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scuderiahoney · 11 days

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Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5

Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words

Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.

“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.

Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”

“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”

George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.

Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”

“Not really?” He says, shrugging.

Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”

Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.

Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”

You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”

Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“

“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”

…..

The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.

Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.

You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”

Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.

An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.

After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.

“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.

He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.

…..

The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.

By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.

When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.

“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.

“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.

“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.

Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”

Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”

You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.

…..

Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.

“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”

Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”

“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”

Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.

“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”

Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.

He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”

You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.

“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”

Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.

Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.

You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.

You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.

The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”

You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”

Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”

You nod. “I’ll stay here!”

“Me too,” Oscar adds.

“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”

Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.

A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.

“This is really nice,” he says, softly.

The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”

Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”

He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.

“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.

There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.

…..

Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.

You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.

You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.

Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”

You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.

Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.

“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.

You nod. “Me too.”

His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-

Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?

“I…” he starts, then stops.

You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.

If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.

He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.

…..

The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.

He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.

Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.

There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.

One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.

When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.

He just eyes you carefully,

“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”

You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.

You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.

It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.

When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”

His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.

“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”

You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”

You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.

Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.

One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.

“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”

You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”

“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you murmur back.

Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.

…..

Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.

The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.

The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.

“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”

His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”

You shrug and wink. “Close second.”

He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.

“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.

You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”

He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”

You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”

He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”

And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.

You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.

Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”

“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.

When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.

You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.

When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.

“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.

“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up your other side. “We’ll be back.”

He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.

“Promise?” You ask, quietly.

He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”

So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.

The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.

bunnyrabb1t

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others

bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever

landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(

oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb

landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream

lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!

bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘

alex_albon hey. back off 🤺

oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️

bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️

charles_leclerc 🤨

carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you

notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11

(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)

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ruershrimo · 3 months

Text

i.yuji x reader | konbini in the night

there are breadcrumbs on your face. you wipe them off and throw the packaging away in the dustbin next to his bike, the darkness of the night contrasting the bright lights of the convenience store next to you.

“look!” he calls out, the light in his pink hair fading as he exits the store, “I got one of these strawberry sandwiches I keep seeing online lately.”

the glint in his eyes is like powdered sugar on a perfect cake, or fireworks in a starry sky. sweet, bright, unforgettable— a treasure in people’s memories. the convenience store had been like an oasis in the dim, merely lamp-lit streets, and the two of you decided to dash straight into it before getting back to jujutsu high’s dormitories.

“you sure you don’t want anything else?” he asks, “the cashier lady’s actually really nice. I can give you some of these sandwiches, too.”

you’re sure it’s because he’s nicer. that he walked up to the counter, with that adorable face and kind smile, and the lady just treated him the same. like how sunflowers shined at and turned their heads to the sun.

“no, I’m fine.”

“hm…” he goes, “okay. but you should eat more, you know?”

“pft— yuuji, I’ll be just fine. don’t worry, okay?”

“okay,” he says with a pout.

he gets on the bicycle, and reflexively, you sit behind him. (you really have been pavlov’ed into getting on the passenger’s seat every time he’s on his bike, huh?) he places the sandwiches next to where you’ve placed your own water bottle in the basket, and you lean forward so that your face rests against his back while your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. the hard pillion seat feels as comfortable as a mattress on display in a department store.

the ride back to the dorms— back home, actually— starts mostly mundanely, the wind humming softly against your face, the night dissolving your consciousness in slumber. you feel just that one bit out of control of yourself, and your head feels light to the point where you don’t want to think about anything at all.

“...let’s get married, yuuji,” you whisper under the twinkling stars, your spirit warmly embracing his while you press your chest more against his back. normally you’d be too scared to, especially with your breath still smelling like sandwiches: all too ridden with your own inhibitions— but this night in particular is almost a perfect one, so for once you don’t mind.

there is so much pain in the world but not here. not behind him and definitely not on the seat behind his back. the world ahead is uncertain but you’d be willing to face it with him head-on as long as he’s fine with it.

“huh? married?” he doesn’t know if the red on his cheeks is obvious but he thinks that even if it is you wouldn’t see it under the night sky. you can tell that under his large brown eyes there’s the faintest of blushes— you don’t need eyes to see that.

you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. he smells like some kind of 3-in-1 shampoo-conditioner-shower gel thing, but you guess that’s a testament to how much you love him since you don’t mind it at all. it’s wonderfully endearing to you now: the plain, minty scent that clings to his trademark ref hoodie, how the ends of his spiky pink hair poke and tickle at your face, how you can hear his low, slow breathing like a soft melody soothing you to sleep.

you’re not going to think that you’ll lose him someday. if you did then you wouldn’t be able to live. but if you didn’t promise this now— now when you’ve still only met him three months ago— and lost him, you’d spend your whole life grieving over him.

“mhm,” you reply, “let’s get married. I want to stay with you for a lifetime.”

and if this isn’t love you don’t know what love is anymore.

he looks back for a moment, and smiles, showing his teeth off like a little kid.

“sure! I wanna have that too.” he turns back. “I mean, I wanna make you happy. really happy. every day. and you wouldn’t have to worry about keeping me happy because I’d be the happiest guy in the world as long as you were. and, and—” —he lets one of his hands go from the bicycle handles; you open your eyes as he starts making gestures with it as accompaniments to his words— “— we’ll have this nice house or something, and it can be whatever you like. we can think of something together. and we won’t have much but it’ll be enough, I think.”

“mhm,” you smile. you bet he can feel the imprints of your lips on his skin, because it lays the slightest of gooseflesh on the back of his neck, the hairs there rising a little. as gross as it sounds you don’t worry if it’s chapped, and you guess he doesn’t mind either. “we’ll have just enough for us.”

he hums in agreement. “yeah.”

it’s quiet for a while, just the night air mixed with his scent, the grass swaying along to a silent tune, him, and you.

“…you know, a lot of people think that things like this come in sequences or something. like you have to at least kiss and do more than studying or going to the store together. we don’t even go to each others’ rooms at night or spend every second together and all… but— I think… I think I already know I want to spend my whole life with you. I mean, I really, really love you. so I get kinda worked up about lots of stuff sometimes but then I’ll see you again and that tells me things’ll be fine. that we’ll work things out.”

“yeah,” you say, your breath brushing against his skin again. it warms your cheeks up as the heat in it spreads around your face like hot tea. “we will. we definitely will. I promise.”

you fall asleep on his shoulder and don’t care about waking up on time the next day.

haha I just wanted to get this out since it’s been sitting in my docs app for about a month,,, also 恭喜发财 to the people who celebrate it, and happy Valentine’s Day since it’s coming up soon! so sorry if this is subpar or has any grammatical mistakes TvT

#jjk yuji #jjk yuuji #itadori yuji #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori #yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji fluff #yuji fluff #yuuji Itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #are those all of the tags? he has a lot due to the different spellings of his name #ruer writes

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quokkawritesarchive · 3 months

Text

BE MY VALENTINE — HYUNMIN.

pairing: hyunjin x seungmin genre: smut, NSFW warnings: drunk confessions, oral (s. receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing a/n: it’s part of my valentine’s collab! i may have got a little bit carried on with the plot and went way over the word limit…

it was a particularly sad day for a romantic person like hyunjin. after years of being an idol, he craved for love. he just wanted to find a person who’s gonna accept him the way he is and understand him fully. hyunjin was a hopeless romantic after all.

seungmin, on the other hand, locked up his feelings long time ago. he knew it won’t be possible to date anymore because of his constant work and crazy schedule. but deep down, he also craved for love, he wanted to find the right person too.

that’s how both of them ended up drinking on valentine’s day like some losers. all other members were busy doing something — jisung distracted himself with writing lyrics for a new song, jeongin was watching some k-dramas, minho and changbin went to the gym, and felix and chan were playing genshin and spending their entire salaries on a new banner. everyone has found some way to distract themselves from valentine’s day. no one wanted to think of how lonely they truly were.

since hyunjin’s dorm was basically empty and jisung locked himself in his room, it was mutually decided to drink there.

seungmin was a fan of beer, but hyunjin stuck to the good old soju. he wasn’t really a drinking type, but the occasion left him with no other choice but to get absolutely blacked out.

the bottles were carefully grouped up on the coffee table, while the boys were sitting on the floor and watching something on tv. none of them paid much attention to the screen, as they were already tipsy.

“when was the last time you kissed someone?” hyunjin suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had been going on for the last half hour.

seungmin stopped mid drinking, shifting his gaze from the tv screen to hyunjin’s face.

“dunno… like a few months ago? when we went to the strip club for chan’s birthday, i think?”

hyunjin nodded rapidly, indicating that he still hadn’t forgotten that day.

“yeah i remember how i found you making out with some bitc- some girl on the sofa.” hyunjin quickly corrected himself, earning a laugh from his friend. “why didn’t you rent her for the night? she was all over you.”

“ugh… i think that’s exactly why i didn’t rent her. because she was all over me.”

hyunjin put on a “don’t lie to me” look and seungmin sighed.

“i don’t know… just… didn’t feel like it…”

“didn’t like the kiss?” hyunjin suggested, opening another bottle of soju in the meantime.

“maybe.” seungmin avoided the question carefully, dancing around it like fire. “that was last year, jinnie. i-“

“don’t remember?” hyunjin chucked. “okay, you don’t have to answer truthfully.”

seungmin felt his cheeks burn. despite the fact that he really wanted to tell the truth right now, he knew he would regret it tomorrow. he hid his sexuality this whole time not to end up telling the secret the second he got drunk. especially at this moment, when hyunjin looked so cozy in that hoodie and glasses, with his hair smeared as if he just woken up from the nap.

“you good? want some water?” hyunjin waved in front of seungmin’s face, waking the latter out of his trance.

“no, no, i’m good.” seungmin replied nervously. has he been staring this whole time?

“let me actually bring some water. we’ve been drinking non stop, it’s time to sober up a bit.” with that, hyunjin disappeared into the doorway.

perhaps hyunjin was right, and it was time to sober up. if he continued to stare like that, it would end badly for both of them. seungmin slammed his own cheeks a couple of times to calm himself down. and it actually worked. by the time hyunjin returned with two glasses of water, seungmin was already feeling much better and less sleepy.

both of them emptied their glasses in silence, as if the talk before had never happened. after a few bottles of alcohol, the water seemed to come straight from heaven.

“so… what about you then?” seungmin asked, not being able to shut his mouth entirely. once the unusual topic like this was brought up, it was hard for him to move on. it really affected him, he was dying to know hyunjin’s answer.

“what is it to you?” hyunjin said surprisingly sharply.

“ah, cmon, dude. you asked me first! now it’s your turn!” seungmin laughed it off, but he got so concerned deep inside. why did hyunjin become so defensive all of a sudden?

“i’m gonna steal your answer and say i don’t remember.” hyunjin winked, earning an irritated growl from seungmin.

“yeah, yeah, of course. i know you’re dating someone secretly, that’s why you don’t want to answer!”

“and what if? are you jealous?”

seungmin got shut up so hard. he couldn’t even think of a proper comeback for like ten seconds, staring dumbly in response. by the time a minute had passed, it was just awkward to even say anything, so he just took another sip of beer.

“so… you are jealous?”

seungmin cursed under his breath. he needed to leave right now, before it was too late. if he doesn’t, he will ruin everything. everything.

“why did you ask me that question for?” but instead of leaving, seungmin got straight to the point. he was digging a hole for himself.

hyunjin smiled and looked him dead in the eye. “the first one? let’s just say i didn’t ask to hear how you liked making out with that girl.”

“then why?” seungmin’s eyes started flickering between hyunjin’s eyes and lips.

hyunjin’s eyes dropped down to seungmin’s lips as well as he said almost inaudibly. “because I wanted to kiss you.”

seungmin didn’t know how, but it happened. one second his gaze was captivated by hyunjin's inviting lips, and the next his eyes were closed with his own lips pressed over hyunjin's. he wasn’t sure who leaned in for the kiss first, it didn’t matter anymore. but the fact that they were even doing it couldn’t sit right in his mind. he was scared of losing himself quickly, trying so hard to control the moment. their lips parted for a moment to inhale, and then met again for the second time, with a slower and gentle pace.

the tv kept playing in the background this whole time, but all they could hear was the sound of their lips moving, exchanging saliva and pulling away for a moment to tilt their heads. their noses brushed every time, which felt even more intimate than the kiss itself.

hyunjin’s lips were as plump and soft as seungmin imagined. the sharp taste of soju filled seungmin’s mouth, mixing with the taste of beer he was drinking. the slow kiss quickly progressed as hyunjin brought his face impossibly close, deepening it further.

the pace had picked up as well as they continued to glide of their tongues over each other so languidly. all they could worry about was the urge to taste each other more.

hyunjin’s hand finally made it onto seungmin’s thigh unintentionally. almost reflectively, he began to slide his palm on seungmin’s inner thigh, causing the latter to moan deeply inside the kiss. hyunjin’s mind already felt floaty because of the amount of consumed alcohol. but now that seungmin was responding to his kiss so eagerly, desperately, submissively… he felt like on fire. he wanted to touch seungmin more. kissing was not enough.

after minutes of heavy make out and hyunjin’s hand caressing his inner thigh, seungmin’s cock began to grow bigger in his pants. with another accident brush of hyunjin’s palm over his groin, seungmin finally broke off the kiss, pulling away with swollen lips. hyunjin was staring at him with desperation in his eyes, breathing heavily, lips as equally glossy and swollen.

they were silent for a second, until hyunjin spoke. “you are a pretty good kisser. no wonder that girl was all over you.”

“shut up!” seungmin growled, hiding his face in embarrassment. “we are both drunk. we should stop, otherwise we will end up fucking each other.”

hyunjin’s lips grew into a smirk. “what if i want us to fuck each other?”

seungmin turned away completely, feeling his dick grow bigger at the words. “fuck- don’t say that. i’m so hard already… we shouldn’t be doing this.”

hyunjin laughed and then tugged seungmin closer by his t-shirt, ignoring his speech entirely and making him yelp in surprise. “let me help you then.”

hyunjin was not blind. the outline of seungmin’s dick poking his pants so deliciously was grabbing all his attention. and after seungmin expressed his wishes, it was impossible for hyunjin to stay away. he knew what seungmin wanted and how desperately he needed it. his dick screamed for touch, for any relief.

hyunjin reached his way into seungmin’s mouth for the last time, not wanting to pull away. their tongues danced around each and over their bottom lips once again, before hyunjin broke the kiss.

excitement was rapidly building up inside him. he finally got what he’d wanted for years. that night, on chan’s birthday, he was crushed by the sight of seungmin making out with that girl. he looked like he enjoyed it, and hyunjin was so surprised when seungmin ended up politely declining her further offers. but now… he could finally feel his lips with his own.

true to his words, hyunjin reached into seungmin’s pants, straight into his boxes.

in a matter of seconds, the entire length of seungmin’s dick was open on a plain sight. hyunjin stared down at it, precum all over, dropping from the tip further down the length. it was endearing to see seungmin so aroused for him, so desperate for his touch.

“let me know if i should stop, ‘kay?” hyunjin said against the skin as leaned in, planting series of kisses on seungmin’s inner thigh. he let his lips brush near the hip, kissing it slowly before biting on the soft skin.

seungmin nodded lightly and shut his eyes, holding his breath. his hands reached for hyunjin’s head, interlocking his fingers in strands of hair and pushing him lower.

hyunjin’s hot breath tickled the tip, and seungmin almost let out a loud moan, but quickly bit his lip. he had almost forgotten jisung was still in his room down the hallway and actually could walk in any second.

but a quiet moan did escape his lips when hyunjin kissed along his tip, softly and slowly. he then trailed down his tongue from the head all the way to the base while using his other hand to softly run it across the inner thigh. the cock was already painfully hard from the heavy make out, so hyunjin could apply barely any effort to make seungmin moan in desperation. he watched how the thick string of glimmering precum connected his lips and seungmin’s cock.

hyunjin looked up only to see seungmin’s clouded eyes and his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the embarrassment was crushing over him. but it wasn’t embarrassing to hyunjin at all. rather the opposite; it was hot. seeing his friend in such a state was so hot. he immediately felt his own cock growing harder and bigger against his pants, which was slightly uncomfortable; but he chose to ignore that feeling for now. the image of dripping and hard swollen dick in front of his face was much more exciting.

running his tongue down the dick from top to bottom for the last time, as if licking a lollipop, hyunjin finally pushed it inside his throat until he started choking slightly. hollowing out his cheeks, he started bobbing his head up and down, trying to take more than he possibly could.

“ah-“ his actions finally caused seungmin speak up. “your mouth is so warm.”

the praise only made hyunjin to bob his head faster, the tip of the cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly. seeing the impact of his own actions on seungmin’s body gave him a sense of confidence. seungmin panted above him, his fingers digging deeper into hyunjin’s hair as he pushed him further down his cock.

it became messy quickly. the spit started running down from the corner of his mouth, dribbling all the way down his chin and onto seungmin’s thighs. but hyunjin didn’t care; the messier the better.

the sounds of slick connecting with hyunjin’s lips sliding down the entire length filled the room. seungmin felt himself getting anxious again, since jisung was still somewhere in the dorm.

“don’t be shy, min.” hyunjin spoke as if he was reading seungmin’s mind. “i bet he is wearing headphones. he always wears them when he writes new lyrics.”

seungmin replied breathlessly. “w-we’re not hundred percent s-sure…”

“okay, then next time we’ll go to your dorm.” hyunjin smiled, sinking back down on the dick.

next time… the words repeated in seungmin’s head. he could no longer tell if it was an empty promise or a real chance that it would happen. but right away he came to the conclusion that he wanted this to happen.

finally feeling the satisfaction of having something warm wrapped around his cock had him in chokehold. hyunjin was skilled, seungmin could tell it from the way he got him worked up so quickly.

fighting the inner shyness, seungmin lowered his head once again only to be met with hyunjin’s ardent gaze.

“‘m g-gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that.” he swallowed hard.

hyunjin’s eyes nearly rolled in satisfaction just from hearing that. he was so addicted to praise. and the only thing that worked as good as praise were the high-pitched whimpers leaving seungmin’s mouth.

“then cum for me.” hyunjin said without breaking eye contact.

that alone made seungmin’s breath hitch in his throat as he started shamelessly fucking into hyunjin’s mouth.

hyunjin wasn’t sure what was prettier, seungmin’s shameless actions or the moans that were leaving his mouth.

the thrusts became more rapid; seungmin grabbed onto hyunjin’s hair till it started to physically hurt. seungmin’s head threw back as he spilled loads of hot cum down hyunjin’s throat. he didn’t pull away, sucking it all effortlessly and tasting the saltiness of the cum. it still felt unreal how he had managed to ruin his friend like that in such a short time.

seungmin’s face completely changed as he realized hyunjin had swallowed everything that just came out of his dick.

“hyunjin.” he said with a concerned tone.

“c’mon, don’t look so disgusted.” hyunjin chuckled, leaning in closer. “you taste good.”

he then found seungmin’s lips again, letting him taste himself on his tongue.

he really couldn’t stop kissing him.

his lips were addicting like drugs, making hyunjin light in the head. the way they melted into each other for another good minute was almost like they’d been dating forever. even with seungmin’s shyness, everything felt natural, as if it was meant to be.

the loud slam of the door down the corridor made them jump away from each other.

“jisung.” they said in sync.

seungmin barely managed to shove the dick in his pants, and hyunjin took a pillow from the couch to hide his own erection.

“you guys okay?” jisung appeared out of the darkness of the corridor. “you look like you saw a ghost.”

“yeah, you.” seungmin responded in his usual manner, making hyunjin laugh.

