#I only stayed for long enough to drink my coffee and get some books and merch from the tables
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To your stepmother’s surprise, you come home from a Christmas party asking for her to care for you; it’s been months since her wedding to your father and months since you’ve paid her any attention at all.
Tags: angst, kiiinda fluffy, stepmom wanda loving you so so much, almost nearly unrequited love
drabble for matriarchal disturbance
I forgot my keys.
You texted Wanda some time during the evening once you realized you had forgotten them, and since she was the only one at home until tomorrow, she’d have to let you in. Or at least keep the door unlocked.
Oh no. It’s okay, I have work to do so I can unlock the door when you come home. :)
It was Christmas break and you were home for just a little, so you were out drinking with some friends from high school and some of their new college friends.
Wanda had texted you a week or two prior asking when you might be coming home. You didn’t answer — you didn’t ever feel in the mood to talk with your stepmother — but you knew it was still her curiosity talking through your father when he called a few days after you left her on read, asking the same question.
They were both happy to have you home, but Wanda particularly, though you could tell she was trying not to be overbearing.
She offered to make you tea or coffee once you were unpacking and offered to make you whatever you wanted for dinner that evening, and very subtly tried asking if you’d be home all break or if you might consider staying longer than when you planned to leave.
Your holiday break ended much later than the day you were planning on leaving, but you didn’t want to stay around much longer than was necessary — you’d spend New Year’s at home, and then you’d leave.
You weren’t really excited to be home, but you weren’t so cruel as to not come back for the holidays.
Still, you weren’t really looking forward to having to deal with your stepmother’s longing, curious looks, always wanting to talk with you or bring something up but not knowing how to and not wanting to spoil her limited time with you.
The feeling you got from seeing her look at you from the corner of your eye wasn’t necessarily all a form of annoyance, but some kinds of pity too, and perhaps some guilt.
There was something about the Christmas party that sorta had you feeling down, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, though perhaps it was simply because there were many things that had bothered you and you just couldn't pin it down to one thing.
It was something about meeting some of your friends’ other friends, and even some of their new partners. You hadn’t drunk anything, and perhaps it would’ve been worse for you if you did — you tended to get a bit more emotional while drunk.
All in all, you just felt… left out. And like you were missing something, or like you never wanted to be there at all.
You wanted to be somewhere you belonged and where your presence was not only enjoyed but needed — somewhere it was warm and loving and kind and soft.
While seeing all your friends together with their new ones and their partners, you just kept thinking of Wanda.
And you really hated yourself for it.
You wanted to go home to see her, and you knew you couldn’t stop it, because you’d been thinking of her all night. So you drank enough to feel just a little drunk — to get just enough confidence to make a bad decision — and went back home early.
From the window facing the street, you could see through the curtains that the living room lamp was on.
Wanda opened the door when you knocked like she said she would. From the door, you could see a book laying on the couch. She smiled at the sight of you.
“Did you have fun?” she asked immediately, stepping back a bit to allow you in. Then she said sympathetically after taking a better look at you, “You look a bit tired.”
You thanked the stars for having taken a few shots before you left.
You stepped into the house and wrapped your arms around Wanda, feeling the warmth of her knitted sweater against your cheek, then against the tip of your nose when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of her neck. Her hair tickled the space between your eyebrows.
There was a split moment before she wrapped her arms around you that would have been indiscernible if you hadn’t felt how immediate her embraces were a million-and-one times before.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, having turned her head to look down at you so the breath of her soft whispered voice blew warm and gentle against your ear.
“I wanna be your baby again,” you confessed — stupidly.
Wanda tried to speak immediately for how she felt deep in her chest when you spoke the words she had only dreamt would come out of your mouth ever since the wedding, but found she could speak only in stutters.
Then she finally said, “You’ll always be my baby, Y/N.”
You hugged her tighter and you knew that if you hadn’t been just a little bit drunk, you would’ve been angry at what she had just said. But now, it could nearly make you cry.
“Can you bring me to bed?” you mumbled quietly into her neck, still seemingly a bit embarrassed through your drunken state.
“Of course,” she answered, smiling down at you. This was the closest you’d been to her in months, and likely the longest you’ve spoken to her with undivided attention in that same span of time too. She almost didn’t want to move at all for how you’d unwrap your arms from around her once you headed up the stairs together.
You unwrapped yourself from around her body and she closed and locked the front door; you’d literally just been standing embracing each other in the wide-open doorway for several moments.
Then you swiped at your eyes when you pulled away in case you accidentally had cried.
Wanda smiled at you sweetly, and a bit tiredly too, and you knew she must’ve finished her work a little bit ago and decided to stay up to wait for you. She took your hand and you walked up the stairs beside each other in silence.
She squeezed your hand and you squeezed back, and Wanda looked over her shoulder at you shyly as you stared down at the steps of the staircase.
“Can I help you get ready for bed?” she asked once you both arrived in front of the washroom.
You nodded silently then looked up at her with a small smile. “I just have to get my stuff from my bags,” you told her. Then, a bit hesitantly, you let go of her hand and walked towards your bedroom.
Wanda turned on the washroom light and paced around a little, playing with the knitted fabric of her sweater nervously and checking her hair a bit in the mirror, and even trying to repress a tiny smile as she couldn’t help but make comparisons to how it all used to be before the wedding.
But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself — after all, every day after this would be different, and whatever had caused you to come seeking her comfort wasn’t guaranteed to happen again from tonight onwards.
You came into the washroom with a little bag of your toiletries and started unpacking them, starting with makeup wipes and face wash then everything else.
“Come lean against the counter,” Wanda said, and you did. She began removing your makeup with one of your makeup wipes, the fingers of her other hand delicately perched under your chin to keep your face in the light.
She was gentle with how she swiped against your face, and thorough with taking all the makeup off.
Wanda was always so nice and gentle. In taking care of you, and in treating you in any way, really, she always did it as if you were delicate, and special to her too. She never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you feel like you weren't the most important thing in the world to her.
You felt like crying, but really didn’t want to ruin how casual you were trying to make everything seem.
She must’ve noticed how your eyes were filling with tears because once she finished she set the makeup wipe down and held you to her chest wordlessly, running her hand down the side of your head soothingly with her other arm wrapped around your waist.
She seemed to understand that you still had your reservations about being with her like this again, and that you weren’t trying not to get into things too quickly.
Even so, she couldn’t help but… hope, even just a little, that the feeling of how she held you and brought you close might make you miss her enough to want to be her baby again for more than just an evening.
“I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff,” you mumbled and straightened out of her hold, swiping at your eyes again.
Wanda packed up your makeup wipes and slid it back into the toiletry bag you brought.
Quietly, you asked, “Can I sleep with you?”
You weren’t really sure where to look when you asked, so you tried to keep busy getting your toothbrush ready.
But when Wanda replied with a gentle, almost eager, ‘Of course,’ you couldn’t help but look over at her to see her smiling at you.
You looked away while she told you that she would also change and get ready while she waited for you — her shared bedroom had a washroom in it.
Wanda felt ridiculous for how she felt in her stomach — a familiar fluttering feeling dancing around where it would when you were still together. Sometimes Wanda reasoned the memory of the feeling up to a fantasy, that perhaps she may have recalled it as differently as it had been for it’d been so long since she’d felt it.
But it was exactly the same as she recalled.
And it was only with you.
She hadn’t realized she had been smiling until she heard you come into the bedroom, and she instinctively relaxed her face so as to not be overzealous and overwhelm you.
“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, closing the door of the walk-in closet as she stood in her pajama shorts and tank.
You nodded then looked away from her for how happy you felt to be asked that, to soon be adorned by Wanda’s kisses and touched by her gentle, loving hands and embraced by her arms the moment you got into bed.
Wanda seemed to be hesitant at your reluctance for a moment. Her fingers twitched with the urge to walk over and embrace you, to kiss your lips and lead you to her bed. But instead, restraining herself, she went to bed first, getting under the covers and looking over at you encouragingly.
Silently, you followed after closing the bedroom door.
She turned off the lamp on her side and you hesitated for a moment before you reached over and did the same.
Then you were blanketed in the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment you couldn’t see Wanda in your peripheral vision at all; you could for a moment construe the feelings of blankets under your hands as being in your own bed instead of hers.
For a moment you felt glad to imagine you had made it all up, but then you felt terribly disappointed and lonely again.
Without Wanda, it was always just a little bit… lonely.
But the burst of sudden feelings was contained only within a few moments’ time, for your eyes soon adjusted and you could see the shadow of your stepmother beside you.
She reached out for you, her hand moving under the blankets and placing it on your bare thigh. She moved closer.
“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”
You’d been here before — in Wanda’s bed without your dad being home, in her company, in the spotlight of her undivided attention, in the warm shower of all her heart could pour out for you and only you.
It was was familiar with Wanda and you knew it for it was the closest thing you’d felt in a while to being somewhere you were certain you belonged in.
Then she added, “I want you here, Y/N.”
Like you had asked her, Wanda babied you — she cared for you. Her other hand wrapped around your waist and she slowly urged your body to lay down beside her.
She didn’t stop there; she moved herself onto her elbow only slightly to gain height over you, then cupped your furthest cheek with her hand. She kissed your face gently, tenderly, on your temple then on your cheekbone, and your chin.
Not your lips — not unless it was you who made an advance towards her first.
You turned and wrapped an arm around her torso securely, burying your face in her chest. She lowered herself back down and wrapped her arms around you immediately.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered against her, “I love you.”
In the morning when you arose before her, you carefully peeled yourself away from a soundly-sleeping Wanda. There was a pang in your chest as you sat at the edge of the bed, recalling how she held you close after you had told her you loved her.
She held you in a way that communicated desperation and longing; it wasn’t only sweet and tender like she always was, but pained, too. She had cradled the back of your head to her chest, rubbed your upper back and pressed her lips against the top of your head.
She might’ve nearly said that she loved you a fourth time, though you presumed she had tried to contain the way she wanted to pour herself out for you right then and there.
You turned and watched as she dozed, her body the very same that you were held against through the night, the same you had thrown yourself into her arms of and were accepted and loved and cared for like you wanted, like Wanda wanted.
How at peace she seemed having gone to sleep with you in her arms, with all she had been longing for warm in her embrace and sleeping in the eternal comfort of her loving.
If you were honest with yourself, and you tried to be for how often you lied to Wanda, you didn’t think it was a lie when you told her you loved her, for you still did.
And you still could, inviting her over to your place and responding to her calls and texts when you were away, letting her care for you and at the very least not pretend she wasn’t always looking at you, waiting only for your eye contact as cue for her to bring up one of the dozens of questions and worries she had about the life that you no longer shared with her — which was to say, all of it.
Wanda stirred and her fingers flexed outwards slightly, reflecting a slowly-rising sun’s beams against her wedding ring, before she relaxed again, still in deep sleep.
Just under an hour later once Wanda woke up to find you gone, she texted asking where you were.
When she texted, you knew that she must have looked first to see if you had moved to your own bed, for you had left and decided to go on a drive.
She messaged: Have you gone out?
Sitting in a parking lot of a walking trail with the breakfast you picked up, the sun only just having fully risen, you texted back.
Forgot something at Kate’s last night.
She asked if you were going to eat breakfast there or if you would be home to have breakfast with her; she’d make some now so it could be ready by the time you got back.
You tried to keep eating after choosing to leave your stepmother on read, but soon lost your appetite. Instead, you went on a walk that lasted until the early afternoon when your dad got back home.
As you had planned, you went back to your place on the second of January, and that evening wasn’t ever brought up.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#elizabeth olsen
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A Simple Misunderstanding
Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader
Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)
Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.
Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.
This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.
Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.
Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.
As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.
He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.
The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.
“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.
Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.
“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.
So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.
The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.
Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.
As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.
"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.
"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.
"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.
"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."
"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.
"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"
You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.
"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"
Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.
"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.
"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.
"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.
"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.
"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.
"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.
"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.
"I didn't stutter did I?"
"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.
The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.
Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.
“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.
Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"
"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.
"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.
"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.
"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.
Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.
"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.
After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"
You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"
"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.
You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"
"A little of both." He said.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.
"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.
You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.
"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.
"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.
You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.
"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.
Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.
"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.
"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.
"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"
You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"
"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"
You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.
"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.
"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."
"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.
"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.
Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.
You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.
"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.
"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.
"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.
"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.
"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.
"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.
"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.
"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"
"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.
“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.
"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.
"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."
"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.
"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.
"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.
Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies
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#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#the boys#the boys imagine#the boys one shot#ben x you#ben x reader#reader insert#female reader#the boys amazon
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Happy National Women's Day (yesterday, woops) Celebrated with a platonic story for y/n, Laswell, and Farah.
Readers gender is not specified. This isn't beta read because my eyes really hurt today for some reason.
You had just gotten back from a mission followed by Farah's forces and accompanying assistance of one Alex Keller. After getting back the guys were pretty tuckered out. Price and Simon going for a smoke and Johnny going for a long snooze in his bed. Missions usually left you exhausted.
However, this was the week that Laswell got a much needed break from her work and she wanted to spend it well.
She was sat on the couch, watching you and Simon quietly talk. Farah was cleaning her goggles, frowning over a small scratch in the top corner of the lense.
She could see the stress on Farah's face, and just from your posture she knew you needed a break as well. So when Simon got up to use the bathroom she leaned forward.
"What do you two say we get out of here for a couple days?"
You looked up curiously. "What do you mean?? Get a hotel or something?"
She shook her head. "Camping. My brother has a cabin up in the mountains where his buddies and him go climbing. We could go spend some time out there."
"Would it be quiet?" Farah asks.
"Most likely, it's not a big place. The spot we usually go isn't touristy either."
Farah looks to you. "I've never been camping outside of missions."
"If we can get a place with room for three and not get eaten alive by mosquitoes and the like, then yeah."
Laswell nods. "It's a cabin, so I don't think you'll have to worry too much about mosquitoes. But it'll just be the three of us." Laswell stands, stretching and grabbing her coffee. "We'll head out tomorrow after you're packed."
So the next morning you and Farah brought out your backpacks to Laswell's car. She only had a small vehicle but it was enough to fit all your supplies. Laswell brought her climbing gear, and enough food to last you a week at the cabin.
Once you were all ready to go there was one person you had to say goodbye to.
"Simon it's ok, I'm not going to be gone that long, only a week."
"A week... What am I supposed to do until then??"
"Hangout with the guys, take some time off to relax your feet. Read your book. You'll be ok."
Simon grumbled and looked over at Alex who was staying with them. To Simon's dismay.
You smiled softly, and fixed his sweater hoodie. "Only a week." You wrap your arms around him and he hugged you back, squeezing you for good measure.
Soon enough you packed in and set off on your journey. Farah plugged her phone in and played music from the passenger seat. "Any song requests??"
"Remember that one song you played the other day? With the guitar solo?"
Farah smiled and put the song on, and you jammed away in the backseat. Laswell put her son blocker down and set you off to the nearest coffee shop. Because what's a road trip without coffee?
She took the tray from the man at the drive through window and handed Farah her iced coffee and you your drink. “There you go.”
“Thank you mom.” You smiled and leaned back.
“Of course. Now, it’ll be a bit of a drive.” But you guys were ready for that.
You drove for the rest of the day. As you got closer to the mountains, Farah and you both pointed out a fair bit of wildlife you saw along the roadside.
Farah’s entire day was made by seeing baby ducklings going for a dunk in a small pond with their mom.
Laswell pointed out a few deer on the way, and soon you reached the place. Driving up the road and parking in front of a rather nice little cabin. It was old, with a couple swinging shutters and the frame would need some repainting.
“This is nice.” Farah looked around the grassy area behind the cabin that led up into a large hill. A small fire pit set up around some trees and a stone pathway up to the stairs.
“How did you get this place again??”
“My brother rents it most of the summer for his rock climbing. They come every few weeks.”
“Cool.”
Laswell nods, opening the car door and putting her park pass in the window. She tossed you the keys. “I'll go tell administration we’re here so they don't freak out. You two and get the first pickings.”
You and Farah smiled at each other softly. “Thanks laswell!” You called and grabbed out your stuff. You unlocked the house and you two headed inside. In the small entry way was a couple buckets full of wood and a shelf of paper and some lighters.
A tiny kitchen area and a gas stove. It was a cozy little place. Heading into the next part of the cabin there was a small bench, a cabinet with some games and a bed tucked against the opposite wall.
The back bedroom was separated by a curtain, inside being another two beds.
You and Farah looked at each other. “you can have either, I don't mind.” She said softly.
You were quiet for a moment. “You want the one by the window??”
“I'd like that.” She admitted.
You nodded and tossed your stuff on the bed in the corner, and let Farah have the bed next to the big window looking out at the field.
Laswell came back with a bag of some firewood and her climbing equipment. Taking dibs on the bed in the other room and getting comfy.
After which she promptly started on some dinner because she was starving. Until then you two opened her tray of fruit from the cooler and snacked away.
“So where do you usually go rock climbing, Laswell?” Farah asks.
“We usually go up one of the old trails. There's an open section of land that shows off this huge rock face. It's the perfect climb. I think it'll be easy enough for you two.”
“We’re capable Laswell.” You chuckle. You could smell the food waft through the cabin. She plated up, and came over to set down two plates for you two. You moved over on the bench allowing Laswell to sit down, and you all dug in.
Talking and laughing as the sun starts to go down on the field, the food being quickly devoured. Laswell brought out brownies as dessert.
You gasped softly. “Are those….”
Laswell smiled and ruffled your hair. “She said they're all yours.”
You eagerly popped the lid off and snatched one to dig into. “Oh Farah, you gotta try one. Her wife makes them the best.”
Farah smiled softly and reached in and took one out. “What's in it, Laswell??”
“Hm? I have the recipe list here if you want to look at it.” She took it from her bag and passed it over. Farah read through it before biting in, humming happily. “Oh, oh these are good.” She took another bite.
“Can I just…” She slid the recipe back toward herself and Laswell nodded. “All yours”
Farah tucked it into her pocket and you two devoured the brownies. Laswell’s wife was the best, always asking what sweets you guys would like best and sending Laswell out to work with a box or two for you guys.
Eventually you all headed to bed. You crawled into bed and rolled over, falling asleep.
Farah pulled the blanket over her shoulder, and opened the window to look out at the darkness. The cool breeze on her face.
She sighed softly, and closed it. Flopping down and rolling over again. She looked into the darkness, trying to arrange the blanket to try and get comfy.
When she couldn't, she leaned over and grabbed the flashlight off the nightstand, flicking it on low. She went over to you, standing at the edge of the bed for a bit before poking you.
“Y/n?” She whispered. You mumbled softly and opened your eyes. “Farah?”
“I'm sorry… I can't sleep.” She whispered.
You smiled softly, and rolled onto your back. You pulled the blanket back to allow her in. “Come on.”
She pursed her lips and flicked the light off. But she crawled into the bed. You gave her some more blanket and closed your eyes again. Farah laid next to you, sighing and slowly closing her eyes.
She held out her hand and you linked your pinky with hers. Helping her relax and fall asleep.
The next morning Laswell was up first. She got dressed and needed a coffee. She pushed the curtain to the second room open and smiled softly when she saw you and Farah curled up, pinkies still linked.
You two could sleep in.
She tied up her hair and went to the kitchen to put hot water on the stove and look through the food bag for what to make for breakfast.
The sound of the kettle woke you up, slowly rubbing your eyes and sitting up. Farah felt you stir and also opened her eyes. “Hmm…??”
“It's ok, you can keep resting if you want.” You assure, and crawled out around her. You scratched your stomach and headed out to the main room.
“Well good morning.” Laswell greeted you.
“Mornin…”
“Coffee??”
“Please.” You nodded.
You sat down at the bench, and heard the curtain shift. “I'm gonna change.” Farah gave you the heads up.
Laswell handed you your fresh coffee. “What do you feel for breakfast??”
“Eggs??” You gave her the innocent best child ever look. “Please mom??”
“Tell you what, find the carton in the cooler and I'll see what I can do.”
Farah filled up her water bottle as Laswell made breakfast, checking her phone. She snickered a little from across the table.
Without further incentive you rushed to the cooler and dug around for the eggs, bringing them to her.
She chuckled and saw Farah come out from the back room soon.
“What are you chuckling about?” You teased softly.
Farah turned her phone and showed you a photo of Alex around a corner with a blurry Ghost in the background.
“You think he's dead yet??”
“Knowing Simon and Johnny… maybe.” You snickered.
“Those three are going to kill each other.” She fully smiled briefly before looking down at the accompanying texts.
“Well, he's still alive but accidentally took some of Ghost’s gummy worms it seems.”
You cringed a little. “Ooh… ouch. I'll have to talk with Simon to make sure he didn't hurt Alex too badly.”
You both have a chuckle over it and Laswell brings you your eggs.
And without hesitation you dig in, humming happily to have your stomach full of food and happy.
“How long is the hike to the rock face??”
“Not long. Fifteen minutes at most. And I've got all the gear for you.”
“Awesome.”
“Now that you've got some fiber in you, let's get going.” Laswell fills her water bottle and grabs the bag of equipment.
“I can carry it for you??” You offered, but she shook her head. “I got it.”
You headed out down the road and hiked up the trail into the mountains. Seeing the tall trees and smelling the fresh air. Feeling the gentle breeze on your warm skin.
Laswell led you up and off the main path to a small outcrop. And there it was. A tall rock face up the side of the mountain with clearly outlined passages and handholds from how much it had been traversed.
Laswell secured her hair and handed you your gear. You and Farah got snug and comfy. Laswell set up the ropes and pegs in the ground to hold you three.
Chalking up your hands.
“You ready, princesses??”
“Hey!” You huffed, rushing after Laswell. Farah chuckled under her breath and found a small ledge to slide her hand into. And you three started to climb.
Farah scaled it fairly easily, though it definitely felt easier when under the pressure of a mission.
You found another handhold and pushed your foot up, feeling around until you could find a spot to slot your shoe in. Securing the tie on your belt.
“You doing ok Farah??”
“A little sweaty.” She wrung her wrist out.
“Let's pause for a minute.” You secured your line and tugged it a couple times before taking your hands off the rocks, keeping your feet in place to keep you from spinning.
Farah did the same, wringing out her wrists and wiping her sweaty palms on her hips.
“Need some more powder??”
“Yeah, thanks.”
You grabbed it off your belt and handed it to her, letting her resupply, and you did the same.
“I bet Laswell is already at the top.” You chuckled.
Farah looked around, trying to spot her. “Oh she probably is.”
“Let's catch up then, hey?”
Farah nodded, and you continued to climb until you reached the top.
And as you suspected, Laswell was already at the top. “You're fast.” You pushed yourself up, shaking out her legs, looking back down at where you came from.
“Oh.” You wobbled a little, stepping back. “It's best not to look down for a minute.” Laswell tipped and looked out at the edge of the cliff. The sun showed out from behind the clouds. It casted down over the lake and reflecting off of the water.
Farah took out her phone and got a picture of the view. Motioning you and Laswell to get close.
You wrapped your arm around her, keeping your hand just off her waist as she attempted a simple smile. Catching the moment with you three.
“Now I'm gonna tell Alex about the fun we’re having.” She chuckled, and put her phone away.
“Maybe I could bring Simon here.” You wondered aloud. You threw sat around the cliff on a small blanket, drinking from your water bottles.
“Hey, I just remembered.”
Farah and Laswell looked at you curiously.
“Happy National Women's Day.”
The two smiled. “That is today, isn't it?” Farah said, and Laswell nodded.
“It is. I almost forgot.”
“I mean, we got the Barbie movie.”
Farah smiled. “I got to see it with some of the girls from my group. Their families said I could come with them.” She fidgeted with her water bottle. “We want to go with Miss Farah.” She remembered them saying.
Laswell looked out at the cliff. “I remember dragging John out with my wife and I.”
You snickered. “Uh oh, how did that go??”
“Oh I think he fell asleep.” She snickered. “It's not his typical movie. But hey, he gave a kicker of a review afterward in the car home.”
You looked down at your hands, looking at all the roughness to your hands. Your battered knuckles and the dirt under your fingernails.
“Do you guys ever feel pressured to look or act a certain way??”
A moment of soft silence went by, letting the breeze drift between you three. “Yes. I think it comes with the territory… but even though I have respect, I still feel mentally challenged a lot to prove myself.” Laswell said.
“Like some of the men in my charge can't understand how I could be as smart as them or understand how to handle pressuring situations.”
"But... Recently a lot of the pressures and beauty standards have been pushed by other women. Which, is sad, considering a lot of them think we need all this stuff done to look pretty or be wanted. But it just isn't true."
You nodded. “Yeah…”
Farah sighed softly. “It feels pressuring every day, to have to dress and act a certain way. Follow a certain code or I won't be respected. I had a man tell me I wouldn't ever have a voice if I didn't have a husband to speak for me.”
You frowned, but nodded. Farah fidgeted a little. “But you know what? I did find my voice. And a voice for many other men and women who couldn't speak before.”
She smiles. “And for every bad person I meet, I've met ten more amazing men I know I have in my corner.”
Laswell nods. “I second that.”
You smile more, happily raising your water bottle. “To the women, and all those who support them.”
You clinked your water bottles and took a large sip. “I'm glad I get to spend the week with you guys. I know it's gonna be awesome.”
“We’re going swimming next.” Farah says quickly.
Laswell and you laugh. “Swimming is next on the list then.”
#call of duty#happy national womens day!#national womens day#kate laswell x reader#laswell x reader#kate laswell#farah karim x reader#farah karim imagine#farah karim#platonic x reader#platonic relationships#readers gender not specified#cod fic#cod mw3#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod x reader
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a better year
a/n: i linked this one to ao3 a week or so ago, but i figured i'd do it now i'm procrastinating the next chapter to adamantine chains lmao this is my take on the bookstore au
tags: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, cursing, signs of ptsd, , original female character, retirement from the military, bookstore au
6.7k words
summary: He takes her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light.
"Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night.
She kisses him over the mask.
She doesn't mention it the next day.
The official order rolled in on plain white paper, an unceremonious carrier of his future. He was the first to go: a sign that the team was being unraveled slowly. After all, they're not young men anymore.
"You'll receive your pension; it's enough that you shouldn't have to work again. And we've made sure that you have an official background. It's not much, but it's what we can do."
Laswell doesn't move her eyes from his, her fingers clutching a pen so hard her knuckles are white.
"It's for the best Simon," she says, setting the pen down carefully on her desk, "and if it makes you feel better: everyone will be released soon. I'm sorry."
He's not dumb; he knows these things only last so long. Forced retirement is something to be celebrated - celebrated that he lived long enough to have one, celebrated that his body isn't rotting in some foreign country, a home for worms. Celebrated that the 141 made it out mostly intact. Mostly together.
Johnny claps him on the back and promises that when Laswell brings him that paper when Johnny gets his own forced retirement, he'll come to find Simon.
Simon doesn't stay in England - he doesn't like the way the gray settles around him. He leaves the apartment Laswell set up for him untouched, a note for Johnny for where to find him.
He finds a small house to rent somewhere in the American Southwest, spitting distance of Alejandro's territory. It crosses his mind more than once to make the trip across the border, to see how Alejandro's doing; to see if Rudy is still scared of fantasmas .
But he isn't a fantasma anymore; he's just Simon Riley.
And it's just Simon Riley who paces the aisles of her bookstore, trying to find something to take his mind off of the fact that he is utterly and completely bored.
"This is the third time you've been here this month. I'm not putting you into debt am I?"
Her accent is different from everyone else's in town - still decidedly American, just not from here American. Simon ignores her, his eyes focused on the row of books in front of him. She sighs heavily, but drops it, leaving him behind to stock the end cap. Last week's murder mysteries replaced by this week's contemporary romances.
"I need to lock up you know - I can't stay here all night." She speaks as if it's not odd that Simon only comes in on Thursday nights - the only night of the week she stays open late to rearrange the end cap displays, to vacuum the floors to perfection.
"You haven't even cleaned the windows yet," Simon replies, pulling a fantasy book from the shelf: something about a world full of malicious fairies and a secret world beneath New York. It's something new.
"For your information, I did that before you got here," she says, pushing herself up from the floor with a groan. "And I have a life. I can't sit here all night and wait for you to pick a random book off the shelf."
"I never said you didn't."
Simon places the book as she dips behind the counter, a lukewarm cup of coffee left beside the cash register. She drinks from it, wincing at the taste as she rings the book up.
"That'll be seventeen forty-five."
Simon gives her a twenty and she breaks the change, counting out how many pennies he's supposed to have on her fingers.
"You going to be back next week?"
"Why?"
"I want to close early next Thursday; I need to know if my best customer is going to be here or not."
Simon doesn't speak as he takes the plastic bag from her hands. She waits for him, eyes never leaving his as she sips her coffee, waiting on him to answer.
"I can come by Friday instead."
"I'm closed Fridays."
"What about Wednesday?"
"I can stay late Wednesday."
He leaves her with just a crinkle of the plastic bag and the chime above the door.
***
He spends too much time at the gym ignoring Johnny's text messages. Johnny tells him Price was next - swearing that he was going to retire to the countryside where he can smoke his cigars in peace. Maybe find himself a nice girl to cook him dinner every now and then.
His fingers hover over the buttons, almost messaging Price to tell him congratulations. But Simon's not sure it really is.
He's alone at night; no one's in the gym at two in the morning. No one's there to watch the way he slams the weights down when he's done or hear the way he gasps for breath after lifting too heavy - the tear in his chest that never quite healed right burning him from the inside.
The walk home is quick; the stars shine brighter than anything he'd ever seen in England. The closest he ever got to seeing them like this was in the Middle East, but he hardly noticed the stars then. He wasn't expecting to be left looking up.
He sits in the shower at home. He can't stand the way the water hits his skin, but can't stand the idea of sitting in the water either. So he stays huddled in the corner of the bathtub, the water barely touching him.
Simon Riley thinks about death.
He thinks about what would happen if he died right now.
He thinks about what it's like to die twice.
***
The door is locked when he comes by Wednesday; he feels foolish standing there with his hand still pulling on the door, knowing it won't open beneath his touch. Foolish to think that she would-
Foolish when his heart ticks a beat as she comes around the corner. Foolish when he steps inside just a second after she unlocks the door.
"Sorry, my last employee must have locked the door on their way out. So did you like last week's book?"
"It was alright."
The silence is almost awkward as she locks the door behind him.
"Let me know when you're ready. I just made coffee in that pot behind the counter; you can have some if you want. I shouldn't drink it all myself."
She leaves him behind to disappear into the store room. He paces the aisles aimlessly, waiting for something to jump out at him. It's quiet tonight; the music that's usually playing softly over the speakers is absent. Simon can hear her through the storeroom wall moving boxes around, the sound of a box cutter piercing the quiet every so often.
She reappears, a box in her arms that she drops heavily onto the counter. Simon watches her over the bookshelf of non-fiction works as she pulls each book out, scans it into the computer, and stacks them on the counter
When the box is empty, she breaks it down and leaves it on the counter. She looks up, almost catching Simon staring at her. He ducks away, taking a book on the Korean War with him. At the counter, she can barely see him over the stack of books in front of her.
"Last week was fantasy and this week is the Korean War? You certainly have varied tastes."
Simon hands over the fifteen twenty-two he owes her, her hands linger in the distance between them.
"Do you have a job?"
"What?"
Simon's taken aback at her candor. I used to have a job he thinks, as he pockets his change.
"No, I don't."
"Do you want one? I need a weekend worker. It's just me on Saturdays and Sundays now my other guy quit to go to college. I can't pay you a ton, but I kind of get the feeling you don't need it."
He falters for a moment; that's all it takes. If he's being honest with himself, he misses taking orders, missing feeling useful to someone.
"I can do that."
"Can you start this Saturday?"
"I can do that."
She's locked the door behind him before he realizes they don't even know each other's names.
***
Her name's Billy.
"What's your name; I probably should have asked that before I hired you."
Simon doesn't answer, placing the box down slowly before he answers. It's odd, telling someone his name. His real name.
"It's Simon. Simon Riley."
She looks him over, elbows resting on the counter.
"What?"' He asks, uncomfortable under her x-ray analysis of him.
"Just didn't peg you for a Simon. You know with your general countenance; the mask and all that."
She doesn't ask why he has the mask on. Simon gets the feeling that she never will.
She works him like a dog; he's moving some of the shelves around when he thinks that this is probably the reason her last employee quit. It's like being ordered around by Price again, but this time his enemy is the dust. He doesn't stop moving until well after noon; sweat gathering in the small of his back. In her office, Billy is on the phone, yelling indistinctly at the person on the other line.
