to know her offers Wanda some reprieve. Maybe for now, she has to be content with that.

Maybe there’s no harm in what she wants to happen next. She recalls the countless secrets she’s already kept, the rules she’s broken, and the distances she's traveled just to see you. With Vision’s help, she’s been flying back and forth between states, all the while keeping it from the team. If she’s already breaking a non-disclosure agreement due to your reassignment, what's one more rule?

Taking a deep breath, she stands up, resolve steeling her nerves. She walks up to you with confident strides despite the fluttering anxiety in her chest. “Hey,” she starts, drawing your attention, “When does your shift end?”

You look up, slightly taken aback by her directness. “Um, 8 pm.”

“And after that...?”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Why would she ask? Does she want to... spend more time with you? Before Wanda can make the situation even more awkward with her stammering, you attempt to flirt in the only way you know how, “Planning to kidnap me or something?”

Wanda's cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, her eyes widening in surprise. “No! I just thought—”

“Oh, I didn't mean to—” you begin, regretting the choice of your playful words.

Wanda, clearly flustered, tries to formulate a coherent response. “I was just—You know, trying to be forward for once and—” She pauses, taking a deep breath, and chuckles at her own awkwardness. “I'm not great at this, am I?”

You grin at her. “Clearly, I’m no better.”

“Do you want to, uh, grab ice cream after your shift?”

“I’d love to,” you reply, your smile growing to match Wanda's. “Meet you later outside?”

Wanda nods, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “It's a date.”

You spend the last few hours of your shift in a state of giddy excitement, frequently glancing at the clock, eager for the end of your shift. Each time the bell above the door chimes, you hope it's Wanda entering. By 7:45, you're already tidying up and getting ready to leave.

8pm arrives and with a quick farewell to Louisa, you push open the door to the café, the cool evening air wrapping around you.

Just as you step onto the pavement, there's an unexpected, sharp tug on your arm, pulling you into a dark alley.

“Hey!” you shout.

Fear courses through you, and you struggle, trying to break free. Just as one of the abductors attempts to cover your mouth with a cloth, a red blur races toward them. The abductors are thrown off their feet, their bodies slamming into the nearby wall. It happens so quickly that it's almost a blur.

But when the dust settles, standing protectively in front of you is Wanda.

“You okay?” she asks, her tone devoid of the commanding presence she displayed earlier.

You nod, but the shock has rendered you speechless.

As you try to gather your bearings, Wanda wraps an arm around you, guiding you away from the scene. “It's not safe. We need to get out of here.”

You're both a few blocks away when you finally find your voice. “What was that? Why did they... and you? What did you do?”

She stops, turning to face you, her features softening. “I didn't want to get you involved. Not like this,” she says.

“Involved in what? What's happening?” you demand.

Wanda looks down, taking a step back. “Do you trust me?”

“I... I don't know,” you say, trying to reconcile the kind woman you've grown fond of with the apparent superhero who had just saved you.

Wanda sighs, taking your hand gently. “There's a lot you don't remember. About us, about you. It's safer for everyone if you don't, but now... it seems you're in danger regardless.”

“You're scaring me,” you whisper, holding her hand loosely.

She looks at you with pained eyes. “I promise I'll explain everything. But right now, we need to go somewhere safe.”

“My apartment. We can—”

“Absolutely not,” Wanda cuts you off sharply. “If they know where you work, they probably know where you live. They'll be waiting.”

The thought of strangers lurking in your home, waiting to ambush you, sends a shiver down your spine. "Then where?" you ask, feeling vulnerable and exposed out in the open.

“There's a place,” Wanda says. “Somewhere they won't think to look.”

She leads you through winding streets, and eventually, you find yourself at a seemingly abandoned building. Wanda carefully approaches a hidden entrance, pushing open a concealed door.

Inside, it doesn’t feel abandoned at all. The walls are lined with bookshelves, filled with titles from all genres. There's a quaint kitchenette in one corner, and a cozy living area with plush sofas and a fireplace in another. A few framed photos adorn the walls, though turned face-down so you can't quite see who's in them.

“This is...unexpected,” you comment, looking around the transformed space. “Is this where you live?”

Wanda chuckles softly, “No, I live at the Avengers compound. But Vision helped me set this place up... for emergencies.”

“For emergencies?” you echo, your eyebrows knitting together. “Like being attacked outside coffee shops?”

Wanda looks away. It doesn’t matter that you don’t remember anything. You’re still so naturally gifted at figuring her out.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But also... I was thinking about making this place a sort of... second home,” Wanda says.

You tilt your head, puzzled. “Why would you need a second home in North Carolina when you live in New York?”

She looks around the place, seemingly avoiding your gaze. But then, she turns to face you, sincerity in her eyes, “To be close to you.”

It suddenly clicks—she's been planning, making moves, all for you. As much as you'd love to revel in the fact that Wanda feels the same way, knowing she's been watching and even got a place nearby just to be close... Well, it's a lot to wrap your head around.

To say it's overwhelming is putting it mildly.

You’re not sure what to feel about these myriad of revelations. What you do feel strongly is that Wanda doesn't come across as a stalker with harmful intentions (even though saying any stalker has good intentions is a stretch).

“Look,” you say, leaning against a wall as your legs feel like they might give out. “I need to understand. Why all this? Why not just approach me or talk to me instead of... this?” You gesture around the apartment.

Wanda runs a hand through her hair, looking genuinely troubled. “It's not as straightforward as you think. Given who I am, my past, my abilities... There are dangers, complexities. And I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” you question, your frustration steadily growing. “From you?”

“From the likes of me,” she whispers.

You take a moment, letting her words sink in. “So, all those Thursdays, at the coffee shop... you weren’t just stopping by for coffee. You were... watching me?”

Wanda sighs heavily. There’s no point in lying to you now.

“I knew where they had relocated you after you lost your memories and your powers,” she says.

“Relocated? Powers?” The words swirl in your head, conflicting with everything you thought you knew about yourself. Part of you half-expects someone to jump out and reveal this is all an elaborate prank, because how can any of this be real?

She nods slowly. “You were an Avenger, Y/N. Just like me. We fought together. We... were close. And after the incident, they moved you to keep you safe. But I needed to be sure. I needed to see for myself.”

You attempt to sift through the influx of new information, attempting to grasp each piece individually.

“How did I lose my powers?” you ask.

Wanda’s eyes meet yours, and you’re not ready for the vulnerability displayed in them.

“You lost your powers because you saved me,” Wanda says. Before you can even question her, she delves into the account of the attack at the compound, of finding her beneath the rubble, on the brink of death. You'd pulled the steel impaling her, using every ounce of your strength to mend her wounds and keep her alive. Once impervious to bullets, your depleted energy left you exposed.

In Wanda's eyes, it was all her fault.

“You sacrificed yourself for me,” she ends in a whisper.

“I did what?” Knowing you don’t have any family, anyone you’re supposed to care about, the revelation stuns you.

Who is Wanda to you?

Wanda swallows hard. “Your powers, Y/N, are linked to your emotions, to your very soul. And when you saw me in that state, you poured every bit of your energy, your very essence, into saving me. You brought me back from the brink, but in doing so, you lost everything that makes you... you.”

Your pulse quickens, snatches of memories pushing to the forefront: the tang of smoke, chaos everywhere, the gut-wrenching sight of Wanda, still and lifeless, and that burning urge to rescue her. It's like a fog's lifting, but everything's still a bit blurry.

“Why don’t I remember any of this?” you say under your breath, your hands balling into fists.

“There were complications. They said the exertion, combined with the traumatic event, caused a severe memory block,” Wanda murmurs. “We—we tried everything to bring your memories back. But nothing worked. And then they decided... it was safer to relocate you. To give you a normal life away from all the dangers that come with being an Avenger.”

“Who's 'they'? I can't even—” You stop mid-sentence, feeling a sharp headache building as Wanda's words start to sink in.

Wanda quickly moves closer, her hands reaching out to steady you. “Easy,” she murmurs gently. She pulls you into a nearby chair and kneels before you. “I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to stave off the dizziness. “I just... I don’t remember any of it. Any of this.”

Wanda’s gaze drops guiltily. “And for that, I’m so sorry. I wish you never had to go through any of it.”

After a brief pause, she adds, “You should get some rest. It's been one hell of a day.”

Guiding you gently by the arm, Wanda leads you to the adjoining room. As you step inside, you notice the room’s simplicity: a wardrobe, a bedside table, and a single bed positioned under a window. Your eyes dart between the bed and Wanda, and you mumble, “I can take the couch.”

Wanda shakes her head, dismissing the idea, “Nonsense. You'll take the bed.”

“That's not fair. I can't take your bed,” you argue, your eyes fixed on the plush pillows and blankets.

She smiles, feeling a sense of déjà vu from the first time she took you to her room. “I'll sleep on the floor.”

“No way,” you retort. “If anyone's sleeping on the floor, it's me.”

Wanda sighs and then says, “Look, the bed's big enough for both of us. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before…”

You blink, taken aback. Another missing memory? You ponder for a moment, then give a reluctant nod. “Alright, but only if you're sure.”

Wanda grins, the edges of her lips curling up sweetly. “I am.”

She then moves to a small closet and pulls out a shirt and some sleep shorts. “Here,” she hands them to you, “they should fit.”

You thank her, examining the clothes. They look comfortable enough. Both of you stand awkwardly for a moment before you break the silence. “Shall we...?”

Wanda nods, and with a quiet agreement, both of you turn around, ensuring your backs are to each other as you change. After that, you both move to opposite sides of the bed. Before lying down, you grab a pillow and place it squarely in the middle, creating a clear boundary.

Wanda glances at the pillow barrier, a smirk playing on her lips. “Seriously?” she says with a playful lilt.

“What?” you shoot back, a bit defensive.

Her fingers tracing the edge of one of the pillows. “We used to do this, you know,” she explains vaguely.

“What?”

“We had a pillow barrier for a short time in the past. It didn't last long, but…” Wanda trails off, feeling a little silly for bringing up a memory that you clearly don’t recognize at all.

Sensing her despondency, you urge her to tell you more. “Why didn’t it last long?”

Wanda dares to meet your eyes in the darkness. “We became closer, in every way. The pillow just... became unnecessary.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. Even though you can't recall the memory, you can sense the significance of it to Wanda.

“Well, for tonight, the pillow stays,” you murmur.

She nods, her eyes misty. “Of course. Tonight, it stays.”

Both of you turn away, but just being near each other brings a sense of peace. Given everything that's happened today, it's surprising how quickly the two of you are pulled into a deep slumber.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers #vision

571 notes · View notes

bebebelll · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty girls and flowers | lando norris smau

pairing: lando norris x student!reader warning: cursing, unrealistic if lando did this in real life the girl would absolutely get doxxed

yn_phd good morning by best pals! this month's episode will be out this tuesday. my lovely amazing talented so pretty best friend got two tickets to silverstone so if you're there come say hello👋! the podcast guest will be my old professor from freshman year so put down any questions you have about mary i of england! stay healthy and hydrated ❤️❤️

liked by bestie_n and 8 475

bestie_n omg dont praise me like that im blushing

username can you ask why henry 8 never made a marriage for mary?

username god i dont even like history that much but fuck are vlogs calming and sweet and pretty af

scuderiaferrari it's been a lovely weekend with charles_leclerc and carlossaiz55! P4 and P7 💪 Here is the first taste of the silverstone photo dump!