“whatever. alcoholics.” jisung sighed, looking at the pile of bottles on the coffee table.

hyunjin and seungmin exchanged looks again. little did he know what was happening here just moments ago.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

TAGLIST (OPEN): @lvlnijiro @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife @caitlyn98s @yaorzu-blog

#stray kids #skz smut #hyunmin #skz hyunmin #hyunmin smut #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #skz seungmin #seungmin smut #hyunjin x seungmin #stray kids smut

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atom-writings · 5 months

Note

hiii can i request russia, canada, germany and greece seeing their s/o wearing their clothes for the first time? good luck on ur finals :D !!

hetalia russia, canada, germany, and greece seeing their s/o wear their clothes

1.0k words ~ gender neutral headcanons / scenarios

tw: none!

a/n: holy shit tthis request is so old that its a new finals season :sob: guys im trying. ALSO idk how to write greece. but hopefully its ok

Russia

Ivan wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you wore his clothing. Like, he just never expected anyone to ever… want to do that?

Plus, if you’re any shorter than 6’ 5”, his clothes are more like blankets than anything wearable.)

Mornings at Ivan's house were always cold. His dacha had been built long before the invention of home heating systems, and he had always refused to modernize anything he owned.

So, when you finally woke up, you grabbed one of Ivan's jackets to keep yourself warm while you made breakfast. It was huge, on him and you, and lined with fur from animals killed centuries ago.

The house was quiet aside from the quiet sizzling of an egg on a pan. Or at least, it was until you heard the dull thuds drawing closer behind you.

In an instant, Ivan wrapped his firm arms around you, picking you up off the floor for a second.

“G-Good morning to you too,” You tease him softly. All he responds with is a quiet grunt, muffled as he buries his face in your hair.

“Should I make you something too?”

He shook his head, “You are too perfect to be cooking right now...”

“Aww, Ivan...”

”Please wear things like this more often...“ He mumbled, seemingly embarrassed.

”What, your things? Should I steal more jackets?“

“Yes... please...“ He said, and you could feel his smile, even if you couldn't see it.

He just can't get enough of you wearing his stuff. He thinks it makes you two look like a real couple. Then everyone will know that you're his (:

Canada

From the start of your relationship, Matthew had been trying to subtly coerce you into wearing his clothes. It's like, one of his main relationship goals.

So if you did it without him asking, his brain would fry.

“D-Dear, what are you- a-are you...?” Matthew's shaking voice makes it way past your earbuds, which you promptly rip out.

You turn away from your desk to face him, and his face immediately lights up.

”Sorry, I- I didn't have an-“ Is all you sputter out before you're interrupted by a hug that sends you tumbling backwards. He's warm as he curls around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

”Oh. Uh-”

“W-Wait, sorry... I- I didn't mean to um-”

“You're f-”

“No- I mean-” He pulls away, letting go of you completely.

“Math-”

“Sorry!”

“MATTHEW,” You finally manage to break him out of his stuttering state, “It's fine.”

He averts his gaze as he stands before you, awkwardly playing with his hoodie cuffs, ”I- I just really think you're um- cute in that...“

”Matt, it's just a hoodie.“

”Yeah but it- it has um... that...“ He points to the maple leaf pattern covering the hoodie. That makes you pause, looking up at him like he said something weird.

“It's just leaves.”

His cheeks immediately turn the same shade as the leaves on his hoodie, ”W-Well! It's better than stars and stripes!“

Seriously, anything that shows that you're showing him over America will make him go crazy.

Germany

Ludwig doesn't have a lot of casual clothes, so you're kind of limited in your “stealing t-shirts for pyjamas” options

And sorry to disappoint, but his stoic demeanour isn't getting majorly cracked even by that.

It was a rare occurrence for Ludwig to let you do anything around the house. He cooked the meals, he cleaned the dishes, he did most of the laundry, and the sweeping, mopping, and literally any other task that had to be done. So, in a moment you thought would never come, you were actually excited to be doing the dishes for him.

But, because of his disaster of a “modern, ergonomic” sink, that meant getting water all over your shirt. And seeing how you were wearing something nice for a date night with him, you only had one choice. Throwing on one of his torn and faded old t-shirts.

After a few minutes of washing the dishes alone, Ludwig took his place beside you, leaning against the counter and watching you intently.

“Yes?“ You prompt him, and he immediately looks a little embarrassed.

”Thanks for doing this.“

”You do this every night, so like, it's fine?“

”Y-Yes, but, I still appreciate it.“ He tells you quickly, before placing a hang on your shoulder. You turn off the water for a moment, plunging the kitchen into silence again.

Before you could register it, you were pulled closer to him.

“You should wear my things more often…” He mumbled before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Buy more normal person clothes then.”

Then he pulled away with a groan, “OK, the moment is over.”

Greece

Heracles probably didn't even notice until you said something. Anytime he's looking at you, your clothes are the last thing he registers.

”Oh, wait... uh- sorry,“ You blurt out once you look down and remember what you're wearing, ”I forgot to ask if I could...“

He looks over you as your hands fidget with the hem of his oversized t-shirt. The design said something in Greek, but all you could make out were the words ”FOOD“ and ”CATS” (It was more important that it was comfortable than stylish.) For his part, he looked completely disinterested in whatever you were saying.

“If you could what?” Heracles asks, his tone dry and tired.

“If I could wear your shirt...”

“Oh,” Then he glances over your direction, barely looking over his tea, ”Yes, I see that now.“

”Do you... care?“

”No.“ He says as if what you had just asked was as obvious as the colour of the sky. Despite that, it didn't seem to bother or excite him in the slightest.

He might find it a little amusing when his clothes don't fit you, but generally he doesn't care. He believes strongly in the idea that ”What's his is yours, and what's yours is his.“

Because of that, he'll steal your clothes too. And he might rip them. Oops.

#heta tag #hetalia x reader #hetalia imagines #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #matthew tag #aph canada x reader #hws canada x reader #ludwig tag #aph germany x reader #hws germany x reader #aph greece x reader #hws greece x reader #heracles tag

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probably-writing-x · 1 year

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Summary: can u write an imagine with reader and drew starkey being at the beginning of the dating stage (met through friends and even though they both really like each other they haven’t revealed their love face to face) so during a party reader saw drew talking with a few actress, influencers, LA girls and she gets jealous and insecure so she starts distancing herself to him thinking that she doesn’t deserve him and she’s too ugly for him but she doesn’t explain herself and drew thinks that he had done something bad and after weeks decide to have a discussion annnnd they both revealed their feelings.

Warnings: Discussions of body image issues, alcohol use, I think that might be everything?

Author’s Note: Sorry this is so long - I started writing and kept going. It’s been a busy few days so I haven’t been writing as much but hopefully I’ll be back to it now :)

———

The thing about being in the celebrity world was that, eventually, everyone was connected. Whether it was a friend of a friend who worked with another guy on a film ten years ago, or it was a neighbour’s neighbour - everyone eventually got to someone else. That’s how you’d met the majority of the people that you considered friends in the industry. You’d released your first album three years ago but it still felt like you were taking your first steps in being ‘famous’. Thankfully, you’d met some good people - Kelsea had become like a sister to you and she’d taken you under her wing instantly. Since she’d started dating Chase, too, she’d been introducing you to more and more people - notably, Drew. She knew that you two would hit it off when she introduced you at a party and you clicked almost instantly, spending the entire night talking in a booth away from the crowd. Since then, he texted you everyday, he’d become the guy you rang when you were walking home or in a taxi on your own, the one you texted to say a quick ‘home safe’. He sent you stupid videos he found online, and facetimed you to listen to him run his lines, or when he needed help with what to wear to an event. Drew was just… nice, you know?

“Okay, sorry, I’m back,” His face pops back into the frame of the facetime call as he sits back down on the couch and picks up his phone from where it was sat pointing up towards the ceiling, “My food arrived.”

“What did you order?” You ask, propping your phone up against the coffee machine on your counter so that you could open your own bag of takeout food.

“I went for chinese food,” He grins, pulling out the boxes of takeout.

“Me too,” You laugh, “But the good place was closed so I had to order from the kind of shitty one.”

“You hate the kind of shitty one, you’re going to eat the chicken and say that it’s a bit dry and that your rice doesn’t have enough flavor, and then you’re going to complain that your takeout night was ruined.”

You narrow your eyes at him through the screen, “That happened one time! How do you even remember that?”

Drew chuckles and sets his phone down so that he can eat, leaning it against the lamp beside his couch so that he’s still visible in the frame, “I remember things (Y/L/N).”

“Okay, which film did you choose?”

“Oh, I picked a terrible one, you’re going to love it. And I think if we try a few times we’ll be able to get the timing perfect this time.”

~~~

“Okay so what are we actually going to tonight?” You ask Kelsea, laying back against the cushions on her bed as she potters around the room, deciding on her outfit.

“It’s a party, I don’t know anything more than that,” She laughs, “It’s meant to be good though, it seems like everyone in LA is going.”

“I don’t like these things, they’re so stressful,” You grumble, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head.

“Well maybe if you started getting ready you’d feel more up for it a-“

She’s cut off by the sound of a key in the door, followed by two familiar voices laughing as they walk in. The pair round the corner and you’re met with the sight of Chase and Drew coming into the apartment.

“Hey honey,” Chase grins when he sees Kelsea, going over to kiss her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Hey (Y/N),” Drew wiggles his brows, slipping off his shoes and flopping down onto the bed next to you, he looks at you and puckers his lips exaggeratively.

“Grow up,” You roll your eyes, turning around so you can rest your head against his chest sideways, your legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stretches down the length of the mattress.

“(Y/N) I need you to talk some sense into Drew here,” Chase encourages, “He doesn’t want to come tonight.”

“I mean, I’m not up for it yet either,” You shrug, “I need like a shot or two and then I’ll be more in the mood to party.”

“Shots, okay, we can do shots,” Chase nods, “How about you two can start getting ready, and we’ll make dinner, and we’ll get some drinks. Sound good?”

“I didn’t agree to make dinner,” Drew points out, “Frankly I can’t think of anything worse.”

You reach a hand back to poke at his ribs and he flinches back from you, locking an arm around your neck and shoulders to trap you against him. He uses his other arm to tickle at your sides until you’re writhing underneath his touch.

“Drew!” You squeal, fighting to get away from him, your legs flailing.

Chase and Kelsea look at each other with a knowing expression, like they were watching the start of a film they already knew the ending to - a sort of inevitability that it seemed impossible to avoid.

~~~

You spend the next hour or two getting ready with Kelsea, changing your outfit three times before settling on one - a black crop top with spaghetti straps and a pair of wide leg black pants, heels underneath that were practically hidden by the excess length of the trousers.

“You guys ready to go? The uber’s here!” Chase calls out, knocking a couple of times on the door of the bedroom before poking it open just an inch or two before opening it fully, “Alright, good to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” Kelsea nods, smoothing her hands over her dress.

When she goes over to him, he wraps an arm around her and tells her she looks beautiful, kissing her shoulder. You follow behind and see Drew waiting for you as the other two leave just ahead.

“Well don’t you scrub up well,” He grins, reaching out his elbow for you to link an arm with his, still taller than you even with your heels on.

“Not so bad yourself, Starkey,” You laugh, holding your hand around his bent arm to help you walk with him.

“Okay, so, how long do we have to stay at this thing tonight?” Drew asks, stepping forward and reaching out a hand for you to take as you’re about to descend the stairs.

“Come on, it’ll be fine, at least we know a few people that will be there,” You point out, “Can’t be that bad.”

“You’ll be regretting saying that later, I promise,” He shakes his head, waving his hand a little more in front of you, “Come on, hurry up.”

He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and black carpenter jeans, baggy around his legs. It seems to darken the features of his face, defining the freckles around his nose and cheeks, lessening the normal brightness in his eyes. His hair is growing out now from him shaving it for Outer Banks and you’re sure it gives him an innocence beyond what anyone else saw. You loved it most when it was messy, a hundred directions on his head, a sort of carelessness to it.

“Are you coming or what?”

It’s Chase that calls up from the bottom of the stairwell. And you realise for all of the time you’d been staring at Drew, admiring him, he’d been staring at you too.

~~~

The party is already busy when you arrive and there’s people queuing up outside to try to get in. Drew links arms with you as you get out of the car, like he’s constantly scared you’re on the brink of falling whenever you’re in heels. It’s in a club, already littered with tens too many bodies, and music that pounds from the walls, chatter drowned out by the noise.

“Let’s go get us some drinks,” Drew says into your ear and he moves his hand from your arm to press on the small of your back, guiding you in front of him as if he would shield you from the growing crowd behind.

You slip through non-existent gaps in the crowd until you eventually break through to the bar, waiting in the queue with Drew behind you. His hand falls to your waist, his body towering over you from behind and his eyes seemingly on full alert for everything and everyone around you.

“A tequila sprite and a rum and coke please,” You call over the bar to the server who nods at you with a smile, taking two glasses to prepare the drinks.

Drew shifts into the space beside you and leans his forearms on the bar, “Are you trying to get me-“

“Hey!” It’s a voice from beside him that interjects, a girl.

She’s about your age, you think, with makeup that you’re certain you couldn’t match even with the best products. She must be a model, and her outfit is like something straight from a runway. You’re suddenly aware of how itchy your top feels around your chest, and how your trousers don’t seem to be sitting in the right place on your waist anymore. But you ignore it, turning back to the bartender as he pours in the rest of your drink.

“Have we met before?” She asks to Drew, her hand falling to his upper arm.

He looks at her with a frown, “No, no, I don’t think so. I guess I would remember if we did.”

“Well, yours is a face I definitely wouldn’t forget,” She smiles in return, “Who did you come with tonight?”

“Just a few friends,” He returns.

You pause with the drinks glasses in your hand, suddenly hyperaware of how the condensation seems to scratch with the cold against your palms. A few friends. He wasn’t wrong. You and him were just friends, right?

“Well, maybe if your friends don’t mind you could come and dance with me,” The girl smiles, her hand not yet moving from his arm.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you around.”

With that, she disappears and Drew turns back in your direction, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, um, here,” You clear your throat, stretching out an arm to give him his drink.

He takes it from you and smiles, taking a sip, “Alright, should we go find the other two?”

You nod and follow behind him in the crowd, he stretches an open hand back as if offering for you to take it but you pause before doing so. It was still undecided in your mind if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he’d been so completely nonchalant. Like that had just happened and it didn’t mean anything. Did it not mean anything because he wasn’t trying to flirt back? Or did it not mean anything because he didn’t think you should care if he was flirting?

After a second too long without your hold, Drew turns back to look for you, eyes flicking between you and his empty hand as if reminding you that he needed to know you were there. You place your hand in his palm and let his fingers wrap around you, not making any move to hold his hand back, just yet.

You meet up with Kelsea and Chase and end up on the dancefloor. Your drink is finished by now and so is another and another, and at some point you’d all done two rounds of shots. Drew is dancing beside you, his arm bumping yours as he moves, trying to make you laugh with every exaggerated dance, or every effort to shout the lyrics of every song he recognised.

At some point, a group of girls are dancing beside you and one of them reaches out to tap Drew on the shoulder. He turns around one another of the girls reaches a hand out for him to take, spinning herself around and starting to dance with him. Chase nudges you and points in that direction as if you hadn’t seen it in the first place, watching as Drew gets engulfed by the group, dancing with them as they laugh at his moves. Kelsea glances in your direction and her brows drop as if concerned, as if worried for your reaction. You force yourself to smile at her and tear your eyes away from Drew, taking a long sip of your drink.

This was silly. You couldn’t keep thinking about this. But the more you thought about not thinking it, the more you thought about it. And you found yourself looking to the group of girls more and more often. They were all in different dresses, and you were sure you recognised their faces from the TikToks that could come up on your for you page of ‘get ready with me’ videos or ‘get dressed with me to go to…’ videos, another two of them you’ve seen at a fashion week before. They’re gorgeous. Their makeup still looks pristine even after hours of being in this hot club. And you’re suddenly aware of how yours is starting to feel more obvious on your face, how your foundation probably doesn’t look as good as it did when you left. How the curl of your lashes has probably dropped by now, your lipgloss non existent. You’re thinking of everything.

When you look back again, Drew’s leaning down to the height of one of the girls so that she can speak into his ear. He laughs at something she’s said and pulls away slightly, his eyes catching yours as his gaze flicks away from her. He smiles but you find yourself looking away before you can think to smile back, feeling slightly less comfortable amongst the party of unknown people.

~~~

You’d stayed at Kelsea’s that night, sleeping in her spare room, and you’re up before she is, a cup of coffee in hand as you’re sat on her balcony.

“Hey, honey,” Her voice cuts in as you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long, the pot’s still full if you want some,” You smile, tucking your feet underneath you on the chair.

“I’ll grab some in a minute,” Kelsea responds, sitting down on the other chair, “So, how are you doing after last night?”

You look at her and ponder giving a dismissive response but her face is too genuine to try and lie to, “I- I don’t know how to feel.”

“Okay, well I’m just going to start this by saying you’re allowed to feel upset, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t know if I am though Kels, like me and Drew are just friends - why would I think that I have any place to feel any type of way about him and girls from clubs, you know?” You shake your head, taking a sip of your coffee to stop your bottom lip from trembling, “I just… me and him… I’ve never seen him with girls like that, so I didn’t know what to think.”

Kelsea nods, knowing to let you speak before she says her piece.

“I know we’re friends, and that’s fine. But I just saw those girls and I saw the way they were with him and they looked so… and they had this like confidence and they just…” You take in a shaky breath, “I’m not them. I’m not going to be them.”

“Oh honey!” Kelsea comes off from her chair and crouches in front of you, her hands on your knees, “(Y/N) you don’t need to be them. Drew doesn’t want you to be them. Do you know that? I see the way he is with you, the way he talks about you, that’s not the way you talk about someone if you’re just friends. Those girls, the club, last night, they were coming up to him, he wanted to be with you. I know he did.”

You want to believe her. But even the mention of his name forces the thoughts of last night back into your head, cycling through them like snapshot images, each one a little clearer and stinging just a little more.

“I’ll be okay,” You reach one of your hands down to squeeze Kelsea’s, “It was just one night. It’s okay.”

She furrows her brows and rubs her thumb over your knee, “Alright, I’m going to go and wake Chase up before he’s late for his press stuff.”