He doesn't have to watch her to know she's angry when she slams the phone down. He expects her to storm out of her office, to slam the door shut behind her. But she doesn't. When she comes out she's calm.
On Sunday she shows him how the books are organized, and she has him switch around the genres.
"Romance sells best during the spring, and mystery best in the fall and winter. So we need to pull the mystery books up to this front aisle and move the romance towards the back. These shelves roll so they're easier to move."
She's meticulous; Simon moves the same shelf four times before it's lined up exactly where she wants it. His constellation prize: cash wages handed to him at the end of the day.
"No paycheck?"
Her nails tap against the counter, the white paint chipped.
"I haven't processed your paperwork yet. I can take the money back if you want."
Simon pockets it.
They lock up together. It's warm outside, but she still tugs a hoodie over herself whenever she finishes, tucking her keys into the pocket.
It's a complete coincidence that they set off in the same direction.
Simon wants a cigarette; his fingers itch for the pack in his pocket. But she'd said earlier in the day that the smell was disgusting and she couldn't breathe whenever someone with cigarette smoke on them passed her by.
They split up two blocks away from the bookstore. She motions up to the upstairs apartment of a shitty duplex. It's not the kind of place he expected her to be in.
"This is me. I'll see you next Saturday right?"
"I'll be there."
"Good night Simon."
She doesn't wait for him to say anything; not that he would have known what to say. She's up the stairs and inside (she didn't unlock the door; he has to restrain himself from going upstairs to tell her to lock it next time) before he can think of anything to say.
He smokes a cigarette at the bottom of her stairs; watches the outline of her against the curtains in her window. A fat black cat peers down at him, peers down at the cherry of Simon's cigarette in the darkness. The street lamp is burnt out, the shadows dark. He stubs the cigarette out on the sole of his boot and throws the cigarette butt out in the street.
He's almost certain she'd chide him for that - the same way she did a kid who had the audacity to throw a cigarette down in front of her shop.
His apartment is extra cold when he gets home.
***
"Maybe Price has it right: a life in the countryside. A pretty girl to cook you a few meals. Maybe a dog to curl up at your feet," Johnny drones on the other end of the line. Simon doesn't answer, his focus on cutting the potatoes in front of him into meticulous cubes. Johnny doesn't need him to speak.
"What about you L.T.? What have you been up to?"
"I'm not a lieutenant anymore Johnny."
"You'll always be L.T. to me. And don't ignore the question."
Simon drops the potatoes into a pot, waiting on the answer to unstick from the back of his throat.
"Not much. I go to the gym a lot."
He doesn't tell Johnny how he has to break his gun down and put it back together three times each night before he can sleep.
"That it?"
"I'm working at a bookstore."
"A bookstore! A few months out and you're domesticated."
"Watch it, Johnny."
A pause.
"I have to go L.T.. Gaz is yelling at me."
Their goodbye is the silence that follows.
***
Billy's arguing with a customer when he arrives Saturday morning.
"Listen, dude, I don't care what price you want to pay. This is my business and I set the prices. If you don't like it, you're not being forced to come here."
The customer drops it when Simon steps behind the counter.
"I hate that guy," Billy tells him as she hands him a box cutter. "He comes in every week and tries to get me to lower my prices. It's a bookstore; I'm not getting rich off of this. I can't afford that. Anyway-"
She sweeps her hair behind her shoulders. Simon catches a hint of a tattoo behind her right ear and a glint of cold chain disappearing beneath her shirt.
"Finals are coming up for the local community college so I had two different study groups book the tables in here today. They're usually pretty good, we just have to make sure to keep the coffee pot refilled for them because they'll drink it dry. It's $5 if they want coffee - per person don't let them try to swindle us - but they can refill it as much as they want."
Her fingers tap against the counter. Her nails are blue this week.
"If they ask about selling us their textbooks, tell them to come back next week. I have a shipment of children's books coming in - you can sign for it if I'm busy. Do I need to show you how to use the cash register or can you figure it out?"
"I can figure it out."
"Ok. The code is 4532. For now, do you mind breaking down the boxes in the back room and taking them to the dumpster? It's hard for me to reach to open up the dumpster lid."
She doesn't wait for him to answer before she disappears into the back room.
This Saturday is busy.
Simon's about to snap at a kid who won't shut up about how the comic section is too small when Billy appears beside him.
"I'll take over here Simon. There's lunch in the back room."
He's thankful for her in that moment.
He's more thankful when the storeroom shuts behind him and locks. The table has a small bag with his name written on it. A sandwich from the deli across the street and a bottle of water inside.
There are no tomatoes on the sandwich.
Just like he always orders it.
***
He smokes a cigarette again outside her apartment. But this time he tucks the butt back into the pack. He'll throw it away at home.
***
"I want to put a coffee shop in here," Billy tells him when the store is slow. She traces the right side of the store with her fingers.
"And I want to open the shop up earlier and stay open later."
"Why don't you?" Simon asks without looking up from his task of the day: putting 'half-priced' stickers on books that aren't selling well.
"I'm not making enough money. I have just enough to pay you and my weekday employee and the overhead cost of this place, plus pay myself. There's not any extra coming in. The bank-," she pauses, red nails scraping at a piece of tape on the counter, "the bank is willing to give me a loan on the coffee shop stuff - the machines and all that - but I don't have the money for the renovations. My contractor told me he'd have to build the cabinets, open up the drywall and put an extension on our water pipe. A water filter needs to be installed. It's just - it's just a lot."
She slides the stack of books he's already put stickers on off of the counter and into her arms.
"Maybe next year."
***
The next time Johnny calls, Simon can hear the strain in his voice.
"It's my turn L.T.. Laswell said I failed the psychological and I can't stay."
"You going to keep good on your promise to come to be my annoying neighbor Johnny."
"Not yet. I want to go home to my mom for a little bit. Maybe next year L.T.."
"Next year's going to be a big year I guess," Simon says more to himself.
"What's that L.T.?"
"Nothing Johnny. We should be happy we made it out."
Simon knows Johnny's not happy: not happy he never received the rank he wanted, not happy he has to go back home and take care of his mom again.
"You're right L.T.. I'll call you again when I'm home. How's the bookstore thing?"
"It's going alright. Bye, Johnny."
"Bye."
In the silence after the call, Simon thinks he should get a cat. Something to make the apartment less quiet; something to give him purpose when he's there.
Something that won't crawl all over him at the end of the day.
***
He needs something to do with his hands.
That's what he tells Billy when she arrives at the store on Saturday morning and Simon's ripping up a portion of the carpet, a stack of flooring waiting to be installed.
"So you have to do it when I'll have customers here?"
"Tell them it's a new addition; they'll be alright."
"I'm not paying you extra for this."
"I didn't ask you to."
Billy looks at him, one foot tapping a sharp staccato muffled by the carpet.
"Fine."
She pauses for a moment, Simon's knife running down the carpet to separate it from the floor beneath. She picks up one of the pieces of flooring, turning it over in her hand.
"What is this?"
"It's vinyl. It's waterproof in case you spill something."
Billy drops the plank back onto the stack and leaves to unlock the front door.
Simon revels in the way his shoulders burn at the work, the way the rough concrete scratches his knuckles once everything is pulled off the floor and he has to start laying down the underflooring. He revels in the way his back cramps as he's bent over.
In the way he feels useful.
It takes him all day to get half the flooring down.
Billy doesn't speak to him about it, doesn't ask where he got the money from, or why he's suddenly doing free renovations on the place.
Simon knows she appreciates it by the way she drops down his lunch - no tomatoes, just a water to drink- beside him without expecting a thank you. By the way, she chides the little kids who come over to ask him a million and one questions, he doesn't know how to answer and brushes them away from him.
She catches him smoking in the back alley on his break. She's polite enough to turn back when she realizes he has his mask down and keeps her back turned to him.
"That shit's going to kill you."
"It can only hope."
Simon can tell she's giving him a withering look at him from her position half inside the doorway.
"If you come in smelling like that cancerous poison I'm not going to talk to you for the rest of the day."
He must smell because she doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day, not even saying goodbye when they depart at her apartment.
Simon hides the cigarettes in a drawer when he gets home.
***
It's Price that reaches out to him first, a quick phone call, a holdover from their days in the field.
"Are you holding up?"
Not "how are you holding up?", but "are you holding up?" The difference between three letters is so vast Simon doesn't know how to cross it.
"I'm doing fine."
"Johnny told me you've got a job?"
"Just something to keep me occupied."
"Is that all you've got?"
"What more do I need?"
The receiver is filled with the sound of Price inhaling a cigar; Simon can almost smell him through the receiver.
"You're not Ghost anymore Simon. It takes more than that to survive this."
Survive this . As if this is the most dangerous mission Simon's ever been on as if being forcibly retired has some sort of great mortality rate.
"Understood."
He listens to Price's dial tone for five minutes before he hangs up.
Maybe it does.
***
He paces the town at night. Once the gym doesn't become enough to wear him out, doesn't help his brain relax, he walks the streets.
He thinks more than once that someone is going to call the cops on him and report him for being suspicious.
But Simon Riley isn't Ghost anymore. Simon Riley is someone not worth noticing.
It's almost surprising how well the little town sleeps with the remnants of Ghost stalking through it; how now one seems to have any idea of what he was once - and still is - capable of.
He steals a lot of time sitting on people's steps, on the stoops of little houses, picking the petals off of the flowers in big pots, and lining up the shoes and toys that were left disarrayed in the chaos of the daytime. He wonders if someone is going to catch him on their security camera and name him the town freak, but no one does.
He keeps up at it enough that he can feel the shift in the air, feel winter creeping in. He notices it in the way more and more boots are left outside, by the plants with plastic coverings over them, protecting them.
He finds himself, more often than not, taking the long way around to stop at the bottom stairs of Billy's apartment. Most nights the lights are off, and the window open. He wants to tell her to stop doing that, to lock the window, but he doesn't know how to say it without giving away his nights. So instead he keeps watch, hands buried in his pockets as he counts the moths in the streetlights.
Sometimes though the lights are on and he can hear the sound of her house through the open window. Sometimes the cat peers down at him as if prepared to leap through the window screen at him - sometimes she grabs the cat, never looking down at Simon; more often than not the cat curls up in the windowsill without budging.
A few times he could hear her talking to someone, the conversation muffled from above. He wondered about who she could be talking to so late at night. Why she was up in the middle of the night to talk to someone?
He makes his way home as the town starts to wake up.
***
He moves once - to a tiny house in the middle of town, just enough to have a yard big enough to cross in two strides.
He tells Johnny it's because he was tired of the noises of the neighbors.
He tells Johnny it's because he's taken up woodworking and needs a spot for the tools.
"What are you building you old bastard?"
"Some cabinets."
"For what?"
"Mind your own business, Johnny."
It takes weeks to get them perfect. Eventually, though, they're good enough to put in the back of a rented truck.
He does it on a Friday when no one is around. He tells himself that it's easier that way, no one walking underfoot.
That night he lets himself admit - just for a moment as he sits on the shower floor - that he didn't want to see her face if she's disappointed by it.
***
She refuses to open the door for him the next day, opting to yell at him through the glass instead.
"You cannot keep making renovations to my store without asking me!"
"It's no big deal; open the door."
"No big deal: you put a floor down, you handbuild cabinets, and you broke into my store to install them!"
"You gave me a key."
"Not for that!"
It's a stalemate: Simon poised with his hand on the door handle, her hands tucked into the pocket of her jacket.
"I still have to do the plumbing."
She massages her eyes before leaning forward to turn the lock. Simon steps inside with the biting wind.
"You're fucking irritating, Simon Riley."
I know .
She makes him put up the Christmas tree - a fucking monstrosity that takes up the entire front window. It takes him all day to get the decorations to her standard; her yelling through the store at him to move something incrementally to the left or right.
Billy leans on the counter, shuffling through official-looking papers and refusing to look at Simon when he's finished.
"Thanks to you," she says, never looking up at him, "I have to start getting the paperwork processed to be able to serve food and drinks here."
"Is it difficult?"
"It's not easy."
Their conversation pauses just long enough for her to check out a customer. She turns back to Simon as soon as the door shuts.
"Why are you doing all this Simon?"
He doesn't answer, and he realizes as he stands there, hands folded behind his back and spine rigid that he needs to tell her something, but all he notices is the black ink mark on her cheek. She doesn't pressure him to answer, but she doesn't let her eyes leave him.
Simon breaks first, eyes cast down to the floor.
"Ok," Billy whispers under her breath, "you don't have to answer, but just let me know when you're going to do something else. Can you text me next time before you start?"
"I don't have your number."
She doesn't ask for his phone, instead, she tears a corner of a piece of paper off and scribbles her number on it. Her hands don't shake when she holds the paper out to Simon, but his shake when he takes it. Simon can tell Billy notices. He stuffs the paper into his pocket, pushing it past his keys and his phone.
"Hey, Simon," Billy chews on her lip.
"What?"
"Are you busy tomorrow night?"
***
Johnny's chatting his ear off, Simon's barely paying attention to him as he stares at the shirts thrown out on his bed.
"- L.T.? Simon?"
"What? Johnny, what?"
"Are you even listening?"
"No, Johnny. I'm not."
The static of Johnny's disapproval.
"What could be distracting you from my wonderful conversation?"
"I'm busy Johnny."
"With what?"
"Nothing Johnny. I just have somewhere to be later - I'm trying to get ready for dinner."
"Dinner? Like with someone else?"
Simon hangs up on him.
***
Simon wants to pretend that he doesn't have the path to her house memorized; doesn't have each step calculated to know when exactly to stand on the bottom step at 6:59 so that he can knock on her door right at 7. But he does, so he hovers on the bottom step for an extra minute.
She doesn't answer when he knocks; she yells through the door for him to come in. In his pocket his phone buzzes every few seconds, Johnny sends another message insisting that Simon tell him who he's eating dinner with. Simon thinks for a moment about blocking his number for the night.
Billy smiles at him from behind the counter, elbow-deep in bread dough. All at once, Simon feels overdressed taking in the large shirt covered in flour Billy's wearing.
"Hey. Sorry, dinner's going to be like 30 minutes later than I said. I couldn't get this shit to rise properly for like an hour."
"It's alright."
Billy must sense his apprehension because she jerks her head at a chair pulled up to the counter.
"Come sit down."
Simon appreciates the order. Billy rolls the dough out on the counter, measuring the thickness with her knuckle with a precision Simon would expect out of her. He has to keep himself from staring at her; instead, he analyzes the rest of the apartment.
He can see everything but the bedroom from his one spot; that door is firmly shut. It's clean but the type of clean houses have whenever someone new is coming over and everything is thrown into a closet. After a few minutes, Simon thinks he needs to speak.
"What are you making?"
"Rolls. I made - uh - what is the fancy word for it - beef bourgine?"
"Beef bourguignon?"
Billy smiles down at the dough as she cuts squares out.
"I'm glad one of us can say it - I can cook, I just can't speak French."
"Do you always cook like this?"
"Only on special occasions."
Special occasions .
It's awkward at first for Simon to sit there while she moves about the kitchen, putting the rolls in the oven and cleaning the counter; Billy doesn't speak much and Simon knows she doesn't feel the need to fill the silence either.
His phone buzzes again - under the counter he checks it.
Johnny:
don't leave me hanging lt tell me whos it is
"Your girlfriend?" Billy teases without turning to look at Simon from the other side of the kitchen.
"Not exactly," Simon says, muting the phone and shoving it back in his pocket.
"Do you have one?" Her voice is prying, but she doesn't look at Simon as she pulls bowls down from the cabinet.
"A girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
It bubbles inside him - just once - the urge to tell her about himself . He swallows it down.
"No."
"Not even back home?"
"Back home?"
She grins at him slyly, setting two glasses of water down in front of the two of them.
"Why do you think I have to keep paying you in cash? Your um….paperwork didn't exactly list you as being an employable American. And you have - you know - an accent."
Simon doesn't realize he's leaning toward her until his elbows hit the counter.
"No, not back home."
She seems satisfied by that answer - or she doesn't have time to ask anything else. Behind her the oven timer beeps and she turns to pull the rolls out. They're barely out of the oven whenever she ladles the stew into the bowls and pulls two rolls off one for each of them.
Pushing the bowl towards Simon she opens her mouth - Simon thinks she's going to ask something else but she just shakes her head.
"I'm going to eat over there, so you can eat too," she says passing him a fork.
"No cameras?"
"None you can see."
She retreats to the other side of the room and drops down on the couch so that she's facing away from him. Muffled behind a door to the right, Simon can hear her cat meow once.
They eat in silence; Simon knows she's only eating slowly to give him time to finish without her accidentally turning to see his face. He doesn't need it: he realizes he hasn't had a meal that hasn't consisted of a sandwich or some form of potatoes in weeks; he eats fast, slowing down just as he finishes to keep from embarrassing himself.
He sets the bowl down with enough dramatics that she can tell he's done without having to turn around. It's quiet again when she comes into the kitchen and takes his bowl to rinse it out in the sink. The sound of the water makes his skin crawl; it clashes with the domestic feeling of being taken care of.
She laughs quietly to herself as she dries her hands on her shirt, lifting it up just enough to expose the little shorts she has on underneath.
"Something funny?"
"Not really funny," she says, hands stilling in her shirt, "I don't know - it just - I - well it's about this time of dinner that guys usually try to take me to the bedroom. I was just thinking about how different this night would be with anyone else."
With anyone else .
That bothers him some.
"I don't suppose that's what you came here for," she grins at him as she speaks, resting her elbows on the counter. "Besides we don't even know each other."
"We work with each other every weekend," Simon retorts, not sure why he feels the need to prove her wrong.
"And we barely speak the entire time."
She points at him, her bright yellow nails glinting in the light.
"I've never seen you in anything other than long sleeves, even on the hottest day. You could have like fucking tentacles under there and I wouldn't know. And you don't even know anything about me."
For once, Simon doesn't think - he does.
He pushes his sleeves up slowly, each one nearly to his elbow. Billy leans forward, just enough to see the tattoo ink and scars that mar his forearms. Her fingers twitch against the countertop like she wants to reach out and touch him, but they stay still.
"Do you - do you only have tattoos on your arms?"
Simon reaches up to hook one finger in his collar and pulls it down just a half inch - just enough to show her the ink there.
"Your turn," Simon says, dropping his hand down. Under the counter, it lies fisted on his thigh.
"My turn?" Billy asks eyebrow cocked at him.
"Do you have any tattoos?"
She licks her lips once; Simon can see her thinking. After a pause she reaches down to grab the edge of her shirt - Simon's heart clenches. She lifts the hem up, just enough to show him the edge of a tattoo on her side, disappearing beneath her shorts and rising above where she lifted. She laughs a little as she drops the shirt.
"Is that all we need to know about each other?"
"It's a start."
***
He finally tells her he was in the military four Sundays after the first one. She'd told him at work she was too tired to cook and apologized, promising to make it up to him. So when he showed up at her door with a pizza and a promise that he was just dropping it off on his way home, he was surprised when she asked him to come in.
Each week they coaxed something new out of each other: a snippet about their families, about their travels. He loves Kentucky; she's from the East Coast. Her father died young. He's from England.
She's curled up in the recliner the cat on her stomach - they're watching something on television but they're both not really paying attention to it. So he blurts it out - a new confession in this weekly therapy.
"I was in the military."
"I guessed. The British Armed Forces?"
"The SAS."
She frowns and Simon stiffens.
"Is that like a unit or something?"
"Yeah."
This time she grins.
"Is that why you always lock my door behind you when you come in?"
"No. I do it because you never know who could come in when you're alone."
"You mean when you're not here."
Yes.
"No."
She rolls over, clutching the cat to her chest so as to not dump him on the floor until her feet hang over the arm and she can eyeball Simon across the room.
"I can shoot straight."
"Can you?"
***
She can. She takes him through the desert on Friday afternoon, bundled up against the cold. Out where they can target practice without anyone bothering them.
She hits every target.
***
"Christmas is this weekend."
"Yeah."
"So you know we're closed right? I'm not paying you time and a half."
A pause longer than he's used to.
"Are you doing anything for Christmas?"
"No."
"Do you want to come over?"
***
She makes Chinese on Christmas. A tradition she says because when she was younger the only places open were Chinese restaurants and her dad couldn't cook. They didn't have real dinners until she learned to cook herself, but it was always Chinese on Christmas.
The cat has a bell around its neck for the holiday and it latches onto Simon for the night. She wrinkles her nose at the cat and calls him a traitor. The cat doesn't seem to care.
"I didn't get you a present," she says, putting her bowl on the coffee table. From his spot in the kitchen, Simon speaks.
"I didn't get you one either."
"Well, you're slowly building me an entire coffee shop."
"That's not present."
"Well, it's not exactly in your job description either."
He leaves his half-eaten bowl on the counter to drop down on the couch. She's sideways in the armchair, shirt riding up and a bruise on her shin. She's back to white nails.
"I can make out with you for Christmas; other guys have liked that present."
Simon's heart nearly stops.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just kidding Si."
Just kidding .
***
She begs and pleads with him to please go out to the bar with her for the new year. He doesn't have to drink, she says, she can drink enough for the both of them.
She does. She doesn't even make it until eleven.
He carries her home on his back. Her door is unlocked and wants to think about how dangerous that is, but all he can think about is her warm breath on his neck.
He drops her unceremoniously onto the couch - he thinks about carrying her to the bedroom, but that's one place the door has always been shut to.
He does take her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light.
"Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night.
She kisses him over the mask.
She doesn't mention it the next day.
***
By summer, Simon has the entire cafe portion of the store finished. He's embarrassed when she hangs a sign over the area: 'Simon's Spot'.
"What?" She asks, peering down at him from the top of the ladder. "You built it."
***
He breaks during the summer. Billy calls him on a Tuesday, asking if he knows anything about air conditioning systems.
"You built the cafe, so I know you're handy."
He doesn't. But he can figure it out.
After hours the bookstore is sweltering. Billy has the blinds pulled down in a futile attempt to keep out some of the heat and the setting sun. Her shirt, already cropped short, clings to her with sweat when she unlocks the front door for Simon.
It takes him two hours but he figures it out. When it kicks on she looks up at him, one arm resting on his shoulder, and tells him he's her hero.
He makes it all the way to her apartment - the promise of something for dinner and a cold drink as for payment the ruse - before he does it.
It's dark inside, dark enough that when he locks the door behind him, he slips his mask off. She turns to ask him something - he doesn't hear it; he's too busy kissing her, pushing her back against the kitchen cabinet.
It's messy - the kissing - he can't remember the last time he kissed somebody like this - all teeth and tongue and need.
When they stumble into her room, he doesn't take his shirt off, and she doesn't ask why.
***
"Come visit me L.T.. Scotlands beautiful this time of year."
"I'll have to book two tickets Johnny; that's not cheap."
"Alright, you cheap bastard you can afford it."
#my fics#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost cod x reader#cod x reader#cod fanfic#ghost cod
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Just Relax
Pairings: Jordan Li × fem!reader
Synopsis: Afer hearing about your lack of sleep and energy, Jordan brings over some stuff to help. It turns into a long night.
f!Jordan Li × f!black reader
Everyone knows you to be the one always on edge. Brink always said it was one of your best qualities; it kept you alert. Your friends could disagree, though. Your conversations or encounters almost always consisted of you falling asleep or zoning out. It wasn't the most flattering thing, considering you loved them all dearly, but you couldn't help it.
You had met up with Marie on the way back to your dorm and decided to talk for a bit at the benches.
"Y/N? Earth to Y/N." Marie waved her hand in your face as you stared off into the distance.
"Yeah? What's up?" You blinked, looking at her fully alert now.
"What's up? What's up is your 4 hours of sleep is finally kicking in. Do you wanna grab some food? Coffee?" She suggested with a concerned look plastered across her face.
"Thanks, but I already had 2 cups for the day and I do not need to be shooting fire everywhere because I can't sit still." You chuckled.
"You seriously need to give yourself a break, Y/N." She touched your shoulder. You looked at her with a small smile. Just then, Jordan appeared next to her. You never even saw them walking over here.
"Moreau, Y/L/N." They sat down, their light curls falling on their forehead as they bent over. Marie retracted her arm and smiled over to them. You continued writing notes for your classes.
"You know we don't have finals are anything, right?" Jordan spoke with a hint of confusion in their voice.
"Y/N here just loves being prepared, even if it means losing sleep." Marie spoke, sounding annoyed. Jordan's brows furrowed.
"Props to you, but like why? You could be doing so much other- are you shaking?" They sounded concerned as well. You put your hand under the table.
"No, it's probably just the wind or something. Can we not talk about me for a second, please?" You looked at them. They stared back with petty. Jordan's brows furrowed trying to understand why you were acting lik that. "I'm going to my room." You closed your books and walked back to the dorms.
Jordan was never one to pry or even care for that matter, but they've taken a liking for you as of recently. Of course, they couldn't explain it because they've never thought about it long enough. They wanted to make sure you were okay. Even if it meant prying.
Later that night, you heard a knock just as you finished changing from taking a shower. You walked to the door and pushed it open. Jordan stood in the doorway, their short bob tied into a ponytail with pieces falling onto her nervous face. In their hand, a bag full of stuff.
"Jordan? What are you doing here?" You put your long curly hair into a ponytail and moved out the doorway, letting them in. They stepped in and closed the door behind them.
"Just wanted to bring you some stuff. Marie told me about how you stay up often and don't get a lot of sleep, so there's a couple of protein bars, energy drinks, and asprin in here." They looked at you with a slight smile.
"That's sweet J, thank you. But I promise Marie makes it seem like I'm not functioning." You chuckled, sitting on your bed.
"Debatable, I've seen you spacing out lately. And the circles under your eyes." They tucked their hands in the pockets of their grey sweatpants. Their midriff on display slightly, showing the band of their boxers.
"You have?" You questioned.
"Yeah." They answered. "Maybe I can help you, just relax a bit." They spoke softly.
Your stomach took a turn. You didn't know why, but your mind wandered to the worst places after what they said. Imagining any and everything. You two have had smoke sessions, which led to some playful banter and touchy nights. But it sounded like something completely different just then.
They walked closer to you, making your head tilt up to look at them better.
"Only if you want to, though." They’re voice low. The look in their eyes spoke for themselves. In that moment, you couldn't describe it, but something clicked.
You wanted them.
"Jordan..." You whispered out. Their hand held your chin up as they bent down. Their lips joined yours. It was slow and passionate, but filled with lust. They pulled back. Their eyes searched yours. You could tell they were scared. Scared of what you thought of them like this, scared of what was about to come, scared of what just happened.
"Y/N?" They finally spoke.
You pulled them back into the kiss. Your hands wrapped around their neck, bringing them onto the bed. You were quick to straddle their hips, deepening the kiss. Their hands held your waist on their lap. They broke the kiss again and left a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. They took your shirt off in a sudden move. You couldn't even process it. It made you giggle a little.
"Lay down." They spoke softly. You obeyed and laid on the soft blankets of your bed. They brought you to the edge by your legs. You sat up on your elbows, observing their moves. They came back to your lips, leaving a sweet kiss. While their tongue did the talking, their hands found their way to your shorts and panties. Which now found refuge on the floor. The cold hitting your wet core cause you to let out a little gasp in between the kiss.
They pulled back. "Just relax, okay?" They held the side of your face. Their expression looked genuine. It wasn't a request. It was a plead.
You only nodded.
They kneeled down to your opening, putting one of your legs over their shoulder. Their soft but cold hands ran along your thigh, soothing you. They planted soft pecks along the inside of your legs, leading to your opening. Their tongue flattened, running up and down your clit. Your breathing hitched with the sudden pressure. Their lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves, sucking it.
"Shit, Jordan." You breathed out.
They looked up at you, with their doe brown eyes. You couldn't help but stare back. That was until they added two fingers into you, pumping in and out your core. Your breathing fastened. Your moans became louder.
"Oh my fucking god, Jordan!" You fell back on the bed, grabbing the pillows around you. You felt their lips curl into a smile around you.
"Don't fucking- shit!" You covered your mouth because you were pretty sure Shetty could hear you across the campus. "Don't laugh!" You managed to get out.
They came up, chuckling. Their fingers remained. "Why? You look so beautiful. How does it feel, huh?" They used their free hand to play with your clit again. The pad of their thumb rubbed you softly.
The pleasure built up.
"S-So good- oh my god!" You blurted out.
"Fuck, I'm gonna-" Your own breaths got in the way of your speech. Your stomach tied into a knot.
"Let it out, pretty girl." They spoke softly. Their pace quickened, and your legs shook. The knot came undone, and your mind was fuzzy. You released the pillow and let out a heavy breath. Jordan watched you come down from your high with a smirk. You looked up at them.
"What are you smiling about?" You questioned while propping yourself on your elbows. They smiled and bent down and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. It was slow and rewarding.
"You're just so beautiful." They spoke.
They pulled back and got a towel. They cleaned your bed and between your legs from your sweet liquids. You only watched.
"You need to give yourself more credit and take it easy." They said. You threw on a shirt and sat up.
"I know." You responded.
"And get some sleep." They tucked a strand of hair behind their ear. "Do you...want me to stay...with you?" They looked down at the floor and back up at you, waiting for an answer.
"I would love that." You responded.
Their smile was your response as you invited them under the covers with you.
#black reader#lgbtq#black y/n#jordan li smut#jordan li fluff#jordan li imagine#jordan li x reader#jordan li#jordan li gen v#gen v jordan#gen v spoilers#the boys#the boys gen v#gen v imagine#gen v prime#gen v#london thor#wlw#wlw smut
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Labyrinth
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female reader
Synopsis: A numb and addicted y/n can’t seem to understand why her life suddenly feels different. She’s done nothing but move around in her adult years, so why is it now that she feels she can’t pack up and leave anytime soon?
Warnings⚠️: I haven’t written in over a month, so I’m super rusty this might be shitty! Cigarette smoking and mentions, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol. I don’t condone smoking or drinking (underage).🖤
Song for imagine: Cigarettes and Coffee- Otis Redding
Its early in the morning
About a quarter ‘til three
I’m sittin here talking with my baby
Over cigarettes and coffee
I was never one to deal with stress easily which led me to deal with it in the worst ways possible. Drinking, smoking, quitting jobs on the spot and even packing up and leaving places…..I know stupid and risky, but I never had that anchor in my life to tell me everything was going to be okay.
If I felt stressed and useless my things were packed and I was on the road to a new state. I think I was on state number 7 in about a year and a half. Who the fuck in their right mind handles stress this way? That was the million dollar question, and I had the answer…. I wasn’t in my right mind…not in the past, not in the present and undoubtedly not in the future.
After my last breakdown I landed in California precisely in Los Angeles, the city of angels. Where all your dreams and aspirations could come true. It just felt like lost paradise to me, but it’s the longest state I’ve ever stood in. For some reason I couldn’t find the power in me to leave when I got stressed. It was as if I had some unforeseen future here….a future of happiness and hope?
But the stress still gnawed at me. Will I ever have a career, will I ever be truly happy, will my parents be proud of me?How am I going to pay for next month's rent?How am I going to pay for next week's groceries?
It was a constant battle and I never severely suffered because I always found a way, but once all that was taken care of the immediate panic started again about how will I be able to do it all in the following weeks.
I started smoking constantly and it was weird because I wasn’t a smoker but I knew I should drink a little less. I only lit a cigarette when the stress was so bad I refused to drink anymore. Not like smoking was any better ruining my lungs rather than my liver….
But the problem was it went from one to two a day to five and on really bad days even up to eight. It was a bad crutch I simply couldn’t pull away from. They were my training wheels and I was so scared that once I let go I’d crash and burn.
I had an addiction and I had no one around me to slap me out of it. Of course I still spoke to my parents, but I just lied about it. I mean there’s truly no one to blame but myself, however all that regret left my mind once a lighter was in my hand and I took a long drag while the cool night breeze brushed against my skin.
I was lucky enough to have found a job almost instantly. It was a cute little coffee shop that had a small selection of books. It was a peaceful and slow paced job. We only really needed two to three people working. So I’d open at 8am and waited for the next girl to clock in at about 11am.
It was a fun job that paid the bills and my horrendous cigarette addiction. I had found a decent studio apartment nearby. But I was always convinced that this would be snatched from under my feet and I should never get comfortable. As you can expect this led to my extreme stress and anxiety.
I didn’t necessarily have friends here, I mean yes I was cool with my coworkers and boss; but we weren’t friends. It was more of a hi, bye situation. It didn’t bother me much. I was always a loner. I never really found people who got me, so I stayed with the only person who did…me.