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 193 847 others

username CHARLES IN P4 CHARLES IN P4 CHARLES IN P4 I REPEAT CHARLIE CHUCK IS IN P4

landonorris whos that?

carlossainz55 its me landonorris no the pretty one charles_leclerc me? landonorris ew no the PRETTY one charles_leclerc ew? i will drive you to the wall

username not charles threatening to send lando into the wall in the comments

username you just fucking know he'd do it too just ask max

username is lando trying to hook up with the girl in the photo?

yn_phd i put on a little bow so i could be the prettiest girl at the bookstore ❤️today i wrote a page, went on a reading binge about chariot racing in ancient rome, had a breakdown and ate pasta.

liked by bestie_n, carlossainz55 and 11 264 others

username is this the girl @ landonorris

username lando the pretty girl is here

username cmon lando shoot your shot

username i mean he'll miss but its gonna be funny username no one trusts the rizz of this man with a shit beard

bestie_n who is lando? where have you people come from?

carlossainz55 i think this is the girl we were with

carlossainz55 she got lost around the track so we took a photo and got a staff member to help her. she was prettier in real life. good luck mr no rizz you need it username NOT CARLOS COMING FOR LANDO

username LANDO NORRIS

username this is the girl? not really seeing it doesnt feel like landos type you know

landonorris haha okay people lets not do this haha its not that funny it is a bit embarrasing hah (my dms are open for pretty girls always)

alex_albon well youre talented in the car at least

landonorris my dad scolded me for getting drunk on twitter so i went to eat their fridge empty. love being home

liked by carlossainz55, yn_phd and 385 749 others

username is he trying to look extra cute and soft to seduce the pretty girl?

username you just googled boyfriend material and tried your best huh

georgerussel63 i though youd chosen to go with the shirtless gym photos?

alex_albon you sent like fifteen different gym pics to the groupchat and then dont choose even one? fuck our help then i guess landonorris shut up shut up shut up

username i can see the pretty girl in the likes though 👀

yn_phd me and the gang went to a lecture about lord byron's sex life on thursday. i had a pretty cute visitor this weekend and even our lord and king aragorn the cat liked him!!

liked by landonorris, bestie_n and 9 736 others

bestie_n it was a lecture about lord byron's reputation and fame and how it effected the romance genre?

yn_phd exactly!

username are we gonna get an episode about THE george gordon byron please say yes

yn_phd my best pal i will rant about the whole geneva squad

username did lando norris actually do it

username did landonorris attend the lecture too?

landonorris ive never been happier that i chose karting and skipped school

yn_phd i have discovered hidden depths in myself. i can cry about essay structures and then drive bumper cars an hour later

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 11 379 others

landonorris it was just karting babe they were not bumper cars

yn_phd but i crashed so much? landonorris you were great!! i was so proud!! 🧡

username okay but how does this relationship even work? if she doesnt know anything about racing?

yn_phd i tell him everything about the tudor dynasty and he explains to me how the drs works

landonorris use date night to play uno and see whos more competitive (me, i won)

liked by yn_phd, alex_albon and 385 739 others

yn_phd the way i screamed after you gave me those cards

username lando really be gambling with a new relationship

alex_albon poor girl

georgerussell63 remember when we played uno and lando got a +4 card from all of us and he got a mental breakdown alex_albon yeahh we had to take 10min break cause he left for a drive around the block maxverstappen1 the neighbours made a noise complaint too

yn_phd i got him flowers and later we both crash landed on the bowling alley floor

liked by landonorris, bestie_n and 13 847 others

alex_albon oh so this why you called me crying your tits off

maxverstappen1 he called you too?

landonorris pretty girl🧡🧡

yn_phd pretty guy❤️❤️

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris insta au #f1 social media au #lando norris imagine

711 notes · View notes

writingshushf1 · 2 years ago

Text

Does your mother know?

Summary: "Now you're so cute, I like your style And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile"

When a new Ferrari driver crosses paths with the one and only Sebastian Vettel.

Rating: +18

Warnings: shameless smut, age gap, grief/mourning, slight mdom vibes, y/n being a brat, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Word count: 4.8k

Note: more filthy fiction w/ seb! they have a 8/10 year age gap, if that bothers you- don’t read!

masterlist

There's that look in your eyes I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild Ah, but girl, you're only a child

You were the new Ferrari driver. That was amazing, you weren't the first AFAB racing, yet the only one to get in a position as high as that, in a top team. Charles Leclerc was your teammate and you knew him before, you were good friends, you often went out with him and his younger brother, who was closer to your age. The pre-season tests in Bahrain happened, but you didn't talk to the other drivers, more out of insecurity and fear of someone judging you, you preferred to stay in your corner, studying about the car and its possibilities.

Thursday and the day went very well, just press conference day. You saw some drivers, said hello and introduced yourself, but nothing too big, because the focus was different.

Friday was the day. Free practice to test how ready the car was for your style of racing. You arrived early and had lunch alone at the Ferrari hospitality, waiting for the weather to get milder so you could do the paddock walk. When you decided to go, you found Sebastian Vettel doing the same, alone; as soon as he saw you, he started to slow down to keep the same pace. Initially, you preferred to stay silent, you didn't want to bother him anyway - and as you consider yourself an annoying person in general, it would be better to keep your mouth shut anyway. He probably noticed your insecurity-and in a way, fear-of starting a conversation, so he decided to start it.

"Welcome to Formula 1." He smiled and you couldn't deny it, he had his charm. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I hope it was only the good stuff."

"Of course, the newest Scuderia Ferrari driver, who has had an impressive year in Formula 2 and clearly a great contender to take the lead away from the Red Bulls. As well as being the youngest female driver to win that position."

"I'm not that young."

"But you're younger than me, that's for sure." He chuckled low, patting her on the shoulder twice.

"Like you're that old."

"Death is already knocking on my door." You couldn't hold back your laugh and he discreetly paid attention to your reaction, smiling. "Anyway, how are your expectations for the weekend?"

"Great. I hope... Actually, I will get on the podium on Sunday."

"Ambitious, that's what I find amazing about you younger drivers."

"Like you were not the same in your Red Bull days."

"So I've got a fan?" The suggestive tone in Sebastian's voice at that moment didn't arouse anything in you, in your opinion, he was just joining in the fun.

"How could I not? I always saw you as a role model. Especially with your more recent community work.... In fact, if you need someone one day, I'm a person who has a pretty free schedule."

"I'd love to. Mick usually joins me too. Have you met him? You two would become good friends."

"He was from the Ferrari academy, obviously! It's years since I've seen him properly."

You may have understood a pretext that he wanted to set you up with the younger Schumacher, but preferred to ignore - well, that wasn’t actually the case for the moment, he just treated the younger boy as one of his kids. You said your goodbyes, as soon began what you had been waiting for all day.

Practice had been great, the car was living up to your expectations, so the podium you were counting on would come out on Sunday and you could prove to everyone who doubted your ability that yes, you deserved to be among the best. You were radiant, the team director even asked if there was something wrong, since most of the time you remained serious, without smiles and ready to kill someone if necessary; it was as if you could be who you always wanted to be, it was a hard way and the criticism would never stop, but nothing could take away what you were feeling. Going back to your motorhome - since you preferred to spend the weekend there and not in a decent hotel - you saw Vettel walking with his head down, taking his bike and leaving; you thought about saying hello, but he didn't seem to be in a good mood and maybe he wanted to be without anyone in his ears babbling about random things

Meanwhile, on the way back to the hotel, the German's mind could only think of one thing: Ferrari's new driver. Sebastian was conflicted by the conversation with you during the walk, it was strange for him, seeing such a beautiful person and feeling that buzz in his stomach, something he hadn't felt for months. Since Hanna died , he had completely shut down; just thinking about her brought tears to his eyes, because it was hard to live alone after spending since your teenage years by the side of someone you loved, a person who built a family - that now, he juggled between leaving the kids with her family and yours, trying to see them whenever you had a break from racing and that action made you feel guilty, of them not having their father there when they needed him the most. The grief had consumed his body, the first months the only thing that got him out of bed were the race weekends, but with each defeat, his mind weighed more and more; months later, he finally decided to start therapy, he needed to be getting better mentally, he couldn't stay in this situation forever, for the kids, for the team and for everyone that counted on him; and it helped a little, the depression was easier to deal with, the days were lighter, even though the feeling was there. Even though the beaming smile was back around the Paddock and his volunteering to help the environment was back in full swing, it still wasn't enough to make him optimistic about living, even though two years had passed since the whole tragedy and sometimes Hanna's voice came in his head, telling him to move on. For that reason, seeing you walking beside him, smiling and being interested left him with this strange feeling, of a piece of the puzzle finally being found again. He quickly cleared that thought away, it wasn't what he was thinking at all, it was just a happiness to see a person like you on the track - and even if it was a little flare of romance, you were too young for him.

This grief stage wasn’t over, of course, even though he was in the last step: acceptance, although it still hurt deep in his heart and because of it, for a while he hadn’t made the best decisions for his life, however, that stayed only with him. Vettel didn’t open up about it with anyone for a while, friends would come and talk to him, but they only received nods and “I’m fine” type of responses, until the first anniversary of her death, during a Saturday post qualy, where he broke down during an interview and Mick took him back to his driver’s room, on that afternoon he blurted all his feelings out, all the shit he had done during this period, only for two people, Mick and Lewis. Nowadays, he still wasn’t 100% back on his feet again, however, he was trying his best and maybe, the new rookie had something to do with this new motivation.

…..................................................

Your first race was a success, as hard as it was, p3 came with a taste of victory. That night you chose not to go out and celebrate, you were too tired, because something they didn't tell you before was how the car would suck your energy - it was different to what you were used to in Formula 2.

The weeks and your next races were going well, lots of podiums and scoring zones, but still no wins. The situation of not having any wins yet was driving you crazy, no matter how flawless your performance was, the media was starting to get on your nerves with harsh criticism and you hated to admit it, but it annoyed you having to listen to this negativity while other drivers with cars with equal or better machinery than yours who are still winless were getting nothing but praise. The highlight of the week was on Saturday, after an accident during qualifying, you were in Q3 and ready to take your first pole position, but due to Norris braking hard during an 'S' corner in front of you, there was no time to slow down, your car hit the back of the number 4 McLaren, bringing both of them off track and subsequently causing your current times to be deleted and a red flag. You were angry with him and were ready to cuss him out, however after a rather lengthy conversation while your cars returned to the pits, he acknowledged his mistake and you worked it out; even though he admitted it in the post qualifying interviews, there were still allegations and questions about the possible crash being your fault, which made you so angry that he ended the interviews earlier than the others.

On Sunday, even if you started P9, you would do your best to win at Imola, it was a question of honour. You changed strategies with your team, talked to everyone and tried to be as assertive as possible, you knew that they had the ability to make this win happen. Nervousness was running inside you, it seemed that the world would end as soon as the lights turned off. The race was fine, already at the start you had already got p5, the tyre changes were in the time that you had stipulated with the team of what would be better and could hold the others until the end. In the last two laps you were less than a second behind first place, which at the moment was Max, and you wouldn't hesitate to pass him no matter what. Seconds before you crossed the win line, you accelerated the car harder than before, hearing the engine squelching, however it wasn't the moment to stop, not until you passed him; that's what happened, seeing the chequered flag in front of everyone else.

"P1, you are p1." Your response was just to shout back, he was very happy and didn't know what to say.

"P1 piccolina ! You did it." You heard your engineer say on the radio.

"And Charles?" Your voice was still euphoric, you wanted to know where your teammate was standing too.

“P3.”

The interviewers this time were kinder, with several people stopping you and congratulating you on the flawless race you had run. This time you deserved quite a party.

In these weeks you got closer to Vettel, he became a great friend and mentor. You admired him a lot, because he was always a great example and to be able to call him a friend was a privilege, so you didn't hesitate to go and bother him after the race, knocking on the door of his motor home - you knew that he hadn't gone back to the hotel yet, as he always warned you and offered you company on the way back.

"What's up?" his tone of voice was not the most welcoming, maybe he wanted to be alone, however the moment he opened the door and saw it was you, his expression lightened. "Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Do you need anything?"

"Um... So, I won the race..."

"I know... I gave you a hug right after." He cracked a smile, a little confused by the situation.

"Me and a few other drivers... Almost all of them actually, we're going out tonight, it's a nightclub.... I know it's not your style, but it's a celebration and I'd love for you to go." Your face was turning red, it was such a simple request, but you wanted to hide because of sudden shyness. "We reserved some tables near the smaller dance floor, because not everyone is a fan of dancing."

"Do I really need to?" He whined, grimacing and leaning against the stopper.

"Please... Make that sacrifice for me." You gave him the puppy dog look.

He looked at you for a few seconds, wondering whether or not it was really worth it to hang out with several young pilots in a nightclub. "Okay. For you, I'll go." He snapped, sighing loudly, and you gave the German a hug, squealing loudly.

"I'll give you the address! Wear something cool and that doesn't make you look like a middle-aged school teacher."

"Hey! That's an insult against my style."

It was almost 10 o'clock at night, you had just put on your high heels, finally ready; Charles was texting you five times a second, telling you to hurry or he would go alone and you would miss your ride.