Kelsea disappears back inside and you sip down the rest of your coffee, drawing your legs up to your chest and trying to breathe out the tightness between your lungs, blinking away the blur of tears from your eyes.

~~~

It’s a day later when you realise you can only go so long avoiding Drew - perhaps less time than you’d originally thought that it would take. He had texted you a bunch yesterday, originally a good morning text, then turning into a couple of videos he thought were funny, ending the video string with one about when ‘the one person you speak to doesn’t reply’. By the night, he sent you one message saying that he was starting to get worried now that you hadn’t replied, and that he just wanted to check if you were okay. Today, he had called you in the morning and then followed up from his other text saying he was probably just being stupid but he wanted to make sure you were good. You reply with a simple;

Just been busy, got studio sessions coming up. Speak soon

You debate sending a heart at the end but delete it before pressing send. He reads it straight away and responds;

Fuck me I’m just glad you’re alive, felt weird going more than a day without speaking to you!! Hope your studio sessions go well, superstar <;3

You like the message and lock your phone, the same tightness settling on your chest as you’d had at the club, as you’d had yesterday morning. Your breath turns shaky again and you try to ignore it.

The next few days go relatively the same - Drew texts you in the morning, sends you something that reminds you of him or tells you to listen to a song that he’s found. You reply a few hours later with a short response or just react to the message, not wanting conversations to carry on like they normally do.

Another couple of days in, he calls you as you’re leaving the gym and you wait for it to go to voicemail, listening to it as soon as the notification comes through.

“Hey, superstar. I wasn’t sure if I’d get through to you, but I’m guessing you’re busy, um, just calling to say… well, I don’t know what I’m calling to say. Just that I miss you, I mean it’s only been a few days but… I don’t know. Feels weird not talking to you, so call me when you get the chance, let’s make plans or something. Alright, I’ll leave you to… well, I don’t know what you’re doing, which is weird, it feels like I always know what’s going on with you… um … whatever, call me back, or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t know I-“

It cuts off after that and you’re just met with the monotone voice of your voicemail asking if you want to repeat the message. You listen to it once, twice again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice for those digital seconds.

Your finger hovers over his contact as you think of calling him back but you shift it to the text button instead.

hey! sorry i didn’t get to my phone in time - just been busy with the new album so the days are just going too fast. not sure when i’ll be free, i’m sorry

He reads it instantly and the elipsis bubble appears to say he is typing, disappearing and then reappearing a couple of times.

i told you not to forget me when you were famous (y/l/n). I miss you!!!!

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying at the words, reluctant to try to come up with any response that would feel fitting.

speak soon !!

~~~

It’s another week later when Kelsea invites you over for dinner, one of those sort of ‘no isn’t an option’ invites. You turn up with a bottle of wine and she wraps you in a bear hug when she sees you, a hand on your shoulder before she lets you come into the apartment.

“What’s going on?” You frown, looking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” She winces, “But Chase didn’t realise you were coming tonight and Drew’s here before they go out for dinner with the cast. He’s been asking about you.”

You shrug your shoulders, shake your head, “No, it’s okay, don’t worry. We’re friends, it’s fine.”

She furrows her brows a little, “Are you sure?”

“Of course!” You force a smile that you’re certain is believable enough and she must believe you, leading the way into the kitchen where there’s already a dinner cooking on the stove.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Chase gets up as you walk in, hugging you quickly.

You hug him back and, over his shoulder, spot the sight of Drew standing from his chair at the kitchen island.

“Hey stranger!” He raises his brows, “Where’ve you been?”

“Just a busy couple of weeks,” You nod, tightening your grip around the bottle of wine, “Been a bit M.I.A I guess.”

“Yeah, just a little,” He smiles softly, his eyes seeming to yearn for a little piece of you to come back to him, “Well it’s good to see you.”

You clear your throat, “You too.”

You try not to notice the way he watches you as you cross the kitchen, taking your jacket off and finding a bottle opener in the drawer to open the wine. You avoid eye contact when he watches your move to grab a glass from the shelf, pouring a portion of the liquid into the glass and swirling it around.

When you take a seat at the island, it’s the one furthest away from him. And when his eyes find yours then, it’s like they’re full of worry for his defeat - like this had just confirmed every thought that had been going through his head for the past week and a half. You, once again, find yourself trying to ignore the tightness in your chest, the way it restricts your breath as if he’s pulled it into him. Your eyes turn away from him as soon as you can force yourself to.

You’re just leaving Kelsea’s that night when you see the call come through. You’re almost a full bottle of wine in and it’s late as you’re descending the elevator to get to your Uber.

Your phone buzzes and your lowered inhibitions are the only reason you answer.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” His voice sounds slightly breathless on the other end of the phone, “You answered.”

“What’s happening Rafe?”

“Um…” He clears his throat and it crackles down the phone line, “Chase just said that Kelsea texted saying you were heading home. I figured you’d be getting a taxi.”

“I am,” You return, “I’m going down to it now.”

“I always call you when you’re getting a taxi.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “No, you don’t need to-“

“I always do (Y/N). We’ve known each other for seven months, and I always call when you’re in the taxi, why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you been drinking, Drew?”

“Have you?”

Both of you are silent.

“Is that the only reason you answered?” He asks and you’re sure you can hear a shake in the words.

You don’t respond.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” There’s definitely a shake now, somewhere close to a tremble, “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

“You’re not losing me I’ve just been b-“

“Don’t say you’ve been busy,” He quips, “You’re always busy, but you always make time. This isn’t that, this is different.”

You’re silent.

“Answer me (Y/N),” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the tension in his words seems heightened, harsher.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m free now,” He responds, “I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”

It might be the remaining buzz of alcohol in your system, or the sight of your taxi driver turning into the road, your way home, to Drew, but you don’t think twice when you say;