On my days off I spent a lot of time walking around flea markets, heading into other cafes and even writing. I’d always hoped that one day I’d be a writer. My mind was always running and I figured someone out there might actually relate to and enjoy the words I’d write on a piece of paper.
Today I was actually working a small shift from 8am to 1pm. I was staring blankly at my reflection in the bathroom. Scruffing my hands and gargling mouthwash. It was 11am and I was coming back from my break.
Spitting the mouthwash into the sink I closed the cap and stuffed the travel size bottle into my purse. Inhaling deeply I looked at myself once again.
“You have got to stop smoking” I replied in a mumble
Slipping my hand blindly into my purse I pulled out my perfume; spritzing myself before shutting the light and heading into the break room to place my purse back.
Slipping my apron on my coworker walked in, clocking in the back as she offered me a smile
“Good morning Y/N” she said as she walked towards me to place her things down
“Good morning K” I stated as I offered a smile back and began to make my way to clock back in
I wasn’t sure why her name was K, it was all over her employee paperwork. She was here before me, so I felt I had no right to ask her for her real name. But it was interesting for someone to just drop the rest of their name and solely go by a singular letter.
After punching back in I walked to the front, not a surprise it was dead. The only people lingering around were the 8am-9am crew. Sighing deeply I decided to clean up a bit.
It was about 12pm now and I was watching the clock anxiously waiting to clock out and run free. Usually I worked 8-4 and sometimes even 8-6. I had a whole day ahead of me and two days off might I add. I felt pretty invincible
Drinking from my water cup the door chimed signaling a customer. Placing the cup down I began to turn around.
“Hi welcome to Mugs” I stated as I turned around
Immediately I was intrigued. I have never seen someone as interesting before. I mean it is LA, so I have seen some interesting stuff; but no he looked different…. And for some reason I couldn’t really look away
Placing his vision glasses on top of his head he squinted his eyes to read the menu. My eyebrow raising.
“You know glasses are meant for you to see things” I said logging into the register as I looked up at him
“I’m sorry?” He said looking at me
“You um…. You put your glasses on your head and then squinted to read” I said pointing above me at the board
“Oh… well these are just blue light glasses. I genuinely can’t really see” he said in an awkward way
“Ohhh well uhh want me to read the menu to you?” I asked laughing a bit
“Oh no it’s fine, I’m not really a coffee drinker” he stated looking at our pastry display
“You do realize you’re in a Coffee shop?” I said jokingly
His both opened a bit and then he squinted his eyes
“I am now seeing how ridiculous I look” he said chuckling and shaking his head
“No judgment here” I said sticking my hands up in defense
“I won’t waste your time any more! Can I have a chocolate chip cookie and that bottle of Pepsi” he said pointing behind me at the small fridge
“One Pepsi and one cookie, coming right up” I said checking him out on the screen
Grabbing the cookie and bottle of soda I placed it on the counter and slid it towards him.
“You can tap or insert your card whenever you’re ready” I stated clicking some buttons on my screen
“I’m uhh actually paying cash” he said fishing in his wallet
“Woahhh cash in this century?” I said giggling and fixing the system
“Yeahh I carry a little bit of cash and little bit of card” he said shrugging his shoulders
“A little bit of card….hmm…that’s funny” I said giggling a bit at him
“Well you know what I mean” he says playfully rolling his eyes
“I’m just messing with you” I said shaking my head
Smiling he handed the cash over and grabbed his items
“Keep the change” he said waving with his hand and nodding his head
Walking out the door I couldn’t seem to understand why I had a stupid smile on my face. Putting the cash in the till and placing the change in our tip jar.
Turning around I was met with my two coworkers staring at me with a smirk on their face. I’d never been the spotlight of attention and I’ve never gotten anything other than a good morning from either of them. So my face dropped and I got self conscious
“What?” I said a bit scared as I straightened my posture
“He was totally into you” K stated as she placed the rack of cookies down
“Was not! We were just making friendly conversations” I said opening the pastry shelf and putting some cookies in
“No no I agree with K we’ve had a lot of guys come in here, but this is the first time I’ve seen a guy like utter more than two words to you and he was totally geeking out” Delilah stated
“Totally! That kid was blushing like crazyyy” K stated as she grabbed the now empty tray and began to walk back towards the kitchen
“Guys come on! It was just friendly banter” I said shutting the pastry door
“Delilah knows her shit too, that’s how Danny and I got together” K stated from the kitchen
“Shut up! No way” I said rolling my eyes
“Sure did! As soon as we had an interaction K told me he’d be back for my number, and that was three years ago” K replied
“You just got lucky this was nothing but mere coincidence” I replied back to them
“You’ll see girl” Delilah stated as she began to make herself a coffee
Playfully rolling my eyes I checked the clock, I had about 10 minutes till my shift was over. I decided to make myself a drink.
As I made my iced latte I began to wonder. I didn’t really have many interactions with guys, but I think I’d know if someone was flirting with me.
It just felt like a friendly banter with an awkwardly shy….nerdy guy. Laughing to myself I finished making my drink.
“Alright girls I’m going to clock out now” I stated as I walked to the back
Punching out and grabbing my things I slid my apron off and grabbed my drink. Heading towards the front of the cafe
I waved bye to the girls as I took a sip.
“Have a good day girls” I said as I walked out
I had the whole day ahead of me and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. My job was near a pier where I could always sit down and watch people.
Before heading to the pier I decided to stop for some food. Heading into a small restaurant I sat down. Taking my book out of my purse I began to write. I hadn’t written in two weeks and it felt wrong.
Ghosting my hand over the paper, my mind just kept going blank. I couldn’t form a proper sentence and my mind began to race again. Thinking back on that boy I began to think about my love life.
Honestly I didn’t really have one, I was more of a hopeless romantic. Often watching rom coms and rolling my eyes at how unrealistic that love was. I’m sure it was tangible, but I was just a sour puss.
I longed for a relationship like that to always know you’ll have someone there for you loving you unconditionally. To be with someone through sickness and in health. I was only 22, but it seemed to me that everyone around me already had that amazing soulmate. I was very clearly late to the game and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find someone to love. I wasn’t even sure I was lovable myself.
Then again I never put myself out there, but times have changed. It's not that easy. Guys have become so shitty and all they care about it sex. But it’s like what about getting to know the person deep down.
Not once has a guy ever asked me my dreams and aspirations, where do I see myself in five years? What are my biggest goals in life? What’s my biggest fear….. I lost all hope for love by the time I was 18.
Reading romantic stories and watching these shows and movies definitely added salt to the wound.
I hadn’t realized how much I was writing till my hand began to cramp. Looking up I realized it was no longer daytime.
“Shit” I muttered under my breath
Slamming my book shut I paid my bill and began to gather my things. Walking out of the restaurant I stepped out onto the golden street. It was about 5:45 and I really couldn’t understand how that much time had passed.
I think that’s why I enjoy writing the most, I’m so far gone in my own world it’s like I’m frozen and the world around me continues to move.
Walking towards the pier it was surprisingly empty at this time. Breathing in the salty air I sat down on a bench. Watching the ocean I let the breeze blow through my hair.
Digging in my purse I pulled out my pack of American Spirits. Sighing deeply I pulled a cigarette out. As soon as I grabbed my lighter all the regret washed away from me.
Placing the white object in between my lips I flicked the lighter a few times before a glowing flame appeared before me. Guarding the flame from the wind I brought it closer.
Inhaling as I lit the cigarette all my worries washed away. This was only my second cigarette of the day and I somehow felt accomplished.
Kicking the gravel underneath me I took a long drag, exhaling I got up. Walking over to the edge of the pier I decided to sit down allowing my legs to hang off the edge.
I wasn’t 100% sure I could do this, but it’s worth a shot I thought to myself. Leaning my chin in the railing I took another drag as I stared into the sunset.
Life was so beautiful and I wasn’t sure why I was so sad and numb all the time. I took a lot for granted and I hated it.
I really needed to stop smoking.
“You know those things will kill you” I heard from behind me
My brows began to furrow as I took a drag
“I’m sorry?” I said annoyed as I looked behind me, blowing the smoke out through my nose as my face dropped
“You shouldn’t smoke” he said again with a cheeky smile on his face
Meeting eyes with the same guy from the cafe made my heart skip a beat and my throat go dry.
“Squinting your eyes is also bad for you” I said putting the cigarette out
“Won’t kill me though” he said shrugging his shoulders
“You never know” I said shrugging my shoulders and standing up
His eyes followed me as I got up and it was only then did I feel super self conscious about this whole situation. My embarrassment turned a bit into anger.
“Anyways you drink Pepsi, so that for sure will kill you” I said as I dusted my pants off
“Guess we’ll both be dead then” he replied
“Wow you’re super blunt” I said scoffing
“Sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to come off rude. I was just playfully teasing” he said looking nervous
Looking at him for a split second and I sniffed and then rolled my eyes
“It’s fine. It’s a bad habit anyways” I replied shrugging my shoulders
“We all have bad habits we’re not proud of” he said in a whisper
“Are you uhh following me?” I asked him cocking an eyebrow
“What? No oh my god no! I was just walking and I thought you looked super familiar” he replied putting his hands out in defense
“I’m just teasing you” I said giggling
“I’m Matt” he replied placing his hand out for me to shake
“I’m Y/N” I stated as I shook his hand
“It’s nice to formally meet you” he said awkwardly
“Yeah” I replied awkwardly
“I’ll uh… ill let you go on about your business. Maybe I’ll see you around” He said
“Well you know where to find me” I said smiling at him
Opening my bag I was digging around for my phone before successfully pulling it out.
“Right, we’ll have a good evening” he said and waved shyly
“I’ll see you round Matt” I replied
Going our separate ways I looked down at my phone, 6:55pm…. Sighing, I walked back to my car close to the cafe and drove home.
Shuffling up the stairs I pushed my apartment door open after unlocking it. Making note that I must call the maintenance guy because that door needs some WD40 badly.
Locking the door I turned my lights on. Today just felt strange like I couldn’t put my finger in exactly what the fuck was going on.
Walking over to my patio I opened the sliding door and stepped out. Taking in the evening breeze my mind just went blank.
Stepping back inside I grabbed my purse, grabbing my lighter I shuffled my hand around my purse to feel for my pack of cigarettes. But my brows furrowed when I didn’t feel the square container.
Walking over towards the light I opened my bag more and looked inside. An annoyed feeling washed over me as I couldn’t find the box. I mean honestly good because I did not need anymore.
Still searching as if the box was going to magically appear. I groaned soon realizing I must’ve left them on the bench and they are for a fact long gone by now.
Throwing my lighter back into my purse I groaned and sat on my couch. The one time I desperately need a cigarette I fucking left it on the pier.
I cut that night short with a 80s movie marathon and left over pizza as a midnight snack.
remembering that tomorrow I had to stop into the cafe to pick up my paycheck. We’re living in a very digital world right now and my job still does paper checks….
Groaning at that I decided to call it a night….
The End
Okayyy IVE BEEN GONE FOR SOOO FUCKING LONG. And I’m sooo sorry it’s just life has been so crazy since March! However this was the end of part 1….stay tuned for more🥺🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets imagines#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo imagines#matthew sturniolo x reader#Spotify
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Hello people! It’s been a while since my last chapter but the writer’s block was humongous and I kept pushing myself to write the next chapter. It is another long one, almost 25K words. Please excuse me for my long ass absence and stay with me for the rest of the story! I hope you’ll enjoy the newest part and I can’t wait to see your opinion and comments on it. Take care. Until the next one <3 xx
All’s Fair
(Toto Wolff x Reader!Horner) Chapter 9
chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8
Monaco has the best sunny days in the whole world. You’ve loved going out under the Mediterranean sun every time your family visited Monaco when you were young. Now laying on the couch that you’ve spent almost all of your summers on, you see the light entering the apartment. Music plays in the background as your friend Sara is making coffee in the kitchen and you are laying in her living room as you’ve always done.
After the victory celebrations on Sunday you left the track and flew straight back to Nice. Your childhood friend Sara picked you up and you’ve been staying in her family’s house in Monaco for the past 2 days. Those days passed by with your usual activities. Having coffee in the casino square, going out clubbing, cooking, gossiping and in general doing girly things. As soon as you arrived in Monaco you visited the apartment that Sara proposed and booked it right away as you had already asked for your belongings to be moved to Monte Carlo. The only thing left for you to do is to move all of those things to the apartment. The thing about being in Monaco is that now you are able to show the world where you are. During the past weekend there was just speculation about where you actually were. You had managed to place yourself in Monaco with some instagram posts but no one knew (well except for Toto and Lewis) that you still were in Jeddah.
“Sweetheart coffee is ready.” Sara yells from the kitchen
“Bitch I don’t drink coffee” you answer “You haven’t seen me in a month and you already forgot?”
“Shut up, I made you your Earl Grey just how you like to drink it” she says and you’ve already made your way to the kitchen
“Thank you idiot” you tell her
“You’re welcome, your majesty,” she says, mocking you for your tea preferences. You sit down opposite to her and start drinking your tea. “So” she interrupts the silence “Do you remember Marc?” she asks
“Marc who?” you ask
“Marc Taylor.”
“S, are you serious? Are you asking me if I remember the guy I had a crush on for ages?” you ask her
“Well you’ve met a lot of people since you started working in F1 and I genuinely thought you forgot him” she says “Anyways, he saw the story I reposted from yesterday night at Jimmy’z and replied to it. He asked me if we wanted to join him today.”
“Join him where?” you ask intrigued
“He will be having a brunch party at his yacht.” she says trying to hype it up
“Ugh, I’m not sure I want to see so many people.” you say
“Come on Horner, it’s going to be so great. We haven’t had a brunch party at a yacht in ages, the last time we did was when you graduated.” she pauses “Plus he told me not to hype it up, the only people there will be his friend group.”
“Marc’s friend group is 15 people. I am only willing to see 5.”
“Why are you acting like a 65 year old with depression, come onnn.”
“Because my job drains me to the point that I just want to stay at home with a cup of tea and read a good book. I am with people every day and during the weekend I am chased by cameras and fans.” you tell her as she looks at you mockingly “I know, I know. I chose this life and to be frank I love the whole fame,chase and clout that comes with it. But during my non-race weekends, I need to have a detox.”
“You had your whole week off, enough paddock detox, enough people detox. What were you doing in Jeddah? Meditating, visiting the four seasons’ spa, drinking coffee, eating expensive meals. That’s enough, now we get to party.”
Little does she know that you weren’t actually meditating, not visiting spas, not even staying at a four seasons’ but at a Ritz. You take a look at your best friend as she puts on her puppy eyes.
“Pretty please.” she says and she crosses her hands as if she’s begging “Do it for me Horner, it’s going to be fun. It’s part of your new life after all. People here in Monaco have brunch yacht parties really often, so you better get your ass ready. We are going.” she says.
You shrug in response, but actually get up from the chair and go to the guest room where all of your belongings currently are. You open your suitcase and take out the sundress you wore the day you and Toto went for coffee together and match it with a pair of Hermes sandals. The weather is now sunny in Monaco and you actually love how it is a great mix of sun, breeze and heat. You put on some makeup and style your hair as loosely as you can, you’re going to be in the sea after all. Later both you and Sara leave the house and go to the location that Marc dropped a pin on. You can hear people talking from the other side of the yacht, the one that faces the Mediterranean. You quickly jump on the platform on the back of the yacht and walk up to the place where everyone’s sitting.
“Hello everyone.” you say and you see Marc standing up approaching you. Sara is just behind and she waves everyone but doesn’t get any closer to you. Marc comes to your side and hugs you.
“Miss Horner.” he says in awe “It’s been a long long time hasn’t it?” he asks
“It has. Thank you for the invitation.” you say “We brought a little something.” you say and you hand him the bottle of Dom that you’ve been holding.
“It’s really no big deal, I wanted to see you and Sara so I just texted. Thanks for the Champagne.”
By the time both of you stop interacting, Sara is already sitting on the table and speaking to everyone. You take a seat, far from her in the only two empty chairs and Marc emerges shortly after to take the seat next to you. Without asking he starts filling your plate.
“You should definitely try the Croque Madame, it’s a miracle.” he says and you smile at him
“I will, thanks.” you reply as you register his existence next to you. He’s the most charming guy you’ve met, well less than Toto but to be frank, you can see why you were heads over heels with him. At that moment you decide to snap a photo and text Toto.
You
[Photo]
Much earned gift for my last week’s performance
Wolff
You better recharge, I want you on your A level in Baku.
[Photo]
The weather here is freaking awful, I miss Monaco.
You
Wait, you actually know how to send pictures? Monaco is amazing today. You should have been here.
Wolff
Replying: Remember who gives you access to the paddock.
If I were there you wouldn’t be in that yacht right now.
You
Toto behave, you’re at work.
Wolff
I’m at a business meeting and I hate those so why not distract myself with some other thought.
You
Because I’m so hot you’re going to embarrass yourself. Gotta go now, I've got a whole yacht waiting for me
Wolff
I don't blame them. Have fun, just not too much ;)
You laugh at Toto’s texts as Marc watches you at the same time
"Are you bored of us" he asks
"No, I just have to text someone" you reply
"Red Bull keeps getting you busy I see?" he asks
"Actually, I am not in Red Bull for the time being, I am just enjoying myself and I am actually moving here next week"
"Great decision to be honest. Monaco could use a distraction." He says
"So I've been told" you tell him
"By whom?" he asks and you realize you cannot possibly talk about Toto with him
"Just a good friend" you laugh
“ah one of those best friends, I get it" he says and you nod not showing any emotion at all over what it meant
“Are you enjoying yourself in F1?” he asks trying to start conversation with you
“I am. It is a space I’ve grown up in and I already knew everyone as well as everyone knew me. There’s nothing different as to what I’ve lived up to now except for the fact that I have a little bit more screen time than I used to have 5 years ago.”
“Well 5 years ago I used to see you almost every week and now I have to watch F1 to see you.” he says
“You watch F1 now?”
“I always watched F1.” he says
“I’m pretty sure you’ve only watched the Monaco Grand Prix.”
“Until this year.” he replies “Plus I have a really good reason.”
“What’s the reason? Max’s racecraft?”
“Nah, you are” he says and you freeze temporarily
“I’m flattered.”
“I meant it as a compliment so you should be.” he tells you and he looks at you with a flirty look and you turn to look at Sara who is already too invested in her conversation with Marc’s friend, Tristan.
The rest of the brunch party goes on in a pretty similar way. Marc keeps flirting with you and Sara is way too busy to come to your rescue. At some point the yacht leaves Monaco and sails in the Mediterranean for two or three hours while all of you party on the deck. Now the sun is setting down the horizon and you return back to the harbor of Monaco and the party has already winded down so you find yourself sitting on a chair sipping your last glass of champagne. Sara is nowhere to be seen, probably too busy making out with Tristan on the inside of Marc’s yacht since they’ve been missing for the last 45 minutes or so. The chair opposite to you is empty but not for long. As soon as Marc spots you he leaves his friends and comes to your company.
“Did you enjoy the party?” he asks
“It’s been a while since I partied like this but I loved it. Now relaxing with a glass of champagne is the must thing to do.”
“There’s plenty of space inside if you want to lay down for a while.” he tells you
“I think the space might be occupied by our friends and as close as I am with Sara today isn’t the day that I want to listen to her having sex with your best friend.” you laugh
“The yacht has 6 cabins. I very much doubt all 6 of them are taken.”
“6 cabins huh? The Taylors really have given it some thought before spending money on this yacht.”
“Yeah, my mom insisted. But hey, that’s why we’re working our asses off every day. To spend on things like this.”
“So you are working?” you ask him
“Yeah, I’ve taken over some of my dad’s companies and I’ve been living between Monaco and Switzerland for a while.”
“And how is it?”
“You know how it is. We’ve learnt to live in this world. I love the job but really that’s all I focus on. Thank god all these fuckers are around and remind me that I need to have a work life balance.”
“Oh my god. Marc Taylor is a workaholic?” you say surprised “You need people to remind you to live for a while instead of working?”
“My mom is so afraid that I won’t even have a wife that she’s trying to get me to meet eligible bachelorettes.”
“Lisa is actually doing this?” you ask shocked
“Lisa has been asking me to ask you on a date for months” he tells you and you laugh hysterically.
“Well tell Lisa that I am twice the workaholic that you are. I am not working and living, I am living my life at work. I am constantly working.”
“How does it feel?”
“It does get a little lonely at times. But as you’ve said I’ve learnt to live like this ever since I was a baby. Sometimes I just wish I had someone to support me.” you tell him and what he does next surprises you.
He leans closer and puts a hand on your cheek and kisses you. You don’t react. Partly because you were caught completely off guard and partly because your 19 year old self would die for this kiss but the only thing in your head that played over and over again is “You can’t do this to Toto” . He pulls away from the kiss and you smile but he’s looking for something more and you know it.
“Marc, look I am so flattered that you actually like me. My 19 year old self would be dead right now. But as much as I used to like you then, I cannot do it now.”
“You’re not into it huh?” he asks partly heartbroken partly surprised
“It’s not that. It’s that there’s someone else in my life right now and the things with me and him aren’t that simple so I wouldn’t want to further complicate it.”
“I understand.” he says “Although Lisa would be thrilled to have you as her daughter in law, I have to destroy her dreams.” he laughs
“I am so sad. Tell her I love her regardless and if I end up alone you’ll be the first one I will flirt with.”
“Bold way to tell me I am the second option.”
“Oh god no that’s not how I meant it. It’s just that you never know how life will play out. We might end up married managing the Taylor Group and Red Bull Racing, but we might just end up as two workaholic friends who push each other out of their working space.”
“That’s true.” he says
For the next 10 minutes you discuss and when the yacht finally arrives at the harbor you leave the yacht before thanking everyone. You and Sara walk back home and she keeps talking about her and Tristan during the whole way to her house. You keep quiet about the whole thing with Marc and let her vent about what happened for the rest of the day. Late at night just when you’re ready to go to sleep, her in her bed and you on an inflatable mattress Sara is still talking about Tristan.
“He actually texted me like 5 minutes ago, I can’t believe it.” she says “We are plann-”
“Marc kissed me.” you say interrupting her mid sentence
“WHAT?” she screams and jumps on her bed
“Yeah, you were too busy screwing Tristan on those cabins but when we arrived at the harbor, he sat down next to me and kissed me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asks completely shocked
“Because you were venting about Tristan and I knew you would react this way.” you answer
“Well why aren’t you reacting in this way? You’ve had a crush on him since forever.” she asks
“Had. Past tense.”
“Well, do you have someone better than Marc to hook up with? His father is a freaking billionaire and he’s about to inherit all this. He’s handsome and kind and he’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Yeah, now he’s not the one I am dreaming of. Plus, believe it or not, it’s not always about the money.”
“Are you out of your mind? Who is possibly a better option than Marc for you right now? Well, to be frank Charles Leclerc is. You’re not sleeping with Charles Leclerc are you?” she asks and you laugh
“If you actually knew who the guy who is the better option you’d definitely think I’m out of my mind. And no, I am not sleeping with Charles Leclerc, sadly.” you tell her
“If you don’t spill, I will kick you out.”
“I most definitely cannot tell you.”
“Come on, we’ve known each other since we were in the womb, your family is my family, what tells you that I could possibly say anything to anyone?”
“Okay, I will tell you, just because you actually are my best friend. But don’t you dare say anything to anyone or I will be destroyed. Oh, tell me your wildest prediction.”
“Just so that I have a clear target group, he is from F1 right?” she asks and you nod “Omg, is it Max? Because if it is Max it will be the most iconic friends to lovers boo-” she starts ranting and you interrupt to shock her once again
“It’s Toto Wolff”
“WHO?” she looks at you like you are a lunatic.
“It’s freaking Toto Wolff, Team Principal of Mercedes AMG Petronas F1” you tell her and she looks absolutely shocked
“You are definitely out of your freaking mind. Since when are you into older guys and how the hell did that happen?”
“I always thought he was attractive but was blindsided by Christian’s hate for him. But long story short, I got drunk once and we hooked up and it’s only been going downhill from there. I’ll have to explain it to you when I get to my new apartment.”
“I am absolutely shocked.” she says “Is he at least treating you right?” she asks
“We are just hanging out but he’s been decent I’d say.”
“Now that I am thinking about it, he kind of is the better option.” she says and she visibly loses herself in thought
“Just so you know, the only people who know about all this are you and Lewis.”
“I have a common secret with Lewis Hamilton?” she asks, showing her clear preference for him.
Your answer is to just laugh and then say goodnight to her.
The next day you are being woken up by the light entering the room from the window that you forgot to close. It’s the day that you will finally move to your new apartment in Monaco. You grab your phone first thing and you see millions of notifications, more than usual. Your first thought? Something bad happened. And indeed something had happened, not exactly bad, but the headlines from the news, tweets and tags are somewhere in between the tone of
“Red Bull Racing’s newest management addition shows her love with a billionaire’s son in Monaco.”
The first article wrote: Miss Horner and Mr. Marc Taylor were spotted getting cozy at the latter’s yacht party in Monaco harbor yesterday. The pair shared a kiss and they seemed to exchange some fond words. We are excited about this new romance blooming in the streets and seas of Monaco. Are we going to see the Taylor Group entering F1 alongside Miss Horner’s Red Bull Racing? It’s only a matter of time to see.
“Shit, shit, shit” you keep saying and Sara who has only woken up looks at you like you’re crazy
“What?” she asks
“It’s all over the freaking internet.”
“You and Wolff?” she asks nervously
“No, god, it’s me and Marc”
“Wait, how did that happen?”
“Someone must have snapped a picture of us while we were kissing when the yacht was in the harbor. God this is a disaster.”
“Why is it a disaster?” she asks. Well sometimes you really doubt about her having a brain
“If Toto sees this he’s going to be feral.” you say “Oh god, I should text him right now to let him know that the whole thing is a lie.” You open the iMessage app
Wolff
[Photo]
Flying to Nice from the UK, I’ll be in Monaco for the rest of the week.
You check the time that this was sent. Yesterday afternoon. You were probably at the party then and you accidentally deleted the notification so you didn’t see the message afterwards but now you decide to reply.
You
I hope that you have arrived in Monaco safely. I am sure I will see you somewhere here before we get the chance to meet all alone. Sorry I didn’t reply earlier but I must have accidentally deleted the notification while I was at that yacht party yesterday. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you about the whole thing going around on the internet.
You see that your messages are being instantly read but you get no reply.
“The moving truck will be arriving at the apartment in 20 minutes, we must get going. Come on, get ready.” Sara says
“S, Toto is leaving me on read, do you think he’s mad at me?”
“No, he’s probably too busy in those company meetings back at Brackley.” she tries to reassure you
“Toto flew to Monaco yesterday afternoon, he’s not at Brackley.” you tell her
“Well, he’s still working from Monaco so he might reply to you later. Girl, we really don’t have time for this. It’s moving dayyy.” she says trying to hype you up. “Up, up, up” she says trying to grab you “The moving guys will be at the apartment and you will be lying here all day? Let’s get ready to move in. You’ll worry about Wolff later. And at the end you told me that you’re just hanging out, it's not anything serious so you’re free to do whatever you want. And if he’s sure that you want him he won’t even believe those things.”
You stand up before replying and put on a pair of sweats and a Red Bull t-shirt to be comfortable while moving in. “I know that we’re just hanging out at the moment. It’s just that the things are confusing as it is now, I don’t want Marc Taylor confusing them more than that.”
“He won’t. But you’ll have to worry about it from your new bedroom so, shoes on, grab your bag and let’s go to the apartment.
You do as she says and 20 minutes later you are outside your newest home getting the keys from the owner while the guys are removing boxes and furniture from the truck.
“Well, you are here.” Sara says. “I have to confess it looks really pretty and modern.”
“Sara, it’s just the outside of the building.”
“But still it’s pretty. The actual apartment is prettier though” she says and she instructs all of the boxes with your belongings and furniture to be moved to the 6th floor. For the first time in your life you will be living at the top of a building. You and Sara take the elevator to the apartment. You unlock the door while the guys are waiting for you and you enter using your right foot first.
“It’s for good luck.” you say to Sara and she smiles doing the same
For the next 5 hours you and Sara assemble your furniture and unpack the boxes with all of your stuff. You show her your ideas on how to put everything into place as you’ve imagined it and as you’ve seen it on your pinterest moodboards. At some point both of you try to settle the bed in your master bedroom. A new queen sized bed that you bought after seeing how big the room is. The one side of the loft is covered in full length glass windows that have a great view to the mediterranean with a huge balcony just in front of them that you will probably enjoy your morning tea in, during the non race weeks. The light enters every room, giving them a great coziness and openness. While you two are trying to move the bed just in the right place you remember that now you happen to have neighbors.
“Shit S, are we making too much noise?” you ask
“Well, if you know another way that we can move this monster bed and not make a sound, let me know.”
“What if the neighbors are annoyed?”
“They can fuck themselves, it’s not even quiet hours yet.” she says and you help her do the job.
After the bed gets in the right place you lay there for a second
“Horner, come on, what are you doing?”
“I am too overwhelmed by this, we’ve been working for 5 hours nonstop and this thing isn’t anywhere close to a living apartment.” you tell her
“Oh and wait till I leave you to go to the gym.” she says
“Come on Sara, you are working out here can’t you just skip the gym today and help me a little with those boxes?”
“I’ve been doing it for the past 5 hours if that says something to you. I will be leaving in half an hour though. And don’t worry. You can take it one step at a time and after some time you will manage to unpack your whole stuff.” she says smiling
“I hate you.” you tell her and you go back to work.
You set your new office in the living room, just in front of the large window so that you get enough light and inspiration from the views outside. You also set the couch and the coffee table in front, as well as your new TV. Half an hour later Sara leaves indeed for the gym, leaving you all alone for the first time in your newest apartment. That’s when it hits you and you grab your phone. The messages you sent to Toto, still unanswered and it’s been a long time since he’s read them. You decide to give him a call. You press his phone number and wait for him to pick up. You hear one, then two, then three rings and then it goes straight to voicemail. You hear his voice that you haven’t heard since Sunday. The phone rang but it went to voicemail which means that he’s declining your call. You try once again, the same thing. You get it, he’s probably angry with the whole thing but if he doesn’t want to talk to you nor do you. Instead of overthinking it you throw yourself back at moving. You blast some Taylor Swift on the speakers that you connected first thing as you entered the loft, and drop a huge box of books in front of you which you put on the built-in shelves in the living room. You use your ladder to fill the upper shelves that you cannot reach by yourself. You keep dancing, moving things, chairs, couches and tables. At some point you hear the door knocking. You turn the music off and run to the door.
“Who is it?” you ask and you hear a voice from the outside of the door
“I live downstairs and I wanted to let you know that it’s quiet time now, you are annoying us with all that music and moving things.” the voice says. You feel very embarrassed about what you did and the last thing you want is to piss your neighbor off so you decide to open the door and apologize. But when you do you freeze.
“Toto?” you say and he looks at you, his eyes wide as if he just saw something unbelievable
“What are you doing here ?” he asks
“This is my new apartment in Monaco, I was just moving in.”
“You’re joking.” he says
“Do you actually live downstairs?” you ask thrilled
“I do yeah, I live on the fifth floor loft.” he says
“How was England?” you ask and he looks at you.
“Fine.” he replies, obviously bothered.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, I texted you this morning but you didn’t reply.” you say “I also tried calling but it went to voicemail.”
“Talk to me about what?” he asks acting like he doesn’t know
“About Marc Taylor. Toto, I know you’ve seen it, it’s all over the internet.”
“I mean what would you possibly have to say about Marc Taylor? It’s a shared secret that you’ve been wanting him since high school, everyone in Monaco knows it. You must be over the moon though. Handsome, rich, young and charming. Everything you’re looking for.”
“You have to believe me Toto.”
“Believe you about what? You clearly wanted the guy since forever so why not give in?”
“You fucking know that the whole thing is fake.”
“There are pictures,” he says, keeping calm.
“You know how it fucking is Toto, those reporters only take whatever they think will make people engage more with their stories. They only caught the kiss but after that I told him that there is someone else in my life.”
“I wouldn’t know. I am not the one going around boat parties in Monaco and kissing strangers.”
“Just admit you are jealous.” you say
“Now you know what? I find it really pretentious that you get to be angry with the whole Cynthia thing and I am suddenly overreacting to seeing you kiss other guys.”
“It is not the same.”