When you arrived at the nightclub, you went quickly to the group where the other pilots were, greeting them and drinking your first shot of tequila to open the night properly. Half an hour later, from far away you saw curly blond hair entering the place and at the same moment you knew who it was: Sebastian; he arrived shyly, saying hello to everyone, getting close to you, who gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. You noticed that he took your advice about the outfit, this time wearing light brown jeans, a white tank top with a larger dark green short-sleeved button-up shirt and some black sneakers, but what took your breath away was his hair up in a loose bun with a few strands falling off. Maybe you checked him vigorously, but you could blame the alcohol.

"You're not sober." He commented, discreetly checking your look.

"And you won't be either," And then you handed him a bottle of beer - because you knew he liked it.

Sebastian felt guilty that he was checking your body every five minutes, a conscious voice in his head screamed that you were too young for him, too innocent - I mean, not so innocent, but that made him even more curious. His thoughts were dissipated when he saw you turning a shot of some coloured liquid, paying more attention on what you were going to do or react, his protective instinct was above the desire of wanting you; he didn't comment anything, just watched, disassociating a little bit of reality, having again that little voice that he didn't fit with the others there, that he was too old for this generation.

A few more shots and drinks in, your body already felt lighter. You were chatting with Gasly and Ricciardo, until they came up with the idea of everyone hitting the dance floor - even if most of them weren't the best dancers or didn’t like to, however, when all of them are at least tipsy, they don’t even think before abandoning the tables to go. Vettel hesitated to go with them, so you patted Daniel on the back and said you would be dancing in a few minutes.

“Hey… Don’t you wanna go with us?” You put your hand on his shoulder, looking at him.

“I don’t feel like dancing.” He didn’t look back at you, something was wrong.

“Is something bothering you? You can go if you’re not feeling good here.” Maybe it was the drunk you, but you placed your hand in his neck, making him look at you. “I’m not gonna be upset if you leave. We talked, drinked and it’s okay if you want to go.”

He was hesitating, he didn't know whether to leave or stay there, moments like that were hard; Sebastian was never someone so social, of course in his Red Bull years he partied a lot, but it was never his favourite thing to do. The German looked around and then deposited his eyes on you, still conflicted with all his thoughts running through his head. His biggest dilemma at the moment was about the Ferrari driver, whether he would stay for her, dance along and have fun, finally let go and be able to live a little, move on, on the other hand, this feeling of leaving the past behind was overwhelming. He stood for a few more seconds thinking, while you waited; "what could possibly go wrong?", "what am I being so afraid of?", "why couldn't I make out a little?" , then he sighed low, grabbed another bottle of beer and cracked a smile.

"Let's go to the dance floor." He held her hand. "I can't keep living like this."

"Like what?" Tu asked, not sure what exactly he was talking about.

"Grieving." You didn't know how to answer, for a moment you had forgotten he was a widower, so you just guided him into the huddle of people, squeezing his hand.

You started to dance, letting your body free, it was nice to be able to move to the beat without someone being able to judge you. Daniel came over with two shots of vodka for you, you drank them both quickly and giggled quietly, watching him do the same. This time, the drink hit a little harder, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more and more. As a result, your movements were dirtier, rolling your hips on your own while your friends were glued to unknown girls or dancing shamefully while drinking. Meanwhile Vettel was trying to dance with the younger drivers, but he felt out of place, he wasn't as young as them anymore, so after a while he started to walk past people to walk back to the table, but he caught your eye first.

"Stay dancing here with me." You held his arm, pulling him closer.

"Are you sure? Because… I can see what you want, but you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun… So maybe I'm not the one to be dancing, call Mick or Charles.

“Stop with this no sense!” You blurted the words, laughing. “Just follow the rhythm, look."

Chloe's song 'Have mercy' started playing and you cracked a smile, starting to move your body slowly, maybe you weren't noticing, but it was in a sexy way that turned Sebastian red, looking sideways until you put your arms around his neck, catching his attention.

"Keep moving with me." He placed his hands on your waist, slowly getting more into the rhythm.

You both forgot about the world around you, dancing just for each other, with your bodies glued together and embarrassed smiles as you tried to keep in rhythm until the song ended. He pulled away a little, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. “Montero” by Lil Nas X started playing and you cracked a big smile, turning your back to him and letting the older pilot's hands on your waist, rolling your hips against him. It took a few instants before he understood and got into the rhythm, loosening up and starting to have fun with you.

“Does your mother know you dance to older men like that?” He whispered, travelling his hands around your body.

What had happened after, was that you had spent it together, drinking even more and dancing more overtly, which the others noticed-especially Daniel and Charles, who were closer to you, but they would let the matter die. The point of leaving was when the blonde was really wanting to kiss you, but the last shred of notion he had showed.

"Let's go to the hotel." He muttered, with his accent stronger than usual.

You didn't even say goodbye to anyone, you just hailed a taxi and went to his hotel, arriving there and making sure no one saw you together. When you entered the room, he quickly locked the door and came close to you, passing his hands around your waist.

"I hope I didn't get the wrong signals." He then brought your face closer against his, initiating a sloppy kiss that you reciprocated at the same moment, slipping your arms around his shoulders and your hands stopping at his neck, caressing the spot. His tongue was already going against yours in a desperate rhythm, like he waited all night to be with you; when you broke it off to breathe, you looked at him, worried.

“Is it okay? To be kissing… I know you…” You started, but he put his finger on your lips.

“It’s okay… Let’s focus on us.”

So you kissed him again, this time with more urgency than before, allowing yourself to run your hands down his back, gripping the fabric of his button-down shirt. He broke the kiss this time, looking into your face for a few seconds, admiring you, before he started trailing kisses from the back of your ear to the collar of your dress, sucking and licking a few specific spots, which made you whimper with pleasure.

"Can I continue?" He asked as he touched the zip of your dress.

"You don't have to be so gentle, Seb."

"But you deserve it."

"And I say... You can be rough with me, I know you like it." You cracked a smile, disentangling yourself from him and sitting on the bed.

He looked at her for a few seconds, biting his lower lip before he started to move closer, standing between your legs.

“Oh… Since you like to be dominated…” His face got closer to yours where you could smell his breath, but didn’t kiss you. “Strip for me. Now.” He backed off, crossing his arms.

So this was a game and you would follow his rules, with a little bit of a twist. Slowly, you started taking away your high heels, then your panties that you put in his trouser pocket, with only a part of the red lace sticking out and finally you took your red lace bra off, putting it on the ground. Now, you were only wearing your tight black dress with your legs a little bit open while you waited for his response.

“The dress.”

“I want to keep it on.”

“I don’t remember you being in charge.” He whispered, holding your face with one hand. However, when he saw you like that, his body liked it for sure. “You can keep it on, but don’t disobey me again, okay baby?” You nodded.

He started to kiss your neck again, being rougher than before, biting and leaving marks you would regret in the next morning. Meanwhile, his hands were travelling around your body until they stayed at your breasts, pulling down the fabric just for them to pop out; Vettel looked a few seconds at your boobs, before starting to suck one and pinching the other nipple harshly. You moaned his name repeatedly, feeling your core dripping wet from the attention he gave to both of your breasts. Suddenly he stopped, earning a whine from you.

“Wait up, baby…” He backed off, getting on his knees on the floor - you never thought a man could look this hot on their knees.

He opened your legs, starting to kiss every single inch of your thighs in a provocative way and you just whined in the process, because you wanted him tasting you. “What?” He stopped, looking at you, the vision of a messy haired Vettel between your legs made you moan and throw your head back. “I need you to use your words.” As much as you wanted to say, nothing would come out, it was overwhelmingly good to just have that moment. “Lieb, use your words, I’m not going to say again.”

“I want you to taste me.” He looked at you, cracking up a smile.

Then he lowered his head again, leaving a few more kisses, especially on top of your core. The German’s tongue started to move around your clit, moving it in a tortuous pacing so you could feel every move of his; at the beginning you were already chanting his name, putting a hand on top of his head, holding his golden curls around your fingers. Unexpectedly he put two fingers inside you, moving in a quicker rhythm and curling the tips just a little bit, hitting that sweet spot of yours. What made you orgasm for the first time was that besides his fingers working it up inside you, he started to suck gently your clit - you were moaning incoherent words when you hit your climax. Looking at him when he lifted his face towards you with a smile, licking his lips made you let out a wimp, quickly pulling him up and you getting on your knees.

You kept looking at him while you undid his belt and pulled his trousers to the floor, however, his hard-looking dick with leaking pre-cum inside his boxers called more your attention. Slowly, you reached the bar of his underwear, pulling it down and seeing it; you looked up at him before he nodded so you could do what you wanted for a while. You let your tongue pass through his tip, focusing a bit on there, hearing him hold back moan. In one go, you had put his dick in your mouth, feeling it hit your throat, starting it to quickly bob up and down, finally hearing him groaning in pleasure. His hand reached your hair, guiding your head to go slower than you were. “I won’t last long… You’re too good for me.”

You pulled back, looking at him. “Then I want you to finish inside me.”

He smiled at your cockiness, taking the rest of his outfit and laying you on the bed, while he grabbed the condom and the lube.

“Do we have to use it?” You whined.

“Maybe next time we don’t.” He whispered, covering two fingers in lube and pushing them inside you. Him inside you like that made you whimper, looking at him.

“Please, just fuck me.”

“Patience, honey… I don’t want you to feel pain.”

He quickly slid on the condom and spread your legs to his sides, now getting even closer and placing his hands on your sides.

“Ready?”

You nodded, then he adjusted his dick in your entrance, moving in slowly until all of him was inside of you. Sebastian left little kisses up your neck when he saw you closing your eyes, trying to get used to the feeling, only starting to move when you gave him the signal to.

Your walls were clenching around him as he started to pick up his pace, going faster every thrust - this was near pornographic, you were both moaning each others name, fixing your gaze on each other. You could feel every single inch of him inside you going and your climax getting closer, letting your moans even louder - if that was possible. Then Vettel lowered one of his hands, starting to do circles around your clit with two fingers, which made you come for the second time of the night. The blonde wasn’t that far from reaching his either, his thrusts were more erratic and soon he groaned your name close to your ear, laying on top of you.

“That was… Wow.” You whispered, running your fingers along his back.

“Yeah, wow.” He kissed your cheek, slowly disconnecting both of your bodies, which made both of you groan with the sensation. He took off the condom, throwing away “Let’s take a shower before we go to sleep.”

“How clever, staying the night.” You got up, wrapping your arms around him.

After you took a warm shower together - that could have been shorter if you didn’t kept kissing and caressing each other, you two laid on his bed. You were wearing one of his old Ferrari t-shirts and he was only in his boxers, drinking wine - that he already had, from the bottle.

“I always had a crush on you…” You whispered, trailing his abdomen with your fingers. “Teenage me would be very happy, especially that she used to shamefully read smut about you on the internet.”

“Oh, wow… So I have always been your target?” He joked, running his hand up and down your thigh.

“Don’t say it like that! It’s just… You’re too hot to not check out.”

“So I’m winning from younger drivers, with more energy to keep you up all night?” He was still being playful, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.

“Well… You just fucked me and looks like would go for a second round.” You lowered your hand to his boxers. “Besides, I like more mature men, who know how to make me feel good.”

He was at a loss of words, your words had left him red in the face and his classic smile. He placed the wine on the bedside table and pulled your body up, starting to kiss you again.

That night, you still did it two more times, enjoying every second together.

Maybe it was wrong and you would regret in the morning everything you had done together, especially for your reputations within the sport, but that moment was about enjoying what life had to offer you.

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel smut #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 11 months ago

Text

Novice | Felix | Easy to Expert (2) [NSFW]

Lee Yongbok (Felix - Stray Kids)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.7k

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Oral (F!Receiving/Anal; M! Receiving), Anal Play, Anal Sex, Unprotected Vaginal Sex (Don't do this, please)

Author's Note: This is a sequel to Easy. I got a comment on Archive requesting a sequel for something that was put off for…another time.

This was just supposed to be a second chapter but it devolved/evolved (depending on who you ask).

-> Series Hub <-

-> Part 1 <-

Revised (1/30/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

The morning after Felix utterly rocked your world, he had sweetly asked you to be his girlfriend. You agreed, of course, and then he took care of you that day because you could, in fact, not walk. He made you pancakes to eat in bed, and he even carried you to the shower. Despite the soreness, you couldn't have been more content, and you spent most of the day just watching Netflix together. He got several messages when he didn't show back up to their dorm the night before that he then had to deal with. He even had several missed calls from Minho and one from Chan that he had to return. You were still half asleep then and didn't hear the conversations, but the group chat blew up so bad he had to shut his phone’s sound off. It was also evidently the chat you were not in that they denied existed.