“Okay.”

~~~

A painfully slow thirty minutes later, Drew buzzes your front door to come up to your flat. He lets himself in and you’re sat waiting as if counting the seconds of him ascending in the elevator. You’ve drank a bottle of water by now and the wait has seemed to sober you up quicker than usual. And then there’s a knock at your apartment door and you’re sure your heart stops as you open it.

He’s wearing a shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, wrinkled around the bottom from where it had been tucked in but wasn’t anymore. He looks disheveled as if he’d rushed to get here before the minutes caught up with him, or perhaps before you changed your mind.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” He breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

You were wearing a baggy t-shirt that hung around your thighs, a pair of gym shorts underneath, your hair pulled back from your face in a bun with strands seeming to fall out on their own accord, no makeup on your face but your cheeks rosy from the wine in your system.

“Do you want to come in?”

He steps through your front door and you step past him to close it. Drew doesn’t make any effort to move further and neither do you. He’s just stood in your hallway looking at you and you’re stood with your back a few feet from the front door, somewhat feeling isolated now you knew he wasn’t leaving.

“What’s going on (Y/N)?” His shoulders drop as if he just needed to get the words off of his chest, a relief slipping over his features to finally say the words to your face.

“I-“ You take in a deep breath, “I just feel like things are weird between us.”

“They’re weird, yeah,” He scoffs, “They’re weird because you’ve been avoiding me.”

Drew laughs then and you find yourself letting out a little laugh too, the two of you gripping onto the pieces of normality that still remained.

“Did something happen at that party? Because I’ve been wracking my brain and that’s the last night I can remember where it felt like things were normal. And since then I’ve barely seen you. Did something happen? Did I do something? Did I say something?”

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself as if you’re cowering away from the idea of having to admit to anything.

“(Y/N)…”

“I hated it-“ You stop yourself, letting your thoughts gather, “We were at that party and I hated it. These girls were flocking to you and flirting with you and chatting to you and all I could think about was how much I hated it. Which is stupid because I have no reason to feel like that but I couldn’t help it and then I hated that I felt like that because I-“

“(Y/N), breathe,” Drew steps towards you, his hand reaching out and lacing with yours.

The contact seems to ground you, his eyes burning into your skin but somehow seeming to calm the raging fire of your nerves.

“I know I have no reason to be jealous, I know that, but I just,” You shake your head, “I was jealous.”

“You were jealous,” Drew returns, the corners of his mouth upturning with the slightest glimpse of brightness on his features.

“It’s stupid because I know we’re just friends and I know that I don’t want to lose that and-“

“You were jealous,” He’s really fighting back a smile now, but it seems to fight harder against him as his lips stretch into a grin.

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his, you’re sure you forget how to breathe for just a second.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” His brows furrow for a second but he doesn’t seem to lose the joy on his face.

“I just-“ You look down again, “I didn’t want things to be weird between us, or for you to lie and say that you felt the same way.”

Drew moves his free hand up and presses a thumb underneath your chin, his index finger bending around the front to push your chin upwards, guiding your eyes towards him, guiding you back to him. His eyes are sincere, flicking between either of yours.

“It wouldn’t be a lie.”

You open your mouth and close it again, words catching on your tongue as you’re sure your whole body is going to freeze in this exact spot. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing - to stay in this moment.

“But maybe next time you’re feeling jealous, just tell me. Does that sound good to you?” He dips his head just slightly, his fingers not moving from around your chin.

You laugh lightly and nod your head, “That sounds good.”

He chuckles and moves his hand around to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the skin, “And those girls? They’re not you.”

You feel your cheeks heat under his touch, his gaze, his words, “Not me?”

Drew shakes his head, “I don’t think anyone could come close,” He hums, dropping his head closer to you until his lips are just an inch from you, breath hot over your features.

In just a second, his lips press to yours, softly as if savouring the feeling of the first time. His hand moves from yours to instead drop to your hip, guiding you backwards until your back is flush against the door. With the contact, he deepens his kiss against your lips, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

When he pulls away, you’re both a little breathless against each other.

“God I’ve waited so long to do that,” He mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours, a smile crawling onto his lips.

“Next time please don’t wait so long,” You laugh, your arms moving to link your hands behind his neck.

“I don’t plan on it,” Drew smirks, dipping his head once again to kiss you, more sure of himself than before.

And, then, you’re sure. You’d stay locked in this moment if you could.

406 notes · View notes

embrosegraves · 6 months

Text

𝔸𝕟 𝕌𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙𝕪 𝕆𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

Not the biggest fan of this I'll be honest. I don't think I'll do something like this very often, and if I do it won't be for a while. Anyways I hope you enjoy even just a little bit <;3

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Being unaware of listening devices, hidden camera, author not knowing how to put the correct warning for a fic lmao, I definitely missed something I know it.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader Obsessed x Obsessed but Seb thinks it’s just him lowkey this was a little inspired by An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra. It's a good song.

Sebastian was never one to invade the privacy of others. He was a gentleman, thank you very much! But he had gotten into the habit of finding out what room you were staying in at every hotel, just so he could… set up, before you got there.

If anybody found out that he put walkie talkies in your room, he could always just say that it was in case you needed any help. One might argue that hotels had notoriously thin walls, but he was just being cautious. Sebastian was also convinced that no one would be able to find the microscopic camera he had stuck to the tv at the end of your hotel bed.

Seb had been in his own room (quite literally next door) for about an hour before he heard you opening the door to your room. He listened to the walkie, and watched through the camera he had connected to his phone, as you put your luggage on your bed. He could tell you were exhausted with the flight over and he wished craved to be the one you’d turn to after a long day.

Eventually his own exhaustion and the jetlag caught up to him and he fell asleep listening to you hum whatever song had been on your mind that day.

— — — —

You were exhausted. Having just gotten back from the paddock, your camera’s memory stick positively brimming, all you wanted to do was relax. Before you could spread out on the bed, you needed to change clothes. Get rid of the surprisingly uncomfortable team wear and surround yourself in something more comfortable. Paying no mind to the opened curtains of your hotel suite, you changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized SV5 hoodie that made it look like you weren’t wearing pants.

Finally able to flop down on the bed, you grabbed your laptop and your camera and started to transfer the images so you could pick out which ones to send to the media team. If you saved every photo of Sebastian, well no one but you would know. Eventually, you sent an email to the head of Media containing an array of photos that had a mix of different drivers within them.

You spent the rest of your evening browsing the internet for anything even remotely related to the German driver that had been on your mind since you were 12.

— — — —

He knew that you had only just changed the tyres of your car. Of course he knew. Afterall he was the one that caused you to need to change them in the first place. It had been all too easy to set up. He just needed to make sure that the road you usually took to drive home from the track had an invisible row of spikes that you would drive over.

All he had to do afterwards was wait for you to call. He knew you would. He made sure that he spent enough time helping you so that he would be the first person you would call should you need help elsewhere. Hearing his phone ring when he was conveniently ten minutes away from you made his heart palpitate. His chest constricted so deliciously at the thought of hearing you beg him to help. He had to play this smart.

“Yes, Leibe?” He sounded happy, something he would tell you was because of the adrenaline rush of placing on the podium.

“Hi Seb, listen, I’m really sorry to ask this but do you think you could come and pick me up?” You asked him. “My car just suddenly got a flat tire and you were the first person I thought to call.”

“Of course! I’ve actually just left the track not too long ago myself-” of course he had “Just send over your location and I can come get you.”

“Thank you so much Seb, I’ll quickly share my location so you know where I am.”

“I’ll see you soon then, Liebe.”

After he hung up, you shared your location, as you said you would. It only took him about 6 minutes to show up. No one had to know that he occasionally ignored the speed limits.

— — — —

People would definitely call it creepy if they knew just how obsessed Sabastian Vettel was with you. He liked to think that it was romantic. To be entirely honest, you thought it was endearing how much he wanted you to be his. As much as the people around you were oblivious to Seb’s unhealthy obsession with you, you were a lot more observant than everyone realised.

The first time it came to your attention was when you had joined Formula One as a Photographer. Having watched the sport for years now, and constantly keeping up with it throughout your studies, you knew every driver on the grid that year. Being ‘fresh meat’ in the paddock, you were easy to spot for everyone. The drivers more or less were not that interested in the new photographer that the sport had hired. If anything it just meant that they had to pose more than they already did. But there was one driver who couldn’t help but be absolutely fascinated with you.

You thanked whatever power-that-be that Sebastian Vettel had entered into F1 the same year you entered puberty, as it allowed you to blame that on your sudden obsession with him. Being interested in him since you were 12 had given you plenty of time to become a master at hiding just how obsessed you were. So of course, when Sebastian came up to you to introduce himself, it was only too easy to see the signs of a brand new budding obsession.

— — — —

Despite being so enamoured with you, Sebastian had never once been inside your house. His eyes were flitting around everywhere, trying to take in as much of your home as he could. You had invited him to come in for a cup of tea after he had saved you from being stranded with no transport.

“Feel free to explore if you’d like.” You called to him as you made your way to the kitchen to fill up the kettle. You had no qualms about him snooping through your things. If anything, Sebastian snooping through your house might finally get him to understand that he wasn’t the only obsessed party.

Sebastian was never one to turn down an opportunity that was literally being handed to him. The minute you had walked into the kitchen after telling him to explore, he went straight upstairs. The first room he entered was a bathroom. Nice and clean, spacious. Perfect for some relaxing should it be needed. He didn’t spend long in there.

The next room he walked into happened to be your guest room. It was a bit plain, nothing too extravagant. A nice bed, a small closet space and a door that led to the relatively large balcony overlooking your backyard. Same as the bathroom, he didn’t spend too much time in the room.

The next room had him more excited than he would admit. Your bedroom. It was cosy and warm and it perfectly embodied everything he thought you were. There was a door that led to the same balcony as the guest room. He spent a bit longer in this room. He contemplated for only a split second whether or not he should look through your drawers, before he rationalised that you had given him permission to look around. Whether or not you meant looking around through your dresser was of no consequence to him.

He was a little disappointed that he hadn’t found any raunchy toys in your bedside drawers. Nonetheless he continued on his way to the final room on the upper floor.

Opening the door furthest from the stairs, he discovered your office. It was pretty standard for an office. A large desk with a computer, a comfy chair behind it. On one wall was a bookshelf full of literature of all kinds. He only recognised a few titles so he didn’t bother looking too intensely there. What he did look intensely at however, was a section of your office that could only be described as a shrine. Upon closer inspection he realised the subject of the shrine.

Him.

There were photos and photos of him at all sorts of points in his career. His first Formula 1 race, the first time he scored points, the first time he got on the podium, the first time he got pole position in qualifying, his first race win and his first WDC were among many of the countless photos of him that were proudly displayed. He had even noticed that there were newspaper clippings that had been cut out, and in every one of them he had been surrounded in a thick red heart shape. Standing right in front of it, he began leafing through everything that covered the small desk.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Your voice had started Sebastian. His head shot up to look at you. How could he have been so careless as to stop paying attention to his surroundings? He had gotten caught red handed and he wasn’t sure how he could solve this. He didn’t want you to think that he was a creep (though given that you had a literal shrine dedicated to him, the chance of that was slim).

“I usually keep this room locked when I am away.” You said, moving to place the two drinks you had brought up on your desk before sitting on the plush chair you had next to the shrine.

“Did you know that I have cameras in every room of my house?” This was rhetorical. “I thought it was quite interesting that you looked so disappointed when you didn’t find anything interesting in my bedside drawers. I thought I might help you find what you wanted.”

You reached over to open the drawer of the desk he was still standing in front of. His body hadn’t moved an inch, excluding his head that had followed your every movement since entering the room. Which meant that when you did get the drawer open, your hand ever so gently brushed against his thigh. The touch sent an almost violent shiver through both of you.

Seeing you nod your head towards the now open space in front of him, Sebastian moved his gaze from your face to the contents of the drawer. This explained why he found nothing in your bedroom. Neatly organised inside the drawer was an array of lewd toys. Picking one up, he looked at them more closely. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that each and every one of your toys was customised. With his name on them.

He fell even deeper at the thought that whenever you played with yourself, it was his name inside you. That it was his name that gave you pleasure and release. He almost didn’t notice the pair of panties you kept behind the toys in your drawers. He grabbed them and looked at the embroidery on the back of the lacy garment.

“VDS?” The rasp in his voice had you feeling particularly wet and ready.

“Vettel’s Dirty Slut was a little too long for such a small canvas of lace.” You elaborated. “I’d say I’m a dab hand at stitching, amongst other things.”

His eyes had darkened when you explained the acronym. He had envisioned having you in such a way since seeing you for the first time in 2014. “Show me.”

You gave a sly smile as you grabbed his hand, leading him back to your bedroom, toys and panties still in his grasp.

Your tea had long since gone cold by the time you had finished.

welp. there it goes. definitely not my best work, but rest assured that I will try my best to get better at writing more darkly themed fics. can't promise that I'll post my attempts all too often but I'll definitely work on it

thank you for the request Lovey!

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x you #I can't be bothered to fix the warning sorry loves #please give me feedback so I can improve #anyways love always muah

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unhetalia · 2 months

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I wanted to do those posts about how we imagine each characters' features, then realised there were so many characters I wanted to do them for! Decided to start it off with the NA sibs.

America:

Baby faced. Soft, delicate features and slightly rounded cheeks, which makes his pouting very effective. Long eyelashes, big eyes. America The Beautiful is real and he is a menace. Physically 19-20, but his IDs claim he's older.

When he attends world meetings he has to wear a government approved wardrobe, and even the glasses he wears is carefully chosen to make him look older and more authoritative as a superpower. He absolutely wears insoles that make him taller (his actual height is 177cm/5'9, like in canon 182cm/5'11) and his suits are padded to make his shoulders look wider. Even the bomber jacket was chosen to create that effect.

His hair and skin have a warm undertone, giving him a very California look. His eyes most closely match A17 blue.

Despite America's constant preoccupation with his weight, it would be a stretch to call him chubby. He doesn't have abs, and his stomach is soft - but it's flat. Most of his physical activity comes from being energetic and curious - he does a lot of hiking with Canada and Mexico, and he bikes everywhere because he secretly can't drive, so while he's physically fit, it doesn't translate to a superhero body, to his endless disappointment. Though he has incredibly strong legs on top of his insurmountable strength.

FASHION. America l o v e s colours. He's got pastel, he's got neon, he's got red, white and blue, and he loves anything cute. He's got a thousand hoodies in various colours with various quirky sayings or art on it, and he can easily coordinate his outfits into a burst of different colours that somehow matches.

Canada:

He and America don't actually look very alike, and Canada thinks its more proximity that has people mistaking him for his brother all the time. Canada doesn't have America's baby face, and stopped getting what he wanted through pouting long ago. He has a sharp jawline and can be described as strikingly handsome, when people bother to look. He has the same long lashes and big eyes as his brother and are physically the same age.

He's two inches taller than his brother (6'1), but he slouches so much that they look the same height. His government isn't as strict about his world meeting wardrobe as America's is, and he tends to go for untailored, drab gray or black suits, to France's dismay.

His hair and skin have a cooler undertone - his hair is lighter than America's and his skin is paler. His eyes most closely match A60, and looks purple in certain lights in the same way Elizabeth Taylor's did, but it is actually blue. He also doesn't actually need glasses, and wears them only because his brother had refused to wear his own unless he also had them, years and years ago. He's too used to it now, and it has sentimental value.

Canada is an avid hockey player, hiker and all around fitness buff, and his body secretly reflects that, underneath all the layers. He's broader in the shoulders and waist than America, and more muscular, to his brother's endless, ENDLESS bitterness. He's also very disciplined with his eating, and follows an athlete's diet. He REALLY cares about Hockey, guys.

FASHION: HOCKEY JERSEYS. LAYERS. LOUNGEWEAR. He has the wardrobe of a typical sportsmad lad. Waterproof steel-toed boots, something he and Australia both extol the virtues of. He likes whites, greys, browns and lights blues.

#hws america #hws canada #aph america #aph canada #hetalia #aph #hetalia world series #alfred f jones #i actually wanted to do mexico who is their eldest sister in my headcanon but i ran out of steam #✎#m: hetalia #hetalia: headcanon (char)#c: canada #c: america #✎ hetalia bulletpoint headcanons

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toomuchracket · 2 months

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lovers' quarrel (ross x girlband gf!reader angst)

day 5 of valentine's week. schedule clashes are getting to you. enjoy <3

you haven't spoken to your boyfriend in a week.

you're sleeping in the same bed as him, yeah, but ross is always asleep when you let yourself into his house at 11pm, body aching after a 12-hour day of dance rehearsals and video shoots and last-minute touch-ups to the instrumentals and harmonies and mixing on your band's new album. and you're always asleep when he leaves at 8am to drive to the studio to finish recording the new 75 LP (scheduled for release a month after yours), a kiss to your sleep-messy hair the only real bit of physical contact he gets to give you.

even your phone calls during studio breaks keep missing each other; you only hear your boyfriend's voice filtered through crackly phone lines, an obvious reminder that you're apart. in fact, the closest you've felt to ross in about eight days is when you use his body wash, in the freezing shower you take to soothe your screaming leg muscles before you get into bed with him.

you hate this. you miss him, so much.

ross misses you, too - he tells you at the end of every voicemail he leaves, paired with a “love you”, in such a defeated tone it brings tears to your eyes. you call him back, leave a similar message of your own, and go back into the rehearsal room and dance your heart out, as if it isn't breaking more with every passing second.

is this what life is always going to be like for the two of you, a loving relationship reduced to fleeting moments of getting to spend time with each other in between tours and shows and recording sessions and writing and promo? you're not sure how long you could take it, if it is.

but you love ross. so fucking much. surely you can do something to make it better for both of you.

the question is… what?

you're mulling over that on your lunch break, sat alone outside the studio complex with your tofu bowl and lucozade, thinking about how thursdays have always been the worst day of the week (double maths back in the day, and now the final full day of work left before you can actually maybe talk to your man for once), when the answer appears through the summer drizzle. well, actually, it's gabbriette who appears, dashing over to you from her (matty's) car and screeching as the rain hits her hair.

you laugh, standing and letting her barrel into your arms. “hi, wifey.”

“baby girl!” she kisses your nose. “you look gorgeous.”

“gabs, i've been dancing for three hours straight. i look like shit.”

“but hot shit. like, super sexy shit,” she grins. “how's everything going? do i get a sneak peek of the new video?”

you smirk. “depends. did matty send you down here to spy on us?”

gabbriette laughs. “he's too stressed to even think of suggesting anything that smart. no, actually, i'm just here to see how you're doing,” her beautiful face shifts into a more serious expression. “because when i asked your boyfriend how you were, literally thirty minutes ago, he very cryptically said he didn't know.”

“ah.”

“he did then explain that you guys hadn't broken up, but it scared me,” she squeezes your hand. “you okay? like, i know you're both so busy - george is literally pushing the guys to the limit in the studio right now - but…”

you sigh. “yeah, we’re just so busy that we keep missing each other, that's all - i get home when he's sleeping, he leaves before i wake up, and we're never free to call at the same time. like, i didn't even know that thing you just said about george, because we haven't talked for days,” you slide down the wall to sit, and gabbriette follows. you sniffle. “he sleeps right beside me, but i miss him like he's continents away. and i hate it, gabs, i really hate it.”

“oh, baby,” she puts her arm around you and kisses your head. “it'll get better soon, though, won't it? you finish here tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“yeah, but,” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “then the boys get to this manic stage i'm in now, then i have to do promo, and they have to do promo, and i just don't know when it'll end.”

“i know the feeling,” gabbriette sighs. “it's not easy, us being us, loving the people we do. but that's the way it is, i guess. we just gotta,” she half-heartedly punches the air. “push through it.”

“mmm,” you take a drink of your juice. “what i wouldn't give to just have dinner with him, you know? go somewhere nice for a night, and think about nothing but the two of us.”

your friend turns to face you. “so, why don't you? make a reservation for tomorrow night. surprise him when he gets home. clichè, but,” she winks. “i'm sure ross won't complain about coming home to you all dressed up and gorgeous. i know i wouldn't.”

you burst out laughing. “you're gonna lose your shit when we go inside and you get to see my album cover outfit, babe.”

“oh my god,” she presses her face into your shoulder, then sits up with a smile. “but seriously. i know you're exhausted, and so is he, but plan a date, have fun, make it a regular thing. you guys are perfect together; don’t let that slip away.”

“alright. thank you for the support,” you hug her. “i love you.”

“i love you, angel girl,” gabbriette pulls back and kisses your nose again, before standing and helping you up. “now, i am dying to see what you and the girls have been cooking up. shall we?”

you link your arm through hers. “let's go.”

***

when you hear the key in the lock, you brush down your dress a final time and hurry into the hallway. your heart skips at the sight of ross - clearly exhausted - stepping through the door; you can't keep the smile from your face, and one appears on his after he kicks his shoes off and turns towards you.

he exhales. “god, you're a sight for sore eyes. hi, love,” his arms open, and you run into them and allow yourself to be wrapped up in your boyfriend. “missed you this week.”

“missed you, too,” you nuzzle into his neck. “how are you, darling?”

“perfect, now that i've got you in my arms,” his smile is audible. “not letting you out of them for a second, by the way. need to catch up on holding my girl.”

you giggle. “what about dinner?”

“i can eat pizza with you on my lap on the sofa, can't i?”

oh. your heart feels slightly heavier than it did a second ago. “that's… what you want to do for dinner?”

you do your best to keep your voice light, but ross doesn't miss a trick. he pulls back, frowning slightly. “yeah. something calm, after us both being so busy this week,” he seems to notice your dress for the first time, brow furrowing even further when he takes in your polished appearance. “but that's not what you want, is it?”

“well, baby,” you let go of him, wringing your hands nervously. “i’ve, um, made a reservation at that place you like down the street. for tonight.”

ross pinches the bridge of his nose. “why would you do that, sweetheart?”