“No, it is exactly the same and your position is way worse than mine because me and Cynthia haven’t seen each other since this thing started.” he says
“Well, it’s not like this “thing” is something exclusive so I can see and kiss whomever I want.” you say
Toto turns and looks at you and this is the first time you see a kind of hurt in his eyes
“Do you ever shut up Horner?” he asks
“I’ve told you before, only if I am made.” you say and look at him
Hearing these words probably makes a bell in Toto’s head ring because the next thing he does is to grab you by both hands and pin you against the wall like he did the first time he kissed you. He looks down at you as you look up at him and he leans in to kiss you but you push him just a little and grab his hand. You put it against your neck and once he gets the memo he applies a little pressure that makes you go crazy. He kisses you slowly and you kiss him back in enjoyment. A few seconds later he grabs you and runs into the hallway searching for your bedroom. Once he finds the bedroom with the queen size bed he rushes and pushes you to the bed. You lie on your back looking at him. The power that this man holds, you think. You slowly begin to undress him, freeing him of his gray sweatpants and leaving him only with his boxers on seeing him growing hard as he looks at you.
“Is the bed new?” he asks and you nod
“What a way to use it for the first time huh?” you say and he laughs
“Let me tell you something Horner, I don’t want you anywhere near me with a red bull shirt ever again” he says and he strips you off of the red bull shirt “It’s the biggest turn off.”
“I can see it” you tease him. At first he seems pissed off but then he takes your sweats off and then he does the same with his T-Shirt.
“Enough talking” he says and he leans in for a kiss which you deepen immediately. He leans in on you and you push him towards you from his neck as he stabilizes himself by putting one of his knees between your thighs. You feel the intrusive thought in your brain and you grind yourself on his knee
“Much needy I see ?" he asks and you do nothing but look at him
“Can’t resist mister Wolff” you say
“As you should miss Horner.” he replies and his hand moves to your chest while he starts kissing you on your neck. You feel him leaving hot trails of kisses on you as his hand cups your breast. Well he certainly has a way of doing things. His kisses leave you wanting more, needing more so to make yourself feel good you move your hips against him once again and you can feel him laugh against your skin as he moves his hand against your panties
“So wet already” he whispers to your ear sending shivers down your spine “Does he also do that to you?” he asks clearly, talking about Marc. You shake your head as the words were kind of hard to come off your mouth
“Use your words baby” he says
“No, he does not” you say while your breathing is getting heavier
“Is he better?” he asks and you shake your head once again.
“Toto please, I need you.” you say and he obeys to your plea.
He removes his briefs and pushes your panties to the side as he enters inside you. It feels good. Better than it had in Jeddah. You gasp at the move and you dig your nails on his back as he kisses you. He suddenly grabs your hands and removes them from his back while thrusting in and out in a slow but great way.
“No touching today.” he says and holds your hands over your head with his strong grip. He keeps moving as you let small moans escape and you feel like you’re in another word. You want to touch him as well and right the time that he loosens his grip on you you try to move your hands but his grip gets stronger and smashes your hands back to the place they first were. You complain for a while but he makes you feel so good that this is the last thing you care about.
“You’re so good love. Always feeling so good.” the pauses between his words are getting bigger, showing that he’s feeling as good as he does. “Good god.” he says once again and you laugh at him. He keeps going strong though, changing the tempo of his thrusts, hitting and touching all the correct places. You feel getting closer and closer to your climax but instead of laying calm you start leaving kisses on his chest.
“You make me feel so good.” you say “Fuck Toto, you’re so good. God no you’re perfect.”
“Are you close?” he asks
“Yeah” you say and you gasp “You?”
“Very” he says in between his grunts. Some minutes later you come first and he follows you shortly after while repeating your name.
Right after that both of you lay naked on your new bed. Toto is caressing your hair as you are laying on his chest listening to his heartbeat. He breaks the silence first
“Are we good?” he asks
“I am good” you reply
“I am talking about our fight.” he says
“Oh I thought that it was established when you were repeating my name while having sex with me.”
“You’re right.” he says and stares outside the window while the sun is setting. Both of you sit in silence for a minute or two until you break it
“He’s not better.” you say
“Huh?”
“Marc Taylor. He’s not better than you. It was nothing but a kiss, Toto.” you tell him “And yes, he might be a European billionaire’s son and he might as well be hot and charming but you are also all those things, which surprise, happen to be everything I seem to look for in a man. But I need you to know Toto, in my eyes you are more charming and hotter than him. I would give Marc Taylor up for you but I wouldn’t give up you for Marc Taylor.” you tell him and you look up at him while he’s staring at you, clearly paying attention to what you were telling him.
“Thank you.” he says
You keep laying there and by the time the sun sets you are already asleep. You wake up an hour later and you see Toto is also taking a nap. You nudge him and he wakes up.
“What is it ?” he says being somewhere between asleep and awake
“Nothing, we just fell asleep here.” you say
“You’ve got a nice bed. Good choice.” he says
“I know but I have to get up to finish the rest of the apartment.”
“No one is helping you?” he asks
“Sara was here until she abandoned me to go to her gym session. Now I have to do this all by myself.”
“You know you don’t have to do all of it today right? You are going to be exhausted. Plus I can also help you with unpacking.”
“No, you probably have work to do. I’ll do them by myself and tomorrow Sara will be here to help me”
“Who is Sara?”
“My best friend. She’s the one that found this apartment for me” you tell him
“So she’s the one that I have to thank?” he asks and you nod while laughing.
“You will meet her as soon as I get back to Red Bull.”
“Which is going to be when?” he asks
“I know you want to get rid of me but I don’t have any information yet. Beth usually sends me my schedule the week before each grand prix and judging by the fact that she didn’t send it until now, I think this won’t be the weekend you are looking forward to.”
“Maybe you should start packing your things for Baku.” he says
“I don’t have anything to do there.”
“Come on, I told people Mindy Rosevelt will hang with us for a while longer.”
“Second race at Mercedes?” you ask excitedly
“The Ritz in Baku has already been informed that we would like an extra suite.”
“Toto, a suite? Again?”
“You always need a suite, love.”
“Do you have plans for Baku?” you ask
“How about we go to the paddock together, you sleep in my suite and you help us during the race?”
“So you only want me to be there to tell you about Red Bull’s strategies so you can win?” you say playing offended
“I only want you to be there because you make it easier for me to focus when you are next to me rather than in the garage next to ours. And because I want you in general.” he says
“That’s a good excuse.” you tell him
“After all, even if it was only for the strategy part, you should remember that all’s fair in war.”
“And love.” you say
“That also” he replies
“When are we leaving?”
“Wednesday night, with my jet from Nice airport.”
“Good.” you say
“Put some clothes on, we are going to unpack the rest of the boxes.” he says
“Yes sir.” you say
“Sir huh? Remind me of that the next time I am laying in bed with you” he tells you and you laugh as you stand up to put some clothes on. For the rest of the evening you and Toto unpack the boxes that you and Sara left. Both of you laugh as he makes fun of your music taste. He even dared to make fun of Taylor Swift, which you did not take lightly but still forgave him when he danced with you in the living room of your new apartment and when you both watched the harbor from the balcony. It is almost midnight when he decides he has to go.
“Why do you have to go now?” you ask
“The apartment is almost ready, Sara can help you set up the last box and I have to work tomorrow, unlike you.”
“You are literally working from home and your home is downstairs, why can’t you stay for the night and leave tomorrow night?” you complain
“Because this is your apartment, your space. You have to spend the night alone to get used to the feeling.”
“I’ve lived alone before, I know how it is.”
“Yes but now it’s different, you'll see.”
“Can’t it be different with you here?”
“It can, but I am positive you will be better off alone for this night.” he says “We won’t be lost after all, I will be downstairs, you can call me any time.”
“Okay” you tell him “Can I kiss you goodnight?” you ask
“What happened to you? You are too expressive!” he says
“I know, you are not used to it.”
“No, I am used to you being expressive, just not very emotional.”
“Changed state of mind” you say
“I like it.” he says “And to answer your question” he leans in and kisses you deeply “I was going to do it anyways.”
You smile at the gesture “Goodnight Toto.” you say
“Goodnight love.” he replies and he leaves.
You close the door and walk straight to bed where you immediately fall asleep.
The next day you text Sara and she drops by for a morning coffee in your new balcony. As soon as she enters the loft she looks around.
“Wow Horner, did you get any sleep?” she asks
“I actually did.”
“How did you unpack all of those boxes by yourself?”
“I didn’t do it by myself” you tell her
“Omg, who did you invite?”
“No one, a neighbor helped me.”
“Oh, you’ve already met your neighbors? That’s crazy. Are any of them hot?”
“Yeah I met one of them because he wanted to complain about the noise. And yeah, he was hot. In fact for me he is one of the hottest.”
“What happened to Miss Toto Wolff is the hottest man on earth? Did she disappear?”
“No she didn’t, because actually Toto Wolff IS the freaking neighbor.”
“What the hell?” she asks “Girl I need coffee and Monte Carlo air STAT.”
You make her coffee and your tea and go to the balcony where you sit on a big white table.
“Turns out Wolff is my freaking neighbor. He’s living downstairs and he heard the noise during quiet hours so he decided to give me a notice.”
“But when he saw you he forgot what he noticed” she says
“No actually he did make the notice and then we pretty much fought for Marc, ended up having sex, had a nap and then unpacked all of my boxes. We danced together in the living room and then he left because he had to work today.”
“You used the bed for the first time to have make up sex with Wolff?” she asks
“I pretty much did yeah” you tell her
“You are crazier than I thought you were.” she says
“I am crazier than I thought I were” you say
You tell her everything that happened yesterday night as both of you drink your beverages watching the view from your balcony. Later on Sara helps you unpack the last box and your apartment is finally set. The next few days you pass your time by hanging out with Sara and your other best friends who happen to be in Monaco. Toto drops by some days and you two hang out for some hours until one day you finally ask him for a Mercedes project to work on so you can spend your time by being more productive. Days pass and it’s finally Wednesday morning when you are actually packing your clothes for Baku. You take mostly summer clothes even though you won’t be able to wear any of the to the paddock. You also take your extra Mercedes shirts and pants as well as Toto’s Mercedes shirt. You make sure everything is there. After that you call Sara to drop by so that you can say goodbye to her and spend the rest of the day alone at the apartment until Toto knocks the door to let you know that your driver has arrived and is ready to take you to Nice to finally fly to Baku. A car ride and a flight later you and Toto land in Azerbaijan. Both of you wait in the jet until the car is ready to take you from the plane to the hotel. At that time the cockpit door opens and you take a look inside. The pilot who goes out of the cockpit is not Mike. You raise your eyebrow at this and you look at the door more intensely for Toto to notice.
“What are you looking at?” he asks looking up from his phone
“Our pilot.” you say
“What about him, are you not satisfied?” he asks
“No, I am. But the question is, where is Mike?”
“He’s on leave, why?”
“Just wondering”
“Why would you care about him?”
“Because I like him”
“Noted” he says and turns back to his phone without speaking
“Are you jealous Wolff?” you ask
“No”
“Are you sure?”
“End of discussion” he says and you laugh
“Okay sir.” you tell him
After that the crew opens the door and you get off the plane. You already made sure that you have your mask on you so people won’t recognize you. Back to the same old ways. You take a ride to the hotel and you walk straight to your suite in which some other Mercedes employee checked you in before you arrived. Toto goes back to his own suite even though he asked you to hang out with him instead. You settle down in your suite and check Toto's schedule for the weekend
13:30-14:00: Press conference
14:10-14:50: F1 Team Principal Meeting
14:50-16:00: Coffee Break
16:00-17:00: Team Meeting
18:00-20:00: Business meeting
20:30: Dinner
You open your phone and text Toto
You
I’ve been taking a look at your schedule, is everything to your agreement?
Wolff
Yes, all is checked and approved
You
Good to know. By what I'm seeing, it’s going to be a full day. I mean press, team meetings and business meetings
Wolff
Oh is it actually on my schedule?
You
The business meeting? Yeah it’s tabbed in from 18:00 to 20:00. Should I remove it, is it wrong?
Wolff
No, let them believe that I’m busy during that time.I have already planned something. It’s not a business meeting, it is supposed to be a meeting for us two but I told Brad that I will be busy so I guess he thought it was business related
You
Oh, so I am busy from 18:00 to 20:00 too? What are we going to do ?
Wolff
I would let you be curious but we are supposed to go to a boat trip in the Caspian. I’ve chartered a boat for a couple of hours and then we will be having dinner too, so please do not wear high heels.
You
Oh I love boat trips so no high heels
It’s not like I could put heels on though, I will be dressed in the Merc gear all day long
Wolff
Well pack another outfit but still no high heels
You
Okay then. I guess I’ll see you later?
Wolff
Tomorrow
You switch your phone off and fall asleep for a few hours. It’s already early in the morning since you left Nice at night and the flight lasted a long time but thank god you didn’t have to be at the paddock until noon. You wake up at 11 and order some breakfast. You get ready and phone Toto to let him know you are ready. 10 minutes later you are on your way there in his black AMG SUV and you see the fans taking photos of the car. Well it’s Toto they’re taking pictures of since they have no idea about who you actually are. You get out of the car and go to Merc’s hospitality. You wave Toto goodbye and you go to your office while he’s off to his. Later on you hear a knock at your door.
“Who is this?” you ask
“Mindy, it’s Lewis.” you hear a voice
You stand up and put your mask on before opening the door. Better safe than sorry. When you open the door you see that it’s indeed Lewis so you welcome him in. You take off your mask and sit on the little couch
“How is it going?” he asks
“Everything’s good, thank you. How are you?”
“Good. You know how it is. Just running around, trying to keep up with everything.”
“Lewis Hamilton trying to keep up? I am pretty sure everyone is trying to keep up with you, not you with them.”
“Well yeah, when it comes to F1 it’s pretty much how you say it is. But in real life I have so many things to keep up with.”
“I bet you do. Like I am pretty sure you are flying to New York as soon as the race ends.”
“I am. Met Gala.” he says and you laugh
“So you won’t be here for post race celebrations if you win. I guess I should hand the win to George this time, or maybe let Red Bull win.”
“Don’t you dare”
“I won’t Lew, you know you’re my fav. But if you want to secure the win, I need to get in the Met next year.”
“Deal.” he says
“Oh god Lewis, I was only joking.”
“I know, but I am pretty sure that I can land you an invitation.”
“We’ll see until next year.” you tell him “Is Roscoes coming to the gala?”
“No, I am actually sending him back to Monaco for the week and then he’ll be with me in Miami.”
“Where is he going to stay in Monaco?”
“At the pet hotel.”
“Why don’t you leave him with me ?”
“In Monaco?” he asks
“I live there now”
“You do? I can leave him with you, of course.”
“If you don’t fully trust me I can ask Toto for his help. We live in the same building.”
“I have so many questions about this but I have to go. It’s gym time.” he says
“We can figure out the logistics about Roscoe later. Have a good session Lewis.” you tell him before he leaves the office
For the next hour or so you hang out in your office all alone and when it is time you leave the hospitality center to accompany him to the press conference. Just when you are outside the press conference center you see Christian and by his side a really familiar face that you cannot remember. You take another look at her while Toto stops dead in his tracks.
“What?” you ask him and he looks confused. You take a look for a third time. You see a familiar girl dressed in Red Bull gear talking to Christian. It’s then when it clicks. The girl is Cynthia. Cynthia Jones dressed in Red Bull speaking to Christian. What the heck is this about? You can feel the anger rising to your chest
“Breathe” you hear him say
“That’s too far” you tell him
“It’s crazy.” he says “Go talk to her, find out what this is all about.”
“I will" you say
“Just be careful not to reveal too many things"
“Of course"
Toto glances at his watch. 12:55
“I should get going, press is starting in 5"
“Okay, I'll see you later" you tell him and he nods “Do you wanna meet here?"
“I’ll be straight off to the TP meeting. I will see you during the coffee break, okay?”
“Okay”
“Try to find out what Cynthia is doing here.” he says
“I will” you tell him and you smile
“And if you are too angry about what you find out, I have some files you can take a look at while you’re waiting.”
“Okay” you say and you leave him. You spot Cynthia hanging out outside the press center and you decide to approach her
“Hello.” you tell her
“Hi” she replies and smiles “Oh, you’re Mindy right? The girl who gave us the Mercedes tour in Jeddah?”
“Yup, that’s me.” maybe not “What are you doing here?” you ask her
“I landed a job in Red Bull Racing. Isn’t it crazy?” she says
“Oh definitely. You went from visiting the paddock to actually working here, congrats!” you try to play excited when you are actually fuming
“It was meant to be. I landed the job when I was visiting the paddock in Jeddah.”
“How come?”
“Christian Horner met us at the paddock club and he asked what we were doing. Once I told him about my studies in management he asked to see me in person and then he proposed this job.”
“What’s your position?”
“For what I’ve understood, I am currently sort of replacing Christian’s daughter while I am also acting like his PA.”
“Oh so management?”
“It’s still too early for that title and I definitely don’t have that much freedom as an executive does. I am thinking it more like an internship in management while also being a personal assistant to Christian.”
“Oh Christian” you say and you roll your eyes
“He’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is.” she says “He might actually be better than Toto”
“Yeah, nah” you tell her “Toto is actually definitely more human-ish than Christian.”
“And how would you know? Have you ever worked with Christian?” she asks jokingly. If only she knew
“No but judging from the paddock rumors he seems to be a tough one to handle.”
“Absolutely not. He is really kind and funny. Really chill type. He made me call him by his name since day 1. It’s really like we’re friends.”
“That’s really good for you.” you say
“What about Toto?” she asks. As if she would let it go
“Mr. Wolff is really nice.”
“You’re not calling him Toto?”
“No, he prefers to keep things professional. He’s more into being formal and things.”
“Must be boring” she says
“It’s pretty good for now and I’m always guessing, familiarity might be a little too much at some point.”
“Christian has been saying this about his daughter.”
“He has?” you ask slightly nervously
“Yeah, he said that working with family might be a little too overwhelming at some point.”
“Well he’s kinda right. Did he say why she left?”
“From what I’ve taken they decided that she should take a break and she’s currently hanging out in Monaco in her new apartment. He’s thinking of taking her back by the Monaco Grand Prix but he’s not sure yet.” she tells you
“Oh, well. Whatever suits them best.”
“Yeah, we are not the ones to judge.”
“Definitely not.”
“It was really fun talking to you again Mindy. We should hang out sometime.”
“Yeah definitely.” It’s not like you slept with the man I am sleeping with. you think
You wave at her and leave the press center to wait until Toto finishes his morning tasks. You open the F1TV stream and watch his interview. When Will starts asking a question to Franz Tost you decide to text Toto about your findings.
You
Turns out Cynthia Jones is staying in my life for good cause apparently Christian hired her in my position during the Saudi GP. And I wasn’t even out of the team for a week
You see him holding his phone and taking a glance at it while Franz is speaking. He rolls his eyes and puts the phone back in his pocket. You stay once again in your office, going through Toto’s schedule for the weekend and looking at your socials. Some time later your phone rings
Wolff
She’s going to make our lives hard but it's very typical of Christian to hire someone from the first day that you left
You
She even proposed that we should hang out
Wolff
If only she knew
You
That’s what I said
Wolff
She was waiting outside the press center for Christian and now they’re both in front of me walking to the TP meeting. She’s talking and Christian is laughing like he’s having the time of his life
You
I figured she’s that type of assistant cause according to her she and Christian are practically besties now. It’s going to be a good one when I get back to rb
Wolff
Remind me to mount a secret mic and camera on you when that happens cause I want to see the Horner-Jones fight.
You
I bet you she’s going to regret the day she agreed to that position
Wolff
Whoa, too aggressive. How about checking some data before the coffee break cause rumor has it that you love reading data and commenting on them
You
Anything to get her off my mind and anything for you Mr. Wolff
Wolff
I’m flattered. There’s a file in your email waiting for your comments and questions. Bet Bono is going to be thrilled. I am off to the meeting, see you soon.
After Toto’s messages you check your email to take a look at the file he sent you. It’s full of data and details about this year’s rocketship. It is then when it hits you. The data are from the simulator and the track they’ve been using is Barcelona. In Red Bull you always used to run simulations in Barcelona so you have the exact same data from your ex team. You open them and start comparing them and finding where Mercedes lacks compared to Red Bull. You also open Adrian’s and GP’s essays on car performances and start noting any questions or things you’ve noticed. You really hope Toto will actually use them in his meeting with Bono and James. However, you keep all of the comparisons to yourself. You are not sure Toto is in favor of cheating so you will probably announce it to him later during the coffee break. You make a new file and email it to his account. Later on you hear a knock on your door.
“It’s Toto” you can hear him say and you unlock the door for him to enter.
“Hey.” you say
“Hi, how are you feeling?” he asks
“I am good. I read all the data and I relaxed so much.”
“Well, I, on the other hand, almost had a fight with Christian.”
“Why?” you ask
“Because he was being a douchebag.”
“Nah, he was just being Christian” you tell him and he laughs
“Was the data any good?”
“Yeah, I also emailed you my questions and stuff.”
“Oh, I will be forwarding them to James and Bono.”
“Speaking of the data, I saw they were sim data from Barcelona.”
“We use Barcelona almost every time for our simulations.”
“Well, it turns out, Red Bull does too.” you tell him and he looks at you, suggests to keep talking “I have the comparisons fully made here. There’s also an excel file with all the lacks and the sections Red Bull might present an advantage.”
“This is interesting.”
“I know Toto. But the thing is, I didn’t email those to you because I didn’t know if you wanted to have access to all that information.”
“I totally get it.”
“You should understand that this is confidential, but if you decide you want it, it will be in your inbox right away.”
“This file can affect the whole development path for us.” he says
“I know, that’s why I kept it.”
“You should keep it for yourself.”
“I swear I won’t give this to Red Bull.”
“I trust that you won’t” he says
“I will always have it at hand if you want to use it though. Anything for Mr. Wolff” you say and both of you laugh
“Thank you.” he says “Do you want some coffee and a snack? It’s coffee break after all.”
“No, thank you. You can leave this tiny office and enjoy your coffee in your office. I feel bad for keeping you here.”
“I am only hanging out here because I want to.” he says “But I’ll leave you alone. We’ll have enough time tonight.”
“Of course.” you smile at him
“Meet you after the team meeting ?”
“I will be waiting.”
Once Toto leaves for his coffee break and the team meeting later you decide to go out and see the track. There are some bikes available at the hospitality center so you grab one and ride at the track of Baku. You see other people doing the same thing, some of the drivers are also doing their track walks. At some point you spot Max. It’s been a while since you talked considering the fact that you didn’t even see him in Jeddah but you kept texting during that time. When you spot him it is in your impulse that you almost yell at him to go and talk to him. When you remember that you are actually supposed to be an unbothered Mercedes employee you change your mind, and as you are caught up in your thoughts you almost lose your balance. Thankfully you save it before you find yourself in the ground or the barriers and you keep your direction and finish your lap. 6 km later you are back in your office, thankfully not sweaty since you took your time to circle the track, and you also have a cup of tea and a chocolate bun as a snack. You take a bite as you see today’s headlines from the Media day and you also take a look at some market news. After a while Toto texts again
Wolff
Just finished asking all of your questions to the mechanics and they were impressed to say the least because they managed to assess some really important things for the race
You
Next time I should be present in those meetings
Wolff
I will personally make sure of it. We will be done in 25, I’ll pick you up. Don’t be late
Those 25 minutes pass by quite fast and you don't realize until Toto is knocking at your door. Thankfully you packed your stuff earlier so Toto cannot complain about you being late.
“I am impressed.”
“I didn’t actually understand how fast the time passed. Thank god I had my things packed.”
“That’s why I texted you earlier.” he says
“Yeah but you cannot complain now.” you reply
“No, the truth is I cannot.”
“Are we going straight to the boat?” you ask
“Yes, that’s why I told you to pack another outfit. Tell me you didn’t forget”
“I did not”
“Good. Now get your stuff, we are leaving.” After that both of you leave the track and go to the boat Toto has chartered for a couple of hours. He helps you hop on the boat and he does the same
“Are you going to drive this?” you ask
“Are you scared?”
“It depends on whether you are driving this thing or not”
“I am driving”
“Are you allowed to do this?”
“You are shitting yourself” he laughs
“Yeah because if we drown, imagine the headlines people will write.”
“We’ll be the next Rose and Jack.” he says
“Yeah, almost.”
“Just so you know, I am fully capable of navigating the boat.”
“For real?”
“I have a sailing license.”
“Is there anything you can’t do ?”
“Think straight when you’re with me.”
“Very funny.”
“It’s true.” he says and you take a look around and see people walking up and down the harbor “What about finally leaving? We’re going to miss the sunset if we take any longer.”
“Let’s go” he sails and he undocks the boat.
The two of you sail in the Caspian leaving the Baku port behind you. Toto is making sure that everything he does is safe, occasionally checking on the radar to see whether there are other boats in close proximity. You sit by his side and snap a couple of pictures of him while he’s driving the boat. He looks absolutely stunning. It’s already late afternoon, 19:00-ish and the sky is starting to get sweeter, indicative of the sunset later on. When you are finally out of the waters in a space that is far enough from the shore but close enough so you can distinguish the structures of the city, Toto drops the anchor and stops the boat there. “That’s quite a nice view.” you say
“I figured you would like it” he says and comes to your side
“You can actually see the whole city from here.”
“I figured that since we are not able to see the city together on foot, maybe this is the second best option.”
“It is. Although I would have loved a nice walk and a tour of the old city.”
“I would have loved that too.” he says as you keep looking at the city behind you and puts his hand on your lower back.
“This right here, is the Maiden Tower," Toto points at a tower and your gaze follows his finger
“Legend has it that a young princess jumped from the top and ended her life because her father wouldn’t accept the man she loved."
“Hope I won’t end up this way.”
“God, I hope not.” he laughs and you shift your gaze to the two largest towers in the scenery
“The flame towers.”
“I know them Toto, I’ve been coming to Baku for a while.”
“Let me give you a tour, Horner. Don’t be shit.” he says and you smile
“Go on then.”
“The flame towers were finished in 2012. The building is a little less than 200 meters and it has a double purpose. In the first tower there are a lot of offices and apartments and in the second tower there’s a hotel.”
“What are they supposed to mean?”
“They are meant to symbolize the eternal spirit of Azerbaijan and the country's enduring strength and resilience. Plus the whole flame design idea came from an Ancient Azerbaijani tradition of fire worshiping.”
“I love them, they look so pretty.”
“And right beside there’s the crystal hall.”
“Never heard of it” you say
“Eurovision was hosted there in 2012.”
“Wait, how do you know, are you a fan ?” you ask him
“No, I hate Eurovision.”
“What?!” you say surprised. “You’re European, you cannot hate eurovision.”
“I can, and I do.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s kitsch”
“It’s not kitsch, it’s camp, everyone loves camp.”
“It’s kitsch and I hate it, move on.” he says
“I cannot wait for the day that I will make you watch it.”
“I’d rather Christian find out about us.”
“That’s a bold one” you tell him
“Last but not least, the fortress.” he says ignoring you and points to it
“I’ve seen the fortress, I took a ride at the track today.”
“How did you like it?”
“It’s so pretty, but it’s prettier from the sea. And much more interesting when you talk to me about it.”
“Hm” he says and he puts an arm around you
“How did you learn all those things?” you ask
“I read a lot, even if I don’t have time to see the sights, I like to read about them, get to know the story of the city that I am in.”
“That’s fair. I was wondering because I’ve been here like five times and I’ve never gotten past the name of each sight here.”
“That’s good because you can for once, not talk and let me show you around.”
“You’re the best tour guide I’ve ever had.” you smile at him and you leave a kiss on his cheek.
During the next hour you stay on the boat in the Caspian and see the sun set on the horizon. You take a look at the flame towers which reflect the orange and pink lights of the sunset. You snap some pictures of the scenery as well as Toto who is sitting carelessly in the boat with his white linen shirt and his sunglasses on. He also snaps some pictures of you from both yours and his phone and you also take some selfies. You immediately set the best picture of him as his contact picture and once you are done with the whole photo thing you get back to where Toto is currently sitting and relax with him for a little while longer. You two soak in the views without talking much. As it starts to get darker Toto drives the boat back to the harbor where you dock and leave to get to the hotel. Both you and Toto enter the elevator to get to your suites
“You’re coming over for dinner right?” he asks
“Well, I was thinking of getting some sleep for tomorrow.”
“Come on, I’ve already asked roomservice to have our table set.”
“Now I can’t say no.” you tell him and smile at him. When the elevator gets to your floor you walk out and follow him to the door of his suite. You enter first and he follows and the smell of food hits your senses.
“It smells fantastic.” you say
“It’s traditional Azerbaijani cuisine.”
“I love it. We should have tried the Saudi Arabian foods as well.”
“Well, nothing can go wrong with Italian.” he says
“Then why didn’t we order Italian” you tease him
“Because I wanted to immerse myself in the Azerbaijani culture today.”
“Is it a part of the guided tour?”
“Well, couldn’t it be?” he says “Since I’ve already given you a sight tour, I am ready to give you a culinary tour as well” he tells you as he pulls the chair off the table so that you can take your seat
“Thank you.” you tell him and you sit down as he walks back to his side of the table and sits down
“This is called Dolma.” he says as he leaves one of them on your plate “It is grape leaves with a filling of minced lamb with rice and some herbs.”
“Interesting” you say as you take a look at the plates on the table “Oh god, is this kebab?”
“You know kebab?” he asks
“Literally everyone knows what kebab is Toto, it’s not a secret. It’s actually one of my favorite street foods.”
“It is really good.” he tells you as he grabs a bite of it “You should also try out the pilaf”
You take a look at it “What is this?”
“It’s something like a risotto I guess”
“I thought you knew the exact recipe of every single plate” you tease him
“Apparently I don’t, I just took a look at the menu and chose what I thought was best.”
“Everything looks delicious though.” you tell him
“Wait until Miami. We’re going to eat some great burgers there.”
“Speaking of which, I am not sure that I will be in Miami”
“Why ?”
“Because it was cringe enough last year, I won’t submit myself to that whole cringe fest again.”
“You will be coming.”
“Says who?”
“Me” he replies and you sit there taking another bite of your amazing food, slightly annoyed . When he realizes that what he said made you angry he talks again. “Look, it is really important that you should be there. It is supposed to be your home race, we’ve told everyone that you are American, if you are only staying for a few more races it will be weird if you are not present for the only time you will get to go to a race in your country with the team.”
“No one will remember Toto.”
“People will remember. We have a list of each race in which we note whose home race it is. And by what I’ve seen you are already on the list.”
“I didn’t write my name anywhere.”
“I am pretty sure Bradley did. He probably remembers that you are American and just added you in.”
“And what about the home race list?”
“We are kind of celebrating it by giving them less time to work during the weekend, or allowing them to bring their families in.”
“That’s so sweet though.” you say
“I mean, people are important to us, they are not just workers, they are our companions.”
“I hate this team” you say and you see Toto lifting one eyebrow at you “I mean, I hate how much I already love it. How am I supposed to go back to Red Bull?”
“You can just stay in Mercedes.”
“And say what to Christian?”
“Tell him that his team is shit, his management is also shit and that you cannot grow in that shitty environment.”
“He’ll find out that you told me to say that and then you will find yourself on the cover of Corriere dello Sport.”
“Won’t be the first time.” he laughs “ Jokes aside, would you ever consider leaving Red Bull?”
“Now I certainly do. I mean, I hadn’t seen anything aside from how Red Bull worked as a team and the race weekend at Saudi was eye opening.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I am already considering it, yes.”
“Will be nice to have you here one day, without hiding I mean.”
“I wasn’t talking about Mercedes. I am considering an offer at Ferrari.” you tell him jokingly and he almost chokes at his wine
“Where?”
“Ferrari. It’s a really great team with a great legacy.”
“Ask them for a paddock pass for tomorrow then.” he says and you burst out laughing
“I am only joking.” you tell him “I would consider it if I had an offer from another team though.”
“We will always have a position available for you if you ever decide to leave that shithole.”
“I’ll tell you when this happens.”
“There’s a when, not an if, that’s good.”
“I know what’s best for me and I am slowly convincing myself it’s not Red Bull”
“Good.” he says and you two keep eating until you hear someone knocking on his door .
“I’ll be right back” Toto tells you and answers the door. You can hear him talking with someone, his voice is quite familiar.
“Shov?What are you doing here?”
“Do you have some time to see tomorrow’s practice program?” you can hear him say
“Um, I am actually a little busy.”