Neither of you want him to leave after lunch, but he has stuff to do and a part-time job. When you stop by the door to see him off, he puts his shoes on and then turns to you.

"I'll see you later, love." He leans forward and you welcome him, hit soft lips capturing yours. You hug him tight, and he laughs at your cuteness when you don’t want to let him go.

"I love you." you whisper, and a giant smile breaks out on his face, and he bumps his forehead to yours.

"I love you, too." And with that he leaves.

~θωθ~

Over the next few weeks you continue to hang out with them all as a group, not yet having another chance to be alone with Felix. On a Thursday evening you get a message from him seeing if you’re free the next night. Will this be your first actual date?

"I know it's kind of unconventional…but would you want to go to the arcade?" he asks, and you reply instantly with a yes. You really don’t care where or what it is if it’s with him. Plus, the arcade he’s talking about is huge and has so many different things to do past game machines, like an obstacle course, trampolines, and a foam pit. Since he’s coming from campus after his morning class, you meet him there instead of him picking you up. One thing that is nice about doing college online is that you have a more flexible schedule. You rock on your feet, hands in the pockets of your coat as you wait. You have on a set of pink shorts overalls over a white turtleneck and white stockings to protect you from the cold. Winter is coming. You decided to wear a short pair of pink Ugg boots that’ll be easy to take on and off at the arcade.

"(Y/N!)" It’s easy to know it’s him, even with the giddy tone, his voice is deep. Plus, certain words are still tinted with his accent even after speaking Korean for so long.

"Felix~!" You beam as he jogs over to you and instantly pulls you into a hug. There is no else around, so you eagerly returned it, but pulls back just in case.

"Ready, love?" He smiles sweetly and you nod. His wavy hair, dyed blonde with a tinge of black at the roots, is tied halfway back and he looks ten times prettier than you could ever hope to be. He opens the door for you and refuses to let you pay for your own pass. They stamp your hands to signify you have full access that day and you head in after checking your coats. Since it’s late in the morning on a Thursday, it isn’t very busy, and there aren’t any children since they would be at school. It’s the perfect time for two adults to goof around like kids. You want to go the trampolines first, but those will be tiring, so it’s best left for later. You start with the traditional arcade games, and you kick Felix's butt at a shooting game. You simply let him do the motorcycle simulator racing game, the way the fake bike moves kind of makes you motion sick. He wins the basketball tossing game and then you move to the simulation games. Your favorite is the archery one and you both tie scores on that.

"Foam pit?" he asks after you’re done and you grin, both of you running to the next place like children. No one else is there and you both take your shoes off and leave them at the worker's station and he leads you up the stairs. There’s a rope that you can jump onto and swing on before landing in the pit. It makes you a bit nervous because of the height, but after watching him happily do it first, it makes you less hesitant.

"Move out of the way!" You motion to him, rope in hand. Taking a measured breath, you hook your leg around the rope and kick off like you’re told. You squeal and let go, landing with an oof onto the blocks of foam. The worker can’t even help but laugh at the two of you. You literally have to swim to get out and he helps pull you out. To take a break you get some snacks, chicken nuggets and soda.

"This is so fun, Felix." You beam and he smiles around his bite of food.

"I know, love." He reaches up and brushes a crumb from your cheek with his thumb and you smile bashfully. The final stop for you is the trampolines. Once again, there’s no one there and so you’re given pretty much free reign. Instead of playing with the games that are projected, you just jump around together. Like one must do, you sit on the bouncy material, and he jumps near you to launch you in the air. You squeal in delight, and while you can’t launch him to the same extent, it’s still fun. The two of you have been at the arcade nearly four hours and you’re out of breath as you put your shoes back on.

"Do you have anything else to do today?" he asks you as you leave, a cold wind blasting at you, and you shuffle closer to him. You don’t see, but he smiles, and he turns you with his hand on your shoulder, so your back is to the wind.

"I don't why?" You look up and him and his smile falls into a smirk.

"Hm, can we go back to your place?" He steps closer, his nose nearly touching yours. You forget you’re in public for a second, ready to kiss him, but a kid laughing forces you to step back. It seems school is out so there’s going to be an influx of arcade patrons.

"Sure." You reply to him, and you start to head that way. As you walk you notice there’s a thin flap of plastic sticking out of his bag, caught in the zipper.

"Hold on." You stop him and go to fix it and when he notices what you’re doing, he swings the pack off his shoulder and out of your view.

"Hey!" You playfully glare at him, and he shakes his head, "It’s a surprise! Don't look." He fixes the plastic himself, and you look at him suspiciously.

"Hm, okay." You let it go, and continue to your place. Once again, he holds the door open for you and you wait at the elevator. The door to the side that leads to the stairwell opens and you glance to see who it’s. It’s the guy who lives a few doors down, some gym rat that thinks he’s hot stuff. You roll your eyes at his strut and Felix smirks. Changbin makes it work, he looks good, not over the top. This guy is…gross.

"Hey, unit 304." He struts over and you don’t even look up from your phone.

"Who's your friend?" He has a flirty tone, and you know he thinks Felix is a girl. He looks at the guy, annoyed, then speaks. The guy's reaction is hilarious.

"I'm her boyfriend." His deep-ass voice rumbles through you and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh, uh, sorry bro." He bows a bit in apology and then scurries away. When you get into the elevator, you both burst out laughing and you continue to giggle even as you plug your door code in. He helps you take off your coat and you hang them both up with your bag. He keeps his with him though.

"Okay, what's the surprise?" You ask and he smirks.

"Later. Come here, love." He puts the bag behind him on the couch and you sit down with him. His hand goes to your jaw, slightly cold still and you lean in to let his lips press to yours. Like last time, the kiss gets intense fast, both somewhat desperate. You haven’t even had the chance to really be alone until now, so you only got quick pecks in while the others weren’t looking. When Felix's hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, you whine softly, and his tongue wiggles its way into your mouth. When you have to pull back to get more air, you scoot closer to him, and he smiles. He adjusts his position, so he has one leg up on the cushions, facing you.

"Ready for the surprise?" He places a soft kiss on your jaw, then under your ear, not able to get to your neck because of your turtleneck.

"Yes…" You’re a bit hesitant, wondering what the heck he got. When he pulls the plastic shopping bag out of his backpack, you’re expecting some kind of candy or food that you like. No. It seems these last two weeks he’s been thinking about what he found in your nightstand. The butt plug.

"This okay?" he asks, pulling out a few more items. There’s some kind of kit to…get clean, then he also had made sure to buy the right size condoms. There’s also a cleaner and lube and one other thing you don’t immediately recognize. You pick up the box to look it over. It’s long and you turn it over to look at the picture on the front and your eyes widen. You shoot him a look and he tries to remain smug, but he’s a little nervous.

"A tail?" You shake the box. There’s a light pink plug along with either a long striped cat tail or a round fluffy bunny tail. It advertises as well there are more attachments you can get. He struggles to find some words and points at the picture on the box.

"I-if you end up…liking it…" He finally gets out and you huff, amused with his flustered state. You hum, placing the box back down and lean in to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want me to go…get ready?" You lick over his ear lobe, and he groans low.

"Yes, please." he says this, but he ends up wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, and kissing you again. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, your hands go to his jaw and his hands dig into the flesh of your butt. After pulling back, you smirk, and he lets you get off his lap. You put the items back into the bag and scurry back into your room. You have a little surprise for him as well. Hating that you only had a plain set of underwear on last time, you compensated for it and went to the lingerie store. At the time, you weren’t entirely sure what he would like, but you think the black set would be perfect. First you shuffle into your bathroom, and take your clothes off. Your panties already have a dark, damp spot on them and you huff. Just looking at the bag for a second, you replay different over-thought scenarios in your head, and grab the cleaning kit. Reading the instructions, it’s kind of embarrassing to think about going ahead with it, but it’s really exciting as well. You go ahead and do everything you have to, and the sensation is…weird to say the least. Makes you excited too though, thinking of what Felix will be doing. Before him you never could get turned on that fast that easily.

Going to the paper bag holding your new set of underwear, you put it on and have a few issues with the straps and ribbons. The top piece is just some ribbon with some boning that wraps around each breast but leaves your nipples on display. A thin silk corset wraps around your middle, once again with some boning. The panties are crotchless, with thin mesh and you have to tie the ribbons on the side to hold it up. Slowly you pull on the fish net stockings, not wanting to poke a hole in them with your toes. It’s the same mesh as the panties, and has ribbon crossed over and winding up, sewed on. Looking over yourself in the mirror, you hope he thinks you looks as good as you thinks you do. The final piece is two ribbons you tie around each wrist and it’s a bit difficult on your non-dominant hand, but you manage. Grabbing the bag he had purchased; you go back out to your bedroom and lay each one out. Taking the box, you place it inside your nightstand drawer and instead take out the plug you already had in there. Looking it over better, it’s three different size rounds attached by the silicone but only has one vibration setting. Your core clenches at the thought of him using it on you, so does other places. Shuffling to your door, you prop it open and call for him that you’re ready. You scurry back to your bed and stand at the end, trying to look innocent as he steps in.

"Fuck." His voice is quiet but rumbles through the room and he shuts the door behind him. You live alone but it makes you feel more secure and private still.

"Did it work?" he asks about the cleaning you assume, and you nod shyly.

"You look amazing, love." He compliments, stepping forward and looking over every detail of your lingerie intensely.

"The idea is I can leave it on…But if you take it off be careful, it wasn’t cheap." You fiddle with one of the ribbons hanging off the corset.

"You look amazing, turn for me." You do as he asks, and he smirks when he sees that your panties are barely that, and that there’s a hole in the crotch that’ll allow his cock easy access. Even where he’ll fill you with the plug is easy to get to.

"Hm, good girl." He hugs you from behind, his teeth nipping at your ear, his hard cock grinding into your butt.

"Let’s get ready." Felix lays another kiss on your neck, and you go back to the still unopened box and unwrap the plastic. You watch him undress out of the corner of your eye. He comes over to you as you pull the black silicone plug out of the packaging and looks at the little booklet that came with it. He snatches it from you and the cleaning spray, heading to the bathroom, his underwear tented over his hard on. Luckily, the little plug only needs a battery, and there’s one included. Thinking he’s probably cleaning up; you look at the condoms and you know that the ones you had are definitely the wrong size. The lube is specifically for anal, and it seems it will numb you some, good for a first-time thing.

"Battery?" he asks as he comes out, now fully naked and your mouth waters.

"Next time." He huffs as you eye his cock, and you sneer playfully. You hold out the battery for him and he gets it in and hits the button. It buzzes rather aggressively, and he smirks and shuts it off.

"Hmm. A little later, okay?" Felix suggests and huffs at your eager nod.

"Lay down, love." He sit you down on the edge, and you do as he asks, in much the same position as last time. You’re nervous this time as well, but for a different reason. You turn your head to watch him grab the bottle of pink lubrication and you shiver a bit.

"You're okay, love." You try to calm down, but you squeak when he makes you move your legs into a better position, then kisses your pucker. He laughs at your reaction and your hand comes to your mouth, covering it.

"Is that stuff flavored?" you ask as you smell strawberry when he opens it.

"Yeah." You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you shiver from nerves again. You gasp when the cool gel touches you, just a small bit on his finger at first. He smears it around your hole, and you feel a slight tingle, the numbing kicking in.

"Might make my tongue numb," he mutters to himself, feeling the tingle on his finger. He squeezes some more out and tells you to breathe as his finger presses against you, the long thin digit only entering your ass to the first knuckle. He pulls it back out, smirking at the clenching muscle. Smearing some more lube onto his finger, he adds it to your skin, and you yelp loud when his tongue circles your pucker.

"F-Felix!" You had a feeling that's where it was going, but it’s still a very strange sensation. He hums, the taste is very artificial, but that’s okay. His arms wrap around your legs like before, and he shoves the wet muscle into your ass, and you try to relax and not clench too hard. You whimper as his tongue fucks into you, licking up the lube he’s spread over and in you. As he continues, it becomes easier to breathe, but your fingers still dig into the sheets. You’re a little worried by how aroused you’re getting from this. Is this the kind of thing you’ve needed from the start?

"Next time, I'm putting my cock inside you." His tongue leaves your ass and then licks a stripe through your cunt and sucks hard on your clit.