your jaw falls open. what? “oh, i just thought it might be nice to go out. save us doing the washing up,” the joke falls flat, but you clear your throat and continue. “and, you know, i’m home now, not coming in exhausted at midnight or whatever, for once, and i-”

“oh, okay,” ross laughs mirthlessly, and your blood runs cold. “just because you're not tired, i should forget my own tiredness and force myself to go out for an overpriced meal i don't even want to eat right now? just because?”

you don't think you've ever felt smaller in your life, and your voice shows it. “no, i just thought-”

“exactly. you just thought, about yourself, not me,” ross hangs up his jacket, shaking his head. “i mean, really, love? you of all people know what it's like, burning yourself out in the studio every day. is it really so surprising that i wanted to come home, to my own house, and just spend the night there?”

something inside you just snaps, and your next words shoot from your lips like bullets. “no, i fucking know the feeling, ross,” you glare at him when he turns to look at you, slight shock on his face at your sudden aggression. “66 hours i've worked, this week, across five days, and at the end of every single one of them i've wanted nothing more than to go straight home to my flat and collapse onto my bed. but d'you know what i've done instead?” you laugh, manic. “i've driven here and stayed with you, because i thought that even if we couldn't spend time together properly, at least we were with each other in some way. and you can't even be nice about the fact i wanted to do something special for us tonight. because, yeah, i was thinking about us when i did it.”

ross looks at you for a second, then shrugs. “well, i didn't ask you to do any of it.”

you nod, biting your trembling lip. “right,” you squeeze past him, picking up your handbag from the console table. tears prick at your eyes as you open the front door. “enjoy your fucking pizza, then.”

a sob escapes your lips as the door slams behind you, tears hitting off the steps as you hurry down them towards your car. with shaking hands, you rifle through your bag to find your keys, unlocking the door and climbing inside so you can cry in peace and figure out where to go. you half-expect ross to follow you, knock on the window, apologise… but nothing. the front door stays closed. even the blinds in the front room don’t move.

you're tempted to wait to see how long it would take him to come after you. but it's not a great look for you to be sitting outside his house in tears, and - to be honest - you don't really want to see him right now, anyway. you need to go somewhere. not your flat, because that's the first place he'd look for you - if he even decides to bother, that is. no. you need to go somewhere else, be with other people, people who love you. but not your bandmates, because that would be ross's next point of call.

and then, it hits you - gabbriette. you scroll through your contacts until you find her number, and hit call; what you don't expect, however, is for her boyfriend to answer. “hi, darling!”

“oh, hi, matty,” you sniffle. “did i dial you? i thought i'd called gabs.”

“no, you did, she just got me to answer because she’s making dinner,” he replies, his girlfriend audibly yelling in greeting in the background. “speaking of dinner… i thought you and ross were meant to be out right now? everything alright?”

you don't say anything in response, just burst into tears down the phone. matty sighs. “oh, fuck. come over, darling. i'll open the wine now.”

“thank you,” you say between sobs. “i'll see you in a bit.”

when you get to his house twenty minutes later, you reckon the two of them must have been standing at the door waiting for you; as soon as you ring the bell, it opens, and you're enveloped into a group hug so tight you can't tell who's who.

matty kisses your head when the hug ends. “just wanna say,” he begins, passing you a ridiculously large glass of red wine. “that while ross is my best friend, he will hear nothing of what's about to be said tonight. so… yeah. rip him to shreds.”

“oh, i intend to,” gabbriette squeezes your hand. “he came home to you looking like that and he didn't wanna go out with you? stupid boy.”

you wince. “gabs…”

“sorry, sorry. but i'm right,” she turns to matty. “don’t you think, baby?”

he nods. “he's an idiot,” something beeps in the kitchen, and gabbriette squeaks and runs towards it. matty puts an arm around you. “come on. we'll have a seat, and you can tell us everything.”

“okay.”

and you do just that, settled next to matty on the kitchen counter so gabs can hear and react while she cooks; you aren't quite sure you'd be able to make it through reliving the argument without the plates of focaccia she keeps laying on your lap, to be honest. anyway - both of them react quite accordingly to your story, dropped jaws and wide eyes and utterances of “he said that?” punctuating your words.

matty shakes his head when you finish talking, putting a hand on top of yours in a brotherly way. “i'm sorry, darling. he can be a moody bastard at times, i know, but that's… that's awful.”

“i get that he's tired and he didn't want to go out,” you sigh, taking a drink of your wine. “but he didn't need to make me feel like a stupid bitch for suggesting it,” you well up again. “and now i don't know where i am with him.”

“oh, baby,” gabbriette runs over to kiss your hair and hug you. “listen, you'll stay here tonight - we'll have a good time, talk shit, have some wine, and then we can figure your love life out tomorrow. cool?”

you look between the two of them, nervous. “i don't want to intrude…”

“oi, none of that,” matty squeezes your hand. “what kind of brother would i be if i didn't take of my little sister?”

“love you, mate,” you hug him, then turn to gabs. “both of you.”

“and we love you,” she kisses your cheek. “me more than him. seriously, i love you so much.”

matty laughs. “she’s right, actually,” he says to you. “came home raving about the sneak peek of the album she got yesterday,” he looks at you pointedly.

you roll your eyes. “fine, i'll tell you about it.”

“fuck yeah!”

you're still telling them all about the album and its processes when ross makes contact, almost two hours after you left his house. matty's phone rings, the contact photo (an old selfie of the two boys) visible to all three of you; the atmosphere changes from buzzy to sombre when you see it.

matty looks at you. “i don't have to answer it if you don't want me to.”

you look at the buzzing phone, the picture of your boyfriend on the screen filling you with a weird mix of emotion. “no, it's ok.”

“you sure?”

you nod. “if he asks where i am, you can tell him,” you murmur, looking at the floor. “i don't want him to worry.”

“right, darling,” matty takes your hand, and picks up his phone with the other. “alright, mate?”

gabbriette hugs you as ross speaks, inaudible to you; you're thankful for her support, because your stomach's in knots waiting for matty to reply. his eyes flick to yours, nervous. “yeah, she’s here,” he says, squeezing your hand. “she’s alright now, but… she really wasn't when she first arrived. surprised she managed to drive here, to be honest - that's how upset she was.”

you chew your bottom lip as ross says something else. matty quirks his eyebrows. “depends if your girlfriend wants to see you or not, mate.”

gabbriette squeezes you tighter. you shrug, and mouth “need to get it over with anyway”; matty grimaces, and relays the message to your boyfriend. “she's not opposed. but,” he shifts in his seat. “don't expect a warm welcome. that includes from me, too - it's none of my business, and i love you, but seeing my friend cry like that was fucking heartbreaking. i can't believe you could be so cruel.”

god, you love your friends.

you smile as matty wraps up the call. “yeah, i can imagine you feel awful about it; i'd be worried if you weren't. and yeah, i'll tell her, alright?” he gives you a thumbs up. “see you soon.”

“he's on his way?” you ask once the call ends.

“he went to yours. freaked out when you weren't there. so, he'll be here in five,” matty looks at you tentatively. “and i've to tell you he's extremely sorry and also that he loves you more than anything and finally that he’s a cunt for what he said.”

“i coulda fuckin told you that last bit,” gabbriette mutters. she smiles at you, though. “but the other bits are, you know, promising.”

“yeah,” you murmur. “shall we go and wait for him, then?”

she kisses your cheek. “if that's what you want, sure.”

true to his word, ross knocks the door five minutes later; you sit on the stairs in the hallway, gabs in front of you protectively (at her insistence), while matty answers. “hi.”

“alright?” ross's face isn’t properly visible from the angle you're at, but you can hear from the scratchiness of his voice that he's been crying. it hurts you to think about that. “can i come in?”

matty nods, stepping back to let him in. ross follows, an awkward dance, and immediately sees you. his face crumples. “hi, love.”

you wave. you're not sure if you can speak.

ross looks at gabs. “can i, um, talk to my girlfriend alone for a second?”

she turns to you. “you cool with that?”

you nod. she kisses your cheek and stands, staring ross down as she walks over to matty and they leave the room. once they've gone, ross flinches. “has she always been so scary?”

“you would be exactly the same way if she hurt matty,” your voice is hoarse, your crying just as obvious as your boyfriend's.

“yeah, s'pose,” ross takes a tentative few steps towards you, gesturing towards the stairs. “can i sit?”

“mhmm.”

“thanks,” he takes a seat on a step a few down from you, turning so he can talk to you properly. “i'm sorry, love, i really am. and i don't really have an excuse for being such a dickhead, other than tiredness, which isn't even an excuse because you've been more exhausted than i am and you still made the effort to do something nice for both of us,” he takes a shaky breath. “you look beautiful, by the way, even now; slightly off-topic, i know, but i just had to say it.”

“thanks,” you say quietly, picking at your cuticles. “thought you'd like this dress.”

“i love it,” ross smiles sadly. “i love you. and the fact that i hurt you… i feel fucking terrible about it,” his lip trembles. “i love you more than anything, or anyone, and i don't want to lose you. the thought of it fucking terrifies me, and,” he begins to cry, and your heart aches. “i worry that i'm not enough for you. i worry that i don't do enough for you, take you out enough. i worry that you'll get bored of me, bored of making all the effort, bored of sitting at home watching football or films, and one day you'll just leave me.”

what?

“oh, ross,” your heart shatters, and you scooch down to sit next to him and hug him.

“m'sorry, i know i'm the one in the wrong, but i have to be honest,” he cries into you. “when you said you wanted to go out instead of stay in, i freaked that i was boring you. and then when you brought up staying at mine instead of yours…”

“you thought it was me saying i was fed up.”

“yeah.”

“oh, baby,” you start to cry, too. “no. it was me just being pissed about you trying to say i didn't know the feeling of wanting to go home when you're tired. i didn't mean it in any other way, honest.”

“no, i know, my love. i was just scared.”

“why, though?” you look him in the eye. “you're the love of my life, ross. you're more than enough for me - everything i need, and more.”

he sniffles. “did you mean to quote beyoncé there, or…?”

“well, no, but it was apt,” you giggle, stroking his dimples when he smiles. “look, i was hurt by the way you reacted to me - an ‘oh, that's nice, love, but could we go out tomorrow night instead?’ wouldn't have gone amiss. but,” you kiss his nose. “i accept your apology, and i love you and our relationship very much, just as they are. just don't ever fucking treat me like that again, alright?”

“i promise you i won't, love,” ross kisses your nose in return. “i love you. and i'm sorry i was a grumpy shit about dinner, because i'm fucking starving now.”

you laugh, kissing his neck. “i reckon gabs has got us covered there. but if not,” you grin. “we can always get a pizza.”

“you're never letting me live that one down, are you?”

“not a fucking chance.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #valentine75 #girlband gf #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald angst #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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daffi-990 · 2 months

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @diazsdimples (who finished their buddie zoo trip fic!) and @tizniz 💕

Had an itch to work on my buddie Fantasy AU, but when I opened up the doc I got overwhelmed and just … didn’t know where to dive in. Really hoping that once I’ve finished Rival Firefighters 🚒 the inspiration for this beloved wip will return.

I did manage to write something though for Fantasy AU so .. here ya go

(Synopsis for this wip here)

“Bobby! I’m home!”

Buck discards his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his backpack as he walks through the apartment to his room where he dumps it unceremoniously onto his bed before going to the bathroom for a quick shower. He’s just finished and gotten back to his room, towel wrapped around his waist, when Bobby appears in his doorway.

“Hey kid, how was the hike?”

“Good. Feel like it helped clear all the noise up here.” Buck points to his head as Bobby nods in understanding.

When Buck had mentioned years ago when he was still just a kid that being out at the national park helped with his adhd, Bobby had simply smiled, ruffled his hair and said “I’m glad it helps, kid”. Buck doesn’t know why being out among nature helps, he’s done his own research deep dive into it, but he still hasn’t found any papers or articles on the positive effects nature has on adhd. Maybe it only works on him.

Or maybe he doesn’t actually have adhd.

It’s a thought that’s crossed his mind before, but adhd is the closest thing he’s found that fits.

For all his life Buck has felt this restless energy under his skin, like the tingling of electricity that’s been bottled up for too long. Some days he swears he can even feel heat that feels like fire in his palms, but there’s always nothing there. The fire feeling never burns, it’s just the warmth of a flame Buck feels.

The first time he’d told Bobby about the fire feeling he was probably seven years old. Bobby had packed them up and taken them straight out to the park. It was in the middle of the week and Buck missed three days of school.

He remembers getting out of the car and following after Bobby as they made their way along one of the trails, the thrum of energy inside him slowly going from an electrical storm to a spark from an outlet. It was like the excess energy had been drained from him. He felt calm and could think clearer, his head no longer a buzz of activity.

They started going to the park every weekend after that.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rewritetheending @theotherbuckley @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @athenagranted @steadfastsaturnsrings @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @ladydorian05 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @nmcggg @missmagooglie @mellaithwen @monsterrae1 and anyone else who wants to share something 😘

#sorry it’s not something more exciting 😕#daffi writes #fantasy au #buddie wip #buddie #I’ve literally written Buck and Eddie’s first kiss but I haven’t written them meeting 😅#yay for writing out of order 🤪#buddie fantasy au

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girl-next-door-writes · 11 months

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Waiting For A Love Like This

Characters: Sam Winchester x reader

Summary: Sam has been in love with his best friend for so long that loving them is like breathing. He has successfully kept the depth of his feelings hidden, but there’s only so long you can hold back those three words before they find a way to escape.

Word Count: 1547 words

Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Kiss without thinking. Sharing clothes. Blurted out confession.

A/N: @princessmisery666 and @witchygagirl both hit me up with similar prompts for this one, so I squished them together to create this fluff for you.

“I love you.”

The world stood still, time stopped and now those words were out of his mouth Sam wished he could have just swallowed them down, like every other time they had nearly escaped him. Holding his breath, his wide eyes, filled with panic, met yours.

He watched as you tried to figure out if he had really just thrown that grenade into your friendship, if he had really been stupid enough to actually confess his feelings and ruin a relationship that had become so important to both of you over the years. He took in the tremble of your lip as your mouth opened slightly, no words forthcoming. He took in the slight furrow of your brow, one which he knew from experience indicated a high level of confusion. He took in the way you just stood there, staring at him, and although his lungs burned for him to take a breath, he had simply forgotten how.

He should have just kept his feelings for you to himself instead of blurting them out, but now it was too late.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been in love with you for years, hiding his adoration for fear of losing you. Sam hadn’t realised he’d fallen for you at first. You had slipped into his life so easily, seemed like you had always been right there, and your friendship was important to him. You were his best friend. He could vent to you in ways he couldn’t with Dean, but he didn’t like to be weak in front of you, wanted you to think he was brave and could protect you, not that you needed it.

The first time he had really opened up to you had been after a particularly traumatic hunt. A hunt that had you all driving in silence for the long hours of the night, nobody sleeping as the images of dead children played any time your eyes closed. As soon as you got to the bunker, he was out of the Impala, grabbing his bag and disappearing at a rate only those ridiculously long legs could manage.

You had found him though, sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to his chest as he silently sobbed. He hated that you saw him like this; hated that he didn’t want you to leave. Sam felt you settle down beside him on the cold tiles, felt your hand come to rest on his back, stroking soft small circles against the flannel as your own tears fell.

When he had gathered himself together enough to stop crying, he sat up, resting his head back against the wall as his eyes scrunched closed. He felt you shift then, and part of him wanted to reach for you, to keep you with him. Sam heard your footsteps walk out of the room and he cursed himself for being so pathetic, for being so weak. So deep in this spiral of regret and grief, he didn’t register your return, until you were crouched in front of him, something clutched in your hands.

“You’re shivering.” You said softly. “Take off that shirt and put this on.”

Sam looked at the soft grey material you held out to him. It was a hoodie he had leant you a while ago, and had been fairly certain would never be returned to him. Without a word, he removed his shirt and pulled on the hoodie.

The first thing that hit him was the way the fabric smelled of you. It was gentle and reassuring, a comfort which combined with the warmth to make him feel as if he was wrapped in you. As his head emerged from the confines of this new comfort cocoon, he was greeted with the sight of you shrugging on his discarded shirt, an image that would be seared into his memory. There was just something about seeing you wearing his clothes, and that was when he realised that this was so much more than friendship on his part. He liked the idea of you being his. The pain of the hunt now receded, the anxiety of his new discovery dwarfing it so easily. He was in love with his best friend. He was in love with you, and he could never tell you!

The problem was, now he knew what he was feeling, it was like those three words fought to get out, to be heard and acknowledged. Lay in a motel bed, Sam rested an arm behind his head as he closed his eyes and smiled to himself. He could hear the soft clanking of the pipes as lukewarm water made their way to the slightly rusty showerhead. He could hear the soft pattering of water against the flimsy shower curtain. He could hear you singing to yourself, and that was enough to put a goofy smile on his face. It was all too easy to imagine you in there, shampoo in your hair as you put on a dramatic rendition of your favourite ‘go-to’ shower songs. Not that Sam was thinking about you being naked in there! Fuck. Now he was thinking about you being naked in there, and that brought a heat to his cheeks he was unprepared for.

“What’s up with you?” Dean asked as he wandered into the room, arms clutching paper bags filled with whatever he’d managed to find for breakfast.

Those words had nearly escaped him, he had been so close to simply saying to his big brother, ‘I’m in love’. Instead, Sam ended up having a coughing fit as he scrambled to get out of bed and put all thoughts of you and showers out of his mind.

Dean wasn’t the only person he nearly confessed to. The two of you had been researching in the library, a comfortable quiet, broken only by the turning of pages and the occasional sigh of frustration. Due to the lack of windows in the bunker, time seemed to hold no meaning and Sam could not say for certain, without checking his watch, just how long you had been at this. What he did know, was that you’d reached your limit.

Putting his book down, he stretched his arms over his head and rolled his shoulders. Looking over to you, he had intended to ask if you’d found anything, only to find you had fallen asleep. Your arms were folded over your book, and your head rested on them. Your hair was messy, and he wasn’t entirely certain, but it was possible you were drooling slightly. A soft smile played on his lips as he found himself just watching you sleep. You looked so peaceful, and Sam longed to be able to watch you sleep every night.

“Have you found what you were looking for?” Cas asked, breaking Sam from his revery.

Again, those words were on the tip of his tongue, but he fought them back. He knew if they made it out into the world that he was done for, that he would be made to tell you and then there would be no more of these moments. Instead, he simply said ‘no’, then got to his feet and began putting books away.

Things had been going so well. Sam had managed to hold back his confession and the two of you were closer than ever, then that damned demon had taken him down.

Another motel, another bathroom, another patch up job. He had sat dutifully on the side of the bath as you bathed the cuts on his shoulders and the one on his forehead, as well as his burst lip. He tried not to think about how close you were stood, about how gentle your touch was, how warm your breath felt against his bare skin. His fingers itched to rest on your hips, to pull you closer, to feel you pressed against him, so he gripped the edge of the bath a little tighter, an action you mistook for pain.

“There, all done.” You said softly, leaning forward and placing a kiss to his forehead and then to his sore lip. Both kisses were brief, fleeting, done without thought. You had simply been ‘kissing him better’, but the small action had caused his brain to short circuit.

“I love you.”

Sam hadn’t been certain he’d said it out loud for a fraction of a second, and then his world collapsed in on itself as he tried to read your reaction. This was it. You would probably be polite about things, pull away from him slowly before disappearing from his life and becoming just a memory.

“I love you too.” Your words were whispered, and it wasn’t until he felt your fingers running through his hair that he allowed himself to believe this was real.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you just looked at each other for a while before smiles spread across your faces and laughter erupted, eradicating the tension that had once been so thick.

“Wait, you know that I mean I love you in a romantic way, right? Not in a ‘friend’ way.”

“Yeah, Sammy, I got that.”

“Good.” His hands found their way to your hips, and he pulled you close, gazing at you in pure adoration. Maybe he should have told you sooner.

#Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #gndw fic

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rqgnarok · 10 months

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Last ask with TS just melted my heart so building on that… Slow dancing to Sweet Nothing by TS with Jamie Tartt??? All the fluff

jamie and taylor swift together, ya'll know my weaknesses way too well

Jamie frowns. "Do I know this song?"

You turn from where you're cutting some veggies for dinner, eyebrows raised. "I sure hope you do. We've only listened to the album a million times since it came out."

The kitchen is bathed in golden sunlight, the last few rays of the sunset hitting your home just right as the day ends. Jamie's on the couch with a book in his hands; a used, tattered copy of something he reads more out of comfort than the desire to actually focus.

It's been a slow day, the kind that happens after a good win the previous night that leaves Jamie tired and satisfied, wanting nothing more than to spend the next 24 at home with you by his side.

Of course, you were more than happy to oblige. Hours filled with sleep and sleepy sex, quick snacks and lots of water until your stomachs begged for actual food. So here you were now, Sunday mostly gone, a Taylor Swift playlist playing softly in the background while making dinner.

The song ends and another one begins, a plain, sweet piano melody making you smile down at the food. Suddenly, Jamie's vacated his spot on the couch and walked up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, tucking his face into your neck and kissing the skin.

You hide another giddy expression. Sweet Nothing was one of Jamie's favorite songs from the album from the get-go, always thinking of you when it played. As a public figure who has spent too long in the spotlight with every single part of his personality up for display and inspection, your relationship had been quiet at the beginning, from the public and Jamie's teammates since he was between teams and had a target on his back.

You took it like a champ, following his cues and letting him make a shelter out of you and your relationship, somewhere he could be himself from every angle; loud and unapologetic, small and quiet, sweet and eager to love. Loving him back has been the easiest thing you've ever done.

"This one 'm sure I know," he murmurs, chest glued to your back, warm and safe. He's wearing a hoodie and shorts, and you're wearing nothing but an oversized shirt. "Come dance with me."

"Five minutes ago you were so hungry you were dying," you quote his own words back at him in a terrible impression of his accent, earning yourself a poke to the ribs. You jump further into him, making it easier for him to whisk you away from the counter.

"I can wait three more minutes," he assures, placing your arms around his neck and his own on your hips, keeping you close. He starts rocking you side to side, his forehead to yours. "Wanna have you close, angel."

Any joke sitting ready on your tongue dissipates at his words, soft and sweet and so very Jamie. "You always have me, baby."

Jamie only crowds closer, mouth to your ear, singing surprisingly in tune along with the song. "You say 'what a mind', this happens all the time..."

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #leo writes

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 month

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Vol and Friends Information | The Maze Runner Fanfic Concept

This is a character and idea I wrote a long time ago and found sitting in my drafts. So, I figured I would finally share her with you guys. Character writing is my thing and I thought I should post something since I've been so inactive.