“It will only take a second, you should only check and approve it.”
“I fully trust you Andrew, I approve of it.”
“Good.” he says and he almost leaves “Are you having dinner with someone?”
“Yes, with Lewis, we are discussing contract extensions.”
“Has he been here a long time?”
“An hour or so.” Toto tells him
“That’s funny, because 20 minutes earlier I was at the gym with Lewis.”
“Um…”
“It’s okay Wolff, I hope you are having a good time with whomever you are hanging out with right now” he says and laughs “Hello unknown person who is having dinner with Toto.” You hold your laugh until Toto says goodnight to him and he leaves the room. When you see Toto entering the room with his ‘I fucked up’ face, you burst out laughing and he joins you seconds later. “I hope he was not angry” you tell him
“No he wasn’t angry, I am pretty sure he was thrilled about the whole thing. He’s been trying to get me someone to hang out with for ages.”
“You are good mates huh?”
“He’s one of my closest friends, yes.”
“And he still asks for your approval for the program he wants the team to follow tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ve told him millions of times that it’s not necessary but he insists.”
“That’s so sweet of him.”
“I am only taking a look at it before approving it, it’s not like I pay that much attention, I fully trust him.” he tells you and you keep eating
“When are we leaving for Miami?” you ask
“We? I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I am, I also have to bring Roscoe with me, I promised Lewis that I will take care of him from Sunday till we get to Miami so that he doesn’t have to while he’s in New York for the Met.”
“You promised Lewis that you will carry Roscoe all the way from Monaco to Miami?”
“That we will carry him, yes.”
“How did I get involved in this? I don’t remember having any conversation about a dog.”
“I told him that I would take care of him and then I promised that you will help me since you’re now my neighbor. I figured you would know him a little better than I do. I mean Lewis brings him to the paddock almost every week.”
“And have you ever seen me with a dog in the paddock?” he asks
“No, but I thought you had a good relationship with him.”
“Me and Roscoe’s relationship is nonexistent, Horner.”
“Oh god, tell me you are afraid of Roscoes” you make fun of him
“I am thinking of leaving Nice on Thursday morning.” he says
“You are changing the subject.”
“I am not, you asked me when I plan on leaving for Miami and I answered.”
“Thursday huh? What about Media day?”
“I’ll have Shov or either one of the two James to do it and we will be present for the Free practice.”
“Cool.” you tell him
For the rest of the night you hang out together until you decide to leave.
“Will we be going to the paddock together?”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“What’s the schedule for tomorrow? Hold up, let me check.” you tell him and grab your phone out of your pocket to take a look. “Oh you have a business meeting after FP1 which is supposed to last almost until the start of FP2. James is set to do the press.”
“I don’t remember having any business meetings. Who is it with?”
You take a look at your phone reading the name which catches you completely off guard. You blink twice and take another look at it, still the same name. “Who planned this?” you ask
“I don’t know, I don’t remember planning anything for Saturday. Maybe Bradley did.”
“This cannot be real.”
“It better not be Cynthia again.”
“Who cares about her right now?”
“Will you tell me who I am meeting tomorrow for whatever reason or am I going to this meeting unprepared?”
“The guy you hated last week, Marc Taylor?”
“Seriously?”
“I am dead serious Toto, his name is here.” you tell him and show him the name on the schedule. “You are supposed to discuss sponsorship. Apparently the Taylor Group is interested in investing in F1”
“This is going to be a hell of a meeting.”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“Funny that both of the people from our past keep appearing in our ways.”
“It’s not funny, it’s shit. Toto, promise me you will handle it gracefully.”
“Dear, I have nothing to be afraid of. You’ve proven to me who you’re always thinking of. It’s pure business. If he wants to invest and it favors the team then we shall cooperate.”
You take a deep breath “That’s too much information and it’s already getting late. I am guessing I should get going.”
“Won’t you stay for the night?”
“Nah, it’s quite early in the race weekend and I want you to focus tomorrow. Both for the testing sessions and the Marc thing.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow?”
“I am actually thinking that maybe I should skip FP1 since Marc will be around, I don’t want him finding out who I am.”
“Smart idea.”
“I am going to drive myself to the track and meet you for FP2”
“Brunch at the track?” he asks
“Oh definitely.” you tell him and you kiss him goodbye as you go back to your suite. You don’t have anything to do so you decide to check your emails before going to sleep. You see a new message popping up the list From: Netflix, DTS
Miss Horner, we would like to schedule our next shooting with you for the newest season. Please let us know if and when you are available to be present at the track where the interviews take place.Kind Regards, The DTS Producers
You shrug and decide to answer From: Ms. Horner
Hello and thank you for contacting me, I am currently taking some time off the team and I am not aware of which race weekend I will be back in the paddock. I will however be happy to inform you as soon as I find out about my whereabouts within Red Bull. Regards, Miss Horner
You set your alarm at the same time Toto’s and Marc’s meeting is supposed to take place and then switch off your mobile and fall asleep. The next morning you wake up just in time to actually take a shower and get ready to go back to the track. You arrive there just in time for FP2. Everyone’s already in the garage so you decide to go there directly. As always, you see Toto sitting at the top of the fantasy island watching over the two garages. “Hello Mr. Wolff.”
“Oh, you’re here!” he says
“How did your meeting with Marco Barco go ?” you say and as soon as the words get out of your mouth you see Marc Taylor himself walking next to Toto with his headset on “How did you just call me?” he asks and you freeze, mainly because no one calls him like this except from you, the Horner you, not the Mindy Rosevelt you. “How did I call you?”
“Did you call me Marco Barco?” he says and Toto looks at the both of you slightly confused
“I called you Marc. Just Marc.” you tell him
“Alright.”
“Mindy, this is Marc Taylor, he’s the owner of our newest sponsor. We closed the deal earlier during our meeting.”
“Mr. Taylor, I am so glad that we will have you around more from now on.”
“So am I, I am glad that I actually decided to go for my instinct and invest something in F1.”
“Absolutely.”
A short minute after he asks
“Why are you still wearing a mask? Isn’t it bothering you?”
“Oh no no, it does not. I am actually wearing it because I don’t want to catch any colds and lose my internship days.”
“I see. And where are you from? Mindy right?” By the questions he asks you are already sure that he is suspecting something
“Yes, I am from Boston, US and I ended up here as an intern from Daimler US.” you say and he answers “That’s really cool.” For the rest of the time you don’t interact, Toto isn’t involving in any of your talks and you know it’s because he fears that he’ll fuck this up more if he does. However, he still speaks to you and Marc separately and when he’s talking to Marc he shows off a little more confidence and certainty. It’s like he knows that he’s better than him, which he actually is and you’ve made it clear both that night in Monaco and yesterday after your dinner. The session finishes with the two red bulls on top, followed by the two Mercedes. “P3 and 4 isn’t bad but it’s not P1 and P2 either. I know we’re running similar engine mappings and we still need to be on top.” Toto says in his message to the mechanics.“I am sure we will be there by tomorrow.” you tell him “I should go grab some food because I haven’t eaten yet. I am sure I will see you around Mr. Taylor.”
“I believe so.”
“Marc and I are going to talk a little more and he’ll be off in a while. Talk to you later?” Toto says and winks on you while Marc is on his phone “Of course Mr Wolff. See you later.” you tell him and get back at the hospitality center where you get some food which you take to Toto’s office. You unlock the door with the set of keys he has given you and you set your tray at the table beside his office. You lock the door as you stay inside in order to surprise him. After some time you can hear footsteps approaching and the door handle moves but the door doesn’t open“Oh it is locked.” you can hear Toto say and the next thing you can hear is his keys on the lock. He opens the door and just as he enters the office you speak “I thought we should have brunch together.” The man who enters the room stops dead in his tracks. Of fucking course it’s Marc, followed by Toto who is gesturing something to someone in the hallway. Toto stops and looks at you. Marc speaks first “Horner, what are you doing there?” he asks “Shush Taylor, they’re going to hear you.”
“Why are you sitting in Toto’s office dressed in Merc gear?”
“Ummm” you say and you pause to think “F1 made us have team principal meetings like this in order to boost our relationship” you tell him, not a good excuse. In fact it’s a terrible excuse. “What kind of bullshit do you think you’re selling to me?” Marc asks. Toto is just behind him shaking his head “There’s no point in trying to lie to him.”
“Isn’t there?” you ask and at the same time Marc is taking a look at you. “You’re Mindy? I figured something was wrong here.”
“Look, I need you to shut your mouth about this. No one can know.”
“Why are you here in the first place?” he asks “Christian shut her out of the team for an unknown period of time and she wanted to have access to the paddock without paying herself.” Toto says. “Why didn’t you ask Franz to take you in his team for a while?”
“Because I didn’t want Christian involved in anything.”
“So you two guys had a fight? And what about Mercedes Toto, how is the team going to be safe with all of this.”
Toto tries to explain the situation to Marc “She has already signed NDAs about the team, and I wouldn’t even take her in if i didn’t trust her.” You take a deep breath and Toto understands the position you are in so he decides to leave you and Marc alone for a second “Should I go fetch us something to drink?”
“Yes please.” you tell him
“Why did you end up out of the team in the first place?”
“I was late to a business meeting. You know how Christian is with them.”
“And he threw you out. How long has this been going on ?”
“Not long ago, the GP in Jeddah was my first one with Merc.” you say. Marc stays quiet for a while and his eyes spark with realization a minute or two later. “Oh god, it’s him, isn’t he?”
“What?” you ask him. “The guy you’re heads over heels with? The situationship man! That’s why he’s the one you turned to for the paddock access and that’s why he gave it to you. You two are dating right?”
“Well yeah, it is him but I told you before, no one can know okay?”
“Of course. How long have you been together?”
“We are not together yet, we are just spending time.”
“Yeah right and he took you in his team because he’s just spending time with you.” he tells you and you laugh “I might not know him for a long time but I can tell who I am making deals with. He’s a very direct guy.”
“I know he is.”
“If it’s not me, he’s the next best option.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying since this has been happening.”
“I am happy for you, really.”
“Thank you Marc.” you tell him. Later on Toto comes back with your drinks and the three of you discuss for sometime. Later on and only after you’ve completed your duties for the day you wave Toto and Marc goodbye and go back to your hotel. You sit in your room, have an extra long video call with Sara in which you tell her everything about today and all the days you’ve been missing from Monaco and she texts you a photo from her balcony in Monaco which you post in your official instagram story in order to make everyone believe that you are actually there and not in Azerbaijan. You watch a bunch of drive to survive episodes to prepare for your upcoming interviews and then take a long relaxing shower. Before you even realize it is time for dinner and just as you were thinking of it you get a text
Wolff
Are you coming over for dinner?
You
Nah, I am actually thinking that maybe I should get some rest before tomorrow. I will be ordering something here instead
Wolff
Okay. I hope you are alright
You
Yes, all good but I would like to be excluded from tomorrow’s practice session. Only if I am not needed that is
Wolff
You are always needed but you are always working hard and think you deserve to have the session off
You
Thank you Toto, I won’t forget that ;)
Wolff
I hope you won’t
After your chat with Toto you decide to order some dinner in your room and after that you spend some time on your socials before going to bed. The next day you wake up early as you hear someone knocking at your door. Well, it’s not just someone, in fact, it is Lewis who is at your door and right by his side is his best friend, Roscoe. You were expecting them since Lewis told you he would bring Roscoe over to your suite before hitting the track for FP3 and now you are supposed to take care of him and bring him back to the paddock just before qualifying, when Angela will take over from you. “Good Morning. Were you sleeping?”
“I was yeah but I was planning to wake up either way.”
“This is my good boy Roscoe” he says and he kneels and pats his back “Good boy” he says. “He is adorable.” you tell him and you also kneel to pet him. “He might be a little shy at first, he just wants a lot of cuddling and playing. I am sure he will love you though.”
“I hope he will, we will have to spend some time together before Miami.”
“Toto mentioned that you didn’t want to come, did you decide otherwise?”
“I did yeah, we are planning to come on Friday so Roscoe will be there by then. When are you flying from New York?”
“Thursday morning, I have media duties, I am not like you.” he laughs
“Well, I am not going to the Met either so I guess we are even.”
“Yeah right. Am I going to see you at qualifying?”
“Of course, I plan on coming, I will bring Roscoe to you later.”
“Good, see you then I guess.”
“Bye Lewis.” you say as you wave him goodbye. Roscoe and you enter your suite and you can see him running in his tiny feet trying to take in the space around him. You decide to take a shower but you leave the door open and as soon as you come out of the tub you find Roscoe sitting there waiting for you. For the rest of the time you play with his favorite toy that Lewis left you and he lies on your side as you take a look at the morning news. When the time comes, you get ready and hit the track once again but this time with Roscoe Hamilton on your side. You can see photographers taking pictures of you but you remain completely calm as your face mask and your hair hide your real identity and enter the Mercedes hospitality. You drop Roscoe off to Lewis’ suite where Angela takes over, and text Toto who you can clearly see from the garage that you’re currently sitting in. Toto is just outside making statements to broadcasting channels and companies ahead of qualifying and you are sitting there on the right side of his chair waiting for him to come back as soon as the broadcast of qualifying begins. The session is pretty good for the team, meaning Mercedes and the drivers manage to get P2 and P3. Max is sitting in P1 for tomorrow’s start, a brilliant lap from him you think. “2nd and 3rd are pretty good positions.” Toto says. “The only thing that scares me is Max in P1.”
“We’ve got him, the setup for the race will be even better, Mick has been running the data from the analysis the engineers made based on your comments on the simulator and we’ve seen impressive lap times. We’ll get this for sure.”
“I never doubted their skills, I am sure they can even make the Williams work.”
“They are not doing miracles, they are just engineers.” Toto says and you laugh “They had some good guidance, we wouldn’t have found the exact setup if it wasn’t for you.”
“It’s just Saturday though. We will see tomorrow.”
“You’re right.” he tells you “About tonight, you don’t have any plans right?”
“Except for laying in bed as soon as I get back and ordering dinner I don’t plan on doing anything else.”
“Dinner and movie then?” he asks and you nod “Hitting the track together ?” you ask and he blinks a couple of times. “How come?”
“Well, won’t I be sleeping in your suite tonight?”
“I am surprised that you’re even proposing that.”
“Well if you don’t want to, I have plenty of space in my suite, I will be sleeping all alone again.”
“Okay, dinner and sleepover in my suite for tonight.”
“Will you be doing press?” you ask.“Only for an hour or so, after that I need you with me in the post qualifying meeting with the mechanics.” he tells you. “Where?” you ask surprised. “I need someone to write some notes down for me during that meeting so I figured you would want to join.”
“But-” you hesitate and he interrupts you before you can finish up your sentence “I don’t have any issue with you, I fully trust you.”
“I know, you’ve been quite vocal about it.”
“Well, best believe it. Also, you won’t be there just for note taking, you can partake to the whole meeting with your points or ideas”
“You cannot be serious.” you tell him. “I am as serious as it gets Horner. Wait for me outside your office in an hour.” Toto says as he waves at you and disappears from your sight. After an hour you find him outside your office. Both of you attend the post-quali meeting where you participate with a lot of questions about the performance of the car. At some point you also hear praise from Bono about the setup that you proposed. Well, he didn’t exactly give credit to you, since for him it’s nowhere near your job to give mechanical input about a car set up but he did say that whoever came up with the insights on the setup was a great help. The car was flying compared to the free practice yesterday. It turns out that you actually helped them and you now, more than ever, feel a part of a team that embraces you even if it isn’t directly said to your face. As soon as the meeting is done you and Toto go back to the hotel, wasting no time in the paddock. You get directly back to Toto’s suite where food is already served. The both of you eat and then you relax for a while on the couch
“I am so exhausted from today.” you tell him
“Do you want to sleep?” he asks
“How about we watch a movie?”
“You are going to sleep in the first 5 minutes”
“I promise you I won’t” you tell him “Not if the movie is good anyways”
“How about La La Land?” he asks and you look at him and burst into laughter. “You want to watch La La Land? Are you serious?”
“I just happen to know that you love it.”
“Yeah but do you actually like it?” you ask. Toto clears his voice“Um, I haven’t watched it.” and you answer surprised “You cannot be serious.”
“I am. Whether you believe it or not, I don't watch such movies. Or any movies at all.”
“You are traveling 300 days out of 365 and you don’t watch movies? What do you do on the plane?”
“Read the news, sleep. It’s not that I don’t watch movies, it’s just that it is not on a regular basis.”
“I will make you a cinema fan, I swear. La La Land was game changing for me. That’s what we are going to watch. I don’t care if you don’t like musicals.” you say and you navigate in the TV menu to find the movie stream “Oh and by the way, if you haven’t watched Mamma Mia yet, I will get my ass off this suite and not talk to you until you watch it.”
“I have watched it and I can say that I actually liked it.”
“Aren’t you ashamed to say it Mr. Perfect Image?” you ask him. “Not to you. You clearly watch that kitsch fest that is Eurovision and love musicals so I am not the one to be ashamed here.” he says. “Hey!” you yell at him.“Just press play Horner.” he says and you follow his instructions. During the whole movie you can see he watches with pure interest, even during the songs which he doesn’t know he seems like he’s having fun. You are doing your part to keep him entertained, singing all the songs since this is probably your 50th rewatch. You make all the fun and smart remarks that you’ve seen on socials from other fans of the movie to keep him engaged. When the movie ends, during the epilogue scene and towards the end you can see him tensing, kind of trying to cover his emotions up. As the credits roll you turn to him. “So? What do we think about one of the most amazing musicals made to this day?”
“The ending” he says and pauses. “The ending what?” you ask him. “The ending was weird. Like it really made you believe that this could work but it actually was the ‘What could have been’ moment. It was kind of brutal.”
“Well, that was the intention. To show that two people had to let go of each other to achieve their dreams. It’s because they loved each other that they decided to do this. Now that I am thinking of it, it kind of is brutal, but it’s realistic. Life is brutal sometimes.”
“Do you analyze every movie that you see like this?”
“Well, yeah? That’s the point of watching a movie, it’s not looking at beautiful pictures for three hours straight and then going to sleep.”
“So you’re really passionate about it then.”
“I am yeah.”
“It’s kind of nice that you find things that you really like and are so passionate about them”
“You can also do it, you know. Being that one guy who’s obsessed with managing a team, finance and racing isn’t all you can ever be. You can have hobbies and other interests. I just think you are scared to break that flawless facade, which is funny because I genuinely believe that you are a man that is full of passion and you want to show it to people. You are afraid that if anyone outside of your safety bubble finds that you are human and not a well programmed robot that performs at its peak day in day out, your life will end. I know you try to be open about things that concern you and people around you, like how you’ve been speaking out about your mental health, but showing your real self can be hard for you but you should really try.” you tell him and he sits there just listening “How about we make this a thing? Movie night, once a week. Or more if you have more recommendations.”
“Am I about to turn you into a cinema noob?”
“Shut up.” he says and checks his watch that is resting on the arm of the couch you are currently sitting on. “How about going to sleep? We have to be at the paddock tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah sure.” you say and both of you walk off to the bedroom where you sleep until Toto’s alarm goes off. “Good Morning.” he says, his voice deeper than usual, with that sleep raspiness standing out “Hello.” you tell him and you can feel him shifting next to you“It’s race day”
“I am aware. I have a really good feeling about today.”
“Hm” he says “Do you sense a win?” he asks and he plants a kiss on your cheek. You could get used to it. “I actually do. I feel like we are going to do well.” and you can almost hear him laughing “Who’s we?” he asks you. “Mercedes?” you tell him and he laughs, content that you actually consider his team yours by now.You lay still on the bed for a few more minutes, sitting in complete silence but you can feel the two of you debating whether or not you should get off the bed. You and Toto are too lazy to do anything but like always he’s the one who takes the initiative and moves. “Come on, get yourself ready. We have to be down at the paddock in 45 minutes.”
“I don’t need 45 minutes.”
“Oh you’re sure about that?” he asks. “Positive. You can time me if you want.” you reply.“Yes?” he asks. “Yea. But I am not going to race myself to get ready without breakfast first.”
“I thought you were smart enough to figure out that we are always having breakfast at the track.” You don’t reply, you just sit and stare outside the window while Toto is using his phone. With his serious voice he says “Hey Siri, call Jasmine.” and then his phone starts dialing. It’s not after a minute that a female voice answers the phone. “Hello Jasmine, this is Toto, can I have my full breakfast order done and served in 45 minutes in my office?” he asks and waits for a few seconds. “I also want two servings of the same order, that in my office too, same time.” he says and you smile at the chat he’s having with his employee. “Also, it is really important that you find Mr Lord and let him know that I will not be available for the next 2 hours and I don’t want any distraction while I am in my office. Yes. Yes. Thank you Jasmine.” he says and he ends the call. “Now that you know breakfast is waiting, go get ready. Now.”
“Is this an order?”
“I am already counting.” he says and you run to get ready.You start running around his suite grabbing all of the things you need for race day as Toto sits on the couch scrolling on his phone while he gives you some glances. 15 minutes later you are ready to go, bag on your shoulder, shoes on. “I’m ready” you say standing and looking at him. “You are quick.” he says, still scrolling. “I am. We could go now, although you are not ready.”
“It won't take more than 5 minutes.”
“Really?” you ask “Yes. I just put my clothes on, get my iPad and my computer in my bag and I’m ready to go.”
“Oh I thought you needed time to get your face ready for cameras.”
“Nope, I’m all natural, the one who needs to get her face ready is you.”
“I didn’t do anything on my face except from washing it and applying some sunscreen. I am 100% natural today.”
“I see. Although you cannot convince me that when you were at Red Bull you took less than 35 minutes to get ready.”
“Well yeah I needed like half an hour to get my hair and make up done. I have to get camera ready every day. I was always late and Christian yelled at me so many times. Now no one sees me so it really doesn’t matter if I look like shit.”
“You don’t look like shit, you are great.” he tells you “Aw thanks.” you say and you drop your bag on the floor and sit next to Toto on the couch and give him a peck on his cheek. He turns and looks at you and kisses you right on the lips, instantly deepening the kiss laying you on the couch. You smile in that kiss and keep going, tangling your fingers on his hair, pulling him closer. He puts his hand under your waist and pulls you closer and you can already feel a burning desire. “How about we get back to bed?” he asks. “We have to go Toto” you manage to say between kisses.“I don’t want to leave.” he says. “We can miss the race to be honest.” you tell him. “Yes we can.” he tells you “But we won’t. Plus you’ve already ordered us your breakfast”
“You’re better.” he says and you scoff when you hear his words. “Oh god, behave Wolff” you tell him and you push him away teasingly. You walk away from him and he sits there, resting his head on the back of the couch trying to calm himself. “You got to get ready now”
“Okay.” he says unwillingly and stands up and starts getting ready. Half an hour later you take the walk from the hotel to the paddock which has already begun getting flooded with people. Both you and Toto take your breakfast at his office and then you follow him around in his pre race routine, from fan zones to debriefs, to interviews and finally to the grid. You spot Christian and Max many times during your time there but Toto doesn’t say anything more than a Hello to both of them. You watch Max get ready to hop in the car in front of both Lewis and George and can’t help but feel a bit of anger that he is sitting on pole. You know Mercedes’ car is fast, it’s more deserving to be in P1 than Max. You know you have to work hard to bring them in P1 and P2, because the Red Bull is not slow either, you know the car from inside out, and you know it’s capable of winning. It’s only a race’s time. When it is time you manage to greet Lewis in a flurry of cameras, fans and engineers at the grid and head back to the Mercedes garage. As you head towards the entrance of the garage you hear your (fake) name being called and you turn to see Cynthia outside the Red Bull garage as she shouts good luck to you and you yell back at her, wishing her good luck. You take your place at the fantasy island and watch the race start. Max launches off perfectly, at the right time and Lewis and George get a little left behind. As the race goes on, Max is still in front of the two Mercedes drivers, who are actually closely following him. You keep watching fully focused on the telemetry screens in front of you, and listening to the talks between team members about pace and strategy. Not long after the race start, you see both cars overtaking the Red Bull and launching off into the distance. The cars are quite quick but Max keeps following them, in DRS range. The rest of the field stays back as the two black and the one blue car fight to get the first place. As soon as it is time for strategy calls you can hear the team agreeing on a double stack for the pit stops, and so it happens, but as it is normal, double stacks can’t always be flawless. George’s stop is perfectly timed and great in duration so that the undercut will be strong enough but on the other hand, Lewis who has been really unlucky with some shitty stops has it again. The front right tire doesn’t come off as quick and the stop lasts a whooping 5.6 seconds, which makes Lewis lose a track position to Max and a whole 2 seconds to him as well. Toto gets so frustrated with the stop that he smashes the desk like he always does and the race continues. Toto is all the time on the radio with the strategists and the mechanics and as a result he has no time to talk to you. Lewis is chasing Max but failing. Max is much quicker than he is and when he does reach him he is not able to make a move on him. The race finishes with George in 1st place, Max in 2nd and Lewis in 3rd. As always Toto reaches and presses the button to congratulate George and you can see the message being broadcasted on TV. George happily replies and celebrates, thanking Toto and the team. And then Toto moves on to congratulate Lewis. Lewis is much less excited than George was. He just thanks Toto and the team and switches his radio off. You realize from the first minute of the broadcast that Lewis is kinda pissed off and disappointed.
“We won” Toto turns and tells you with a smile on his face. “Lewis is disappointed I’m sure. But yeah at least George won.” you tell him. “I know Lewis will be disappointed. We let him down today, he’s not going to be glad. He did everything he could but still the car just couldn’t work to get past Max.”. “I am really hoping he will be alright.”
“It’s Lewis, he’s always bigger than this. A title got stolen from him and he kept on going. I am sure he’s going to come out of this car, go to press and celebrate with us even though he might feel bitter about the third position.”
“Yeah, you probably know him better than I do.” you say and then Toto leaves you in the garage while he’s walking around the paddock talking to journalists, Sky Sports, F1 TV. Later on there’s indeed a celebration with the team for George’s win and Lewis’ podium and everyone gathers there. There’s the usual team picture and then the champagne celebrations which everyone tries to avoid but gets caught up to. After the whole thing winds down you find Lewis sitting outside the garage and you sit with him “Congrats for today!” you tell him trying to cheer him up “Uhh, I don’t know man, this isn’t my best result, but thanks either way.”
“Come on Lewis, you know you did the best you could, and it’s okay, I was in the garage next to Toto and right after that mistake he kept on trying and asking on how you could get past Max and even George but I guess the stars didn’t align for you today but for George.”
“I guess you’re right. I feel like I am overreacting but you know I have to keep my head up, nothing comes out of complaining.” Lewis says. “You just somehow became your own therapist and you overcame the whole thing in like 5 minutes. I hate you.” you tell him laughing. “I’ll teach you how to do it, it seems like you will need it when you leave us.” he says reminding you of your situation in Red Bull. “Definitely” you tell him and you sit there in silence for a while until Toto comes by you. “We’ve got to get going, we only got one and a half hour before the jet leaves”.
“You’re leaving now?” Lewis asks and Toto nods but some mechanic comes to talk to him
“Will Roscoe be joining us?” you ask. “About that, I will be flying with Valtteri and will drop him to Nice before flying to NYC. I was thinking about spending a little more time with Roscoe before dropping him off to you. Is it okay if Valtteri drops him by your place later on?”
“Oh no problem, give him my number so that he can text me once you are in Nice.”
“Great!”
“Lewis I really gotta get going, I have to pack my things back at the hotel before leaving.”
“Of course. I’ll see you in Miami. Take good care of Roscoe.”
“I will” you tell him and you wave him goodbye. After that you leave the track alone since Toto is still busy at the track. You go back to your suite and pack your things and with 45 minutes still left you take your phone and ring Toto. “Are you in your room?” you ask. “No, still at the track.” he says and you reply slightly surprised “Wait, what are you still doing on track?”
“I am having a discussion with Stefano about technical directives and he can’t stop talking.”
“Are you sure you’re going to make it? Are your stuff packed?”
“No they are not, I thought I would have enough time to do it now but he thinks we are having a meeting.”
“Why don’t you tell him that you have to catch your flight?”
“Because he will propose that we fly together” he answers “I keep checking my watch but he doesn’t get the message”
“Oh then try to get out of this discussion asap.”
“Will do. See you in a while” he says and he hangs up. You check your bag and you find Toto’s suite card so you decide to go to his suite and pack his suitcase. You take everything off the closet and start folding them and placing them in his carry on, take his shoes as well as his stuff from the bathroom and place them in the suitcase. Lastly you take all of the chargers and laptops and stuff them into his bag. You take a seat on his couch now both of your suitcases fully packed and ready to go but he’s nowhere to be found. 20 minutes before the time that you have to be in the airport your phone rings and his name pops up on the screen. You accept the call. “Hey” you say. You “We are not going to make it on time. I only just got to the hotel.” he says and you hear footsteps outside his door. “And? We still have 20 minutes.”
“Everything is unpacked. We are going to be late.” he replies and the door opens. He sees you sitting on the couch and ends the call. He walks in the hallway with a confused expression“What are you doing here?” he says and you point at the suitcase and bag left in the middle of the living room area. “I packed.” you tell him and you smile. At this very moment you see a very anxious but happy Toto walking towards you and placing a kiss on your head. “Thank you” he says. “I had time to kill, a spare key card and I figured you might be late so I thought why not. I hope that I packed them in the right way. Oh and make sure that I got everything.”
“It’s perfect, thanks.” he says and he takes a look around the suite, looking for things he might have forgotten. Five minutes later you are ready to go, you leave the hotel, you drive to the airport and get there 10 minutes late but still the jet is ready to go. You board, take the seat opposite to Toto and get as comfortable as you can, he takes a book out of his bag and places it on the table in front of you. You take off from Baku and you start feeling slightly worn out. “Sleepy?” he asks. “Is that so obvious?”
“Yes.”
“It’s just that races wear me out so much. In Red Bull it was easier but now I literally spent twice as much energy because of the whole hiding thing.”
“I get what you mean, I can’t get through it without a cup or two of coffee”
“It is funny because the race is during the afternoon but it still drains me”
“You should sleep.” he tells you. “I won’t.” you tell him and he hums “So, tell me about the technical directives you were discussing with Stefano.” Toto starts explaining what he and Domenicalli were discussing along with some other team principals and you try really hard to follow what he was telling you. You were asking him questions but you felt your eyes burning “I will just close my eyes because they hurt but I will keep listening.” you tell him. “Sure” he says and he laughs. “Hey, I won’t sleep.” and he teases you “I bet you won’t.”. You close your eyes and you follow Toto’s voice, keep asking him questions and discussing until you are less and less conscious and fall completely asleep. Almost 4 hours after, you wake up, feeling the plane descending into lower altitudes. You feel surprisingly warm and open your eyes only to see Toto’s jacket all over you. You slept through the whole flight. You move slightly and Toto, who is sitting just opposite to you reading his book lifts his eyes from the book to you.“Glad to see you didn’t sleep.” he tells you “Hey, don’t make fun of me!”
“I love it when you know you are not right and still try to convince others that you are.” You roll your eyes at his comment and take a look outside the window. “Where are we?”
“Almost in Nice, we will be landing in 20”
“Cool. I can’t wait to sleep in my bed.”
“You’re not coming over?”
“No, I’ve had enough of you during the past days.”
“Right.”
“How’s your book?” you ask. “It is good.” Toto says
“I’ll read it after you.”
“I’ll be happy to lend it to you.”
“Oh and if I like it I will need access to that Wolff Reading List.”
“I don’t have a reading list.”
“Oh god what?”
“It is not a competition Horner, I read for my pleasure.”
“So do I but I have a reading list. I read reviews and I sometimes write them anonymously.”
“Well, I don’t give a shit about reviews, I read the synopsis and if I find it interesting I read it. I am sure some of my favorite books have the shittiest reviews but I don’t care.” he says. “Wow, you are stronger than I am. If a review isn’t good I won’t even start the book.”