"F-Felix!" You gasp, your orgasm already rising fast. He really had pulled the seal off last time. The buzz of the toy hits your ears and then the silicone touches your puckered hole. There’s obviously more lube spread over it, and you have a hard time not clenching too much as he eases the toy in. It feels incredibly strange and new, but scarily good. The flat end of the toy nestles against the crook of your ass as he gets it all the way in. He smirks as he sees your cunt walls clenching around nothing. You almost scream when he shoves two of his fingers into you, the slight numbing from the lube tingling your pussy now. Another hard suck to your clit makes you cum. You settle down from it faster than the first time, but you’re just as out of breath. He wiggles his fingers a bit and you whine; he can feel the little bumps of the toy through the walls of your cunt and even some of the vibrations. He stands and helps pick you up so you can be further up the bed. You’re almost afraid to move with the toy in your ass.

"D-do you need a condom?" You won’t meet his eye, finger poking the box. You really liked how it felt to get full of his hot cum and you are on the pill…

"Well…they’re more for-" He gives you a look and you nod in realization.

"But next time." He winks and you flinch when the head of his cock meets your soaking folds.

"Ready?" He plans on doing it much the same way as last time. Rough seems to work better for you, and he wants to see in the future just how far you’ll like to go. You nod in response to his question and his fat cock fills you instantly and your back arches. It’s so odd, having the vibrating toy in your ass and Felix's cock splitting your pussy open. Even he’s a little thrown off. Just like with his fingers, he can feel the nubs of the toy through the wall separating your cunt from your ass, and the vibrations are dull but present. You walls clench his cock hard despite you trying to relax, and you’re so wet for him.

"Ready?" He asks again and you nod, fingers already digging into the bedding near your head. Felix pumps his hips deftly, grinding his pelvis into your clit and immediately his pace is relentless. Before he kind of built up, his thrusts were hard but shallower. Not this time. The bed is already shaking from the force, the head of your bed frame banging the wall. Once again glad for living alone, you let the high-pitched keens float from your lips. Tears prick your eyes at the pleasure. He pulls you closer some, sitting more on his knees so your lower back rests over his thighs. This makes your hips raised, your shoulders pressed into the bed to steady yourself. His hands hold your lower thighs near your knees, and he rolls his hips, the angle letting his dick pummel your back walls. He loves watching your breasts bounce, wrapped with the black silky ribbon. The feeling of the thigh-high stockings against his sides is more enjoyable than he thought it would be. You’re gorgeous naked, but like this it’s like you’re gift-wrapped just for him.

"Felix!" You gasp, back arching harder, head thrown back and he grunts, slowing his thrusts as you clench around him in your orgasm. He was going back and forth earlier on whether or not he wanted to fuck your ass or not that night, but he decided he will. The way your cunt squeezes him is incredible and he really wants to know how it compares. As your orgasm dies, he pulls his cock out of you.

"Come clean me off, love." He gets off the bed and you scramble to kneel before him at the end of the bed. Grabbing the condom box, he sees you waiting eagerly to swallow his cock, slick and shining with your juices.

"Okay, love." He allows and you reach to wrap your hand around the base and instantly take the rest of him into your mouth and slightly into your throat.

"Fuck~" He groans and he’s going to have to decide later which hole of yours he prefers. Pulling off of him, his cock is more clean than before, but now covered in saliva. He takes a condom from the box, tossing it somewhere on the floor and opens the package. You take it from him, placing it just over the tip and bringing your mouth back to him. He swears again and you slowly let his cock bury in your mouth, the condom sliding over him as you go. When your nose touches his groin, you pull back and swirl your tongue around for good measure, then pump your hand over to make sure it’s on all the way.

"Turn around." He helps you get up off the floor and you crawl back onto the bed, letting your front half fall to the sheets, ass in the air.

"(Y/N), you're gonna kill me." He huffs and you giggle. Hearing the lube bottle open again, the smell of strawberry wafts as well.

"Breathe." He coaches and you do, each of the little nobs popping out of your ass as he removes the toy, shutting it off. He tosses it to the floor; it’ll be easier to clean the fake hardwood floor than the sheets or rug. You quiver at feeling more empty again, and gasp when he drizzles a big glob of lube straight onto your ass.

"Gotta get you ready love." Felix swirls his finger over your entrance, then presses forward again, not stopping till his index finger is completely inside. It’s a little shorter than the toy actually, but it’s definitely different. You whine and try to stay relaxed as he wiggles it some. Your hole is kind of numb from the lube and tingly from the vibrator. Felix continues to coach you as he adds a second and later third finger to prepare you. The longer he does it, the more aroused you get, the odd feeling spiraling into a whole new kind of pleasure.

"Ah~" You whimper and moan as he withdraws his fingers. They’re tingly as well from the lube and he strokes over his cock with the remaining gel. His hand is a bit sticky after, but he can worry about it later.

"I'm going to start, princess." He informs and you take measured breaths, trying not to flinch when the head of his cock touches your ass. You groan as he eases in, digging your teeth and nails into your pillow to release tension. If you thought his cock felt big in your cunt, it’s a whole new kind of stretch as he fills your ass. Your head swims and you had no idea it would feel so good. Your cunt clenches around nothing, wanting to be filled as well, something you can explore later. He sits inside of you, unmoving for a few minutes, both of you trying to relax.

"Move." You gasp out and he digs his fingers into your hips, thumbs into your butt cheeks. He makes a shallow thrust and you both groan at the feeling. He’s much more gentle as he buries his cock deep into your ass than in your pussy. His thrusts are less punishing as well, pulling out about halfway before his hips meets yours.

"More, please." You cry out and he grunts, picking up the pace but not changing the depth. Your fingers leave the sheets, needing something more solid, so they wrap around the rungs of your headboard.

"You like it rough, huh, love?" You moan in agreement.

"You like my cock in your ass?"

"Yes, fuck!"

"What a slut, just for me though…" He grunts, leaning over you more.

"Ah!" You practically scream, Felix's hot dick starting to fuck you deep, more grinding than anything.

"(Y/N), love, you're so good for me." He groans, the rumble like thunder going through him and into you. Your cunt clenches around nothing again, you’re getting close.

"Feliiixxx~" You cry, and he gives you a husky chuckle.

"Cum, love. Cum for me." And you do. His hands hold the headboard for support, white knuckling the wood. Your ass is even tighter around him as you fall apart than your pussy, and it knocks him over the edge too, filling the condom. Eventually he wants to paint your insides white. Your cunt, your ass, your throat… After both of you have calmed, still shaking, he pulls out and you flinch at feeling empty again.

~ (O-O)~

"Ow, fuck!" You hiss as he lowers you into the hot water of the tub. He chuckles and you scowl at him which makes him laugh harder. After you settle into a good position, you sigh, the hot water relieving your aches. He sits on the mat by the tub, arms crossed on the lip. He’d reclothed his bottom half and had helped you out of your lingerie while the tub filled.

"Hm. How was that?" He traces his finger through the water.

"You've ruined me, Felix Lee." You mumble and his laugh echoes through the bathroom.

"So…I have an idea…" He drifts off and you straighten your head to look at him better.

"What?"

"How would you like to get your pussy and ass filled at the same time, hm?" He suggests and you think for a sec.

"We would have to figure out how to keep the dildo-"

"Not…not a toy…" He drifts off and your eyes widen in realization.

"Oh."

"If that's not-"

"Who?" you ask, and he blinks in shock, then smirks again.

"Who do you want?"

-> I.N. <-

-> Seungmin <-

-> Hyunjin <-

-> Han <-

-> Lee Know <-

-> Changbin <-

-> Bang Chan <-

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

190 notes · View notes

midnightcrw · 1 year ago

Text

Mission

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: On a mission with Simon while the TF141 looks after Daisy (Simon and your daughter)

Warning: Smut, Fingering (though it's not very long)

a/n: Did I just finish writing this in class? Yes, I did. This is probably the longest piece I have written in a while. I'm not entirely satisfied with some aspects of it, but hopefully, you'll all like it. There is also a mention of another piece I wrote on Thursday, in this one

"I can't believe we're doing this," you mumbled under your breath, not thrilled about the situation at hand. It's not that partnering with Simon on a mission bothered you; it's the whole pretending-to-be-someone-else deal. Luckily, being married to Simon was the only genuine part.

Simon's expression mirrored your sentiments; he wasn't thrilled about the mission either. Home with you and Daisy, enjoying a movie, sounded way better than being here. Ever since Price pitched the idea (thanks to Soap planting the seed), Simon's face maintained a constant frown, adding to his already intimidating aura.

"Look at your mom and dad, Daisy," Soap chirped through the earpiece, his cheerful tone cutting through the tension. Clearly, Soap's ulterior motive was getting you two on the mission, leaving him more time with Daisy—especially considering the fact that he, Price, and Gaz burned down most of your house.

After all, you'd decided a week ago that they wouldn't be visiting Daisy after the recent incident. Yet, here they were—Price, Soap, and Gaz—squeezed into the cozy van. You and Simon, on the other hand, were decked out in your finest attire, ready to infiltrate a ball where you had to play the roles of affluent snobs.

The biting cold outside did little to improve the situation, but once inside, the warmth gradually enveloped you. The opulent decorations of some wealthy bastard's 'home' caught your attention, if one could even call it that.

Entering the venue proved surprisingly simple, thanks to Laswell's good work on your fake identities. At least, there was someone reliable to count on while the trio fawned over Daisy.

"I can't believe it either," Simon whispered, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you out of his sight. Your husband, though impeccably dressed and handsome, exuded an unmistakable discomfort about the entire affair.

Playfully teasing him, you touched the hand wrapped around your waist, gazing at him with affection. "You look good, don't worry."

Simon rolled his eyes, confident in his appearance. His concern lay elsewhere, irritated by the lingering gazes directed at you, as if you weren't already claimed.

Choosing not to engage in your banter, he retaliated with a gentle pinch on your waist, evoking a gasp before you playfully pushed him. Looking down at you, a subtle smirk played on his lips. "Behave," he said, causing your heart rate to quicken.

Despite being accustomed to his antics, it still stirred an emotion within you – an emotion only your Simon could evoke.

Your eyes roamed the polished surroundings, every detail meticulously in place. A grand chandelier adorned the center of the room, its crystals glistening in the radiant light.

The crowd, dressed impeccably, momentarily making you insecure about your own attire, despite knowing it was far from the truth. Lingering eyes turned your way, a subtle awareness settling in.

Simon and you strolled, exploring the opulent venue and stumbling upon a grand staircase. However, the stairs could wait; first, you needed to blend into the ball and find the opportune moment for distraction.

Through the earpiece, multiple voices echoed, dominated by Daisy's delightful coos and giggles. The urge to express your adoration almost escaped you, as Simon's hushing finger pressed to your lips.

"But Simon, she's so cute," you protested as Simon pulled you abruptly flush against his chest. Knowing that he had to shut you up somehow, and making sudden decisions always seemed to work well on you.

"I know, she's cute, but we're on a mission," he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss on your temple. You sighed, resting your forehead on his chest.

Daisy, only a year old, had never been far from your side, making it tough to focus without worrying, despite trusting Soap, Gaz and Price.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, feeling a twinge of guilt. Simon, all seriousness, maintained focus while you struggled to compose yourself.

"No need to apologize, love. It won't take long, I promise," he reassured in a soothing tone, his embrace bringing a momentary calm.

Tilting your head, you locked eyes with him. The softening of his gaze revealed a side reserved just for you and you leaned in for a kiss, a sudden interruption made both of you pull away in surprise.

"Is everything alright?" The man, around his forties, in a well-put-together white suit and a black tie, asked. His black hair had a few distinguished white strands, adding to his attractive appearance—a face you found oddly familiar.

Before you could place him, Gaz's voice chimed in through the earpiece, "That's Robert Harris."

Robert Harris, the man whose 'home' you were infiltrating, stood as the alleged cause behind multiple soldier disappearances and stolen weapons, cleverly concealed behind the mask of a successful CEO.

"Everything's alright, Mr. Harris," you replied, offering a smile to downplay any suspicion. "Just call me Robert. And you must be?" he inquired, returning the smile, his gaze focused on you, seemingly oblivious to Simon's presence or deliberately avoiding eye contact.

You slipped your hand into Simon's, drawing him closer as you smoothly introduced yourselves with the fabricated names designed for this mission.