UNIVERSE WRITING NOTES

As most of you know, the Maze Runner movies and books are actually quite different from each other. Of course, I prefer the books but there are some things I think the movies do better, so I've decided to use aspects from both the books and the movies to use in this potential fanfiction.

From the Movies

Takes a couple of days to recall names.

Layout of the Glade/the Maze is the same.

Characters look like their Movie counterparts for the sake of simplicity.

The Grievers look how they're depicted.

Alby is kinder and less brutal like how he's depicted in the movies.

The Gladers have been there for three years (as of the arrival of Thomas, the story starts a year before the end.)

From the Books

The Beetle Blades exist and are how the Creators observe the Glade.

Thomas and Teresa have their telepathic connection and psychic style dreams/flashbacks exist.

Minho is more sarcastic like how he is depicted in the book.

Grievers don't only come out at night. Whilst not as common, Grievers are active during the day. The Runners have encountered them many times.

The Changing isn't rare to go through and the Gladers already have the serum provided by the Creators.

The Box comes up once a week with supplies and once a month with a new Greenie.

I thought it would be smart to clarify and show the best aspects of both media.

GENERAL CHARACTER INFORMATION

Protagonist Name: Vol

Named after: Voltaire; François-Marie Arouet, also known as M. de Voltaire was a French Enlightment writer, historian and philosopher in the 1700s. He was famous for his wit, and his criticism of Christianity (especially of the Roman Catholic Church) and of slavery. Voltaire was an advocate of freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and separation of church and state.

Subject: A0 "The Trespasser"

Sex: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Age: 17-19, exact age is unknown

Job: Builder, then later a Med-jack

Appearance:

Face claim: Iva Varvarchuk

About 5'4" with a slim but lean build, she has white skin with freckles and some scarring. She has brown almond eyes and dark eyebrows. She has short, slightly messy brown hair that is often tied half up half down or pulled back in a tight messy french braid. She wears whatever clothes she can get her hands on, but is normally seen wearing the worn leather jacket and off-white hoodie combo that she came up in the box in. She also can be found wearing the grey tank top and baggy cargo pants she arrived in.

Personality: Vol is fiery and critical with a slight violent streak and a drive to do what's right. She believes strongly in equality and that she is just as capable as her male counterparts. She has no problem putting the boys in their places if they stare for too long or make an inappropriate comment. She often gets in arguments for her beliefs and ideas and isn't above going against the Keepers and Alby to get her point across. She's often described as "too smart for her own good"; her intelligence and quick nature often being a tense point in the Glade. Her intelligence is also exaggerated by her suspiciously good biology knowledge. She's very easily frustrated, especially when people don't listen to her. Despite being very critical and harsh, she can't always take what she dishes out; Vol struggles to take valid criticism and is quick to become defensive as she takes most things to heart. Due to her politically charged nature, she's often routing for the underdog and has a soft spot for Greenies and struggling Gladders- she's almost always willing to risk her mental and physical health for anyone that needs it. She's also beyond willing to jump to anyone's defence should she believe they need it. Because of this, she becomes somewhat of a big sister figure in the Glade- caring but sarcastic and occasionally violent. When she's around the few people she actually looks up to/admires, she becomes more relaxed. She's genuinely witty and often makes jokes that go over people's heads, but she's not nearly as reckless and cutthroat. She tries to lighten the mood after rough days and try and lift spirits, especially after the dreary repetition the Runners go through. She even makes flirty comments and jokes just to watch the boys squirm. Though, the pressure can get too much, especially after certain events skyrocket her into more popularity and conflict than she'd already managed.

OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

LEO

Name: Leo

Named after: Leonardo Da Vinci - Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (15 April 1452 – 2 May 1519) was an Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect.

Subject: A17 "The Deliquent"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship to Vol: Friend

Job: Slicer

Appearance:

Face Claim: Benjamin Wadsworth

About 5'11" and with a pretty strong build. He has tanned skin and several scars and can often be found stained with blood.

Personality: He's extroverted and boisterous, often causing problems and liking being the centre of attention. He's weak-willed and doesn't seem to care about leaving as much as the other boys. He doesn't get along with Minho and most of the Runners for this reason. He's a thorn in Alby's side and has a record for breaking most of the rules- the Slammer is basically his home. He can be incredibly overprotective and forward with his feelings and opinions. He loves to argue and get a rise out of people. He is a definition problem child.

OTTO

Name: Otto

Named after: Otto Hahn - a German Scientist known as the "Father of nuclear chemistry."

Subject: A23 "The Shield"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/they (the latter going unused in the Glade)

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship to Vol: Best friend/found brother

Job: Track-hoe

Appearance:

Face Claim: Unknown model

About 6'1" and very skinny. He has slightly crooked teeth and a slit in his eyebrow.

Personality: Otto is more timid and introverted than his counterparts. He lives is Vol and Leo's shadow, opting to just be known as the boy that came up with the girl than making a name for himself. He's kind of a pushover and can be talked into pretty much anything. He kind of a hopeless romantic but he's fueled by logic, providing a much needed level-headedness to his friends, especially when Vol is worked up and willing to go along with Leo's schemes.

DALTON

Name: Dalton

Named after: John Dalton - An English chemist best know for introducing the atomic theory into chemistry.

Subject: A19 "The Statue"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Asexual/Aromantic

Relationship to Vol: Friend/Body Guard

Job: Bulider

Appearance:

Face claim: Mukasa Kakonge

About 6'4" and well-built. He towers over most of the other Gladers. Has a lot of scars on his hands from his job.

Personality: Dalton is the quietest one of the group. He prefers to stick to himself and the only reason he's social at all is because Leo was the Greenie before him, and had to show him around - now they're friends. Though, unlike Otto, he isn't timid. He has a very intimidating presence and simply doesn't care for the Gladers' conversations or opinions. He is very protective of the people he does care about, though, and isn't scared to intervene when the others get themselves in trouble.

RELATIONSHIPS TO VOL

Friends

Otto: After waking up in the Box, Otto was lost and dazed but had enough common sense to try and wake up the teenage girl who was also passed out. After that, Vol took to protecting her timid friend and is often the more offensive of the pair despite her being the odd one out. Otto is the only person she truly trusts because they're the only person that she's knows for sure is in the same situation as her.

Leo: Vol meets Leo during her trial as a Slicer. He offers her advice and helps out, giving her tricks and ways to make the job easier. He's also the person that convinced Vol to ask Newt about becoming a Med-jack due to her anatomy knowledge. He's more laid-back than most of the Gladers around her so she gains some respect for him and they quickly become friends. Though, Leo quickly shows himself as a bad influence, causing problems in Vol's other relationships. But, due to Leo's unfaltering loyalty, she sticks by him.

Dalton: He kind of came as a deal package with Leo. Vol wasn't sure what to think of him at first, but Dalton proved to be a big softy that would crush anyone that got too close to her, and the pair became close fairly quickly.

Newt: Like most of the Gladers, his relationship with Vol is few and far between as she's got her own little group and she chooses to spend time with them. That being said, Newt is probably one of her more favoured people in the Glade. He's one of the most respectful Gladers and he helps where he's needed, even if he can be sarcastic and nihilistic.

Alby: Alby is more of a leader than a friend to Vol, probably because he is. Though, he does have a soft spot for the girl and sees the same admirable traits in her that he saw in Minho when he first assigned him as the Keeper of the Runners. He tends to keep an eye on her so that he can make sure none of the boys are causing her problems.

Frypan: Due to his small crush on the girl, Frypan is very kind and understanding towards Vol, often letting her vent and giving her extra food under the table. Because of his kindness, Vol occasionally helps out in the kitchen, even delivering and making food for the Runners before they go out into the Maze for the day.

Chuck: She becomes somewhat a mother figure to Chuck, her need to protect and look after him coming to the forefront of their relationship. She's definitely one of Chuck's favourite people in the Glade.

Jeff and Clint: Her coworkers who try and keep her out of trouble. She likes them both equally and appreciates their help and the lack of questioning of her abilities.

Love Interest: Minho

Kinda Enemies to Lovers.

They got off to a bad start when Vol tried to escape the Glade on her first day and Minho had to stop her.

She punched him in the jaw and had a meltdown.

She tried to apologise once she'd calmed down (and Ably made her) but Minho was just sarcastic and bitter. Due to her stubborn nature, she insulted him and stormed off.

Leo's negative opinion of the Runners only adds to this.

Tension lies in physical attraction and occasional staring at first.

Minho comes to admire her morals.

She comes to admire his work ethic.

The pair argue for fun, but no one else seems to notice the spark behind their sarcastic exchanges.

Alby thinks they don't like each other because they're too similar.

Which is exactly why Newt thinks they do like each other.

Other

Gally: The pair got off to a rough start on her trail as a Builder, and then later arguments during her time as a Builder, so there is some tension between them. She eventually comes to admire Gally and his passionate and caring ways, even if he doesn't show it in the best way. She finally starts to respect him as a Keeper, even if their frenemy status still remains.

Thomas: A late arrival to the Glade, she tried to be kind to Thomas when he appears but since he moves at a million miles an hour and is more reckless than she is, she's normally too busy to spend time listening to his antics.

Teresa: Initially, she was beyond pleased to have another girl in the Glade, but overall they don't spend much time together apart from Vol attempting to befriend the girl, who's all too interested in thinking up ideas with Thomas.

Ben: Since he's a Runner and spends a lot of time with Minho, the pair have had a fair few conversations and he witnesses a lot of arguments. He actually likes siding with her because he enjoys annoying Minho. But she wouldn't exactly consider him a friend.

Winston: He's a Glader she sees around and doesn't really talk to. He seems nice enough and she has nothing against him.

Zart: The same applies to Zart as it does Winston.

#🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri's ocs #tmr #the maze runner

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jamiesfootball · 8 months

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jamie gets the biggest oldest grumpiest rescue cat that has possibly ever graced the face of planet earth. three weeks later, roy ends up with a tiny, scrappy little shit of a kitten who keeps showing up at his front door and begging for scraps.

Oh no. My hand slipped.

The way Roy saw it he had two choices. He could have a long, difficult, tear-filled conversation with Phoebe about how some people were pieces of shit who never deserved to own a pet in the first place, or he could get the damn kitten into the house before the snowstorm rolled in.

"She had a collar," Roy defended himself for what must be the tenth time since he called Jamie for help. "I assumed she had a home."

"But she's so tiny," Jamie repeated for the millionth time since he'd arrived. "I don't think they're supposed to be out when they're this tiny."

Phoebe braced her mittened hands against Roy's shoulders. "Jamie, can you reach her yet? I'll crawl under there if you can't reach her."

"Absolutely not," said Roy. "I can pull him out if he gets stuck. If you get stuck, I'll have you and a cat to pry out."

Jamie, to his credit, had wasted no time in rushing over to Roy's. Phoebe barely had a chance to explain the situation before the only cat owner Roy knew dropped to the icy ground. Without making a fuss about the snow or the cobwebs or the cramped space, he'd squeezed himself under Roy's patio and started in with the cooing noises.

That was thirty minutes ago and the cooing noises had long run dry. If Roy's hands were cold, Jamie's must be freezing.

Jamie's trainers dug into the snow, kicking up a thin layer as he pushed himself further into the dark. "It's alright, Phoebe. I think I can reach her if she just comes a little closer. Psspsspss."

"Try shaking the tuna can," said Roy.

"What the fuck you think I've been doing down here?"

For once Phoebe didn't tab them for the swearing. Roy wrapped his arm around her, letting her shaking body leech whatever warmth he had left.

"Ooh! Here she comes!" Jamie whisper-yelled. Then, "Phoebe love, would you mind grabbing us a towel?"

Phoebe ran inside the house faster than Roy'd ever clocked her during training. Roy waited for her braids to disappear around the corner before asking, "There something wrong?"

A beat of quiet. "Bit of the ear's torn up. Hard to tell with the fur, but it's crumpled and she's not moving right."

Guilt slipped hot into his stomach. Stupid posh neighbors. He should've called someone when he'd spotted the little beast prowling around his bushes three weeks ago. Phoebe had begged him to try to catch it, and he'd been too distracted by visions of his sister killing him if his niece came home with a kitten to wonder what something that small was doing out in the winter in the first place.

Phoebe wore him down until he agreed that they could leave some food out. Then he had to take her to the store to buy canned tuna. By the time they returned, the kitten was gone and Phoebe, pouting, insisted they leave a can outside just in case.

Since then he'd been woken up no less than three times by sharp little cries outside his window.

If each time he forced his stiff body to get out of bed, limp outside, and put out a fresh can of tuna, then that was between him and the cat.

The way Roy saw it he had two choices. Him and his dodgy knee could call for help to rescue the cat from under the porch, or Roy could hate himself forever.

He'd never actually seen the little nuisance up close until Jamie wriggled her free.

"Oh," Jamie croaked. It was a small, soft noise, completely unintentional in its hurt.

Roy's heart made the same noise.

She really was just a tiny thing, hardly bigger than Roy's hand and trying her best to curl into a ball of nothing in the crook of Jamie's arm. Even against the soiled front of his hoodie, she looked dirty.

Roy had assumed she had a home to go back to. She had a collar. Someone had cared enough to buy her a collar.

"She's freezing," Jamie said in a voice as thin as a wire. "She barely weighs anything."

"Give her here."

Phoebe returned from her quest with an armful of towels just as Roy shrugged off his puffy winter jacket. He bundled the poor thing up--calico markings, a crooked ear, and giant amber eyes that ducked into the shadows--and he had just enough time to flip the hood of his jacket against her head before Phoebe could see her ear.

"You got her!" Phoebe screeched. She barreled into Jamie's leg, keen to give the hero of her evening a hug. Jamie barely seemed to notice, all of his awareness laser-focused on the bundle in Roy's arms.

The immeasurable responsibility that curled up tight in his jacket offered up a forlorn mew.

"Let's head in," Roy said. The snow was beginning to fall.

#:D #this....this is what you wanted yes?#we. we all wanted sad cat times?#i did name the cat #it was going to be the punchline at the end #but then i sad #whoops #roy kent #phoebe kent #jamie tartt #part of my extended I Gave Jamie a Cat in the Notes universe #the greater Richmond pet acquisition #give jamie tartt a cat

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bloodblanks · 1 year

Text

solace [masky / hoodie x reader] — chapter xi.

After the incident with Masky, you’re left alone with Hoodie.

author's note: this fanfiction will contain explicit content, including rape/non-con, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

“Why did you leave me?”

Hoodie turned his head towards you. You were laying down on the bed as per usual, after having taken a shower not too long ago.

Hoodie had returned almost right after you finished your conversation with Masky, and from there on, he had taken over the caretaking.

The first thing he did was offer you a shower, which you gladly took up. He had brought you some shampoo and even conditioner, which you were grateful for. While you didn’t want to push your luck, you did take longer in the shower compared to usual, taking the time to wash your hair as well as scrubbing yourself clean, wanting to rid yourself of what had happened earlier. It was all in your head at this point, but you couldn’t help but want to cleanse yourself of Masky and the feel of his touch on you.

After you finished with your shower, Hoodie took you back to your room, before handing you a clean, satin dress for sleepwear. Your eyebrows knit together as you looked at him, confused.

“Took it from one of my victims.” he bluntly declared, and you frowned at the statement. You didn’t particularly want to take clothing from someone who was possibly now dead. It felt disrespectful and uncomfortable. Hoodie must’ve noticed your hesitance because he then continued to speak.

“Ah, I was joking…” he mumbled, and he sounded embarrassed. And you felt guilty for a second for judging so fast, so you quickly took the dress from him, thanking him. He turned away from you, and you took that as a cue to dress yourself.

“I’m done changing, by the way.” you let him know, and he turned back around, watching as you flopped down onto the bed, causing it to creak.

It felt good. It felt good being untied, being clean, being human again, and not just some toy for someone—Masky—to play with. It was then that you asked the question.

Hoodie walked over to the bed, sitting down on it as you moved to make room.

“I didn’t leave you.” he said softly, almost like a whisper.

“Yes, you did!” you yelled, raising your voice louder than you intended on. Hoodie put his head in his hands.

“I was running errands. I had to get you your things from somewhere.” he replied, and you sighed, still upset, despite him having a valid point. You wanted to continue shouting at him and blame him for what happened this morning—but it wasn’t really his fault.

At the thought of the event alone, you felt tears threatening to rise to the surface. It was painful just thinking about it. You found it difficult to believe that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since it happened. Instead, you were still on the same day, the day seeming to last forever, the passing of time slowed by some unseeable force. You didn’t say anything, just simply laid inanimate on the bed, watching the ceiling in silence.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized. You weren’t sure what to reply to him. Your reflex would have been to say ‘it’s okay’, but it just wasn’t, as much as you would’ve liked it to be. Nothing felt okay, and so you remained mute. The quiet seemed to stretch on forever, just like the day had. Seconds, and then minutes passed by, until Hoodie decided to speak again.

“Do you want to read?” he asked, gesturing towards a book that was sitting on top of his desk, unopened. You glanced towards it. Wuthering Heights, still. You could see that there was a yellow bookmark nestled in the later sections of the book, indicating that he was close to finishing it.

“Don’t you want to finish it first?” you inquired. “You don’t have to do all of this for me, you know.” Hoodie chuckled softly in response, shaking his head. His laugh was actually quite pleasant, you thought.

“It’s the least I can do.” he responded, and he sounded guilty. “It’s my second time reading it, anyway. I figured that you’d be bored.”

“Being bored is the least of my concerns here.” you snapped, instantly feeling ashamed of yourself, unease blossoming in your chest. You regretted saying that; you had no good reason to be angry with him, especially when he was just being kind to you. You were being awfully ungrateful right now and you felt bad for it.

“Sorry.” you muttered.

“It’s alright,” he said, “I understand why you’re upset right now.” Hoodie’s tone of voice was full of sympathy, and it made you feel better, knowing that at least someone here wasn’t out to hurt you. The support was appreciated, now more than ever, whether it be from your captor or not.

But was he really? You thought about it. He didn’t appear to be the one behind all of this, if anything, he felt more like an unwilling assistant. You knew that the person, or creature behind this all was the tall, faceless man—the Operator, as your captors called him. And while Masky seemed more than happy to carry out his task, you didn’t feel like the same applied for Hoodie. You didn’t think he was as cruel as Masky.

No, he definitely wasn’t as cruel as him. And so, despite the bleakness of the situation, you felt as if you could possibly grow to enjoy Hoodie’s company.

You got up and out of bed, picking up the book on the desk. You were glad that you’d finally have something to do. You had spent the past few days either bored and left alone to your own devices with nothing to entertain yourself, or bloody and beaten. This was a more than welcome break.

Walking back to the bed with the book in hand, you sat on the bed and began reading. After the start of high school, you found yourself reading less than you did when you were younger, and then at some point Tim and Brian had disappeared and you spent two years too depressed to do anything. You tried not to think about your real life—or past life, whichever it was now—and instead focused on the book. It turned out to be surprisingly easy to sink yourself into the book, plunging yourself into another world; one solely in your head, a beautiful fantasy that nobody else could taint.

Turning the pages of the book every so often, you found yourself thinking about how Brian too had enjoyed reading a lot. He was an avid reader, often having his nose buried in some obscure fantasy novel that nobody else read, and if it wasn’t that it would be science fiction. However, he did indulge in a classic romance novel on occasion as well. If you recalled correctly, the last book he was reading before he vanished was Jane Eyre. You remembered playfully teasing him for being a hopeless romantic back then, but then here you were, reading Wuthering Heights. Brian would have been happy to see you read it, though. He was always flattered when you accepted one of his book suggestions, and even more so when you returned to tell him how much you’d like it. If you thought about it, he actually wasn’t too different from Hoodie, save for the fact that he hadn’t kidnapped you. That was a rather drastic distinction between the two of them, but if you chose to nonetheless ignore it, then you would be able to find quite a few similarities. The easiest one would be their choice in books, or even the fact that they read books at all. Not many people did anymore these days, not even Tim. There was also the fact that Hoodie was relatively polite and almost even shy, occasionally stuttering when caught off guard, just the way Brian did when sometimes you’d tease him a bit too much. That would often result in him burying his face in his hands, something you’d noticed Hoodie do as well.

“What is it?” Hoodie asked, snapping you out of your trance. You realized then that you had been inadvertently staring at him, having spaced out into your own thoughts. You took a second to wonder whether or not you should be honest with him, making the decision to tell him the truth, seeing as you didn’t see any downsides to doing so.

“I was just spaced out,” you admitted, “I was thinking about something.”

“What were you thinking about?” he questioned. You considered the possibility that he was just asking this in hopes of finding out more about the damned ‘forest seal’ or whatever, but you enjoyed conversation with him more than you cared about that. It wasn’t like you had any information to give him, anyway.

“My friends. I miss them a lot.” you confessed.

“I know.” he stated. “It’s only natural that you do. What are they like?”

You thought about it a bit before answering. “Well, to be honest, I’m thinking more about my former friends, not my current ones. Not that I don’t miss my current friends or anything, I just…” you let your words trail off, not sure how to finish your sentence.

“Former friends?” he inquired, causing you to wonder if it was a genuine intrigue or not. You couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I used to have two very close friends.” you started explaining. “They were called Tim and Brian.”

Hoodie nodded, displaying his attentiveness to what you were saying. You continued—it was so easy for you to talk about them. In fact, it was actually difficult for you not to talk about them in every conversation you had; you had to actively refrain from it when you spoke with your friends, not wanting to turn every conversation into a pity party. But it was hard, it was hard when they were all you used to talk to. It was when they were always on your mind, the memories stuck in your brain, clinging onto every thought as if they were cobwebs.

“I’ve always been friends with them. Ever since we were kids. Brian was smart and nice and everyone liked him. Tim was more sarcastic and blunt, but he was funny.”

“What about you?” Hoodie queried. The seconds went by as you tried to think of an answer.

“I’m not really sure.” you admitted sheepishly. “I don’t think I was really anything.”

“Elaborate.” he insisted, and you shut your book in order to focus more on the conversation, but not before plucking the bookmark out and placing it where you left off. You laid back down, hands behind your head as you gazed towards the ceiling. You had been doing that an awful lot as of late.

“I mean, I don’t feel like I stood out much. There’s nothing special about me.” Hoodie nodded, urging you to keep talking. You complied with his unspoken request.

“I was just kind of their friend, you know?” As you spoke those words, you realized that could’ve come off as negative, so you quickly attempted to correct yourself. “Not that it was a bad thing, or anything. I was really happy just being their friend. They were the best friends I could have ever asked for. Sometimes I still wonder why they chose me.” Indeed, Tim and Brian had chosen you. Not anyone else, but you to play with them, and you never understood why. Not that you had given it much thought previously, but thinking about it now, they really could have befriended anyone else. There was no reason to ask you specifically. You were just the quiet kid, by yourself in class, doodling on a sheet of paper, lost in your own imagination.