“That’s some of the shit people of your generation do”
“Oh yes I keep forgetting that you are a boomer.” you joke “We are not going to discuss this again.” he says in a strict tone “Okay sir.” you mock him. “Fuck off, go back to sleep.” he says and he turns back to his book. “Thanks for the blanket by the way.” you say but he gives you no answer and you laugh. “Are you going to drive me back to Monaco?” you ask. “No you should call Marc” he says. “I hate you Wolff.” you tell him. “I hate you too.” he laughs. A short time after you land in Nice and contrary to what he said earlier, Toto orders for all of your baggage to be loaded to his car. You take the drive back to Monaco while discussing paddock gossip which Toto repeats isn’t a thing he does but he happily participates in the whole discourse. Half an hour later you arrive at home, Toto parks the car in the garage and you get your bags out of the car and take the lift to your apartment. You hug him goodbye and go to your apartment where you instantly unpack and get comfortable and sit in your bedroom where you binge watch gossip girl until it is late enough and Valtteri is calling you to drop Roscoe off. You text him your details and 5 minutes later he’s knocking your door. “Hi Valtteri.” you greet him. “Hi” he says shyly, holding Roscoe’s leash on his one hand and a bag with Roscoe’s food and toys
“Lewis told me to drop those off. Including Roscoe.”
“I will be taking care of him while Lewis is in New York For the Met Gala.”
“Oh yeah, I would take care of him but Tif and I have to go to a bike competition in France”
“Don’t worry, I will take care of him instead. Good to see you, did you have a nice flight?”
“Yes, it was pretty decent, you know how it is when traveling in private.”
“Yeah definitely.” you tell him. “We missed you in F1, when are you coming back?” he says and for a moment you freeze before you register that you supposingly weren’t in Baku this weekend. “I missed you guys too. I don’t know when I am coming back yet, I am still adapting to my new life here in Monaco.”
“You are right, we will be happy to see you back.”
“Thank you for dropping Roscoe off for me”
“You’re welcome.”
“Good luck for your competition.”
“Thanks, goodnight!” Valtteri says and leaves you with Roscoe.
Roscoe gets in and moves around the apartment trying to get used to it. You play a bit with him but at some point you are too tired and get to bed where Roscoe joins you and curls next to your feet and falls asleep. You do the same for the night. The next day you wake up in your new home, register the fact that now you have to take care of Roscoe. You take him out for his morning walk and you go back home where you decide to text Sara once again.
You
I am back in Monaco. Are you up for some coffee?
Sara
Oh welcome back! Of course I am up for coffee. Your place or mine?
You
Cafe de Paris in an hour?
Sara
Omg sounds perfect. Gotta go get ready.
You
I will be bringing Roscoe over too
Sara
God I love this dog. Of course bring him over, the dog is a socialite
You shut your phone and start getting ready, dressing up appropriately for the Cafe de Paris. You feed Roscoe and get him ready and after an hour you are sitting in Cafe de Paris with Sara. You both enjoy your drinks while the bulldog is sitting by your side and you keep gossiping about people you know. Sara spills her work gossip and you keep discussing different bullshit. Time goes by and both of you get hungry so you propose cooking dinner at your place. You and Sara get back home and you start cooking a risotto while she drinks wine and you tell her all the paddock gossip. “So turns out Christian hired that bitch who was hooking up with Toto.”
“He did what?”
“Yeah, he hired her during my first week off the team.”
“Oh my gosh. I might sound a bit harsh but don’t you think that your dad is a bit problematic?” Sara asks “I’ve been thinking that since I officially joined the team, S. I just don’t understand his logic” you say and you hear your phone ringing. When you check you see Christian’s face popping up.“Speak of the devil”.
“Hey dad” you say
“What are you doing?”
“I’m good you?”
“No, I mean, what are you doing outside with Hamilton’s dog?”
“Oh Roscoe? Lewis is flying to the Met Gala and he wants someone to take care of his dog.”
“And you suddenly became best friends with Hamilton that he trusts you with his dog? You have the audacity to walk him in Monaco’s most crowded places? There are pictures all over the internet.”
“I think you are overreacting.” you tell him
“How did the dog end up in your hands? Were you in Baku yesterday?”
“What the fuck dad? I was in Monaco, I had Valtteri drop him off.”
“Are you teaming up with them? Do you think it’s going to make me change my mind and take you back?”
“Look, I have a risotto cooking up on my stove and I do not plan on burning this place down, so let me get it straight for you. I am just taking care of a dog that for some reason triggers you in a way that nothing ever has. I am doing a favor to a friend. Nothing to piss you off. I don’t know why you think everyone is constantly plotting against you but the reality is that we are not. Take a chill pill and get used to seeing pictures of me with Roscoe until Lewis takes him back. And for fuck’s shake, let me live my life.” you say and you turn off the call. “What was that about?” Sara asks. “There are pictures of us and Roscoe from today and Christian was pissed because of a freaking dog.”
“Oh then you were right to speak to him like that”
“Thanks” you say. As soon as the food is ready you and Sara enjoy your lunch at your balcony with a sea view and after a couple of hours she leaves you alone. You clean up the kitchen, do the dishes and get changed to a tracksuit and a pair of sneakers for Roscoe’s night walk. You enjoy a walk along the coast of Monte Carlo and later on you come back to your building. To your surprise you see Toto just outside, dressed in a suit while waiting for his car. “Hi” you tell him. “Hello. Out for a walk I see?” he asks. “Yes, Roscoe needed his night walk.” you say as Roscoe approaches him. Toto instantly takes two steps backwards looking at the bulldog “Where are you off to?” you ask. “I’m going to a business meeting.” you are interested about his day “With a sponsor ?” and he replies giving you all the information you ask for “No, it’s for one of my finance jobs.”
“I see.” you say and you spot someone with a phone pointing to you two “We are being videotaped”
“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen you in the paddock miss Horner” he says “Oh yeah, I’ve been having some time off that’s why.”
“I’ve heard the rumors, met your substitute as well. When do you think you’re coming back ?”
“I haven’t decided yet, I am still recharging to be honest.”
“Good thing to do. Take your time”
“Thank you Mr. Wolff, take care.” you tell him and leave him to go back to your apartment. You take Roscoe off his leash and he slowly walks to his bed where he falls asleep. You lay on your couch and check your socials. It’s the first Monday of May and your timelines have already been flooded with Met Gala content, from the setting of the red carpet to some of the celebrities and acquaintances getting ready for the event. You promised Lewis that you will stay awake to see him on the red carpet and for this reason you decide to take a nap. It’s not that late but since you have to wait for Lewis until later that night you chose to kill some time this way so you drift off to a sweet nap. In the middle of your sleep you hear the doorbell ringing and you walk half asleep to the door where you check through the peephole to see who it is and you see the one tall austrian outside your door dressed with the same clothes as earlier. You open the door and you let him in.“What are you doing here?” you tell him, voice sounding a bit hoarse so Toto gets the hint. “Have you been sleeping? Did I wake you up?” he asks a little worried, “Ummm, you kinda did” you tell him, “Oh sorry, I should go then, let you rest.”
“I was going to wake up anyway. I promised Lewis I will watch him on the red carpet today.” you tell him and he asks “What is it today?”. You laugh with his ignorance “Oh god we are never going to get an invite if you keep asking those questions.”
“Why do we need an invitation for this?”
“It’s one of the most exciting nights of the year Toto, the Met Gala, every relatable celebrity dresses up in custom designer pieces that match to a theme and they have a dinner or something.”
“Prom for rich people?”
“Kinda. I am surprised you aren’t aware of it, since Lewis has been going during the past 3-4 years if I’m not mistaken.”
“Pop culture isn’t my thing.” he says while he takes off his jacket and hangs it on a chair nearby. “I can see it” you reply. Toto joins you on the couch, he sits on the side, takes off his shoes and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. You grab your computer and sit close to him. You open the TV and you play the Vogue Livestream of the event while Toto sits bored next to you switching his gaze from the television to the ceiling, to your laptop, to you and then back to the television. As you are watching the event, Toto stands up and takes a look at your bookshelf and he picks a book which he starts reading while you are too busy waiting for Lewis. Toto speed reads the book as you text Lewis asking him to let you know when he will be joining the red carpet. At some point you distinctively hear Roscoe’s paws on the floor as he runs to the living room. He sits just below your feet which you have laid on the coffee table while Toto is laying on the long side of the couch. Roscoe takes a look at you and then at Toto, both of you too far absorbed to be paying attention to him and for this reason the poor dog decides to make you pay attention to him. Roscoe starts barking and in a fraction of a second, Toto slams his book close and starts backing up and climbing on the back of the couch. When you notice him you burst out laughing. You should have been aware that Toto is afraid of Roscoe, that’s why he was skeptical about having the dog in the same place as him during a transatlantic flight. It seems so hilarious to you that a grown ass man such as Toto is afraid of an old bulldog, mainly because Toto is who he is. The intimidating boss, the scary rival. You immediately grab your phone and start recording. “Lewis, I know you’re in line for the red carpet and you probably won’t see this until tomorrow but you have to see this.” you say as you record yourself and then turn the rear camera on. “I don’t know if you are aware of it but it seems like Mr. Wolff here is afraid of your dog.” you say as you see Toto on the back of the couch and Roscoe staring at him. “Hey! It’s not funny, please get him to leave!” he says and just as he completes his sentence Roscoe continues barking at him, Toto’s expression is essentially pure panic at this point but you continue laughing. You know Roscoe just wants to play with him but he is not very much aware of it. “Please just stop recording and get him out of here” he says again, you are still recording. “He’s not going to hurt you” you tell him, “You don’t know it” Toto replies. “Okay Lew, I have to take care of this, we are still waiting for you here” you say and you show the Vogue Livestream on your TV “Have fun!” you say and you stop recording, sending the video to Lewis. After that you leave your phone down, you grab Roscoe and bring him by your side, far from Toto, who seems like he lost 5 years of his life. The dog lays on the couch as you rub his belly and he seems happy. “See, that’s what he wanted. Just a bit of attention and love.” you tell him “Well, if he wanted that he shouldn't have barked at me. I was scared to death”
“Toto Wolff is afraid of dogs.” you say “I am. You cannot imagine how many times I’ve managed to avoid any interaction with this dog during the past 8 years.”
“I was just wondering how Lewis didn’t have any idea of this.”
“Oh, did you send the video? Did I make a fool of myself on Lewis as well?”
“No, that’s not making a fool of yourself, that’s adorable”
“Until Lewis posts it on his socials”
“He won’t” you say
“You don’t know Lewis, he loves making fun of me every chance he gets”
“I mean sometimes you’re hilarious so he’s right, you shouldn’t be angry.” you tell him
“Most of the time I’m not actually angry, I am just acting like I am to make him feel bad”
“You are crazy” you tell him and you turn to catch a glimpse of the screen when you see Lewis coming up the red carpet. “Oh there he goes!” you say and Toto turns his attention to the screen and so does Roscoe once he realizes that his dad is on the tv. “That’s a daring outfit.” Toto comments as he watches Lewis posing on the red carpet. “Oh you suddenly have an opinion on fashion?”
“Why shouldn’t I? You think you’re the only one with a fashion sense?”
“Darling, at least I have more than 3 outfits in my wardrobe” you tell him and he rolls his eyes. He knows you’re right but he still focuses on the television. You see Roscoe staring at the screen and you snap a photo which you post on your instagram stories right after lewis leaves the red carpet. “Did we just sit here to watch Lewis pose on the red carpet for 3 minutes?”
“No, I am hoping he will be back for an interview shortly after.” you say and he nods, going back to the last page of the book he was reading and 5 minutes later Lewis comes on the screen again and both of you watch the interview ss
“You’re an expert on this aren’t you?” he asks “I have been watching for the past 10 years, Toto. Plus, they do love Lewis a lot, it was almost certain that they would give him the interview.”
“They do seem to have a preference for Lewis though.” he says
“The truth is, as much as Max is supposedly my friend, he’s not that relevant out of our little world.”
“How can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Hang out with him”
“Look, he isn’t as much of a dick as he seems, he’s actually a pretty decent company and he’s a kind soul but only if you are close to him and that’s why he comes off as an asshole to everyone else.” you say and you yawn. “Sleepy?” he asks
“Yeah, I am starting to get tired. Are you going to stay?”
“I would but Roscoe will be here.”
“He can sleep in the guest room, please stay?”
“I will, although I have a meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll just wake up early.”
“Okay” you tell him and you stand up taking Roscoe in your arms “Wanna pet him?” you ask. “Only because you’re holding him” he says as he pets Roscoe who’s now sleepy. You leave your living room and head towards the guest room where you leave the dog, closing the door behind you. By the time you are out the door you see that the living room is already empty and you head to your room where Toto is already laying in your bed. You change into your pajamas and climb in your bed where you fall asleep. The next day you wake up and as Toto said, he has already left for his meeting. You check your phone and you see several texts, the first one from Toto reads a simple Text me when you wake up. The second one is from Marc, saying Parties ahead of the Cannes film festival are just starting, thought it would be nice for us to be seen together, to silence people about our whereabouts. Only as friends though. Accommodation in my yacht. Tristan will be here, bring Sara as well. RSVP. You give it a thought, thinking about how Christian made a scene about Roscoe, and how he asked you where you were. You text Toto first, to make sure it won’t be a problem.
Woke up just fine although i would have liked you to be here and not in that stupid meeting of yours. Also, Marc just sent me an invitation about a party tomorrow and I think maybe I should go, do some pr job, give people something to talk about
Toto
You should go just don’t get too wild
You
I won’t,besides Sara will be probably coming as well.But the thing is it will be in Cannes, but I’ll make sure to be back to Nice on time for the flight
Toto
No problem
You leave your phone on dnd and continue your tasks for the day, doing some light cleaning on your apartment when the doorbell rings. You open the door and you find a donut and a cup left on your doormat, the cup has a note on "Sorry for not being here for breakfast, consider this as my not so homemade breakfast." You smile and shut the door, immediately texting Sara, inviting her over for coffee and gossip. Once she comes over you share the news on the party for which she agrees immediately and she proposes a shopping spree for the party. You agree with her and shortly after you are off to the shops where you try on different outfits, occasionally texting Toto for his opinion on some of the outfits. At the end of the day, Sara ends up with 4 or 5 bags from the shops and you buy one simple black dress from Sandro to wear for the event. You grab a drink at the Blue Gin and you head back home where you pack your bags both for the party at Cannes and for the trip to Miami. Before you get back to bed you receive a text from Marc.
Marc Taylor
I will be waiting for you tomorrow morning for our trip to Cannes
You
Where will we find you?
Marc Taylor
At the marina, we will be using my yacht obviously
You
We will be there @ 10:30. Should we bring coffee?
Marc Taylor
We have a barista on board. Just get your bags.
The next day you wake up, dressing up with a maxi sundress suitable for the yacht trip. You later meet Sara and her driver drops you off at the Monaco marina, right outside Marc’s yacht. You get on board as members of Marc’s staff get your bags on the yacht and into your rooms. You follow Marc straight ahead and join him and Tristan on the deck. You can see people with cameras taking pictures of you from the marina and you play along. You do want paparazzi to see where you are and who you are with, you are confident that they will be running the story before the party today. You greet Tristan and walk the deck, taking the sun in and gazing into the mediterranean. Sara snaps some pictures of you and then the yacht leaves Monaco and sails to Cannes. “What time does the party start?” you ask,"At 8 I believe.” Tristan replies, “We have to start getting ready as soon as we arrive there” Sara tells you
“We will arrive in Cannes in an hour, you will be needing 6 hours to get ready?”
“Haven’t you met Horner? She takes at least two hours to get ready for a day at the paddock, you think she will be getting ready in sooner than 5 hours for a party in Cannes?” Sara answers and you laugh. As you sail to Cannes, the four of you sit on the deck sipping champagne and gossiping about old acquaintances of yours until one hour later you arrive and you dock at the marina. Tristan and Marc go out for a walk and you and Sara stay on board to relax and get settled to your rooms. You leave Sara in her cabin and you relax outside on the deck. You snap a photo and post it on your stories and then start reading your book until you start getting ready, while listening to music. Tristan and Marc come an hour later and Tristan waves at you. You take your headphones off. “There’s someone that has a package for you outside”
“What package?”
“It’s an order from a fashion brand I think. They said you made the order from Monaco and sent it here”
“Oh yeah that” you say “Marc can you please get this for me?”
“Of course” Marc replies and leaves you behind with Tristan. “What are you reading?” he asks, “The Goldfinch” you tell him.
“Oh I heard it’s nice.”
“It is really good, I’ll give it to you when I finish it”
“Great! Um, by the way, have you seen Sara?”
“She’s in her cabin, probably planning today’s look. She doesn’t wake up looking as good as you see her.”
“Bet she looks even better when she wakes up” Tristan says and you burst out laughing.“You really like her don’t you?” you ask
“I do. Not as much as Marc likes you though.”
“Tristan, Marc and I have already discussed this.”
“You know he’s still trying though” he tells you but he stops talking as he sees Marc coming up to the yacht. “This is your package Miss.” says Marc and kneels in front of you showing you the box.“Thank you mr. Taylor” you tell him “I gotta go try it on and plan my look for today, see ya later losers.”. You walk away from Marc and Tristan and into your cabin where you untie the black bow on top of the box and open it to reveal a green silk dress and in the box, a black handwritten card, a handwriting you recognize."Yesterday night I was watching Succession, saw this dress on Shiv and thought it would look nice on you. Bis Bald.". You smile in disbelief and try the dress on and you manage to fish out your emerald Manolo shoes which perfectly fit the color of the dress. You decide to wear this to the party instead of your new bought Sandro dress and you undress since lunch is about to be served. After your meal you return to your room, and start getting ready. You take a shower, use a face mask and then fix your hair in a low bun chignon. You apply some light makeup and some jewelry for the party. When you get out of your cabin you see Marc and Tristan in their party suits. “Wow Horner” says Tristan but Marc just sits there staring at you. “We should try to snap some pictures until Sara is ready” he says again and pushes both you and Marc at the front of the yacht where he takes pictures of you both with your phone and your polaroid camera but his phone rings so Marc becomes your photographer for the moment. “You look stunning, the color is amazing.”
“Thanks” you say and you keep posing.
When the whole photoshoot is done you check your pictures and decide to post one of them on your story but first you want to check that everything is okay from Toto’s side
You
[Sent 2 photos]
Your wish is my command. The dress is perfect. Tristan and Marc were stunned
Wolff
I knew as soon as I saw it that it would be a perfect fit. Glad they liked it. Hope Marc keeps his hands to himself though
You
He will! About that, is it okay if I post the picture of me and him ?
Wolff
Everyone is going to talk about you two being a couple so why not feed the story to them? It’s okay by me after all ,at the end of the day only I know that you will be sleeping in my bed for the weekend
20 minutes later Tristan is already yelling at Sara to hurry up and when she does show up at the deck she sees you and stares at you. “Horner!????? What are you wearing?” she asks “You look stunning but bestie this wasn’t the plan was it?” You approach her and you whisper to her ear “It was a surprise gift I couldn’t say no to”. She scoffs. “And he won’t even bring me flowers” she says as she points at Tristan. A couple of photos later the four of you are off to the party. At the party there are a lot more photos, dancing, drinking, mingling and socializing. Everyone is enjoying the wonderful night including Sara, Marc and Tristan. You get lost in a discussion with some movie producer who happens to be at the party and at some point you see Marc approaching you along with a blonde woman, which you happen to know. “Horner!” Marc says as you greet the producer “Marc, I lost you an hour ago, where were you?”
“With this badass. I am not sure you’ve two met but, this is Francesca Scorcese”
“Taylor, I’ve met Horner before. You always forget nepo babies always know each other”
“Absolutely” you say “What have you been up to since I last saw you?” you ask. The three of you start discussing and later on partying. Late at night the party starts drifting off and your quartet returns happily to the yacht. You gather all the pictures from today, making sure there’s enough you and Marc on them so that people will start believing that you are in a relationship. You post them on your instagram captioning them as “What were your favorite nepo babies up to ?” and you shut your phone before falling asleep. The next morning you wake up and make sure everything is packed. Sara’s sister who happens to have a job in Nice and was taking care of Roscoe in the meantime comes and picks you up from Cannes and drives you to the airport where you finally meet Toto. “Morning!” you tell him and give him a little hug. You are already in incognito mode so you’re making sure no one is watching you. “Hello. How was your party night?”
“We had a lot of fun actually. You know how our events are? Not even close to that”
“At least on those events we get to be at the same place.”
“But as long as I can remember the only thing we’ve managed to do was fight” you tell him “Thanks for the dress again. Everyone was impressed”
“That is for you telling me that I don’t have any fashion sense.” he teases you “Mr Wolff, it is time to board.” the lady at the gate says. You take your stuff, carrying Roscoe in his cage as well and you board the jet. You get comfortable and get Roscoe out of his cage but you hold him on your lap, making sure that he won’t get close to Toto. The plane takes off and you drift off to sleep as the lack of sleep from your party night becomes apparent. After 3 hours you open your eyes and look out the window as you are flying mid Atlantic. It takes a minute before you realize that Roscoe isn’t on your lap anymore and you take a glance around you and you see the bulldog sleeping on Toto’s lap. You laugh at the sight, thinking how some days before Toto was afraid to death and how now he peacefully sleeps with him. You snap two or three photos and send one of them to Lewis.
You
[Photo]
Character growth! We are on our way to Miami. See you there
Lewis Hamilton
That is insane. Ah man, can’t wait to tease Toto for all of this. Thanks for the content, Horner. See you at the track!
Shortly after you drift back to sleep and you only wake up when you feel the ground below you shaking. You open your eyes and look out of the window again to see the airport of Miami. You don’t register that you have finally arrived until you hear “Miss Horner, Mister Wolff, Welcome to Miami”. Toto looks around and tells you “Let’s see what this race week brings us” and you nod, mentally preparing yourself for another week at the F1 circus.
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Shine A Light Into The Wreckage
Chapter Six - Bob's Place
Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.
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Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. THIS ONE IS HEAVY WITH DOMESTIC ABUSE THEMES RIGHT FROM THE GET GO, she gets called a whore, choking
Because of the level of the things in this one, if you'd like to skip the domestic abuse part, please skip the italics at the start of the chapter. The italics are only there so people have the option to skip
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As soon as they were hidden from the view of The Hard Deck, hidden behind the cars, Ken let go of her. He released her shoulder with a not very friendly shove, sending her to the floor.
She pitched forwards, falling to her hands and knees.
Bob sped up his steps.
"You fucking whore," Ken spat as she wiped off her hands and got to her knees. As usual, Ken wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her up. At the whimper that left her lips, Bob felt his blood boil. But he just couldn't get to her fast enough.
"Ken," she whimpered. "Please."
Again he pushed her to the ground. This time, as soon as she hit the tarmac, his foot connected with her side. He only kicked her once before he had her on her feet again, twisting her arm behind her back. "You think you can leave me, huh? Run away with some scumbag navy pilot?"
Neither of them knew that Bob was there, that he so desperately wanted to get to her.
But then Ken shoved her against a car and wrapped his hands around her throat. Bob stopped. He couldn't risk getting any closer, couldn't risk him snuffing her life out before his very eyes. As much as he wanted to go up there and punch him, he couldn't do anything, not without putting her in danger.
And then, Ken released her. He pushed her to the floor one last time. "Sleep out in the hall tonight," he said and, literally, spat. Suddenly Ken was over her, searching through her pockets as he searched for her keys.
Once he'd found her keyes, he climbed into the car he had her against while she stayed on the ground. He slammed the door shut and her body visibly flinched.
Ken pulled out of The Hard Deck parking lot. For an anxiety inducing second, Bob thought he was going to drive over her, but he backed up and drove away.
As soon as he was gone, Bob ran over. He dropped to his knees beside her, but even that had her flinching away. "Hey," he said softly and used his gentle fingers to move her hair away from her forehead.
That was when he saw she was crying, but it wasn't all that surprising. "Bobby," she croaked through a gasp, her hands wrapped around her stomach.
He'd done all of this because she'd gone for drinks with friends. What would he do if he knew that she and Bob had kissed.
"D'you think you can get to your feet?" He asked, voice soft as he took her hand and started brushing the gravel away from her skin.
She closed her eyes as she nodded her head. "C'mon then," he said and helped her to her feet.
As soon as she was standing she grimaced and reached for her neck with the hand that wasn't holding Bob's. "I should've left my phone at home," she mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. "He tracked me through my fucking phone, Bob."
There was a moment where Bob didn't reply. He checked her face, gently moved her head from side to side as he checked her neck.
He couldn’t help the way he pulled her in after that. He tried not to squeeze her as he kissed the top of her head. A bold move from a shy man.
Suddenly she moved away from him and patted her pockets. "Fuck, Bob, he took my keys."
Bob knew, but he said nothing. "Let me take you back to mine," he said and took her other hand. He inspected it just the same, brushed away the gravel and looked at the scrapes and bruises. As much as he wanted to kiss away her pain, it wasn't going to help in that moment, and Bob knew it.
If she didn't want to go back to his, he was at least gonna get her to sit while he pressed ice to her sore neck.
She gave a slow nod, but even that had Bob worried about her neck. He took her hand and gently led her over to his truck. The truck he'd driven all the way from Montana. It was a hell of a drive, but it had been worth it to have his truck with him.
Bob held her hand as she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. It was only when the dome light was turned on that he saw the state of her jeans. The knees were both ripped and ever so slightly bloody.
When she caught Bob staring, she used her hands to cover the scrapes. Bob couldn't help the sigh he released as he leaned against the side of the car. "Let me take care of you, please," he said quietly as he placed his hand on her leg.
She didn't make any indication that he could have moved his hand. But she did speak, voice bitter. "You're not my boyfriend," she said and folded her arms over her chest.
"Well, that guy shouldn't be."
It wasn't a shout, but his voice was certainly louder. Her eyes were wide, watering as she looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said immediately, his head falling forward. "I shouldn't have said that."
But then he felt her fingers moving through her hair. He should have been trying to comfort her, to take care of her, and here she was, doing that for him.
Bob gently removed her hand from his hair. Something in him wanted to kiss each of her fingertips, but he didn't. Not until she broke up with that awful man. Bob couldn't stand the thought of her staying with him. If he could have, he would have driven straight to her apartment and gotten her stuff.
He climbed into the driver's seat of his truck and began driving away. They sat in silence, the radio buzzing, not playing any music. It was a needed silence, Bob realised as he took the quickest look at her.
"I, uh, I hope you like cats," he said as he pulled into his driveway.
She looked up at the quaint little house. It was cute, with an incredibly well taken care of garden and a trellis by the White front door. It didn't look as though it should have been in San Diego, looked like a little country house. It just screamed Bob.
He climbed out of his truck and immediately moved around to the other side. Opening the door, he took her hand and helped her to step down, pretending not to notice when she winced.
He fumbled with his keys before he opened the door. "Frodo!" He called the moment they stepped into the house.
"Frodo?" She asked as she looked around at his house. There were so many pictures of those he could assume were his family. Pictures of his fell aviators and little model planes. His coffee table was so full but so neatly organised. He had a couple of little plants by his television and a Star Trek: The Wrath Of Khan movie poster on his wall to the right of it. On the left there was a book shelf, filled to the brim with a mixture of classics, comics and more.
Suddenly, a little black cat was running through the house. He ran straight over to Bob and rubbed his head against his head. "Hi Buddy," he said and reached down to scratch the top of his head. Frodo let out a scream, one that had Bob scooping more food into his bowl.
Immediately Frodo was ignoring them. He ran to his bowl as Bob took her hand and led her through the house. “I have a first aid kit in the bathroom,” he said.
Wordlessly, she followed. When Bob asked her to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, she did, watching as he pulled the first aid kit from the cupboard. He looked down at her, look at the cuts on her knees.
"Think you can step out of those jeans?" He asked and she did just that. She hissed as she stepped out of her jeans and left them on the floor, sitting back down with nothing but her underwear covering her lower half.
Bob got to her knees in front of her. He grabbed the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit and gently pressed it to her knee. When she let out a cry, Bob couldn’t stop the way his heart lurched.
"Do you wanna know what Bob stands for?" He asked her, trying to keep her distracted from the pain.
She swallowed and nodded her head. "Talk to me, doll," he said, wiping away the blood around the cut.
"Yeah," she said quietly, leaning her head against the wall. "It... doesn't really stand for Baby On Board, does it?"
Bob let out a chuckle and shook his head. "No, it doesn't mean Baby On Board. That's just something Jake came up with because he's a dick. But it, uh, actually means Big Ol' Balls."
She let out a laugh, but it was quickly cut off by a hiss as he moved onto her other leg. "Bobby," she said quietly, quieter than Bob had ever heard her before. Rip his heard out and throw it to the ground already. Stomp on it a little if you had to. Anything would have been better than the way she said his name.
"Yeah, Doll?" He began, trying to make his touches as gentle as possible.
She grabbed his hand, the one that wasn't wiping the blood away from her skin, and squeezed. "I... I don't know what to do," she admitted, head falling forward.
Bob brushed her hair away from her face. "Leave him," he replied, his voice just as soft as her own. "He treats you terribly and I hate it."
But she shook her head rapidly from side to side, which couldn't have been good for her neck. (Bob grabbed her gently, stilling her movements). "You don't get it, Bobby." He tried to release his gentle hold on her face, but she kept him there. "My entire life is entwined with his. He controls the money, the apartment is in his name, and I drove off all of my friends because of him."
Bob was so gentle as he placed plasters over her knees and wrapped up her sore hands. It was a touch of kindness she hadn't felt in so long, she had forgotten what it felt like. She couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch.
"Can... can I check your neck, Doll?" He asked, his hands resting on her legs. It was another one of those touches that had the potential to be intimate, but Bob was treating her with gentleness, kindness. The kind of touches that made her want to escape into his arms and never leave.
She swallowed thickly, her own hand reaching up. But she never touched her bruised neck. Instead, she nodded, letting Bob do all of the work.
Once he had her all cleaned up, Bob took her to his room. "I have spare pyjamas or old shirts, if you want them," he offered as he pulled back the covers of his bed.
She mumbled out her response and Bob grabbed an old shirt from the drawer. He passed it to her and began backing out of the room. "I'll get you some water," he said and pulled the door shut.
As Bob went to get her some water, she pulled her shirt over her head. She hadn't bothered to put her jeans back on after Bob cleaned her up. He'd seen her in her panties now, what was the point of covering up.
Leaving everything but her panties in a pile, she pulled on Bob's shirt (a star wars shirt, the picture on the front long since faded) and climbed under the covers.
Bob knocked on the door. He waited a moment before walking in to place the glass of water on the night stand. "I'll be on the couch," he said.
"G'night, Bobby," she whispered as she laid her head onto the pillow.
"Good night, doll," he said and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her alone in his bedroom. Bob stood there for a moment, head against the wood of the door as he breathed.
He headed to the couch and laid down on it, not bothering to get changed. The moment he laid down Frodo climbed onto his stomach and settled there for the night. "I'm worried, Bud," Bob whispered as he scratched Frodo's head. "So fucking worried.”
Taglist: @nurse-sainz
@not-nyasa
@burningwitchprincess
@darksparklesficrecs
@primroseluna
@littlemsbumblebee
@wretchedmo
@imaginecrushes
@calpalsbestie
@hiireadstuff
@lyn-js
@emma8895eb
#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x you#robert floyd#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd fluff#robert floyd x you#robert bob floyd#top gun#top gun maverick#tgm#top gun fanfiction#top gun bob#bob floyd fic
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Part 1
A/N: I really hope you will all like this story. It’s my first pretty long story (it will have around 10 parts, so stay tuned ;) ) that I’m posting here. You can also find the story on my wattpad account (username: tmrxlover_writer).
Pictures are from Pinterest, the filter is Cinnamon on Polarr.
Warnings: none
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Another day at Uni after he just scored his first La Liga goal . He was buzzing, but had to be on time for classes. He was sure the whole university will congratulate him. Being famous was difficult when you just wanted to be a normal student.
"Our boy Fermin is back!"
You looked up from your notes to see Fermin being congratulated by the whole class. People hugging him, patting him on the back. "Thanks man" he kept saying, trying to make his way to his place. He just wanted the class to begin so everyone could leave him alone. "Hey" he said, sitting next to you. "Hi" you replied quietly. Being the shy nerdy girl was bad enough when you were sitting near the hot athletic guy. You asked yourself multiple times why did he choose to sit near you in the first year. There were a lot of empty places, but he chose the second row in the front, exactly near you. "Anything that I missed?" He asked, looking at your notes. He always admired your beautiful handwriting and how organised you were, so he knew where to choose to sit at your first class together. Surely not the guy with only a piece of paper and a pen, but rather the girl surrounded by books, coloured pencils and a cup of coffee. He didn't have the balls to ask you to get coffee in the morning, even though he wasn't drinking it, he would offer to come along with you.