As your fingers intertwined with Simon's, Robert's gaze shifted to your husband, and his expression hinted at displeasure. Sensing the tension, your grip on Simon's hand tightened. Having looked through Robert's file, you knew he wasn't exactly the most loyal husband in his marriage—an aggressive man unburdened by consequences.

Sensing your distress, Simon entered the conversation. "A few guests mentioned your recent endeavors. What's your newest project, if I may ask?" Uncharacteristically wordy for Simon, but for you, he'd go the extra mile.

As Robert engaged in the discussion, you seized the opportunity to ask about the restroom. "Up the stairs, first door to your left, darling," Robert said, letting his eyes linger a little longer on you as if he was mentally undressing you while putting an emphasis on the 'darling'.

Nodding, you made your way upstairs, leaving Simon alone with Harris. The uneasy feeling that settled in when Robert approached lingered, taken by the realization that Simon couldn't watch your back for the moment.

The moment the word 'darling' slipped from Robert's mouth, Simon's jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists. It wasn't the term itself that bothered him, but the deliberate intent behind it, as if Robert aimed to provoke him.

Simon, consumed by a simmering anger, barely registered the details of the project Robert was discussing. "You have a beautiful wife," Harris stated with a smug voice, an infuriating smirk accompanying his words.

Before Simon could retort, Harris continued, "I'm sure having a wife like her never gets boring." That remark struck a nerve, sparking Simon's irritation.

"Damn," Gaz uttered with a shocked tone, earning a smack on the back of his head from Price. "Not in front of Daisy!"

"Simon is probably going to kill him," Soap exclaimed, drawing a giggle from Daisy. "You definitely are Simon's daughter."

Having finished washing your hands, Laswell's voice echoed, "His office is at the end of the corridor, and for now, the way is clear."

With Laswell's guidance, you swiftly headed outside, walking briskly towards the indicated door. Left to your own devices, you might have been lost, grateful for the assistance.

Standing before the door, you braced for it to be locked. To your surprise, the handle turned easily. "He's not only sleazy but also dumb," you mumbled as you entered.

"I agree," Gaz chimed in, offering support for your opinion on Robert, bringing a small smile to your face. The room, akin to the rest of the ball's elegance, was well-organized and pristine.

Moving around the desk, you delved into the drawers, recognizing this task might take a while with numerous files and papers that didn't stand out at first glance.

"Fucking finally," Simon breathed out in relief as Robert disappeared from sight. He was just about to lodge a knife into either Robert's throat or his own, depending on his mood. Fortunately, for Robert, the guests took the man away before Simon could do something he could enjoy regret.

Having monitored your conversations through the earpiece as he ascended the stairs, Simon was visibly pleased to find you unharmed inside the office.

"I would have thrown a knife at you if Laswell hadn't warned me," you quipped, your husband approaching you behind the desk.

"Maybe I would have liked that," Simon whispered, dangerously close to your body, trapping you between himself and the desk.

"Not now," you warned, despite the craving to feel his touch. Ignoring your caution, Simon wrapped his arms around your waist, planting kisses on your neck, prompting a quiet gasp at the sudden contact of his lips.

"Hate the way he looked at you," Simon rasped out, his hand venturing beneath the leg slit of your dress, his intense gaze locking onto yours, awaiting your response—permission or denial hanging in the balance.

Unable to resist any longer, you nodded, granting Simon the freedom to explore your body.

His left hand held your waist possessively, while the right pushed your underwear aside. Gripping the desk tightly, your head tilted forward.

Without warning, Simon cupped you between your legs, eliciting a whimper from you. "Fuck..."

Drenched with desire, the touch left you yearning to be bent over the desk and fucked senselessly, losing yourself in a passion that momentarily eclipsed the lingering mission at hand.

He slowly released his grip, running his middle finger through your slit, prompting a clench of your thighs and earning a spank. "Keep your legs spread for me, darling," Simon urged, a hint of spite lingering in the term Robert had used.

Gulping, you complied, and as you let go, Simon plunged a finger deep inside you, drawing a moan. "Shh, we wouldn't want them to hear you now, would we, darling?" His voice took on an unexpectedly deeper tone, causing you to bite your lip and compliance. "Good girl."

With that, he started fucking his digit in and out of you, not at all being gentle as he usually would be. Your lip was likely bleeding from the force, but Simon reveled in the sight of you unraveling.

"More, please," you quietly pleaded, a desire for another finger inside as he began rubbing your clit, the sensation almost pushing you to cry out.

"Only because you've been good so far," he whispered into your ear, adding another finger, curling both digits, causing you to lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms.

Not long after, you reached your climax, nearly collapsing to your knees if Simon hadn't held you up by your waist. Taking deep breaths, you tried to compose yourself as Simon cleaned his fingers with a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

Allowing you a moment to rest on the chair by the desk, your husband retrieved the files, finding the one you needed. "I'll take care of you once we're out of here, love," Simon promised, giving you a kiss before pulling you up by your hands.

"You're lucky that we were able to turn off the mics and the screen for the office," Price scolded the both of you as you leaned against Simon.

"You shouldn't have forced us on this mission then," Simon replied.

"I hope you feel guilty, Simon."

"I would do it again."

369 notes · View notes

hmhas-00 · 10 days ago

Text

Ch. 13

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hiii! Remember I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know! Don’t forget to like and repost! <3

Remy’s POV

I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, trying on the costume that I ordered. I was going to be sexy Scream. Billie was going to her party dressed as Todd from Bojack Horseman and insisted that I dress up as Princess Carolyn, but honestly I just wanted to go for something more… I don’t know, sexy?

I take a picture and send it to her, hoping for approval.

Immediately I get heart eye and fire emojis, followed by a FaceTime call.

I answered, pointing the camera at the mirror and posing in different ways. “What do we think?”

“Hot. But you’d look hotter as Princess Carolyn.” Billie teased.

I rolled my eyes, reverting to front camera again. “Too bad, Todd.” I stuck my middle finger up at her, then set my phone up on my dresser pointing at me from the waist up. “What time are you getting here tonight?” I asked, unzipping my costume.

“Around 10, probably.”

Turning around to face the other wall, I dropped my bodysuit around my ankles. “You still coming over?” I had to repeat myself, figuring she didn’t hear me. “Billie. You still wanna come over later?” I turned around, clipping my bra back on.

“Sorry, yeah. Duh.” She finally answered. “And those cinnamon rolls better be ready when I get there.” She emphasized.

“They will be. I just have to make the icing.” I pulled on some sweats and grabbed the phone, walking over to my kitchen.

“You mind if I bring someone to your party?” I asked, setting the phone down on the counter as I reached for a bowl and ingredients.

“Not at all. Do I know them?” She asked.

Suddenly my phone started buzzing. “Hold up, I gotta get this call. It’s work.”

“Call me back!” Billie said, before I hung up and answered the next call.

“Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I held the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I mixed the ingredients together.

“Hey, Remy, is this a good time?” She sounded a bit sporadic.

“Uhh, yeah, what’s going on?” I hesitated.

“Sooo… Remember that interview we did for the digital article we were brainstorming for? The one for the app?”

“The one we did with RAYE?” I put the whisk down and adjusted my phone.

“Yes! That one!”

“What about it?”

“So, Joe wants it up by tomorrow. Something about needing to beat People magazine? An insider told him they’re publishing a similar piece with her.”

“Well, yeah, she’s definitely getting more traction.” I said, already knowing what comes next.

“I know you’re gonna hate me, but I really need you to go to the office, get on my computer, and finish the article out. Oh- And set it to be published by tomorrow in the morning!” Her high pitched voice was fast and panicked.

“Rachel, I had plans tonight and-“

“I’d do it myself but I’m all the way in San Diego at this conference thing. Its mostly done, and saved to my drafts. It’s really urgent.” She pleaded, knowing Joe would be extremely pissed if she didn’t follow through.

“Sure, I’ll be on my way in a little bit.”

“Ugh! You’re the best! I owe you one! Don’t forget to credit yourself on the article too!” She squealed.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later, don’t worry.”

“Love ya, girly! Thanks again!” She hung up.

I groaned, finishing up the icing and shoving the bowl in the fridge. In my room, I threw on a yellow baby tee, some wide legged jeans, and put my hair in a red claw clip. I stopped by the round mirror next to my apartment door to check on my face, fixing the minor details, and walked out with my beige crossbody bag.

At the office when I accessed Rachel’s computer, I quickly realized I had a lot of work to do. I sat for hours editing, deleting, then retyping her work. My eyes were shutting on me as I concluded the article, exhausting my brain to come up with anything impressive.

My phone began to ring, making me jump. I answered the call, my heart racing from the sudden scare.

“Hey, I just landed!” Billie sang.

“Fuck. Hey, I’m sorry, I got so busy and I’m stuck at the office right now-“

“Remy!” She moaned. I could hear her disappointment through the phone.

“No, don’t worry, I’m wrapping it up! Just head over to my place and wait for me in there. You still have my spare key, right?”

“Yeah.” She said, monotoned.

“I’ll be there so soon, just put those cinnamon rolls in the oven and by the time they’re ready, I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay, Rem.” She said goodbye.

I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders back, sitting up straight. I used every single one of my last brain cells to come up with a brilliant conclusion to the article. I let the interview speak for itself and included some quotes from the amazing Raye, but I found myself in the biggest case of writers block I’ve ever had. All I could think about was how much I hated Rachel in this moment for making me do this myself, knowing Joe would give her all the credit.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, I finished what could possibly be the worst article I’ve ever written. It wasn’t bad, just rushed, and I usually don’t work well under pressure. Before posting the article, I stared at the space underneath, where credit is usually given to the writer and editor. I hesitated to delete Rachel’s name, and typed in my own. I stared at it some more, deleting my name and retyping Rachel’s full name, then my name under editor. I sighed, setting the article to be posted tomorrow morning at 8am.

I shut the laptop and grabbed all my things, rushing out the door.

When I arrived at my apartment building, I pressed the elevator button a million times, ending up at my door and unlocking it as fast as I could.

I opened my door, psyched to see my best friend, only to see her passed out on my couch in her comfy clothes. I quietly closed the door, hanging my things on the tiny rack. In the kitchen, was a half empty baking tray with cinnamon rolls. The icing was poured over, and the rolls were starting to get cold. I put them away, covering the top with foil, and cleaned up a little.

I tip toed over to my couch, wondering how she was able to fall asleep on a two seater comfortably. She was curled up in a little ball, with my pastel crocheted blanket covering half of her face. I smiled down at her, feeling awful I made her wait so long alone. I wanted to welcome her home with open arms, and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.

I turned off the tv, and turned down the lights, leaving only my soft, warm, reading lamp on. I patted her lightly. “Billie… I’m home.” I brushed the hair that fell over her eyes behind her ear, and leaned down to hug her tired body. I buried my face in her neck and took that sweet, familiar scent in, bringing a smile to my face. I wish I could carry her to my bed, but let’s be honest, I don’t have any upper body strength. “You’re so warm, and you smell like cinnamon rolls.” I whispered.

She let out a slight moan and stretched out her curled up feet. Her lashes fluttered open, turning her neck a little as I sat up. “Hi!” I smiled ear to ear.

“Remyyyyy!” She stretched her arms out, wrapping them around my neck.

“Hiii! It’s me!”

“I missed you.” she pulled me into her chest. I crawled on top of her and laid there, propping my head up to see her.

“I know, I’m sorry I made you wait. It was an emergency.”

“You know what else is an emergency?” she said, lifting a brow, jokingly. “Me kicking your ass for not spending any time with me while I’m here.”

“Stop!” I laughed, deep down feeling awful. “No more. I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.”

She placed both her hands on my face, looking at me for a moment, before squishing my cheeks together. “You better be.”

I placed my hands on top of hers, taking in the moment. I had missed her so much. Nothing was going to keep me from spending time with her. She deserved my undivided attention for making the time to see me. I believe she felt the same, her eyes scanning me as I smiled up at her.

“Okay. I need to see this costume in person.” She broke the silence.

I laughed, “Okay, let’s go.” I stood up, pulling her into my room.

I pulled out the costume and began to undress. Billie sat on my bed, her legs criss crossed. “So, who are you bringing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m probably not gonna bring anyone anymore.”

“Aw, why? They cancelled?” She leaned back on her hands.

“No, it’s not that. I just wanna hang out with you there.” I pulled up my nylon tights.