“I was just the quiet kid,” you kept talking, “and for some reason, they wanted to play with me. I agreed, and the rest is well, history, as people would say it. Both of them lived really close to each other, which just so happened to be really close to me, so we hung out a lot. We’d spend everyday after school just playing video games in Tim’s basement, walking Brian’s dog around the neighbourhood, or eating dinner with my parents.”

You paused as you thought about those events more.

“Brian’s dog was named Sheepie.” you rambled on; you really could talk about them forever. “I think the story is that he originally confused it for a sheep when his parents brought it home. I mean, it kind of did look like one. She passed away a year or so ago.” The atmosphere turned somber as you continued about the two people that you missed so dearly.

“It’s funny how much things can change. One minute I’m playing Cards Against Humanity with Tim and his family and the next I’m alone. Not even Sheepie’s around anymore.” As you finished your sentence, you rolled onto your side, elbow cushioning your head. You were facing Hoodie, who was getting cozy himself, lying down in bed and pulling the sheets over himself. The two of you were face to face, your eyes boring directly into the stitched red lines of his mask.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Hoodie said, and the sorrow in his voice sounded so sincere. You could almost believe that he cared about you with how kind he was to you, but you doubted that it actually meant anything. He likely just wanted the information. And if you knew, you would have told him by now, but you really didn’t.

“You know I really don’t know the information you want from me, right?” you whispered.

“I believe you.” he tried to assure you. “But Masky doesn’t, and neither does the man we’re working for.” His voice held a depressive tone to it, and you wondered if maybe he wasn’t as much in control as you had originally imagined him to be.

“Why do you still keep questioning me, then?” you asked.

“What do you mean? I haven’t asked you anything about the forest seal for a while.” was his reply, which you instantly disagreed with.

“No, you were just asking about my friends and everything.” you responded. Hoodie sighed in apparent disbelief.

“You think I asked that because of the forest seal?” he questioned, a bewildered tone in his voice, confirming your assumptions about the sigh. You nodded your head yes.

“No, I-I… these were genuine questions. I just— just wanted to know.” he stuttered, tripping over his own words. It was kind of cute, you thought, before instantly what the fuck you were thinking. It surely was getting late, and your brain starting to fry.

It must have been, as you were extremely tired. You weren’t sure if you were just exhausted from the long, insufferable day you’ve had, or if it had just been too long since you got sleep, but nonetheless you were very much fatigued. You snuggled closer into your elbow. Curling your knees into yourself a bit, you allowed your eyes to shut. You could feel Hoodie’s careful watch over you as you drifted off to sleep, but oddly enough, it didn’t bother you.

—

“Is lasagna for dinner okay?” Hoodie inquired.

“Of course!” you replied. Lasagna for dinner was more than okay. You thoroughly enjoyed Hoodie’s cooking, as strange as it possibly was to admit. According to him, when you weren’t around, he’d cook for himself anyway, so since you were here all he had to do was make larger portions. You were thankful for that, because you weren’t ever hungry around him, and the food you had lasted you enough to survive the days with Masky, in which you literally only received bread and butter to feed yourself. At least he gave you butter, you thought.

When Hoodie would presumably go to the kitchen to make food, he would always leave you in the room by yourself. The room was always left locked, of course, but you would be left untied. And to your own astonishment, you hadn’t made any attempts to escape yet, although it had been tempting.

You wanted to leave. You wanted to oh so badly go home, you wanted to hug your parents, get pizza with Ewa, play video games with Lily and the others, or even just play Smash Bros by yourself. It was somewhat depressing, you would play against the CPUs, even though they had been getting easier and easier to defeat up until the point where you were no longer improving. Despite that, you didn’t want to play the game with anyone else. It was special, with it being the first ever game you played with Tim and Brian. It wasn’t just any game to you. You had played by yourself since their disappearance, with only one thought in mind—one day, when they’re back, I’ll be able to show them how much I’ve improved.

But it was wishful thinking, because they weren’t back, and you had stopped improving at some point. Still, you pressed on, hoping to keep your skills fresh, just in case you’d ever see them again. Although now you weren’t so sure if you’d even see anyone ever again. Maybe you were to spend the rest of your short-lived days with Masky and Hoodie. Maybe this was the end for you. You’d die here, bloody and alone, with no one by your side, no one to know what happened to you. You’d just fall into the gaping jaws of oblivion, swallowed whole inside this small room, invisible to the rest of the world.

Hoodie noticed your downcast expression upon his return, walking into the room with two plates of lasagna. One for you, the other for himself.

“Is something wrong?” he questioned. You wanted to cry just from hearing his words alone. It was an odd, inexplicable feeling, but something about his voice just made you so goddamn sad.

“Am I going to die here?” you blurted out. “Is this it for me?”

You had visibly caught Hoodie off guard. He was placing the plate down in front of you—you had been sitting at the desk—and you could tell by the way he stuttered as he tried to respond to you.

“N-No, what? You— You aren’t going to die.” he stumbled over his words, astounded by your sudden question and frantically trying to dispute what you had just said. “What are you talking about?”

“How do you know that?” you inquired. You meant to catch yourself and not sound snappy when you said it, but you couldn’t hide the bitterness that your voice carried. He didn’t have a chance to reply yet because you pressed on.

“You literally threatened to kill me.” you hissed, remembering the time he drew his gun on you. It was likely still sitting there, in the pocket of his hoodie. You shivered just at the thought.

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t actually going to.” he muttered. He almost seemed guilty with the way his head hung from his shoulders, drooping and slouching forward as he took his seat on the sofa chair.

“You’re just saying that now.” you were pouting like a child, sniffling as you said it. As if you weren’t already acting like a whiny toddler, you began tearing up, to your own embarrassment. If only I could just stop crying all the time, you thought.

“Look at me.” Hoodie commanded. Brushing away your tears with the back of your hand, you turned to look at him, eyes slightly narrowed in a distrustful glare. “Do you genuinely think that I want to kill you?”

Hoodie most definitely had plenty of opportunities to have ended your life, there wasn’t a doubt about that. Every second you were around him was a second in which he could have taken that pistol out of his pocket, undone the safety, raised it to your head, and pulled the trigger. Thankfully, he hadn’t done so, yet. But there was more to it than just that.

Not only had he chosen not to end your life, he had done the opposite. Taking care of your wounds on multiple occasions—he said it was because it would be counterintuitive if you died, but none of your injuries were fatal, or even close. Hell, majority weren’t even severe enough to require a hospital trip, not that you couldn’t have used some stitches here and there. Additionally, he had gone out of his way to make sure you were comfortable, bringing you basic necessities: a toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and even conditioner. He had lent you his shirts and bought you sleepwear on top of that. He cooked for you, kept you well fed, and even tried in multiple situations to keep you out of harm’s way. You sighed.

“No.” you admitted.

Hoodie sighed in return. You kept talking.

“I don’t get why you bother, though. It doesn’t do anything for you. Especially now that you know I don’t have the information.” Hoodie consequently put his head in his hands, letting out an even bigger, even longer, even deeper sigh.

“Eat your pasta.”

next chapter soon...

312 notes · View notes

velvetstreets · 9 months

Text

SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY: PT 4 - Fool For You

A/N: ITS BEEN A YEAR SINCE I POSTED PART 3 💀 I’m sorry y’all 😭🫶, made this EXTRA long to make up for my hiatus. These mfs finally start cooking with some gas in this chapter! Enjoy 💗

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex (f!receiving), swearing, oral sex (m!receiving and f!receiving), two kids in love, tooth rotting fluff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

——————

“Hi.” You mewled out from the comfort of your own bed, in an oversized Egyptian blue hoodie. It had years-old worth of stained flecks of white paint from when you helped paint your bestie’s apartment; the collar of the sleeves were beginning to fray, and as well as had an eyeliner stain in the inner left sleeve after getting ready for a girls night, but you loved it - imperfections and all.

“Hey.” He grinned from the bright phone screen.

“God you look so freakin’ cute, how the hell you do that?” Jack said, wasting no time to shower you in compliments.

You rolled you eyes playfully and rolled onto your side.

“Shut up, I look fuckin crazy right now.” You laughed. You worked a long shift last night, a Saturday, raking in bags of cash which you were happy about, but you were exhausted when you finally came home. Jack had waited for you in the parking lot as he often did, always with food as he knew you’d be starving. Last night you asked him to get you Popeyes Chicken, and boy did he deliver. He tried to pretend that he was offended you didn’t want his staple meal from KFC, but he couldn’t care. He’d get you anything you asked for, from food to diamond jewelry to a house even; he’d spend it all on you if you asked. You squealed in excitement when you met him in the parking lot, you were starving and his act of service meant a lot to you, even tho it was just chicken.

You had noticed that Jack did that a lot. Helped out in any way he could in order to lessen the load you had on your plate, which you deeply appreciated. Nobody had ever gotten your love language correct, always assuming physical touch was all you liked because of your job. It scared you a lot to know that Jack knew you well enough to pick up your patterns and ways of thinking and how you were feeling. Yet at the same time, it was such a relief - emotionally, to have someone notice you in the way you had dreamt about being noticed.

“-Yeah, fuckin crazy gorgeous,” Jack cheesed, not letting up.

You exhaled a tuft of air in response with a small smile, accepting defeat and hoping to move on.

“What’s up, Harlow?” You asked as you got out of bed to go to your kitchen to look for something to drink.

“You have a break from school coming up soon right?” He hummed.

“Mmhmm. Spring break, a whole week.” You confirmed, rummaging for a cold water bottle.

“Good. I wanna take you somewhere. The whole week.” Jack said.

“Oh? Where are you taking me?” You whipped your head back to the screen, amused with his plans.

“You’ll find out when we’re there. Just pack for warm weather… maybe a beach or two.” Jack slyly grinned, not wanting to give away too much.

“Jack… you’d tell me if you were gonna murder me, right?” You hummed questioningly, sticking your head in the fridge.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Out of the two of us, you’re more likely to murder me.”

“You sure you wanna take that stance as a white man?” You joked.

“Yes, especially after I almost got myself tased when you asked me to get your lipgloss out of your purse two weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “Close call.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief and chuckled.

“A whole week? You’re gonna get sick of me.” You continued.

“Never.”

“Well then I’m gonna get sick of you!” You laughed.

“You won’t! Just trust me.” Jack grinned warmly at you.

You stared at him for a moment, heart beating rapidly against your chest before answering.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You exhaled, unable to hide the creeping smile on your face.

Jack rolled onto his back in his bed, phone still at his side while whispering a little ‘yes!’ to himself before bringing the phone back to his face.

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up Friday at 5.”

“This better be good, I need to come back relaxed before finals.”

“You’re gonna have the time of your life, I promise.” He said, reaching out his pinky finger to the screen.

“Okay.” You smiled, putting your own pinky to the screen, the both of you tapping the screen as if you were curling your fingers around eachother to solidify his promise.

——

Jack fussed with his hair before ringing your doorbell, heart almost beating out of his chest, he was excited, but slightly nervous at the thought that you might’ve bailed on him. It wasn’t a huge doubt of his, but he was always a little worried that he would scare you off too quickly.

He looked around the hallway of your apartment building. Every door looked the same, but he couldn’t help but imagine what your place looked like. He had seen bits and pieces of it through FaceTimes, but never seen it all in person. What color was your couch? Do you like your apartment at a cooler temperature? Did you have empty water bottle crowding your nightstand like he did? Did you have pictures of your friends, your family? He was eager to break through your walls (metaphorically) and learn more about you.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the door opened and you appeared. There you were, standing in a matching forest green lounge set, with matching green Fenty Puma slides and barefaced. It felt like all the air was punched out of Jack, you were so adorable, he wanted to litter your face in kisses and smush your cheeks together, but he kept those feelings at bay, settling for a warm hug and a kiss to your hairline.

“You look beautiful, as always.” He hummed into your hair. He felt you smile against his chest, before murmuring a ‘thank you’.

You let him into your apartment and Jack took his time inspecting his surroundings.

“I just need to get a few more things, and then we can go.” You told him, and he nodded.

Jack walked around your living room, looking at your abstract bookshelf, his fingers swiping along the spines of the books, trying to remember as many titles so he could order them later and read them himself. You had a few plants, one on said bookshelf, one on the giant window by the couch (which he now saw was green), and one that sat on top of your fridge. He moved toward the fridge, inspecting your magnets and the few photo booth pictures of you and a few friends, from ‘Summer’s 27th Bash!’ and ‘Jordan and Celeste’s Wedding’, amongst a few other pictures. One of them being a bit older and faded, a woman who looked like you; holding a little girl, the two of them sticking their tongues out for the photo. He couldn’t help but smile at that one.

“Ready?” You asked, bringing Jack out of his thoughts. He turned around and nodded, heading for the door. Jack took your bags and the two of you got into the elevator and went down to the car Jack had waiting. He handed your bags to the driver before opening the door and pressing a warm hand to the small of your back, helping you get in, before he scooted in next to you.

“So you’re still not gonna let me in on where we’re going?” You asked as you rested your head on his shoulder, yawning softly.

“Just wait and see, I promise it’s worth the wait.” Jack murmured as he kissed your hairline again, his hand reaching for yours and intertwining them.

“Hmpf. Fine, be that way.” You childishly pouted. Jack couldn’t help but laugh at your stubbornness as he rested his head atop of yours.

“I thought you said you trusted me?” He humorously quipped.

“I do. I’m just nosy.” You said, eyes now shut as you adjusted and got comfy in Jack’s arms.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head as he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand.

——

After a three hour flight on the jet Jack had rented, you were finally at your destination.

“Turks and Caicos?? You brought me to Turks and Caicos??” You squealed as you looked out at the ocean from the luxurious villa Jack had rented out for the week.

“I thought you deserved a real vacation, one where you’re pampered and truly relaxed, not just at home before your schedule starts up again.” He explained, his eyes gleaming with adoration for you as you fawned over your new surroundings.

You turned around, finally looking at him. You were starting to tear up, your lips in a pouty frown that fought to keep the overwhelming emotions down.

“Thank you for this, Jack. Seriously.” You hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” You quietly said, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“Well I’m glad to be the first, and only.” Jack said. ‘And hopefully the last’ he thought, pulling away slightly only to encompass your face in his hands, thumbing away the stray tears, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You more than deserve it.” He said as he pecked your lips a couple more times.

“Cmon, let’s go get settled and then order room service. Sound good?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed contently, a small grin peeking out.

——

You let out a deep sigh as you let the hot water soak your hair and run down your body. You were gonna sleep next to him tonight. For the first time. You felt ready, less anxious then when you first started contemplating it, but still nervous nonetheless. It had been a while since you were vulnerable with a man like this; certain experiences having made you avoidant and guarded when it came to the men you slept with.

But you felt a sense of comfort when it came to Jack, unlike anything you’d felt before. It was new. Different. It scared you but it also excited you. So for once, you were willing to give into it, at your own pace of course.

After exfoliating your body and taking care of your hair, you got out of the shower, feeling revitalized from your flight.

You wrapped a giant fluffy white towel around you and applied your lotion and finished with your skin routine.

You stepped out of the luxurious bathroom, letting steam air out as you stepped back into the master bedroom.

“Hey.” Jack grinned at your presence.

“Hey.” You smiled back at him.

“Good shower?”

“The best.” You sighed happily.

“Here-“ Jack got up from the couch in the room, disappearing into the closet for a moment before walking back out with a fluffy robe.

“- figured you’d enjoy this.” He held out the robe for you to put your arms.

“Oh my godddd, it’s so warm!” You whispered delightfully, tying the knot before turning around in Jack’s arms so your face was buried in his chest.

“Yeah, they have a lil towel warmer, stuck it in there while you showered.” He chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down your robed back.

“Mmmmm. So niceee.” You hummed.

“Good, I’m glad. Now get in bed and choose something to watch while I go shower. I ordered us cheeseburgers with a few sides, s’that okay? Otherwise I can fix you something else.” Jack suggested.

“No, that’s perfect, thanks.” You said, the small grin you were sporting, never leaving your face.

“Okay. Be back in a few.” He smiled, kissing your hair before heading to the bathroom.

You got situated in bed, the tray of food on the side table, and the remotes laid out for you.

Who the hell was this man? You’d never felt so pampered before, men were usually selfish and greedy, but Jack was the opposite with you. All he wanted was to give, financially, sexually, emotionally. It seemed fake, but he never changed within the months you’d been hooking up.

Jack really just wanted to support you in any and every way, but was understanding and wanted you to set the pace, for you to decide how fast or slow you went. He knew you were sus of him and men in general, what their motives were, and he couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how men could be; disgusting, manipulative, selfish. But ultimately, he just wants to take care of you. Be a man you could be proud of, feel safe with, feel loved by. He didn’t care how long it took, he’d stick around for as long as you wanted him to.

You giggled childishly as you hugged the warm robe around you. You put on That’s So Raven, feeling nostalgic of simpler times.

Jack emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his hips, his curls a dark brown now as they’d been soaked from the water, beads of water slowly trailing down his chest, with his happy trail peeking out.

“Ooooh, That’s So Raven- good choice.” He complimented, eyes on the screen. You couldn’t say the same about your own, glued to his long torso, his abs flexing with every breath.

“Yeah, reminds me of good times.” You remarked.

“I’m sure it does.” Jack said with a playful tone, catching you staring at him.

Your cheeks heated up a bit from being caught, as Jack made his way to the closet.

“No peeking!” He playfully exclaimed, dramatic as ever, eyeing you before going into the closet, making you laugh.

Jack couldn’t help but smile to himself while he got into his robe, he loved hearing your laugh. He loved it even more when he was the one making you laugh.

He opened the door and ran to the bed, jumping into it like a child which made the the both of you giggle.

The two of you ate and watched shows for the rest of the night, switching on and off between eachother about who got to choose what to watch. Eventually you both changed into your pajamas, a big t shirt and panties for you; and some basketball shorts and classic white tank for Jack.

Jack noticed you start to get sleepy after a while. You had cuddled into eachother, his arm over your shoulders, leaning you into his chest. He felt your breathing start to slow and get deeper, and your eyes fluttered open and closed. When you finally gave up on trying to keep them open, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before sliding out the bed. He grabbed a few pillows and an extra blanket that was lying around before he grabbed the tv remote.

Just as he was about to turn the tv off, he was startled by your voice.

“Where are you going?” You quietly murmured, eyes squinting from your tiredness and the tv.

Jack muted the tv before turning his attention to you.

“Was gonna go sleep on the couch.”

“Why?” You questioned.

God you were adorable when you were sleepy. Jack wanted nothing but to kiss you silly.

“ I didn’t think you’d want to sleep next to me? Or- I mean, I just figured you’d want your space.” He tried to explain. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to sleep next to him just because he brought you out here; he figured your usual routine was in place still.

“ I-I did, but not anymore.”

“No?” Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“No.” You meweled. “Will you please come back to bed? Please.” You whispered, anxiously tugging at a string from the hem of your shirt.

Jack practically skidded across the room in a cartoonish fashion, like the Roadrunner; to get into the other side of the bed, making you giggle.

“Too eager?” He joked.

You shook your head with a smirk creeping at your lips.

“Oh, not enough??” Jack questioned before you got a chance to answer, and he got up and ran back to where he stood originally before running and jumping onto the bed like a spider monkey.

A loud laugh bubbled from your chest, making you throw yourself back into the fluffy pillows, causing Jack to smile.

“Perfect amount.” You smiled back at him, curling your body into his chest, letting out a soft sigh.

Jack pressed a kiss to your forehead, picked up the remote and turned the tv off, letting the room fill with comfortable silence. The distant sounds of the waves washing providing a soothing white noise for the two of you to drift off to sleep.

——

You woke up earlier than expected, 5:27 to be exact. The sun slightly filtering through the curtains, the waves still present in the background, with a few birds chirping every so often.

Jacks grip was the first thing you noticed. Tight and solid around your waist as he held you against his chest. You looked up at him, admiring his soft face. Long eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt, freckles adorning his cheeks and his mouth in a slight open pout, his breathing deep. His curls slightly tousled from sleep, but their form framed his face beautifully. You couldn’t help but lovingly smile as you brushed a curl from his forehead, placing a small kiss.

Jack let out a small grunt, and you looked at him, hoping you didn’t disturb his sleep. That was until you realized you felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh, giving you an idea.

Jack eased his grip on you as you shuffled around, fully resting his back against the sheets, before you straddled his hips. You dipped your head down, pressing wet kisses under his ear and along his jaw.

He started to stir as you left hickeys along his neck and chest; red marks that would soon enough turn purple across his pale skin.

“Good morning, handsome.” You hummed.

“Mmmm, ‘mornin angel.” Jack grunted in his raspy morning voice. It was something you’d get to hear once in a while, usually when Jack was in another city working; he liked to call you early before starting his day. But now you got to hear it personally, in the flesh, centimeters away from you, and my god did it get you wet.

You continued to kiss down his torso, gliding your nails across the skin, making him shiver in delight.

You cupped his clothed cock, making his breath hitch.

“Can I-“

“Please, yes.” He breathed out.

You grinned as you pulled down his shorts, Jack kicking them off completely with his foot.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his perfect cock. The tip a gorgeous shade of pink, close to matching his lips, precum already leaking from the slit as his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Fuck, so pretty Jack, so so pretty…” you whined before taking him in your mouth.

“God, I’ve missed this. Missed your hot little mouth sweetheart. It’s only been a few days but it’s been too long without you,” Jack babbled, focusing on not thrusting his entire dick down your throat, keeping the respectfulness at bay.

You groaned as you continued to bob your head up and down, your core clenching as he continued to praise you. Jack shivered at this, hands reaching into your hair.

“Your little throat takes me so well, doesn’t she pretty girl? Takes Daddy so well,” His voice now more gruff as he chased his orgasm, hips lifting off the bed a little.

You coughed as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you eyes water, taking your mouth off of him.

“Fuck, m��sorry-“ Jack quickly apologized.

“No, no, I liked it.” You grinned at him as he swiped a fallen tear with his thumb. You kissed his thumb before going back to his wet cock, kissing up and down his length before you took him in your mouth again. You twirled your tongue around him and suckled at his tip, saliva and precum drooling from your lips down his cock and into his trimmed pelvis, matting the hair together.

Jacks grip tightend in your hair as his moans got louder.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so good to me. So good to me with that precious filthy mouth, angel.”

You relaxed your throat, nuzzling forward into his pelvic bone, tapping his hip to signal he could have his way with you before playing with his balls.

“Fuck yes, just like that, breathe through your nose baby, breathe with me, yeah- just like that- fuck.” Jack grunted as he fucked your throat.