"Erm...not really. We talked about more practical stuff. I made some notes if you want to take a picture or something" you offered shyly. You never ever gave your notes to anyone because they were just some lazy asses who didn't care about anything, but you were here to learn. You wanted to be a physiotherapist. They were here just to get a diploma. Not Fermin though. He was passionate about the subject, even though he missed a lot of classes because of his packed schedule. You were willing to help him because he showed interest. And appreciated your work too.
"Thanks. Actually I had an idea, I mean a proposal" he said. "I'm quite behind with everything, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet somewhere and help me catch up? It's okay if you don't want to" he said nervously. Why the heck was he nervous? He scored his first goal in freaking La Liga and was nervous talking to a girl he's seen almost every day in 3 years. You thought about his idea, you wanted to help him, but you weren't the person to meet up in random places to study. You liked the confined space of your room and desk, and maybe the library or the coffee shop, when you had to do computer work.
"I don't want to sound... uhh... like I'm inviting myself" he said blushing as if reading your mind. "But I can come to your place, if that's okay with you". "I... uhh" you rambled on, but the professor was already in class, ready to read one of his boring presentations for 2 hours. You barely paid attention to what he was saying, debating whether to accept Fermin's idea or not, while drawing random patterns on your copybook. Fermin noticed you zooming out so he scribbled something down on his own copybook. He nudged you so you could read what he wrote.
It's okay. It was just an idea :)
You shook your head, writing under his: we talk after the class.
For the rest of the class, you took notes, while Fermin tried paying attention, but his mind kept drifting off somewhere else. What if he overstepped with all this I-can-come-to-your-place-to-study thing and you would think he's weird? He face palmed himself for that, but you were his only hope to pass the exams this semester. The professor finally ended the class and you started packing your bag. Neither of you spoke until you were out of the class.
"Listen I—"
"It's okay if—"
You both stopped mid sentence and chuckled. "You first" he encouraged. "So, I think it's okay for you to come. I live alone anyway. Just tell me when it's okay with you". Fermin couldn't believe what he was hearing. You never ever invited someone over and he could respect that it was your safe place and he didn't want to intrude. "Are you sure it's okay?" He asked and you nodded. "Okay, let me see. Actually I'll text you the day before because I'll have some recovery trainings and I'll be free to come" he said. "I know it's difficult to put up with me" he chuckled nervously. "It's okay. It's not like I'm a party animal or anything" you said. "Okay... I'll let you know soon. Bye. And thank you" he said, climbing into his car. He thought of offering you a car ride, but maybe it was too much overstepping in one day, so he just waved at you and you waved back to him.
When you arrived home, you thought about this day. What the heck was today? Of course you gave him your notes pretty often, but him to come here to study? That was a whole new level.
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Hope you like it 🤍
Feedback is appreciated 😊
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Took You Long Enough
Pairing: Shayne Topp x fem!reader
Summary: All of your friends are tired of you and Shayne flirting with each other even if you two claim your friends, so they have to take matters into their own hands
Requested by @winifrede , hope you like it!
You walked into work, feeling energized.
This has been your fifth year working at Smosh. You handled the writing in your first two years, then after a few cameo appearances, you became a full cast member.
You go to the kitchen first, wanting to grab a Celsius before the office meeting.
"Celsius? I'm surprised you didn't go to your regular coffee place down the street." a voice asks out loud.
You smile to yourself, turning around with your drink as you saw Shayne.
He was by the shelves, trying to find one of his snacks that he purposely hides in the back.
"Wanted to change things up a bit, but I also chose to stay sane and not jittery every 5 minutes."
Shayne laughs, giving you his signature grin.
"That reminds me, did you like that book I gave you? I know it wasn't your type of genre, but it made me think of you." He says, giving you his full attention as his snack was long forgotten.
Your eyes brighten as you dig in your bag on your side, digging to find it.
"I loved it so much! I think this has to be my top 5 books. Thank you for lending it to me." You said, offering it back to him.
"Anytime. Let me know if you want any other recs." He said. You two talked a bit more before you had to go, but what you didn't know was that a few of your friends were secretly watching you two.
"See how they flirt with each other? No wonder they have fan edits." Jackie points out from her chair. It was true, since you've been in more videos, the fans speculated how you and Shayne had great chemistry on screen and on vlogs. But Shayne always said that hasn't dated in a long time and you've been trying to see people (but haven't found anything long-term).
"I'm really surprised they haven't thought of dating each other by now. They seem really good together." Kimmy said, sighing.
"Too perfect." Damien mutters softly as he was working on his computer.
Jackie and Kimmy perk their heads up and look at their friend who hasn't realized what he said.
"Is there something you would like to share with the class?" Jackie asks, a bit too hostile.
Damien stops typing his keyboard as he realized that he made a mistake.
"I- um, don't know what you're talking about." Damien says, acting dumb.
Jackie and Kimmy get up in unison and corner Damien in his seat.
"Spill it Haas." Kimmy says, pointing her finger at her.
Damien raises his hands in the air for defense, squinting his eyes.
"Okay, okay! You got me." He says. The two girls lean in closer so no one could hear but them.
"Shayne and I were hanging out at his place and I noticed he got new books. I asked where he got them and he said he was borrowing them from her. After that, he just started rambling on and on about what they had in common. Then, he was thinking of asking her out on a date."
Jackie and Kimmy squeal almost jumping up and down.
"Wait, why hasn't Shayne asked her out yet?" Kimmy asks.
Damien sighs. "He's tried, but he's too shy when he tries asking her. I guess since he's still trading books with her, he still likes her, even if it's killing him that they're just friends.
"Well, we have to change that. And I know how..." Jackie says in an evil tone, looking at her desktop for her unfinished script for their upcoming video: Smosh Pit Theater.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Most of the cast was on set for shooting the fan fiction video. There was you, Jackie, Damien, Chanse, Angie, Kimmy, Courtney, and Shayne. Everyone was wearing their black turtlenecks.
You were all about to record as you explained the audience of what's to come.
"Hello everyone. Today, we will be showing a special type of Smosh Theater. Not only did some of our cast members wrote fanfiction about us, but we have a bigger budget as well!" Damien said at the camera.
Now it was Kimmy's turn to speak to the camera. "All of the budget was used on props and costumes! Our writers today are Jackie, Courtney, and Damien." they all take their individual bows.
"No one knows what the writers wrote so we are acting this out for the first time." you later explained.
"This is a serious production and we are serious actors." Shayne says with a pretentious voice.
"Without further ado, let us begin." Courtney concluded.
Since she had the floor, it was her turn first. Courtney wrote about the members surviving in a post apocalyptic world.
Then, it was Damien's turn. He wrote a fic that was about the smosh members in a spy noir setting where they tried to find out who killed their boss, Ian Hecox. You thought it was such a great script.
Finally, it was Jackie (who looked a little too giddy). She steps right up and holds a stack of papers in her hands. "This fanfiction was inspired by two of my friends, known to swap their favorite books to each other. I think it's hella cute."
You look a bit off-guard as well as Shayne, not knowing what will come next. "I was too eager to write this that it only took me a day. For our final fanfiction, I give you 'A Hidden Chapter of Our Love,' written by me."
She starts giving everyone their roles:
Shayne is the lead role, a soft-spoken bookworm
Damien was a theater kid who wants to go to Juliard
Chanse is the captain of the cheerleading team & the school bully
Courtney was the narrator *her lines will be italicized*
Kimmy was the ditzy cheerleader
Angie was the misfit, who often got in trouble
Jackie was a prestigious art student
and you, the only nice, popular cheerleader who starts to fall in love with the bookworm, Shayne
Everyone started wearing their costumes, fitting into their roles. You, Kimmy, and Chanse had pom poms, Shayne had books, Damien was wearing a black scarf with that hat from the musical Newsies, Jackie held a sketchpad, and Angie wore a leather jacket.
Everyone had a script in their hands and was ready to act out Jackie's script.
Scene 1: The Meet Up
It was the first day at Smosh High, and students were eager to have a memorable senior year.
Here we have Shayne, a shy scholarly student who wished to get out of his small town and go to his dream university.
"Just a few more months and I can get the hell out of here." Shayne said, shifting his glasses.
"Don't I know it." Damien replied.
Damien was Shayne's best friend since junior high. He was always the star of each show he's done. And like Shayne, wants to leave the bounds of his old life and rise like the phoenix he is.
They walk in the hallway to find their homeroom and accidentally bump into a group of cheerleaders.
"Watch it, nerds."
Chanse said, knocking down Shayne's books to the floor. Chanse was the most ruthless cheerleader at their high school. he often picked on people who weren't in the cheer squad or in a sport.
"Yeah, what he said." Kimmy replied.
Kimmy was your pretty cheerleader that all the students wished to have, but at times was pretty clueless. The two strutted away except for one cheerleader.
"I'm sorry about my friends." You said, kneeling down to help Shayne with his books.
That was the only nice cheerleader on the squad. She wasn't like the other girls, and had a dark secret that only two people know in this school. She can't help but notice how cute this blonde guy with his books.
You and Shayne can't help but snicker after those words.
"Don't bother, you don't want to be seen with a low life like me." Shayne said, brushing you aside.
She got up and shyly looks over her shoulder till she hears Chanse calling her to follow them to the lockers.
"I don't get why you're so mean to her, she was just trying to help." Damien says.
Shayne rolls his eyes.
"It's all just an act. Cheerleaders like her would do anything to be recognized to become prom queen."
Shayne stated as the two make their way to homeroom.
Scene 2: You Again?
Jackie and Angie were talking into their first period of AP Literature and see their friend since kindergarten come late and sit next to them.
"Well well well, the popular girl is gracing us with her presence." Angie said, pretending to bow.
"Ha ha, very funny." You said.
"You sure Chanse won't be upset when he hears you're talking with us?" Jackie asks, pretending to draw on her paper.
"No, I don't get why he told the squad we can't have any other friends outside of the team. I love you guys I want us to have the best senior year ever." You said.
Jackie and Angie aw as they all hug.
"By the way, the teacher told us that we got paired up randomly with the people in our class for the entire year. Me and Angie got paired up." Jackie says.
"And you got paired with Shayne in the back, you two will hit off since you both love-"
The cheerleader shushes Angie, looking around to see if anyone heard.
"You know you can't say my secret to the school. If word got out, I'll be done." You exaggerated.
Angie rolls her eyes as she puts her feet on the table.
"I'll meet up with Shayne but I'll see you guys after school?"
They wave goodbye while you make your way to Shayne who was reading a book.
"Whatcha reading?" You ask.
"It's called 'None of your beeswax.'" Shayne stubbornly says.
"Ouch." your friends said offscreen.
"Look, we're about to work together for the entire year. Can we try to at least tolerate each other?" you ask.
"Fine." Shayne says.
The bell rings and everyone gets out of their seats, collecting their things. The cheerleader and the bookworm decide to meet during the weekend to talk about their project.
When Shayne looks down at her seat, he sees that she left a book that she must have forgotten. He picks it up, reading the cover.
"Pride & Prejudice? Why does she have this?" He asks out loud.
What he doesn't know is that he's about to unlock your biggest secret.
Later on, the plot thickens as your character and Shayne begin flirt with each other.
"-and that's how Damien and I are banned from the local Denny's."
You laugh at his story as you tuck your hair behind your ear.
"You know, you're pretty nice when you're not rude to me."
"and you're not as stuck up as I thought you'd be." Shayne replied.
Shayne gives you a gaze, trying to figure out who is this girl.
"By the way, I've been meaning to give you back something." Shayne said, taking out your copy of Pride & Prejudice.
"Where did you get that?" you ask, dramatically.
"You left this on your desk. I thought this was for school but this wasn't on the reading list."
She takes it away from him, hugging it closely.
"Be careful! It's a hardcover." You whispered, peering down to see if it was damaged.
"You're nervous that I found a book, you're the only cheerleader in our AP Lit, are you..."
Shayne leans closer into her ear.
"A bookworm?"
You try so hard to stifle a laugh. You got back into character and look at Shayne.
"Yes, I've been hiding it since I was 12 years old."
Shayne gasps out loud, surprised. A smart cheerleader in his presence? He thought those never existed.
"Dear god." Chanse said behind the camera.
"Promise not a word goes out. Only my friends, Angie and Jackie, know. I'm just trying to get by till graduation, then I could be whoever I want to be."
"You know, I feel that. Your secret is safe with me." He says.
Scene 3: Everything falls apart
After her secret was revealed to Shayne, they start to hang out more. They trade books behind the football stands and often hid in the library, discussing the plots of each story they read.
"Wait, you like hanging out with that Shayne guy? I thought he hated your guts!" Angie says.
"His best friend is so hot, especially when he sings Santa Fe." Jackie giggles.
Damien hides his face in his hands, feeling slightly flustered.
"I thought so too, but he seems sweet. I'm happy thatI found someone who has something in common with me."
"Or rather someone you like." Jackie hinted.
"We're just friends, nothing more. Let's go, we're going to be late for class." You said, getting your bag and heading your separate ways.
What the girls didn't know was that Kimmy was in the background, hearing every word her cheerleader friend said.
"Chanse will definitely want to hear this." she said, running away to find him.
Switch to Damien and Shayne who were by the lockers, talking mindlessly.
"So prom is coming up, do you think you're going?" Damien says.
"Prom is just a stupid event where teenagers are stuck in a room all night secretly hating on each other's guts in the school's gym." Shayne says, annoyed.
"So... no." Damien asks.
"You out of all people should know that I am not going to set foot at a school dance."
"I thought you could ask that cheerleader out since you've been sneaking off after school to the library. I'm thinking of asking that girl Jackie, she's so talented, and pretty, and smart, and pretty..."
"Whoa. what makes you think I should ask her?" Shayne asks.
"You guys are like Benedick and Beatrice from Shakespeare’s finest works. You both hate each other with a passion. Then, you realize you two are meant to be."
"Yeah, meant to be..." Shayne repeats his friends words.
Towards the end of the day, Chanse and Kimmy confront there fellow cheermate.
"Look girl, we need you to focus our way to the Cheer championships. You can't be associated yourself with some geeks. It'll ruin our image." Chanse snapped.
"Yeah, what Chanse said." Kimmy said
"So drop your loser friends, or you're off the team." Chanse said, strutting away with Kimmy.
"Hey!" A voice cried out. The cheerleader turns around to see Shayne running towards her, hiding something behind his back.
"I know we shouldn't be caught talking together in public, but I wanted to ask you somethi-"
"Shayne." You stopped him.
She takes a deep breath and is about to say something that she will soon regret.
"I don't think we should carry on about us: being friends and all. You're just a bookworm and I'm a cheerleader. We shouldn't mix." You said, walking away.
Shayne takes out a bouquet of flowers and throws them to the ground.
Everyone behind the camera feels bad for his character as they aw in pity.
"Prom is a waste of time... and so does pretty girls that break your heart."
After that scene, everyone changed into their prom outfits. Once you've changed, you were going back to set but you could hear someone saying your name. You were about to ask who it was but you see Damien and Shayne with their backs toward you, oblivious that you were there.
"I think Jackie is trying to get me and her to pair up." Shayne says.
"Really? I haven't noticed." Damien lies, trying to hid Jackie's secret.
"Like the switching books concept? We've just been doing that for a couple of years, it's not that romantic."
Damien looks at his friend who was clearly in denial.
"It's just us, tell me what's wrong man."
Shayne takes a deep breath.
"What I'm scared most is the kissing scene. I just... don't want things to change between us."
You feel your heart go down in your stomach. Of course he doesn't like you like that. You were about to leave until you heard Shayne speak up.
"I'm falling hard for her. And every time I don't tell her how I feel, it's just another day of letting her go."
Damien sighs and pats his friend's back.
"You'll never know how she feels until you ask her."
They sound like they were about to leave, so you made sure you were out of sight. At that moment, you knew what to do now.
Everyone gets ready for the prom scene on set. Courtney resumes her narrative.
Scene 5: One Final Dance
It was prom night. Everyone was dressed and was excited for tonight's festivities. Damien and Shayne walk in to their school gym.
"Thanks for coming man, you know you didn't have to come." Damien says.
"Don't worry, I'm just here to make sure you don't look like a fool in front of Jackie." Shayne said.
Then comes out Jackie and Angie. Jackie was sporting a ball gown while Angie was wearing a slip dress with her signature leather jacket and converse.
"Hi Dami, you look very handsome." Jackie says, hiding her giggles.
"And you look as radiant as the sun, m'lady." Damien bowed, kissing her hand.
"Ugh. Gross guys." Angie said.
The new couple hook their arms and make their way to the dance floor.
"Forced to come here too?" Shayne asks Angie.
"Yeah, Jackie would have lost her mind if she didn't have her moral support system. Thank god I didn't have to handle her alone."
"Who else did you guys come with?" Shayne asks.
"That would be me." a voice said.
Shayne turns around and sees you in a really pretty dress.
"Wow" Shayne said, not following the script anymore.
Angie makes her way out as someone cues some slow dance music that wasn't copyrighted.
Shayne tries to look away, crossing his arms as he looks down at the script.
"Thought you didn't want to be seen with me?" He asks.
"I had a change of heart, especially when I quit the Cheer squad."
Shayne turns around, not believing her words.
"Why did you do that? Don't you want to be popular?" He asks.
"No, I don't think I ever did. I just got lost of where I belong in high school."
"And where do you want to belong?" He asks.
"In your arms."
Everyone oohs off screen as you and Shayne blush like idiots.
Shayne awkwardly places his hands around your waist as you wrap yours around his neck.
"Remember when you gave me back my book? I wanted to give you something else." You said, silently gulping.
"What did you want to give me?" Shayne shyly asks, thinking you'll just give him a kiss on the cheek.
"This." you whispered.
You lean in to Shayne and kissed his lips. Your heart was beating a thousand times per second. You pull away and look at Shayne who looked off guard.
You look scared, not knowing if this was the best idea. It wasn't until Shayne dropped his script and kissed you again, holding you tight against him. You held on too, as your script was long forgotten.
Everyone of your friends cheered on. You two couldn't tell how much time passed till you heard someone speak up.
"Uh, guys? We're still rolling." Garrett said. You and Shayne pull away, looking a bit out of breath.
"Sorry, got lost in the scene." Shayne said as you two picked up your scripts on the floors.
"Mmm hmmm" Chanse hummed as people started to break out of laughter.
After the scene was done, you all wrapped up the episode and congratulated each other on a job well done.
When you dressed back, you bump into Shayne unexpectedly.
"H-Hi." you nervously stutter.
"Hey, I was um, actually looking for you."
"Oh, what's up?" You said, already knowing what he wanted to ask.
"That kiss... it really meant a lot to me. But I, I wished we could had our first kiss after a first date."
"Shayne Topp, are you asking me out?" You asked, smiling.
"Yes, I'd love if we could go on a date together."
"Took you long enough." You said, making him chuckle.
You two went out of the studio to head to your favorite cafe down the street, walking hand in hand.
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"All that hard work and they didn't thank us." Jackie says as Kimmy and Damien see that you two weren't around.
"I'm sure they'll say something later. For now, let them have fun." Kimmy smiled.
Damien gets a buzz from his phone and sees a text from Shayne.
He opens it and sees it's a pic with you and Shayne smiling with a message:
Thanks for the meddling, wouldn't be here without your guys' help. Will let you know how it goes.
Damien just chuckles and puts away his phone, letting his friend enjoy his first date with you as Jackie and Kimmy are already planning your wedding.
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Kissing
Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. this one is actually pretty tame tbhBucky Barnes x F Reader
Oneshot
3000 words
fluff, angst, comfort & kissing.
18+ MDNI
Bucky can't stop thinking about kissing. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.
Kissing is something that Bucky has been fixated on for months, now.
He’s been out of the grips of HYDRA and settled into the tower for just long enough for his mind to be wondering away from the terrors that have been plaguing him ever since he’d first been dragged out of a cryo tank with blood that was on fire, and an arm that wasn’t his own.
At first, the breaks from panic had been so far and few between that he’d quarantined himself in his newly renovated bedroom and only dared to let himself within one metre of Steve, in case he suddenly forgot where he was and caused some kind of irreparable damage, but then, he’d met her…
He hadn’t meant to.
He’d made every effort to avoid running into Tony’s younger sister, but then, when he had finally decided to eat, he’d snuck out of his room at three am, and he’d found her, messy haired and sketching at the breakfast bar, he’d been too stunned to run, so he stayed, and despite his initial reservations she’d rapidly become one of the only people in the world that he genuinely trusts.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she coos, beaming at him from across the counter, “you’re starring.”
He is starring— She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and her face is being lit by the sunlight that is just starting to pour in through the big glass windows, and despite himself, he’s been utterly captivated by the way her mouth is curling around the white coffee mug she’s drinking from.
She quirks a brow, and Bucky feels his cheeks burn red and hot as he averts his gaze from her lips.
Kissing, isn’t something he gets to do, no matter how badly he might want to.
They’re alone in the room. It’s early, and, they both know they have a couple of hours until anyone else starts to surface.
Even though he’s blushing, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes roll back up to Y/N’s face, he settles a little when he notices how her attention isn’t on him, it’s split between a book that’s propped open on the counter top and the coffee she’s holding in one of her hands.
Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth, and he finds himself imagining what it would be like to let his thumb hover against the pink-
Stop it, Barnes, he thinks sternly, starring at a dame without her knowin' is creepy enough.
She goes to take another drink, but this time her gaze catches his. She offers him a smile, but he misses it, suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible sensation of being caught doing something wrong; He blurts out a “Sorry” that he hopes might spare him a scolding, and he makes a point of averting his eyes, focusing intently on the grey, marble surface before him.
When a soft hand lands on his cheek, he jolts back, throwing the stool out from under himself and stumbling into the wall with a crash that only startles him further.
He can’t breathe- He can’t think- The sound of something breaking is fresh in the air, and all he knows is that he’s done something wrong, that something bad is coming—
“Hey…” she exhales, calm, “You’re okay, it’s just me, alright? I’m gonna come closer”
Just like that blue eyes are wide, and once again insanely focused on Y/N’s face, though his thoughts are significantly less pleasant, this time around -
“You’re alright, I promise”
Bucky barely hears her, with the way his ears are suddenly thrumming with his panicked pulse, but still, he forces a jerky, obedient nod as the woman takes a cautious step towards him.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him next, “That was my fault- I shouldn’t have touched ya’ without askin’-”
He’s panting, his eyes are wild, and Y/N can see the way that his metal hand is scratching at the smooth surface that he’s backed himself up against.
“Bucky” she calls, a little firmer now, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”
“Y-Yeah” he gasps, “Yeah — I- I… I’ll— I-”
Don’t hurt me, he thinks desperately, I’ll do whatever you want—
A single deep breath is hardly much better than the way he’d been hyperventilating before,
but, she thinks, It proves he's listening.
She almost wishes he wasn’t so focused on her, though, because the look on his face is devastating to see—
He’s barely blinking, so she offers him a comforting smile, before showing him both of her hands and taking another, slow, step towards him,
“It’s just me, okay?” she purrs, “Can I touch you, sweetheart? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise”
I’m not going to hurt you
He’s heard that before, more times than he can count, and it’s almost always been followed by cruelty. But this, this is Y/N, and she’s promising him, and she’s never lied to him before.
The nod he gives her is slight, but, definitely there so, she compromises by reaching out slowly, leaving a centimetre between his cheek and the skin of her open palm.
“It’s alright-” she whispers, seeing the conflicted crease in his brow, “-You’re fine.”
Bucky can feel the heat of her hand, he wants to lean in towards her, more than anything, but he’s so used to stillness meaning safety, that he decides not to risk it.
“Shit” he gulps, voice cracking with adrenaline, “I-I didn’t mean to— t-to break anythin’…”
Don’t be angry, he pleads internally, I can't even offer to pay to fix it, I could try, I guess-
Y/N throws a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed anything breaking. Not that it matters. The stool is still lying on the ground, at worst she thinks there might be a crack on the bar, from where he’s grabbed it in his panic, but she can have it's nothing that couldn't be fixed in a matter of hours. She just smiles as she looks back over at him, shaking her head and re-thinking her approach by opening her arms in invitation;
“You're fine-” she repeats, beaming as he starts to move, tentatively shuffling into her embrace, “-C’mere, Buck— did you have a rough night?”
The second he surrenders and lets his brow drop to Y/N’s waiting shoulder, he crumbles. Tears are suddenly burning behind his eyes, so he shuts them, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw aches in his frantic attempt to stop himself from crying.
She feels the change in his posture, and wraps her arms around him, stroking his back slowly, as he fights to control his breathing.
“Did you get any sleep?”
Her question makes his heart stammer urgently. He doesn’t want to lie, but the idea of being honest in with his answer is just as sour somehow.
“I- uh,- tried—” is what he whispers, urgently, into the crook of her neck, “—I swear, it's the beds or, or something, they don't feel like they used to-”
Her heart aches at the crack in his voice, she nods, and whispers out an “I believe you” that works at easing the tension. Something in her tone, whether it’s the gentle lilt of affection, or just the way that she is really not freaked out by this whole encounter is unclear, but it's there and he loves it.
He really just loves it.
“C’mon,” she purrs, pulling back a little, “Wanna eat somethin’, with me?”
Without meaning too, Bucky clings to the fabric of her t-shirt. The idea of losing a fraction of the contact she’s giving him so readily is painful.
She’s not oblivious to the way he’s holding on to her like his life depends on it— she’s known him for long enough to know that he flickers between states of total self-inflicted isolation, and a genuine need for the skin on skin.
It makes sense, really— He’s been touched-starved for god knows how long. He’s been locked up and tortured, and worse for a lifetime, and even though everyone had been warned about his status as HYDRAs ‘attack dog’, she’s always thought that from the second he’d started to trust her, the transition to ‘lap dog’ had been awfully fast.
“I-“ Bucky whispers, “I’m—‘m not- not r-eady”
I’m not ready to let go, he thinks urgently, not yet.
“Alright, sweetheart” Y/N replies with the same gentle voice he likes so much, “We've got nowhere to be”
Bucky has no idea how she always seems to know what he needs to hear, but he takes it all the same; and she doesn’t try and draw back again, not when there is no reason for her to rob him of whatever small facet of comfort he’s managing to find in her arms.
She’s more than happy to remind him that he’s with friends, now, and not strangers who hurt him for no reason.
“You got plans for today, Buck?” she asks, once the rise and fall of his chest start to regulate, “Or are you a free-agent?”
“I… t-told Steve I’d check in… he’s— he’s been worryin’ about me”
She laughs at that, quiet and soft against the side of his head.
“He’s been worryin’ about you since 1942”
That makes him crack a smile, it’s small and unsteady, but it’s there, and as he unveils his face from her shoulder, Y/N sees it, and she can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek—
Just like that, his focus is back to kissing.
His eyes are watching the soft curve of her lips, the pressure of her fingers against the skin of his face is drawing him in, and he can almost feel her mouth on his—
Y/N doesn’t question his obvious distraction this time, she just watches patiently as he stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place;
“So…” she exhales, “…Once you’ve let Cap’ seen you’re not in mortal peril, you wanna come hang out with me in my lab?”
“Yes,” he bursts, eager to agree, “yes, p-please I— I’d… I’d like that a lot—”
Bucky loves Y/N’s lab.
He loves the way that it’s full of incredible things that she makes an effort to explain to him, over and over again, even though he barely ever understands it anyway. He loves the way he knows where he can go, and what he can touch, and how it never feels like he’s going to get into some kind of trouble for existing in there, but more than any of that, he thinks, he loves her. He loves her being there, beside him, chattering away like he’s not broken, and touching her hand against his like he hasn’t murdered people twice her size—
“I was hopin’ you might…” Y/N coos happily, snapping his attention firmly back to her face, “…You never know-” she adds, “-You might even manage to get some rest on one of the couches-”
He shoots her a longing glance and hopes earnestly that she doesn’t know how infatuated with her he is. He suspects that she does know, though, when she leans in and presses her lips against his brow.
Kissing.
Y/N is kissing him.
It only lasts a second, but it makes his breathing stop all the same.
When she pulls back, grinning and still stroking his jaw with her thumb, he feels whatever had been left of his resolve shattering.
“If you're breakin' out the puppy dog eyes” she coos, genuinely concerned by the way tears are suddenly filling his eyes, “you must want somethin'... huh? what? You wanna head down right now?”
That's exactly what he wants.
He nods, sniffing lamely as he tries not to blink in case any more emotion spreads across his face.
Y/N doesn’t say anything else, she just looks over at the elevator door and waits for him to pad away from her hands, towards it.
It doesn’t take long for them to make it to her laboratory. She scans them both in, and when FRIDAY makes her usual offer of preparing the space for their use, she dismisses the AI politely, with a single request regarding the heating being turned on.
To Bucky’s initial dismay, Y/N doesn’t even look at him— she heads straight for a cupboard, where she proceeds to stand up on her tiptoes in order to reach something that he also can’t make out.
When she turns on her heels, holding a thick, dark, blanket, he’s sure he’s seeing things.
“C’mon then, sweetheart— Pick a couch, any couch”
What?
He blinks at her dumbly, still feeling tears stinging behind his eyes.
She tilts her head and chuckles, before looking around the room at the three, different loveseats;
“Do you have a preference?” she reiterates, “or-”
“I want to stay with you” he bursts, unable to hold back, “I… I mean, I— I- I like, I-“
Y/N feels her heart swelling with flattery, he’s so sweet, so hopelessly hungry for affection and companionship that the idea of anyone hurting him makes her almost irrationally angry.
“Come on then” she exhales, reaching out a hand towards him, and opening and closing her fist in invitation, “Dealers choice”
His chest stammers nervously as he lets his flesh fingers close around hers. He can’t even begin to understand why she’s being so kind to him, but she is, and he needs it. So he doesn’t ask, he just follows behind her as she leads him to a dark leather sectional that’s tucked away in the corner of the room.
“FRIDAY, can you send Cap’ a message please?-” Y/N purrs, folding down on to the plush cushions, “-Tell him that Barnes is fine, and that he’ll catch him for dinner or something later on”
“Sure thing, boss”
She’s still holding his hand, watching him with an expression so lovely that he can barely handle it.
“I-I— I-” he mumbles, “I’m— uh—“
“Exhausted” Y/N cuts in, patting the space beside her, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ve got some readin’ to catch up on, you can curl up right here and keep me company”
That little burst of encouragement is all it takes for Bucky to fight past the embarrassment he’s feeling and settle himself on the couch, before, he very, very slowly, begins to lie himself down, with his head in Y/N’s lap.
“There” she coos, approving, “lets just-“ she adds, throwing the quilt up, over his body, “That’s better, right? nice and warm”
He can barely comprehend the niceness of his position. He’s staring up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s bringing their tangled hands up to his lips, so that he can press a kiss against her knuckles.
The gesture is so, so lovely, that Y/N can’t help but smile down at him, reaching across with her free fingers to start to stroke his hair back, away from his brow.
“You” she whispers, “Are the sweetest guy alive, y’know that?”
He doesn’t, he doesn’t know anything close to that. So he shakes his head and feels his eyes spilling over, down across his cheeks as he lets himself close them.
Everything feels too raw. He’s tired, exposed, and in love and he hadn't realised that morning, and now he can't stop realising it and it’s too much, right now, because he doesn't know how or when it happened, but she is one of the most important people in his life, and he’s just kissed her hand, and he didn’t ask first, and he’s sorry, and he’s scared and tired, and—
“Well you are…” she says, making his frantic thoughts slam to a halt, “…You’re lovely, and charming, and handsome—”
Suddenly, he’s staring again.
“I’m sorry” he gulps, “I- I really am, Y/N/N-”
That isn’t what she’d been expecting to hear.
She shakes her head, slipping her hand down, so that she’s stroking his cheek with her thumb;
“I… I mean it” he counters, “I- I shouldn’t h-have kissed you- I-”
“What?” Y/N asks, genuinely confused, “What are you talking, about Buck?”
“Just now… I— Y-your hand, I— I, I couldn’t help it, darlin’— I- I- I’ve been thinkin’ a-about kissin’— about kissin’ you, and I— I shouldn’t have— I- I just couldn’t— I-“
He’s getting so worked up that his nostrils are flaring. It’s painful to watch, so she wastes no time in slipping the hand she’s holding up to her own lips, where she kisses his knuckles this time, effectively silencing him instantly.
“You’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ a lot, huh?” she wonders, after a moment of silence,
Oh, god.
His face is on fire.
His eyes are full of tears again, but he can’t tear them away from her face.
She’s smiling, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel-
He nods, too mortified to make his confession aloud.
“and is it just me you’ve been thinkin’ about?” she presses, a lilt of humour in her tone, “or is it Natasha, too?”