“Nah, bring your friend, Rem. We can all hang out!” She shrugged.

“Really?” I smiled, squeezing into the tight bodysuit.

“Is it Rachel?” She asked, signaling me over to her so she could zip me up.

“No. It’s this girl.”

“At least it’s not some guy.” She laughed, sliding the zipper up, adjusting my straps.

“Well, no it’s not a guy, but it’s this girl I’ve sorta been talking to.” I admitted, nervously.

I’d never really been in a serious relationship with a woman, at least not in the way I had with a man. I don’t think I’d ever told Billie I tried with girls, despite them being some of my favorite interactions. They were too short lived to bring up. I knew how hesitant she was about my relationships, and didn’t usually bring them around her until it was serious. Especially because I had been used to get near Billie before. Especially by girls.

“Like, as friends?” She turned me around, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

“No…” I pursed my lips.

“Wow! I didn’t know you-“ She blinked rapidly, looking shocked. “That’s awesome, Rem.” She let go, realizing she was still holding onto my shoulder straps.

“Yeah, it’s kinda a new thing, I guess…”

“No, I’m just… Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean you know I’m-“ She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “I’m sorry, this is just the first I’m hearing of this Remy.” She giggled, her eyes wide.

“Jeez, is it that surprising?” I smacked her tummy.

“Yes!” She laughed. “What’s her name? Who is she?” She pulled me on the bed, desperately trying to gather as much information as she could. “Show me her instagram!”

“Her name’s Stevie. She works at Variety with me. She’s an intern.” I pulled up her instagram showing her my favorite pictures.

“Ouu, cute.” She took the phone from my handed scrolling through her whole profile. “How long has this been a thing? Is it like a serious thing?”

“No, no. We’re just talking. She… I don’t even think she knows I like her like that.” I shrugged, laughing a bit.

“Oh, well she definitely likes you. You look her type.” She handed me back my phone.

“Her type?” I looked at her.

“Yeah, pretty girls with pretty eyes, long hair, and tattoos.” She looked me up and down, pointing at my arm tattoos.

I laughed, getting up and walking over to my body mirror. “I hope so.”

She stayed quiet, watching me look in the mirror.

“So? What do you think?” I looked over my shoulder at her.

“You look stunning. Insane.” Billie smiled at me. I could see her through the mirror, her expression turning blank once I turned.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna be Princess Carolyn with me?”

“Kinda?” I turned to her, shrugging.

“You’re such a loserrr!”

“But I’m a sexy loser.” I held my finger up in the air, making her laugh. I took a couple pictures of myself in the mirror.

“Here.” She offered to take them for me, pulling out her phone. I posed, the flash reflecting off the mirror behind me. She leaned back, getting my best angles, as always.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked girls?” She asked, her voice soft and quiet.

She sounded a bit hurt, like I hid something from her. I couldn’t help but feel like I kept a part of myself from her.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I walked over to her, turning around so she could unzip me.

“How long?”

“Mmm… a while. You remember Cassie?”

She nodded.

“We did some things… I think that’s when I realized.”

“You never told me about that!” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” I shrugged, stepping out of my costume, pulling off my tights. “It’s not like I had anything serious with any of them. I’ve only ever told you about my serious relationships.”

“Well yeah, but-“ She stopped herself, looking disappointed. I put a giant t-shirt on over my bra and underwear, and hung up my costume for tomorrow. “You tell me everything. I told you…”

“I know.” I climbed on my bed, getting under the sheets. “I thought you kinda knew, I guess.”

“Well…” She crawled over and made herself comfortable next to me. “Now that I know… You better not hit on me.” She joked.

I laughed, grabbing my pillow and hitting her in the face with it. “You wish.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ow! My eye!” She held her face, wincing her eyes.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” I grabbed her face, moving her hand so I could see. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Gotcha bitch!” She licked the side of my face and rolled away, almost falling off the bed. She laughed that crazy, loud laugh I loved so much.

“Oh- Fuck you dude come here!” I kicked my feet into her back, pushing her off the edge as she died of laughter.

I got back in my spot, fluffing my pillow and getting comfortable again. She stood up, pushing her hair out of her face and plopping back on the bed with me. “My stomach hurts from laughing so much.” She put a hand on her tummy, breathing deeply to catch her breath.

My full-size bed was just big enough for the both of us, as long as I kicked off a few of my many pillows. I turned on our show, letting it run in the background as we talked a bit more before falling asleep.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile, still paying attention to the tv.

“Me too.” She said, pausing to laugh at something one of the characters on tv said. “So are you bringing Stevie?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Do you think she’ll like my costume?”

“She’s going to die when she sees you.” Her voice sounded genuine.

“Do you think I should ask her out tomorrow?” I looked over at her, putting a hand on my mouth.

She looked at me, not knowing what to say. She bit her bottom lip, shrugging with her eyebrows instead of her arms, since they were warmly tucked under my blankets. “I mean, maybe just wait and see what she says. You don’t wanna push things, you know?” She advised me.

I nodded, looking back at the tv.

“That’s just what I’d do, you know?” Her eyes stayed on me. “But, do whatever feels right.” She added.

“Right.” Nod, snuggling closer to her, laying my head on her shoulder. She yawned, letting me know it was getting late.

A silent while later, I lift my head to see a passed out Billie. After turning my tv and lamp off, I lay my head on my pillow, facing her. She peacefully slept with her mouth slightly open and a furrow on her brows so soft, you could only tell if you looked close enough. I smooth it out with my thumb gently, watching her lick her lips and grunt. Her body turned towards me, our chests parallel to each other. She sloppily threw her arm over me, her fingertips resting on my lower back, which my oversized t-shirt had left exposed. I pulled the bottom hem, attempting to cover up, even though it didn’t matter anyway.

The last thing I saw before shutting my eyes and drifting off, was Billie’s face. She always made soft angry or worried faces in her sleep. I had so many pictures on my camera roll of her funny faces during naps. I smiled thinking about the party tomorrow, and how I get Billie for the rest of the weekend.

I took a mental screenshot of my view and dozed off.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish wlw #billie eilish lgbtq #billie eillish #billie eilish ftl #billie eilish f2l #friends to lovers #bestfriends to lovers #billie eilish x oc #billie eilish hit me hard and soft #hit me hard and soft #Spotify

31 notes · View notes

olsenmyolsen · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter Eight: Back To Work

The Farmer's Daughter - (A WandaNat Story)

Masterlist

Tag list: @xenaizogie

Summary: Wanda invites Natasha out with her friends, but they run into someone from Natasha's past.

Word Count: 3.4K

Content: Drinking, Jealousy, Feelings

Thursday.

It was Thursday.

As the clock rolled into the afternoon, it had officially been four days since Wanda came home with a newfound... feeling... for Natasha.

It wasn't love or a crush. At least, she didn't think so. She was still flirty, but it wasn't as blatant as before. Maybe it was? Wanda truly wasn't convinced.

Regardless, one thing was for sure.

She loved to see Natasha work up a sweat in one of her old t-shirts.

"Howdy, partner!" Wanda embarrassedly said as Natasha approached the fence near the house to grab her water bottle. "Oh, is that what we are doing today?" Natasha teased as she took a big sip.

Wanda shrugged. Honestly, her accent could've been worse.

"Did you see my story?" Wanda asked as Natasha laughed and set down her water. "Wanda, you know I don't check my phone. Especially today." Natasha turned away and saw Erik on a horse in the distance. "I can't believe you guys used to have horses."

Wanda looks at her father in the distance. "Yeah. Cookie Dough." Wanda says. "Cookie Dough? The horse's name was Cookie Dough?" Natasha wears a cute smile as she leans closer to the fence.

Closer to Wanda.

Wanda smiles at her before looking away. "You can't make fun of me. I was eight." Natasha keeps her mouth shut and gives a playful tilt of the head. "Cookie Dough is a good name." Natasha turns back to see Erik making his way towards her.

She turns to Wanda. "Back to work."

Wanda watches the latest Farmhand start jogging away. When she's far enough away, she gives one last look and starts making her way back to the house, where she opens a group chat with her closest friends.

Seven Peas In A Pod

Sunday: Jarvis has been kicked

Darcy Renamed The Group to Six Peas Minus A Bitch

Darcyyyy

D: Fine 😒

Darcy Renamed The Group to Six Peas In A Pod

Today:

We should go out tonight

S: Its Thursday...

D: damn sam stay home then. where we going bestie???

M: I can't sorry guys

That's okay Monica. But I was thinking city??

C: City? I'm down.

D: surprise surprise

C: 🙄

B: Is Natasha coming??

D: Bucky.. but fr 👀

Darcy kick Bucky

B: No! Okay I'm sorry

👎

S: No but fr is she??

I have to ask..

Wanda flipped her phone over and laid face-down on her Queen bed.

Why did the thought of asking Natasha to hang out feel like a monumental task? It was Natasha.. What made that difficult?

Wanda dwelled on it for a few more seconds before she shook her mind free of the redhead and lifted herself up. Her eyes drifted to her open closet with a black cocktail dress hanging in the corner.

Would that be too much?

Of course, I'm hanging out with friends, not going to a rooftop restaurant.

Wandas flopped back down her bed and grabbed her phone. Ignoring the group chat and instead going to Pinterest to look for inspo.

Hours later, with clothes thrown everywhere and multiple eyeshadow pallets open did she receive a text from Carol outside of the group chat.

"Hey, I'm not saying this to stress you out or anything, but have you asked Natasha yet? I wanna know if we're gonna meet here or not."

Shit.

Meanwhile, Natasha was finishing up her last lesson in horse care for the day with Wanda's father as they put Butterball into his stable.

"...and in the morning, I'll worry about his food if you just focus on keeping the area clean and work on getting the addition to the coop built."

Natasha turned towards the house of chickens and sneered.

"Yes, sir." She replied, making Erik laugh. He knew of Natasha's hatred for the pecking monsters, but a bigger coop needed to be built. You win some, you lose some.

"Romanoff." Erik started as the pair walked down towards the house. "Sir?" Natasha questioned. Erik stopped and took his hat off to wipe his forehead. "I just want to thank you again for everything you've done for us so far. Even though it's been a short time, it sure as hell feels longer."

At that moment, Wanda walked out of the house looking for Natasha.

Natasha spotted her immediately.

"I know just what you mean, sir." Natasha pulled her focus back to her boss. Erik hummed and turned his head to Wanda as the two continued walking. "I guess what I'm saying is, is that good help is hard to find, but you sure found us at a good time,"

Natasha turned her head to the man as they reached the fence gate. "Thank you, sir." He smiled, and it looked like he wanted to say more, but as Wanda walked up, Erik didn't say a word. "Hi, sweetie." Erik smiled at his daughter. "Hi, Papa!" She waved before her eyes moved to Natasha's.

Erik turned slightly and made his exit known. "I'll see what Magda's feeling for dinner."

Natasha waved bye before moving to take off her work gloves. "What's up?" Natasha questioned Wanda. Wanda held the end sleeve of her heather grey oversized sweatshirt. "I was kinda wondering if you wanted to come out with me and the group tonight?" Wanda asked without any stutters or flubs.

Natasha looked at Wanda, a little surprised. "Oh!" Natasha looked down and smiled before finding Wanda's beautiful face. "Out like to a club or-"

"No, no, no. Like a beer garden that has like board games and stuff!" That interested Natasha a lot more. "Oh!" She said again. "Yeah. Sure. That sounds like fun!" Natasha genuinely couldn't remember the last time she played a board or card game, but if she had to guess, it was probably at Clint's before the man flipped the board over and walked away like a baby.

Wanda felt ecstatic!

"Great! I'll let everyone know!" Wanda rushed off to get ready for the night without giving Natasha any additional information, but seeing the smile on Wanda's face was more than enough for her.

Now, she was glad she splurged more on her body wash.

But just like Wanda before, Natasha was now left figuring out what to wear.

Natasha turned her back to the mirror. She was watching the way her ass filled out her favorite pair of black jeans.

This could work.

Natasha, happy with that choice, sat on the bed as she looked at her newly filled closet while she put a pair of socks on and her brown boots. Natasha planted both feet on the hardwood floor and sighed. She stood up once again and walked to the mirror.

Her eyes found the scars on her left arm before she moved to look at a mole in the center of her chest. She brought her hand up and circled it with her healed index finger. She smiled as she briefly thought about the seconds before she cut herself on the kitchen knife.