The obscenely wet sounds that echoed the room as his tip continued to hit the back of your throat, combined with the precious whimpers that fell from you was enough for Jack to burst.

He came an ungodly amount down your throat, so much that you tried to swallow it all, but it just kept coming. You took your mouth off of him, spurts of cum still leaking from him, splattering across your chest and your chin before he finally finished.

Jack shuddered from the intense euphoria and the lack of covers, dick still twitching. You climbed back up and laid on him, hands clutching at his shoulders from underneath, your warmth helping him calm his breathing before he wrapped his arms around you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,“ Jack breathed out heavily, eyes still shut and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to calm his breathing.

You giggled as you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw before laying your head back on his chest.

“Think you sucked part of my soul out.” He laughed and you grinned into his skin.

You started to get off him but before you could shuffle back to your side, Jack flipped the two of you over.

“Jack, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t have to do anything, I want to though.” He hummed as he started trailing kisses along your jaw and down your clothed torso.

“Lemme take care of you, remember?” And you nodded and let out a soft sigh as you felt your shirt being pushed up your thighs ever so lightly.

He settled between your legs, lifting your calves over his shoulders as he got a better view of your pussy. You felt Jack’s breathing against your lower tummy, right on the cusp of your mound, making your shiver.

He chuckled before pressing a soft kiss to your panty-clad pussy.

“Missed you.” He whispered as he traced the skin with his nose, taking in the scent that was you.

“Missed your smell,” he continued, his teeth biting the fabric of your baby pink thong, slowly dragging it down and off your legs.

Jack saw how incredibly wet you were, and it drove him mad. He spread your lips, your arousal glistening in the light, clit begging to be touched. He let out a soft tuft of air in awe of the beauty before him. Every soft curve, scar, freckle, dimple splayed across your skin were the most beautiful brush strokes of the painting that was you. Every whine, moan, giggle that fell from your mouth were perfect melodies to him.

You whined at his breath on your clit, silently begging him to make a move.

“P-Please baby, do something.” You pleaded.

“I got you mama, I got you,” Jack promised before leaning into you and licking a fat strip along your entrance.

“Oh fuck-“ you cried out, your hands burying themselves into his hair.

Jack had eaten you out before, but there was something different about this time. He had a type of insatiable hunger, you could feel it in his aura; and in the way he devoured your pussy.

Your hips jerked forward as Jack pressed his nose against your clit, a delicious sound to your ears as he continued to lap at you. You were paralyzed, in the best way- unable to do anything but let out cries and moans of euphoria.

“J-Jack,” you cried.

“You taste so fuckin good, you know that? Fuckin’ delectable,” Jack rambled. His pupils were blown out, his gaze never leaving yours as his thumb rubbed circles into your clit.”

“Jack, I-I can’t, I need to cum, please let me cum,” you begged.

“You wanna cum, hm? Wanna cum for Daddy?” Jack smirked as he kept his rhythm, filling you with two of his fingers.

You let out a gasp, teetering on the edge of bliss; and Jack was fully in control. Your orgasm was legitimately in his hands, and you loved it.

The pads of his fingers reached to tap that perfect spot in you, and all it took was for Jack to mouth and nip at your nipple, and you finally succumbed to him.

You bit into his shoulder as you cried out his name, tears slipping from the corner of your eyes as you raked your nails down his back.

“Good girl, my girl is such a good girl huh? So pretty when you cum for me.” Jack cooed in your ear, fingers still pressed up against your walls, his thumb continued to relentlessly rub your clit.

You let out a deep sob at the overstimulation, finally clawing at his shoulder to end his delicious torture.

Jack pulled his fingers out from you and sucked your release off of them, humming in delight. He then turned back to you and laid his full weight on you, kissing your cheeks repeatedly and whispering endless praise.

“You did so well baby. My sweet girl,” he babbled as he held you close to his chest.

Your mind was on fire, unable to string together a single sentence. You weren’t super responsive except for a few sighs and groans; but Jack understood. He laid there with you, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, petting your hair as he hummed a soft tune; waiting for you to come back to him.

You let out a giggle when he kissed the crook of your neck, making Jack pull his face out from you, his soft eyes searching for your warm ones.

“Hi.”

“Hey. You okay?” A small smile on his face as he rubbed his thumb along your collarbone.

“Yeah. I’m good. Really good.” You smiled back at him.

“Good.” He kissed your swollen pouty lips.

“Breakfast?” Jack questioned as he got out of bed, finding his shorts and pulling them back up.

“Didn’t you just eat?” You quipped, eyebrows raised teasingly.

“I’m still starving, but I figured I’d let my favorite meal cool off a bit.” He bantered with a smile.

“Breakfast sounds great.” You answered, still cozily wrapped up in the white sheets.

Jack took out his phone and snapped a pic of you in the bed.

“Hey!” You exclaimed.

“Hey!” Jack said, copying you.

You laid there with a pout before he leaned over and kissed you.

“Y’look too cute, I had too.” He said grinning as he leaned back up.

“Breakfast in 10, out on the veranda?” He asked walking towards the door of the bedroom.

“Veranda? I didn’t think you knew that word.” You joked.

“Hey, I read!” Jack huffed as he went to pull at your ankles, dragging you closer to the bed as you let out a squeal.

“You don’t know what my vocabulary looks like,”

“Don’t act like I didn’t see The BFG on your nightstand at your place last week.” You smiled.

“Don’t trash The BFG! It’s one of our greatest pieces of literature.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You hummed, your loving gaze matching his.

Jack smiled before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up to go order food.

——

Your feet padded against the cold tiles, walking up to the veranda where Jack was sat; food and colorful juices spread out across the table.

Jack grinned at you as you approached the table, still wrapped up in your bed sheets, looking like a baby deer who just woke up.

The two of you ate and talked about nothing and everything. Jack pulled you into his lap after a while, the two of you picking at fruit and watching the waves slowly sway in and the sun rising, warming the two of you.

That’s how the rest of the week went. Nothing but stolen kisses, soft moments of intimacy shared through cuddles, giggles and quality time (and a lot of fucking). You and Jack had made a pact to go skinny dipping every night, and every night one of you started to back out, only for the other to grab ahold and drag the two of you into the water. Jack would always try and tickle you while you swam, which you hated (loved), causing you to wraps your arms around his broad shoulders to stay afloat. He’d circle his arms around your waist, digging his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the intimacy of the moment every night, loving the connection that grew stronger between you two. During the day you’d build sandcastles together, sit in the sun (much to Jack’s dismay as he would get burnt if he sat outside too long; but he stuck it out so he could shamelessly ogle your glistening body in the tiny bikini you wore), nap together, play stupid drinking games among other things. Jack often snuck pictures of you; some of your reading, sleeping, random candids of you that he loved. One of his favorites was of you laying on your tummy at the beach, your skeleton spinal tattoo on display as you tanned your back, Jack’s hat partly covering your face as you napped. Of course he had others that were more… ‘cum splattered’ that he loved, but he loved this one particularly because of how relaxed you were. You trusted him, and he saw that.

You told him more about how school was going, and how you were soon ready to leave the nightlife and fully focus on your pediatric residency. Jack couldn’t help the warm smile from spreading on his face as he listened to you talk about working with kids. The unwavering light in your eyes as you told him about how the kids you encountered were silly and bright and curious, and how you loved to see them laugh as you used tactics to help get them through their checkups. He was in love with you, deeply so. He just didn’t know how to tell you yet; or if he should tell you. He needed a sign to show him you weren’t going to run from him. Little did he know, your feelings were more similar to his than he thought.

You couldn’t help but feel a childish joy with him, it was freeing. He made you feel free. So you made a decision, and you were gonna tell him about it tonight, the last night of your stay.

——

Jack told you he had made reservations at a restaurant in the area, and to be ready at 7. Though you slept in the same room and shared the villa, he wanted it to feel like a real date; one where he would pick you up at the front door with flowers, anticipation having been built leading up the date. So he got ready in a different room, and slipped out an hour before, leaving the place to you.

You dressed in a black silk knee length dress that perfectly accentuated your figure, the diamond tennis bracelet Jack had gifted you a while ago, and some black leather strappy heels. Your skin glowed against the materials, smooth and inviting. You took one final look before you heard knocking from the front door. You went to open it, and there stood Jack looking as handsome as ever. He wore a white button down, paired with a black blazer and his watch, along with the subtle diamond KY chain. His beard had been lined up, nails trimmed and glossed, and he smelled fucking amazing.

“Hi, beautiful.” His deep voice enveloping you in a euphoric hug, you swore you could feel your heartbeat in your clit.

Jack felt the same, unbeknownst to you. His eyes devoured you from head to toe, he almost didn’t want to blink, afraid he’d miss a single angle of you. He willed his dick to not get hard as his eyes roamed the plushness of your skin, the way your chest heaved as your own eyes studied him.

“These are for you.” He stretched his hand out as you accepted the bouquet of white lilies. You grinned and thanked him, and before you could even ask where to put them, you noticed there was a vase full with water on the table by the door. You grinned, biting your lip before letting a laugh out, as Jack had already anticipated your move.

He laughed along with you as you put them in the vase.

“Ready?” He grinned, offering his arm for you to take.

“As ever.” You beamed up at him, gently pulling a curl and watching it bounce back.

You arrived at the restaurant, and were in complete awe of the view. It overlooked the beach at a distance, the colorful flora and fauna leading from the mainland and slowly dispersed as it neared the water.

“Jack, this is so beautiful.”

“I know.” You turned to look at him, but he was already looking at you; a soft look on his face as he admired you.

He guided you to your table, pulling out your chair for you and kissing your cheek before he sat down in his own chair. You ordered drinks, and as the waiter left to fetch them and give you time to look over the menu, Jack intertwined your hands and rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.

He hummed as he flipped through the menu. The both of you sneaking glances at eachother, giggling like teenagers. You got your drinks and ordered food, sipping at your chilled wine as you embraced the last bit of warmth as the sun began to set. You ate your meals, continuing to share laughs and stories, it was like you’d known eachother for years. The waiter cleared your plates and you ordered a slice of chocolate cake to share.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about something,” Jack started off. “Hold on,” he stood up and draped his blazer over you, having noticed you started to shiver as the wind took up slightly.

“Me too actually,” you told him as he returned to his seat.

“Oh?” He inquired, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, but you go first.” You told him.

“Oh- um, yeah okay,” he fidgeted with his PG ring, nerves taking over.

You took his hands in yours, giving them a small squeeze as you gave him a gentle encouraging smile.

That made his nerves disappear. Just a look at your face, the sound of your voice, the smell of your hair, the gentle touch of your palm, it made him calm. You made him calm. Fearless. Like he could do any and everything as long as you were next to him.

“This week has been one of the best weeks of my life. These past few months have been the best months of my life,” he started. Your heart began to swell as you anticipated what he was going to say.

“And I don’t wanna ruin it by saying something too… big, but I know it’ll eat me alive if I don’t tell you how I feel, Cin.” He exhaled, clutching your hands a little tighter.

“Wait-“ you interrupted him.

Jack’s heart stopped. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He knew he shouldn’t have even tried to bring it up, he should’ve swallowed feelings.

“Y/N.” You told him.

“What?” Jack questioned, confused by what you meant.

“Y/N. That’s my name- my real name. Y/N.” You peered up at him from your lap.

His heart started beating again, rapidly so, but in an anxious way, no - this time he felt ecstatic. He felt the electricity run through his veins, he felt fucking giddy. He felt like he was floating, he could’ve sworn you could see the warm ball of light radiating from his chest.

“Y/N,” he smiled, feeling the way your name felt in his mouth. He loved it. “Y/N.” He repeated, as you smiled back at him. He had asked for a sign, and fuck if it wasn’t the most perfect one.

“I want something with you, Y/N. Whatever you want, whatever you’re willing to give me, you can decide- but I know that I want this, I want you. I- I love you.” He exhaled.

“A-And don’t feel pressured to say it, I just wanted you to know-“ Jack babbled before you cut him off.

“I love you too, Jack. I love you.” You told him, eyes welling up with tears that threatened to fall.

“Yeah? For real?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, forreal forreal,” you chuckled, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Think I’ve known for a while now. I was scared of how I felt, all the feelings were so… big.” You continued. “But I know that I love you. You make me feel light, and safe, and free. And I haven’t felt that in a really long time.” You laughed, a tear finally falling.

Jack smiled and stood up, walking up next to you and leaned down, bringing you into a loving kiss, wiping the stray tear away.

“So you’re mine?”

“I’m yours.” You replied.

“Fuck yes.” He whispered, pulling you up and bringing you into another passionate kiss. He twirled you around, making you giggle before he brought you into a hug.

“I love you, so so much Y/N.” He took your face in his hands.

“I love you too Jack. So much.” You voice hitched as he kissed you again.

Jack had never hated keys as much as he had in this very moment.

He was struggling to get it into the lock, as he was heavily distracted by you tugging at his earlobe with your teeth, your legs tightening around his waist as your hips rutted against him.

He was painfully hard, his cock begging to be released from the constraints of his dress pants. He almost wanted to throw all caution to the wind and fuck you in the doorway, he was so desperate to be close to you in this moment, but you deserved a proper bed and the right setting for your declaration of love.

He finally got the door open, dramatically huffing and you giggled in his ear, your hand finding solace in his hair, raking your nails against his scalp which made Jack moan into your mouth.

He kicked the door closed behind him, stumbling into your shared room, gently laying you down onto the bed. He stood back up, the two of you panting hard, eyes never leaving eachother. The tension, although thick, dissipated from pure raw lust, to a comforting, softer, loving need.

It was silent, but both of your smiles made the room loud. The wine you had warmed your cheeks up, and you couldn’t contain your childish giggles, which made Jack chuckle himself. He thought you looked so unbelievably adorable, his blazer too many sizes too big and swallowing you up. But you looked at him with what he could only imagine his own face looked like; in love.

Jack crawled on top of you, holding his weight off by balancing on his forearms as he hovered over you.

“My pretty girl.” He hummed as his thumb caressed your face.

He brought his forehead to yours, noses just barely brushing against eachother.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Jack smiled before standing back up as he began to unbutton his shirt, discarding it on the floor.

You shucked his jacket off, and reached to fiddle with the zip on your back before Jack’s voice stopped you.

“Can I-“ he uttered. You looked up at him, eyes urging him to continue.

“I wanna do it. Let me do it, please?”

You nodded, laying back as he got undressed down to his briefs, took his and your shoes off, and then came back to hover over you.

He kissed you tenderly, savoring every second, and kissed down your neck. He licked and sucked on that sweet spot on your neck, a moan falling from your lips as you arched into Jack.

“So beautiful…” Jack mumbled against your neck, his arms reaching around your back to unzip your dress. He pulled the straps down your arms, shimmying the dress down your legs.

His eyes practically rolled out of his head when he saw you were only wearing a red thong.

“No bra?” He managed to ask, his hands wandering on their own, brushing up against the underside of your breasts.

“The dress looked better without it.” You shrugged.

“I’m gonna burn all the bras you own, no need for ‘em.” Jack mumbled as his thumbs rubbed into your nipples. “Gotta have easy access, right?” He coaxed, his mouth latching on to your soft breast.

“Oh fuck-“ you gasped. His mouth was glorious, sucking and mouthing at your tits, switching on and off from one to the other, one nipple always being pulled on or pinched between his index finger and thumb. Jack swirled his tongue over your nipple, his teeth lightly grazing it before he went to create more hickeys along your chest.

Jack kissed down your torso, biting and nipping at your skin here and there, before his fingers tugged at the waistband of your thong.

“Please.” You nodded at him, giving him the all clear to which he leaned down and plucked the fabric with his teeth, pulling them off your body.

Jack lifted your leg, resting your ankle on his shoulder as he kissed up your calf, licking up your inner thigh before he was met with your glistening pussy.

“Mine.” He growled.

“Yours.” You confirmed with a breathy whine.

Jack nudged his nose against your puffy clit, inhaling the sweet scent that was you.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, a puff of air landing hot on your lips, making you clench your core.

His tongue delved into your wet hole, the feeling of his wet muscle against your pussy making you cry out in pleasure. You bucked your hips into his face, making Jack chuckle, the vibration making you gasp. His muscled arms wrapped around your thighs, holding your hips down as he continued his pleasurable assault on your aching pussy.

“Fuck Jack, yes! Oh my god-“ your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape and unable to close. Your toes curled and you dragged them up his back as you writhed into the sheets.

Jack replaced his tongue with his fingers, wanting to reach that perfect spot in you. “You taste so fucking good, peach.” He gnawed at your hip bone before pressing a kiss and returning to your clit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck- I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, eyes furrowed shut, awaiting the crash of your orgasm. But it never came.

Your eyes shot open and you lifted yourself up on your forearms.

“Jack? What the hell.” You pouted. “I was about to cum.” You narrowed your eyes.

“I know baby, but I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He hummed, the raspiness in his voice more prominent. He climbed back up to you, face covered in your slick. You moaned as you kissed him, tasting yourself on him, with him, you tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Wanna see you lose yourself on my cock for the first time, as my girlfriend.” He groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, your slick creating a damp patched against his clothed hard-on.

“Off, take them off already Jack.” Your foot attempted to push his briefs down.

“Okay baby, I got you.” He kissed you a few times before bending down to slide his briefs off. Jack settled between your legs, sliding his cock up and down, between your folds, his creamy tip bumping against your clit each time.

Jack felt your nails dig into his back and he hadn’t even slid into you yet, but he couldn’t blame you, he was aching to be inside you.

He tapped his cock against your clit a few more times, making you mewl and curl further into him. He finally pressed his thick head at your entrance, slowly thrusting into you, inch by inch. He felt you exhale and relax into his arms as he bottomed out, a dazed look on your face as he kissed your cheek. He laid there, balls pressed against your ass, still, enjoying the intimacy. Quiet except for eachother’s breathing, he felt your energies intertwining, like you became one.

“I love you.” You whispered, pressing a kiss beneath his ear.

He smiled into your neck.

“I love you.” He said whispered back, before beginning to move, slowly thrusting in and out, working you open.

“Fuck you feel so good,” He grunted, your walls tightly sucking in his cock. You clenched, tightening your hold on him, and he moaned, biting your shoulder.

He felt your essence leak down your ass, the shlick! sound created by the two of you amplified, and Jack picked up his speed a bit.

“Jack! Oh my fucking god,” you cried out, his thrusts harder and more intentional now, his yummy damp matted coarse curls rubbing against your clit had you raking your acrylics into his back; any concerns about bleeding or scarring left for tomorrow’s worries.

“You take me so well baby, doing so good,” he praised as he pressed your knees to your chest, your calves on his shoulders, thus allowing his tip to kiss your cervix, which made you drool.

“Does that feel good, princess? Yeah?” Jack talked you through it. His pace never faltered, keeping steady, his thumb inching back to its home on your clit as the sound of skin slapping and moans filled the hot room. You cried out his name in response, your mind a hazy fog, you were enveloped in him. His smell, his feel, his voice, you were intoxicated and never wanted to get sober.

“Ja-Jack..” your voice hitched, letting out a pleasure filled sob.

“What do you want? Tell me, use your words baby,” Jack encouraged, his mouth back on your neck, slowing and grinding his pelvis into your clit.

“W- want,” you shuddered in euphoria.

“Hm? C’mon you can do better than that, come on,” he urged you, mouthing at your tits, spreading his saliva across your pebbled nipples, nipping at them slightly with his teeth.

“Want you to cum in me,” you groaned, rutting your hips against his.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, his thrusts slowing to a stop.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want it so bad, Jack.” You pouted, writhing against him, bringing him back for a sloppy needy kiss.

“Please give it all to me, wanna be filled to the brim with you.” You whined, and Jack nodded, fucking into you at a determined speed.

“I fucking love you, Y/N.” Jack growled as he reached the edge of his orgasm.

That broke the dam that held your orgasm. The grip your legs had around Jack tightened as you brought him deeper into you, and Jack pinched and pulled at your nipples, biting your neck as he grinded against your clit, maximizing your pleasure.

“I love you, I fucking love you Jack, I love you,” you babbled, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you pressed him closer against your chest. The connection you felt was overwhelming, but so warm.

Your walls twitched, suffocating Jack’s cock in the most delicious way, making his hips stutter into yours as he came.

“Fuckfuckfuck, oh god-“ he moaned as ropes and ropes of cum filled you excessively, leaking from your tiny hole. Jack relaxed into you, resting his full weight against you, pulling your legs down to the side so he could lay on you. You laid there breathing in eachother, silent again, no words necessary as everything that wanted to be said, was felt by the both of you. You nuzzled into his neck, your hands returning to their righteous home, Jacks curls. He groaned as your nails raked at his scalp again, making him twitch in overstimulation in your hold; the last drop of cum spurting into you as he pressed his pelvis against yours one last time.

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you wanting to move just yet. This time it was you humming a soft tune as Jack had done for you a few times before, helping you ground yourself back to him.

After a few minutes you felt him turn his head to lay on your chest, his hands clutching at your sides, having wrapped his arms around you to keep you close to him.

“Hi, pretty.” You said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hi, baby.” He responded contently, exhaling a deep sigh.

“You good?”

“Never felt better in my life.” He let out a chuckle.

“You?”

“Same.” You smiled.

“Wish we could stay like this forever, feels so right being with you like this. In you, like this.” He spoke. “But, I gotta pull out now, okay?” You nodded, pressing a soft peck to him before he got up. Jack slid out, and his cum leaked out onto your ass, all over your inner thighs, and down to the sheets.

Jack couldn’t help himself but to smear some of the cum against your sensitive clit.

“Jack..” you whined, your legs folding in on eachother.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry baby.” He kissed your tummy before getting up to get a warm cloth to clean you up. He came back and wiped you up, before holding his hands out for you to take ahold of.

“Legs don’t work.” You told him, refusing to even attempt to get up.

“Okay, Angel. No problem.” He laughed as he took you into his arms, carrying your to the bathroom. He let you pee in private as he called room service for fresh sheets. The quickly arrived and Jack took the fresh ones as they took the soiled ones in a laundry bag. He came back to you and carried you back to the bed, fresh sheets now on.

“I feel so bad for the people who have to clean our sheets.” You groaned in embarrassment while Jack laughed.

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure they’ve dealt with this plenty times before.” He assured you, pulling you to lay on his chest, kissing your hair and tracing aimless patterns on your back.

You hiked your leg up and around Jack’s waist, nuzzling into his chest before letting out a deep satisfied sigh.

“Sleep, baby.” Jack hummed, and you nodded.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.” You mumbled.

He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was here with the girl he dreamed of, with her telling him she loves him. That electric giddy feeling flooded his veins again.

“Love you too Y/N.” He told her. He felt her smile into his skin, before her breathing evened out, falling asleep, with Jack not far behind her.

To be continued…

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