Three.

That's how many small moles she counted on Wanda's left breast.

She also remembers the teasing look Wanda wore.

Natasha lifted her face slightly to look at herself. She looked better and knew Wanda was a reason for it—that and leaving the military.

Still, Natasha cleared her throat, and instead of looking for a shirt, she parked herself at the small desk by the door. She began lining her ears with additional gold pieces of jewelry she had been absent of.

Natasha turned her head and beamed at her beauty. She opened her phone camera and looked at the freshly applied lipstick and lip liner.

She was trying something new.

Natasha wasn't too sure about it. But before she could reach forward and grab a wipe, a shadow caught her eye.

Away from the dipping sun behind a pink sky, Wanda was in her bedroom window with her light on. She stood posing in front of her mirror in blue jeans and a lacy black bra.

Natasha felt her cheeks run red as she couldn't pull her eyes away in time to watch Wanda check herself out. Soft hands were smoothing themselves across her beautiful skin.

Natasha closed her mouth and looked away before a noise could disrupt this tranquil moment. She threw on whatever was the nearest shirt she could find, as her mind wouldn't let go of Wanda.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Magda asked as she looked her daughter's outfit up and down. She smiled. Her daughter had grown up into a beautiful, intelligent woman.

Wanda looked down at her outfit of blue jeans, brown boots, and a white t-shirt with a red button-down open-dress shirt.

In the right light, her black bra could be seen through the white shirt.

Wanda did this on purpose for one person tonight.

"Out with friends. Natasha's coming." This was news to Magda. "Oh!" Her surprised voice turned into one of acceptance. "Okay. Well, have fun and be safe!"

Wanda smiled and entered the living room to hug her mother. "I will."

Natasha will make sure of it. Wanda thought.

"Where's Papa?" Wandas asked. Magda pointed upstairs. Wanda nodded and said another goodbye as her mother joked about ordering pizza now that no one would be home tonight.

Wanda laughed and closed the front door just in time for her to see Natasha walk up the path from her place like a goddess. Natasha had a natural beauty that was only exploited even more by the paint on her lips and the jewelry on her body.

Wants didn't miss the way the leather jacket stuck to Natasha in a way that would look good on her. Not to mention the jeans.

It was then that Wanda found herself being wrong. She did, in fact, have a crush on Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha smirked as her eyes savored in Wanda. Wanda wasn't just attractive tonight. She was hot. And judging by the lacey bra she wore underneath, Natasha knew that Wanda knew how gorgeous she was.

Wanda smirked and walked off the porch as Natasha stepped closer. "Oh, Natasha, I don't think you understand what you're doing to me." Wanda hid the truth behind a teasing voice and smile.

Natasha would've rolled her eyes, but something shifted between the two.

Natasha gave a wink instead that she instantly regretted, but Wanda laughed, so maybe it wasn't that bad. They each walked closer to Natasha's bike.

"So, are we meeting everyone at one of your friends?"

That was the plan.

"Umm.." Wanda didn't want to do that anymore. "Actually, we're gonna meet them at the beer garden."

Natasha didn't remember that being the plan but went along with it. It's not like she was in the group chat. "Okay." She said and smiled as Wanda stepped closer to her motorcycle. "Oh wait!" Natasha said.

Wanda took a step back, unaware if she had done anything wrong.

"You need a helmet!" Natasha said, which led to Natasha laughing as they hit the main road. "It's not funny!" Wanda shouted as her arms wrapped tighter around Natasha's middle. She smelt her shampoo in the wind.

Natasha giggled as she caught the reflection of Wanda in a bright pink helmet that barely fit her anymore.

As Natasha parked her bike, she felt a little sad when Wanda's arms unraveled themselves from her body.

Wanda hopped off the bike first and stood on the sidewalk as she watched Natasha swing her leg around the bike. God, it was hot. And how did Natasha not get helmet hair?

Natasha placed her helmet on the seat as she peeked over at Wanda before full-blown laughing again. Confusing Wanda. "What?!" Wanda smiled. Natasha came closer and raised her rough hands to Wanda. Her fingertips brushed up Wanda's neck to her chin.

"Were you planning on wearing this inside?" Natasha unclipped the strap to the bright pink helmet. "Oh, right! Duh!" Wanda closed her eyes, embarrassed, as Natasha lifted the helmet. "It's okay. We'll just leave it here." Natasha put it on the right handlebar. "I don't think anyone's gonna want it." Natasha joked, making Wanda agree with laughter.

Natasha, meanwhile, took her helmet with her and placed it under her arms as she and Wanda walked side by side to the beer garden.

The two felt an electric touch when their hands brushed against each other more than once.

"Wanda?" Natasha tilted her head to the younger woman as they approached the establishment. Bouncer in sight. "What's up?" Wanda blinked her big doe eyes. "Aren't you 20?" Natasha innocently asked.

Natasha didn't care if Wanda had a fake ID or not. Even if Wanda showed that she did, in fact, have one, she ignored Natasha's question and presented the bouncer with an ID that said she was 22 years old.

Natasha just didn't want for Wanda to be turned away at the door. She didn't want to see her sad.

However, to Wanda, Natasha's question was an unwarranted reminder of the eight-year gap between the two.

"Happy?" Wanda asked with a slightly sour tone that surprised Natasha. "Of course," Natasha replied as she followed an already guilty feeling Wanda.

Wanda turned to Natasha and gave a warm smile. A subtle apology that Natasha didn't realize before grabbing her arm and leading her to the bar. "I'll buy the first round!"

Natasha widely smiled and accepted. "I'll buy the second." She found Wanda's eyes and leaned in a little closer until their sides touched.

Wanda and Natasha both hid smiles.

As Natasha kept her eyes occupied with reading the menu above the taps, Wanda received a text.

Six Peas In A Pod

I have to ask..

D: did she ask??

C: Where are we meeting btw?

S: We doin shots tonight right? Wanda??

D: wanda? babes?

B: What is Natasha said no...

D: bucky i will kick you out don't play. wanda??

C: Imma text her.

SHE SAID YES WE'LL MEET YOU THERE!

M: Omg!! Girl I can't wait to hear all about it!!

B: Five step plan to make Natasha fall I love with me starts now.

D: @Bucky🙄 as if

S: We doing shots!!!

Now:

D: gotta say im loving the way natasha fills out the jeans 👀

HUH!?

Wanda flipped her phone screen down so hard she thought it might have broken. Natasha noticed. "Is everything okay?" Wanda nodded as she began looking for any signs of her friends. She found them when Darcy started shaking her hands wildly.

"Oh, I see." Natasha laughed. "Let's order, and then we'll join them," Natasha suggested, much to Wanda's agreement. Moments alone were going to be rare, and Wanda wanted to make it last.

"Nice helmet!" Sam noted as Natasha and Wanda sat next to each other—separate seats. Darcy immediately caught the way Wanda was watching Natasha converse with the rest of the friend group.

She smiled behind her second beer of the night.

"So Natasha, be honest with me." Sam began making everyone be prepared for him to say something crazy. "Oh boy," Carol mumbled. Sam waved his hands at his friends. "Is Wanda a snorer?" Bucky and Carol immediately slapped his arm and head as Wanda became red in the face.

Natasha, surprised and amused by everything happening, cleared her throat before sipping on her second beer. Her green orbs caught Wanda's before they darted away. "Umm.." Natasha said. "I don't have an answer for you. But if I had to guess..." She looked at Wanda and smirked. "I'd say she's definitely a loud snorer. She would probably keep me up the whole night!"

"Oh my god! No! Shut up!" Wanda lightly pushed Natasha but glowed at the mention of Natasha and her sleeping together.

Natasha laughed and high-fived Sam. Darcy even joined in.

Conversations like that flowed again with a round of shots before a stranger made their presence known.

"Excuse me..." A soft voice interrupted a story Bucky was telling about the group's time at the beach. All eyes turned to a dark-haired woman with a bandage on her nose. She wore a purple flannel over a grey shirt, dark-wash jeans, and black boots. She had a very striking complexion.

Carol and Bucky both found themselves looking the woman up and down. Sam, like with Natasha, noticed the dog tags around her neck.

Sam turned his attention to Wanda.

Wanda's soft eyes and smile changed when she saw how the woman was looking only at Natasha.

"Tasha?" The woman asked as her cautious face turned into a smile when Natasha turned to face the mysterious person. "Oh my gosh! Kate!?" Natasha rose to her feet and hugged them.

It had been years since "Tasha" had seen this person.

Darcy looked to Wanda, who quietly sipped her beer. The rest of the group also watched the interaction unfold in front of them.

"How are you!?" Kate kept her arms on Natasha's side. "I'm good. Doing some work in the city." Natasha raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Oh wow. That's great!"

Kate lifted her arms away from the redhead. "I heard you're a free woman!" Natasha laughed and knew exactly who told Kate the news. "Fury?" Kate nodded. "Fury."

Darcy slapped Wanda's leg as Wanda sneered at the friendly exchange.

"It's nice when he calls. It's rare, but it happens." Kate said as the friend group watched the way Natasha and Kate spoke in what might as well be riddles.

"So, did you ever-" Natasha's eyes caught a glimpse of the metal hanging around Kate's neck. Kate shared a knowing look with Natasha as they both saw the other person wearing their dog tags. "Get that dog?" Kate finished Natasha's question. Natasha nodded.

"Yeah. Fanny's her name. She's great! I can show you pictures!" Natasha loved how excited Kate was talking about Fanny. "I'd love to see them."

It was then that Natasha could sense all eyes on them. Especially a brunette who was burning a hole into her head. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry guys!" Natasha spoke to the group.

Wanda thought Natasha should've acknowledged her first as she finished off her third drink.

"This is Kate Bishop. We..." Natasha trailed off, and half the friend group thought exes. "We were in the military together." Kate once again finished Natasha's sentence. Kate waved to the group.

Bucky flashed his eyes towards Wanda.

"How about you join us!" Darcy spoke up, making Wanda spin her head around. Natasha didn't notice the shocked look Wanda wore.

Darcy was an ally for Wanda through and through, but she also lived from drama and gossip.

"If everyone is cool with it?" Natasha posed to the group. Everyone gave nods and waves of approval.

Everyone but Wanda.

Wanda darted her eyes back and forth between Kate and Natasha. Kate was shorter than Wanda but closer in age to Natasha.

"Here, take my spot!" Natasha moved her drink next to Wanda's empty glass and sat on the loveseat with Wanda. Wanda's stomach jumped, and for a brief moment, a smile was found on her face again. Natasha's stomach also flipped, but she was too focused on giving her attention to Kate than worrying about whether she and Wanda were too close to one another.

This drove Wanda crazy. Her little movements and longing touches seemed not to faze Natasha throughout the night as card games and more drinks were had.

Too many drinks for Wanda.

This is why when Natasha unsubconsciously put her arm on the backside of Wanda's part of the loveseat, Kate's eyes flickered between the two.

She had been eyeing Wanda most of the night, but when Wanda blushed as Romanoff scooted closer to her, Kate felt safe in making a comment about it.

"I must say, Romanoff, it suits you," Kate said as the game of UNO ended with Carol winning again. Her laughing in Bucky's face.

Wanda could've won multiple times, but she couldn't focus on her cards. Plus, she saw doubles when there weren't any.

"What do you mean?" Natasha inquired. Kate nudged her head towards Wanda, who was turned talking to Darcy.

Darcy was trying to stop Wanda from leaving.

"Oh no.." Natasha shook her head and turned her eyes to Kate. "We're just friends."

Everyone heard it and froze.

The corners of Wanda's eyes immediately began to sting. She got up and started walking away before anyone could stop her. "Wanda!" Darcy yelled, causing Natasha to spin her head in that direction.

Why was Wanda leaving?

Natasha swung her eyes across everyone's face, no one looking directly at her. "Natasha..." Kate spoke up. "Did she know that?"

Natasha's mouth dropped, but no words came out. Every little thing Wanda did tonight finally hit Natasha, and she felt awful. "I-.." She needed to find Wanda. "I'll be back." Natasha stood up and chased in the direction Wanda ran off.

The friend group all turned to Kate.

"Just who do you think you are-" Darcy started yelling at Kate before Sam stood up and stopped Darcy from being a real one. "Look at her tag!" Sam yelled.

"Oh shit..." Bucky's face fell as he saw it.

dividers by @/benkeibear

53 notes · View notes