“No” he bursts, “No, Y/N/N.. it…uh, it’s just you…”
Bucky knows he’s caught. He knows that no matter how humiliating this whole thing might be, that lying is only going to make it worse.
“Well” Y/N exhales, expression thoughtful, “It’s been a long time for you, sweetheart, it’s only normal that you’re gonna think about things like that-”
A strange kind of bravery washes over him for a minute, and he shakes his head, looking right at her, as he speaks,
“It’s not that, doll, it’s-” he inhales, “It's you, I didn't get it but, I, I do now and I know it’s— it’s crazy and I- I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya but I- I just want ya to know that you— you mean the world to me, and I- I-”
“It has been a while, though, right?”
The teasing in her voice cuts through the intensity of the atmosphere, and despite himself, and his crippling anxiety, Bucky finds himself scoffing.
“Yeah..” he agrees, “Yeah it… it’s been a while.”
Y/N beams at him, before kissing his hand again.
“I know I just got FRIDAY to make you dinner plans with Rodgers,” she says, “But he's had plenty of chances to third wheel already- how would you feel about givin' him a rain check? that way we can talk about our feelings for each other somewhere more romantic than my lab—”
His breath catches in his throat. His fingers tighten around hers and for a horrible second, Y/N worries that she’s totally misread the situation;
“W-what do you mean ‘feelings for each other’?”
It’s her turn to blush now, even though Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone so perfect;
“Well I…” she murmurs, “I might’ve misunderstood you, sweetheart, but it- it sounded like you were sayin’ you-”
“I do” he’s quick to assure her, “Y/N/N, I— I mean… but you— you-”
“Am kinda sweet on you too”
The man in her lap offers her a smile that splits his face- She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even if he’s blatantly exhausted.
“So…” she sighs, beaming back at him “…You get some rest… I’ll finish some work that I can’t make Tony’s problem and then…” she purrs, stroking her free hand through his hair, “Then we’ll see about the kissing…”
Masterlist
#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barns x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes angst#bucky x you#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfic#the winter soldier x you#Oneshot#fluff#x reader#drabble#bucky barnes oneshot
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Trying to catch your attention | | | Genos, Garou, Zombieman
Some little Headcanons for yall cuz i can’t fall asleep. She/her pronouns used !! (Requests are open anytime)
“Y/N-San. I have something interesting for you”
Would try to catch ur attention by showing you something you mentioned once.
You talked about your favorite book once ?? He’ll read it just to talk to you about it. You mentioned your favorite food ? He’s got the recipe. He’ll even research and take you to places you’ve always wanted to go to.
He’ll only do it if he feels like you both have been quite distant lately. But if he’s already your boyfriend ??! He’ll try everything and anything to see you smile. He Can’t explain the feeling, but it just makes his “system work faster” whenever he sees that smile of yours.
Genos has like a really good memory so its quite convenient for him, as he remembers everything you’ve ever said in detail.
He’ll help you remember things you forgot so that you can praise him.
With clothes he goes all out. Cuz cmon we all know dudes got a sense of fashion. So sometimes he’ll mention how he got new shoes or a new top in order to get you to be attentive.
If he feels bold enough, he’ll even ask stuff like, “Y/N-san. Do you think this looks good on me?”
If he’s satisfied with your answer or feels like you’ve given him all the attention, he just goes on to continue doing his chores with a silent smile.
“Oi, don’t keep your eyes off me”
This man may not look or act like it, but he’s very big on getting the attention he wants. He hates being ignored.
If he feels like you’ve been avoiding him on purpose, he’ll first try to get near you with some stupid excuse.
Like, if you’re two sat down at the couch, he’ll move “a little” closer basically squeezing you to the corner because he needs “enough space” to lay down.
If you still don’t receive all those signals, he’ll just bluntly say something along the lines of, “don’t keep your eyes off me.”
He’d probably throw your phone out if its the reason why you’re not giving him attention. And no, he won’t pay for it.
He also may start talking about the times he beat heroes up, thinking it would impress you.
He’ll basically do everything except tell you “i need attention.”
And if you confront him with a “is it my attention that you want so badly?” He’ll deny it until there’s no end.
pls teach him how to be communicative.
“There’s a new Latte out, here, have it.”
He’d realize the lack of time you’ve both been spending with each other because of hero work. So when he catches you at the café both of you would frequently visit, he has a nice little idea.
He would get you some Latte, then sit right in front of you and shove the latte over to you, with a little handwritten note on top of it.
“Here, have it.”
His love language is very much giving you coffee. He’d have the sweetest smile in his face seeing you drink it.
There’s not much more he needs to be satisfied other than seeing you appreciate his little gestures, so as a boyfriend he’s pretty much low to maintain.
There’s not really a time where he feels like you’re not giving him “too little attention” as he respects your own space.
Sometimes, maybe sometimes, after a long day of protecting the city, he’ll snuggle up to you in bed just wanting to stay like that for a while. He’ll barely say anything tho. Maybe compliment you, say how you smell so sweet, and tell you about his day. Other than that he’ll just enjoy your warmth.
#one punch man#genos#genos x reader#zombieman#garou#opm genos#garou opm#zombieman opm#garou x reader#headcanon
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[[[I fanficced your fanfic, I hope you don't mind 😅 was craving soft/sad cryptid Dream. Feel free to post, delete, modify, ignore, whatever, as you will, it's your universe! And thank you for creating such a compelling one💜]]]
It’s an unremarkable day, meandering into an unremarkable night, when there’s a stiff, solitary knock at the coffee shop door. This, in and of itself, is still unremarkable. That’s how Dream knocks, and Dream comes by almost as many days as he doesn’t; but when Hob goes to let him in, he finds his friend looking— well. Remarkable, in a different way than usual.
Dream looks, in a word, frazzled. In fact, it takes his eyes full, near-comical seconds to focus, before he peers around the empty shop interior. “You are closed?”
“To the public,” Hob assures him, and just in case that isn’t a clear enough answer, he gets a hand on Dream’s elbow and steers him inside and to a clean table. “What can I make you?”
“Nothing,” Dream huffs. “Thank you. There is— a book I must read. I only sought somewhere safe to do so.”
“Okay, well.” Hob smiles. “I’ve got some cleaning up to do down here that should take a while. And if I finish before you do, I’ll come join you. Or we can go up to my flat.”
“Thank you,” Dream repeats. His breathing has calmed, but his eyes have not. He’ll definitely need some cheering up, or calming down— or both— before too long. But for now Hob’s got a shop that needs tidying. And Dream, apparently, has a book that needs reading.
Hob leaves him to it. About half the tables still need wiping-down, not to mention the counters; the syrups need refilling, and tomorrow’s specials menu needs writing, and—
That’s as far as he gets before deciding that he deserves a break and a kiss, thanks. Assuming Dream’s up for that—
—which, it seems, he isn’t.
Sat quietly at the table where Hob left him, Dream is buried in his book’s yellowed pages; tears are streaming silently, though plentifully, down his cheeks.
“Hey.”
Dream’s voice is a croak. “Hob Gadling.”
“Good book?”
It’s a bit of a tease, but Hob’s got a reason for it: if Dream wants the chance to shrug this off, explain that he’s just lost himself in a tearjerker, he deserves that chance. But even as he offers it up, Hob knows it won’t be taken. Dream has not been moved to tender tears by a lovely story; he is properly crying, properly upset.
Hob gentles his voice, squeezes lightly at Dream’s shoulder. “Let me make you some tea.”
“Thank you,” Dream whispers, after a tired pause. His eyes finally move from the text before him; but they sink to the floor, instead of raising to meet Hob’s gaze.
Hob gives another shoulder squeeze, then jogs back to the counter.
Three minutes later he sets before Dream a mug of hot tea and a stack of paper napkins, one of which his friend seizes to wipe his now-dribbling nose. He’s reading again. Hob lets him be.
Hob’s calmer than he might have expected, as the evening progresses. His stomach, sunk at the first sight of Dream’s tears, hasn’t made it back to its proper place yet; and still his mind is steady. Level. Dream needed a safe place; and he came here.
He trusts Hob so much that Hob is starting to trust himself.
When the last of the chores have been completed, Hob settles in the chair opposite Dream. “Finished cleaning,” he tells him, and offers a smile.
“I will leave you.”
“Don’t be daft,” Hob replies, covering Dream’s free hand with his own. “I only wanted to ask if you’d rather stay down here, or go up to the flat? Got stronger stuff than tea up there. And proper tissues, and such.”
(The napkins, which had seemed a good idea at the time, have left the edges of his nostrils red and sore. Combined with his now-puffy eyes, Dream looks a great deal less ethereal than usual— though no less beautiful.)
“Come on,” Hob continues, encircling Dream’s hand now.
“You needn’t worry—”
“You need,” Hob replies, “a drink, and tissues, and maybe a nice blanket.”
Dream blinks. A fresh tear slips free; and he stands.
In his flat, Hob sets Dream up on the sofa, with a blanket across his lap and a glass of whiskey and box of tissues close at hand. Dream reads, and cries, entirely without sound. He’s such a quiet companion, in fact, that Hob must drift off for a while; because when he wakes, Dream has set the book aside, and poured himself a glass of wine from a bottle Hob’s sure wasn’t in his flat.
His eyes are dry now, albeit raw. When he senses Hob stirring, he looks up with a painful expression that's maybe supposed to be a smile.
“Finished your book?” Hob prompts.
“For now.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No. Thank you. Wine?”
“Sure,” Hob replies, taking the opportunity to come and sit at Dream’s side. Their arms brush, and Dream lets go a shuddering breath.
“I’m tired, Hob.”
“Yeah? Rest a bit. And you know you’re welcome to spend the night.”
“Only welcome?”
“Okay. You know I’d lose my mind if you spent the night. Although truth be told I wonder if you couldn’t use a good cuddle more than anything right now.”
Hob’s not sure if that was the wrong thing to say— or maybe the perfect thing to say— but in that instant fresh tears gather in Dream’s eyes.
“Come here,” Hob murmurs, setting his wine on the coffee table and then plucking Dream’s from his hand and doing the same. “Come here. Let me hold you.”
Contrary to his usual reserve, Dream comes easily, wilting into Hob’s arms the moment they are opened to him. In small, uncertain motions, he snuggles close to cry.
It takes a minute for him to settle. At first he tosses about, leaving wet patches in four or five spots on Hob’s shirt; but eventually he makes himself comfortable. Sets about the business of properly weeping— no longer quite silently— and Hob rubs his back as he sniffles and sighs.
“You’re kinder to me than I deserve,” Dream murmurs, after a while of this. Hob spends another moment formulating his reply.
“Whether or not that’s true from your perspective,” Hob replies, eventually, “it isn’t true from mine. I think you deserve a lot of kindness.”
“I really don’t.” Low as it is, Dream’s voice still cracks. “But I thank you for saying so.”
When his tears seem to have run their course (for the second time), Dream lifts his head and regards Hob fondly. His eyes look all the bluer against the red around their edges. He captures Hob’s lips in a soft kiss, mouth barely open; he tastes like salt and chardonnay.
“Thank you,” Dream whispers, when they part.
“I’m just glad you came over, okay?”
He nods.
“Can I get you anything?” Hob asks, then quickly answers his own question. “I’m going to get you a washcloth. Your eyes look like they hurt.”
Dream does not agree aloud; but when Hob returns and dabs the dampened cloth against his eyes, he groans softly. “That feels good.”
“Yeah? Good. Crying helps. But, fuck, it takes it out of you, dunnit?”
“It— does.”
“Please stay the night,” Hob whispers, and lowers his hand so Dream can open his eyes. “My bed’s lovely. And you can borrow some pyjamas. It just kills me to think of you going and being alone right now.”
“I. Have no desire, to be alone tonight, either.”
“Good,” Hob says again, and presses another kiss to Dream’s lips. “We can do whatever you like. If that’s just cuddling up, hey, I’m all for it.”
The inflammation is beginning to fade, just a touch; but the exhaustion in those blue eyes is only growing. “Can we,” Dream asks, “just go to bed now. And decide in a little while?”
“Of course,” Hob cooes; but before he lets Dream stand he cannot help himself from reaching out and touching his face one more time. He forgoes the washcloth. Smooths the pad of one thumb along Dream’s salt-clumpy lower lashes; and Dream, though tiredly, smiles.
FANFIC OF FANFIC!! :D how delightful! and how flattering!
I love fic-of-fic, inspirations and interconnected fics, it reminds me of something Michael Sheen said once on twitter (I saved it) about fanfic being an infinitely branching tree of stories dreaming itself.
Cryptic book lore... cuddles... the cafe is open only to Dream... perfect 🥰 thank you for sharing it! <3
#i do love when dream's sad#she said sadistically#bookstore cryptid dream#bookstore cryptid dream EXPANDED UNIVERSE#ask#anonymous#dreamling
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Look How Pretty You Are.
No outbreak! No use of y/n!
WARNINGS: DBF! 18+ Minors DNI. This is smut! BIG age gap. (Reader is 22, Joel in his 40s) Unprotected p in v (don't be dumb). Praise, quite a quicky. Would love to write a part 2 to this, tbh.
WORD COUNT: 5.2k
Coming home from college in the summer meant two things. I was left to my own devices Monday through Friday, and weekends were crazy. Loud, party filled affairs my parents put on with the entire neighborhood being welcome. This summer was different, though.
Freshly graduated means that this summer was my last one before becoming a “real adult” as my parents put it, even if with the fancy business degree I’d likely just end up in the office dad’s contracting business. A silent, small building that was really just a way for calls to be directed to him from the desk, filtering the bullshit and getting to the point. The click clack of fingers on the keyboard as I did payroll, budgeting, projections, ad flyers. The works. Most of the work was boring, lonely. Silent.
“Hey, can you run to the store for some beer? Mixers? Snacks?” Dad’s tall figure peeked into the office, clothes covered in sawdust, face covered in sweat. “Friday night and all now that you’re old enough to make those kinds of runs. It’s quiet today. Let yourself off early.”
I mulled it over momentarily, not really wanting to go shopping for my parents’ party. But knowing it might get me into the party this year, when all previous I’d been asked to stay inside, book in hand, or movie playing loudly to try to drown out the noise of splashing in the pool, hollering and dancing to upbeat music on the porch, “Sure, I can do that. If I can actually attend this year.”
My father ran a hand through his thinning hair, “Alright, sure.” he shook his head in a “no” motion, but the verbal okay was all I needed.
A smile tugging my lips, “Give me your card?” I motioned for the wallet tucked into his opposite hand, grabbing my car keys and nodding.
“I’ll also keep you on the clock until five if you do a favor for-”
“What? What favor?” slight annoyance tugging at my stomach, but knowing that extra money coupled with the prospect of a night drinking with the neighborhood was too good to pass up.
“Joel sent his grocery list. With Sarah away now, he’s having a hard time remembering these things. He asked if maybe you’d be willing to lend him a hand there, and I said sure.”
“As long as he fixes that shelf in my closet like he promised five years ago.” I tore the slip of coffee stained notebook paper from my father’s hand and eyed it carefully after remembering the shelf that had broken above my head in my bedroom closet while moving out for my first year of college. Dad promised it would be fixed before I was home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, five years later it was still impossible to put any items above my head to sit on the wood.
“Consider it done, I’ll have Joel get on it next week.”
Steak, chicken, snack food, rice, potatoes. “Can I add things? Is this really all he eats?” I raised a quizzical eyebrow, “how is he still alive?”
My father laughed softly, “Sarah used to do all that, just take his card and grab what you think he’ll like, I guess.”
Joel. The much older, very handsome man who had been the object of my desire since I was old enough to understand the term dilf, Joel. Always present, always prepared, my father’s best friend since High School. So extremely off-limits, even now that you’re an adult. It would only bring trouble.
My father handed the two credit cards to me. I guess today’s task was to be a personal shopper.
Joel, who I’ve had a key to his house since I was hardly ten years old, Sarah and I frequently needed it after school to group together to finish homework, raid the cabinets, and make messes through the home until her father would come back and scold us for being teenagers.
Joel, who was my first fantasy. Authoritative, but kind. Hard, but soft. Ruthless, but understanding of my and his daughter’s antics up until his tear streaked face sent both of us away to the same college, except I returned home and she found a job in the city.
Joel, even thinking of him at the red light while waiting to turn into the grocery store had me clenching my thighs together in my sundress, need filling me even when knowing I’d never get to taste.
The list focus. I got all of his essentials and then some, wanting him to be satiated for longer than the weekend, giving him options for the start of the week before he’d inevitably go back to fast-food runs between job sites.
After Joel’s list was taken care of, I shopped for the party, dividing the orders up before checking out and returning to town, stopping first at Joel’s house since his order had more need to go to the fridge than the alcohol and snacks my father had asked for.
Halfway through putting his order away and tidying a few other areas to be helpful, the front door opened, the sound of boots kicking off, Joel’s muttered voice so quiet I couldn’t hear it. I suppose he was used to talking to himself now, though.
“I thought I saw your car here.” his friendly tone rang from the kitchen entrance.
“Yeah, Dad gave me your list. So I figured I’d get it all set for you. I didn’t know when you’d be finished over at that apartment complex, so I- well. You know.”
“You tidied up?” he asked, looking at the organized dining table, and the lack of dishes in the sink.
“There were only a few things, I thought-”
“Thank you. I’ve been a mess with my little girl gone.” he smiled.
“She misses you. We called each other last week. Talked about the hell we raised here, how we were sure you hated us.” I laughed softly, closing the fridge and putting a box in the familiar cabinets, knowing this house as well as I knew my own.
“Nah, I could never hate you girls. Kids being kids, is all. I was young once, too.” he had a soft look of remembrance, looking at me like he was a million years away, “But you’re all grown up now. Well adjusted, smart, beautiful girl.” he sighed, rinsing out his coffee thermos in the sink quickly.
I had never heard him call me beautiful before, and my heart lurched at the compliment. Though, I’m sure he meant it in a far different way than I’d construed. Like a second daughter, like a neighbor across the street. Like someone he helped raise. Not like beautiful beautiful, “Thank you, Mr. Miller.” I smiled softly at his sentiment, anyway. Wiping down the counters when I’d finished, “I took the liberty of getting you some extras. Steak and potato diet only gets you so far.”
“Oh, thank you.” he sounded genuinely grateful, “I never know what to do, or what to eat, really. Sarah usually would-”
“I know, she’s a great cook.” I giggled, showing him the receipt that I’d crumpled in the pocket of my cardigan, placing it in his hand, “Here’s the damage.”
He looked everything over carefully, “That’s fine.” he nodded, “Thank you. But, don’t call me Mr. Miller. That’s weird.” he smirked, “Just Joel. Same as always for the last 22 years.”
“Sorry.” I laughed shyly.
“I’m gonna hit the shower before heading to your folks’ place.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later, Joel.” I smiled softly and he rested his hand on my lower back as he brushed by me to create space between himself, me, and the kitchen island. Such a simple gesture, but the placement was new. Usually he’d touch my shoulder or ask me to step aside for him.
I tidied the magazines and newspapers littering the coffee table, dusting the surface with a cloth before I left, I debated on vacuuming but left the rest as is, I’m not his housekeeper. I’m not replacing Sarah. He’s grown, he can take care of it, surely. Before I had time to slip back into my flats, the water was already off and the bathroom door was opening. I turned away as I folded the throw blankets and Joel’s surprise at seeing me still in his house was obviously justified, “Dammit, you scared me!” he clutched his abdomen and sighed in relief, “What are you still doing here?” not angry, quizzical.
“I noticed some magazines all out of place, so I thought I’d do that. But then I saw dust, and then the blankets- sorry, Joel. I didn’t think you’d be so fast.” I let out a breathy laugh and turned to face him for just a moment before covering my eyes up again. He was only wearing a towel, water droplets decorating his toned frame, dripping from his soft, curly hair that’s been made slightly gray over the years.
He sighed, not in frustration. Just a sigh, “You don’t need to take care of me like this. I’m fine, Sweetheart. Really.”
“I know. I just. This house is so special to me. I practically grew up here.” I looked to the location of the coffee table and could practically see Sarah and I grunting to move it aside and lay a million blankets and pillows out on the floor for our sleepovers. Popcorn kernels and candy all over the floor, empty box of pizza that Joel would have helped us scarf down before disappearing into the backyard or the master bedroom to leave us alone for the remainder of the evening. He never lingered too long, never tried to be the cool dad. Knew when it was time to leave his daughter and her friends alone.
His tone was even softer now, “It is a pretty special place, huh? Your Daddy helped me build it from the ground up. Pouring that concrete, framing up the walls. Drywall, mudding, installing. This house was the best job I’ve ever done for my family. Promised so much.” I knew he was reminiscing about his wife who had passed away more than a decade ago. The way he looked so far away even though he was right there.
I dared to continue to keep my eyes on him despite his attire, “I miss her, too.” I said suddenly, his eyes flitted to mine and he smiled weakly.
“Why don’t you head on home, Dollface? I saw all the bags you still have to unpack over there in your car.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his towel to ensure it was secure enough.
My mouth ran dry at the sight of him, I felt so guilty for it after such a tender moment, “Sure. Enjoy your groceries, Joel.” I smirked and slipped into my shoes, letting myself out and backing from his driveway into mine. Perks of being across the street.
My parents had yet to return, so I quickly unloaded and prepped the snacks into serving trays and bowls, put the booze on ice in coolers and began dragging everything to the backyard, filling the picnic table by the pool with things to eat, cooler resting on the ground beside everything else.
I made myself busy getting ready, slipping from my work clothes to a black bikini covered by shorts and a plain off-shoulder long sleeve shirt. The sun would set soon, dropping the scorching temperature. I added a soft lipstick and touched up my makeup, keeping my hair down. By the time I finished I could hear the familiar bustle of my folks in the kitchen, prepping for the grill and salads.
I offered a hand in the kitchen, as typical and my mother handed me a large knife, “Quarter the cucumber and dice some tomato for the salad, please.” she instructed as my father poured seasonings into a dish of various cuts of chicken.
I set to work, “I dropped that stuff off for Joel, Dad.” I started, and he hummed in response as a thank you.
“Thanks, baby.” he said as he massaged the seasonings into the meat, “He just needs a little hand for now is all, I’m sure in a few weeks when the busy season is over he’ll be right. Maybe it can be a regular thing, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. I miss being there all the time, anyway. Such sweet memories from growing up in that house.” I mused, the rhythmic chopping on the cutting board in front of me keeping me at a steady pace.
“How is Sarah, anyway? Talk to her lately?”
“Fine, she likes her new job, dating around a little. Nothing major aside from roommate drama. She doesn’t like apartment life.”
“Not like being roommates in the dorms with you, huh?”
I scoffed softly, “Evidently not.”
The small talk continued until we opened the front door for our neighbors and Joel was first over, as typical. He and my father sat poolside in lounge chairs, beer in hand laughing and talking like usual until others joined them.
I found myself watching him from the window above the sink as I scrubbed at the dishes left behind, watching his dimpled cheek when he smiled, the curve of his mouth around the glass bottle, how he would scratch at the stubble on his cheeks when thinking. I could see their bottles were nearly empty, so I finished scrubbing a pan and headed to the yard, opening a cooler and grabbing three bottles, two for the men, one for me. I cracked mine first and took a swig, then cracked the other two and brought them over, “Noticed you guys were looking a little low.” I eyed Joel instead of my father.
“Why, thank you, Dollface.” Joel smirked and held the drink up in a cheers motion, “What a sweet girl you have, Jimmy. Always looking out for the guests.”
“She learned hosting from her Mama, Joel. Certainly not me.” my dad quipped, nodding a thanks to me as I handed them each a bottle.
I felt a blush creep up with how Joel was examining me, and I wondered if that was the same way I was watching him earlier. He took the bottle from my hand and pushed further, “While you’re being so gracious, can you get me a little snack while we wait for the others to get here? Feelin’ a little peckish.”
I smirked and faked an annoyed eye roll, “Yes, sir. Welcome to my restaurant. What would you like?”
Joel laughed at that, “Surprise me.”
I made my way to the snack table and loaded a small plate with cheese, crackers, meats, and cold veggies, bringing it back to the familiar man, “Careful, there’s poison somewhere in there.” I joked and his smile broadened.
“Thank you, Sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome, Old Man.” I quipped back before returning inside to clean up the rest of the mess and my father laughed.
Before it was fully dark outside our backyard was full of people. I made light of the event, socializing, recapping the last four years of my time away with neighbors. I kept nursing drink after drink to help my nerves keep calm, my social meter tapped out by around ten p.m with hours left to go.
I stepped inside and retreated to the bathroom to get just a single moment where I didn’t have to talk to anybody, the harsh lighting burning my blurred eyes after spending hours in the soft lighting of the backyard.
I splashed a little water on my face and when I opened the door I gasped to see Joel standing there, “Oh, sorry, Sweetheart.” his eyes burned the same color as mine, lids heavy with drink.
“It’s fine, Joel.” I nearly pushed by him but his smirk stopped me.
“I’m not Old Man anymore?” he towered over me, and this close I had to look up to meet his eyes.
“Oh, you’re still old.” I giggled, the quiet of the house was a complete contrast to the music coming from outside. The rest of the party dancing, socializing, drinking.
He hummed in response and set his hand on my waist, looking into the bathroom, “You done in here or can I take a piss, Gorgeous?”
I flushed instantly, “Sorry, sir.” and stepped aside.
His eyebrows raised softly “So tense with me. Almost like-”
“Almost like what?” my heart began drumming inside of my chest.
“Nah, nothing.”
I pushed by him and let him in, closing the door behind me with a “You need to fix my closet next week, Joel.”
“Anything for you, Babygirl.” he called from behind the closed door and I felt myself melting inside.
“Promise?” I giggled, pushing the boundary thanks to the mixed drinks in my blood.
Silence for a few moments, running water, and then the opening of the door, something had changed in his eyes in the few moments from behind the barricade of the door. “Of course, Sweetheart. Anything.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat and felt my eyes close softly unconsciously. I snapped them back open, feigning off embarrassment.
“You’ve been acting strange since you moved back home. Everything okay?” he sounded concerned.
“Fine. It’s-” I almost admitted it was him. I shut my mouth before I could say anything sober me would regret.
His full lips tipped up into a half-smirk, “It’s. It’s. It’s-” a pause, he wanted me to continue, “Spit it out, Doll. What’s bothering my girl?” his tone was the same as it always was when I was needing advice growing up, but his eyes were darkened.
“You.” I whispered so quietly I wasn’t even sure I said it or if I just thought it.
“Me?” he said after a long pause, furrowing his brows.
“It’s- Nevermind. So stupid of me.” I turned on my heel and started away from him, but he grabbed my wrist carefully to stop me.
“You’re not stupid.” his eyes held promise. Safety.
“If I say what’s on my mind you’ll change your mind, Mr. Miller.” I felt smaller than a mouse at that moment. The liquid courage pushed me on as he continued to press.
“I promise. Nothing you say could ever change my mind.”
“I’ve been acting weird because of you.” his hand was still gripping my wrist and his hand tightened for a fraction of a second, my skin burned deliciously at his touch.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asked cautiously.
“The opposite.” my voice was still a whisper, and his was dropping now, too. Reading that this was a conversation better kept private.
He hummed again, “Do you-”
“Since I was a teenager I’ve had a crush on you. The older I get the more I can read you. The older I get the more I-... The more I cannot think about anything else but how it would feel to-” I stopped. Stupid. “Stupid.”
“No.” he shook his head, “I’ve been watching you the last few months.” he admitted, “You’re not a little girl anymore. Far from it. A gorgeous woman. You’re not stupid for thinking, but it could cause issues.” his eyes held concern.
“With Sarah.”
“And your old man.” he finished my thought.
“You-you feel it, too?”
He nodded once, a silent reply.
I stared at his lips suddenly. Then his eyes. Feeling my reserve crumbling around me, hoping his was, too. I turned my figure more toward him and he pressed his spare hand, still damp from washing into the small of my back, still gripping my wrist with his free hand. “Are you going to kiss me, Joel?” the silent, darkened hall and our hushed voices would raise alarm for anyone within earshot. Thank God we were the only ones in the house.
He didn’t answer with words, but let my wrist go and cupped my jaw in his hand, pressing me against his toned body, hands all rough from his job. Hesitantly, slowly he was leaning down to my level before his breath hit my lips and he stopped. Knitting his brows together, biting down on his bottom lip. He was fighting a war in himself, one that he was going to lose. “Please, if you’re going to kiss me… Please. I’m begging.” I shot my eyes back to his as my whimpered plea ran out of my mouth like a track star and he was pressing his lips against mine in no time at all.
Soft, tangy with beer. Electric. Everything I had ever dreamed of. I gasped as my senses were overloaded with him, and he wrapped his arm around me tighter, his grip on my jaw was iron. I placed my hands on his chest and he mistook it for pushing him away, “God, I-I’m so sorry-” he started, but kept his hands in their places.
“No. I’ve waited ten years for this moment.” I admitted, looking up at him through my lashes, “please don’t be sorry.”
He reconnected his lips to mine, taking advantage of the still quiet house before pulling me into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him.
I leaned my back against the counter and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, he was feverish. The way he clung to my hips in desperation, licking into my mouth at the added privacy of the bathroom. I allowed him access, moaning softly against his tongue, curling my fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. He tasted like heaven. He pulled away again, and his eyes were almost deranged looking with a mix of emotions, “Fuck, we could get in trouble.” he whispered.
I felt wetness pooling into the bottoms of my bikini at the sight of him panting, flustered, red. The prospect of getting caught wasn’t going to deter me, though. Not right now, at least, I dropped to my knees in front of him and quickly undid his belt, “What are you doing, baby?” he cooed, running a hand through my hair.
“I’ll be fast.” I promised, looking up at him with doe eyes. I’d never seen him from this angle before, I figured if we were already in trouble I may as well make my fantasy come true.
He didn’t object, but nodded and let a shaky breath escape his parted lips as I made quick work of his button and fly, he shimmied his jeans off of his hips and let the dense fabric fall to his ankles, I gawked at his bulge for just a moment, gasping at the size and girth presented to me at eye level. I trailed kisses up his thighs, over the fabric of his briefs and along the bony ridges of his hips, “Please, Sweetheart. Hurry before we get in trouble.”
I pulled his hardened member from the top of his briefs and quickly sunk my mouth down around him, no teasing. No taking time. I took him as far as I could before the threat of gagging sprung on me, wetting him with my tongue.
“Nngh-Fuck. You’re not so innocent as you look, huh?” he grunted softly, his voice strained, bracing himself on the ledge of the counter behind me with his hands.
I hummed around him and he bucked his hips further down my throat, saliva dripping down my chin from the sudden movement. He pulled me off of his length by my hair and cupped my face in his hands, my mouth chased his throbbing cock as he removed me, “Joel, I just want to make you feel good.”
He nodded in response, closing his eyes to try to gain composure, “You are.” he whispered, pulling me up to stand by my hands, working at the button on my shorts, yanking them down and turning me around so I was facing the vanity mirror, hands roaming around underneath my sweatshirt, grasping my breasts while I stared at the two of us in the mirror.
“Fuck…” I whispered, looking at our crazy expressions. Lust-filled eyes, swollen lips, red cheeks.
“You’re beautiful.” he whispered, dipping his hand into my bikini bottoms, feeling my wetness while watching us in the mirror, keeping, “So wet for me.” he whispered against my neck, kissing softly.
I whimpered at the contact he made with my clit suddenly, and rolled my hips against his hand for relief, he pulled his finger away and licked my slick away, he groaned softly, “You taste like Heaven.” he bit my shoulder playfully and whispered against my skin, “You want me to fuck you? Right here, while the entire block is just outside?”
My legs trembled at the image that flashed in my mind, and I nodded quickly.
“Use your words, Sweetheart. I need to hear you.” his hands traveled the curve of my thighs and ass, squeezing the plush flesh.
“Yes, Joel. I want you to fuck me while everybody is just outside. While it’s so easy for us to get caught, I want you to fuck me so good I can’t even remember my own name after.”
“Good girl.” he untied the rest of my bathing suit and let it drop, fully exposing my lower-half to him. Both of us were only wearing our shirts now, he trailed his fingers delicately over my skin and kept his voice low. “You have to be silent, baby. Silent.” his eyes showed concern, “Be a good girl for me and nod that you understand. Show me how silent you can be.”
I nodded once in confirmation, clenching around nothing aside from the prospect of being filled up by Joel Miller.
He kept his eyes on my face from the mirror as he pumped his hand up and down his cock a few times, readying himself for me, running the tip along my slick and pushing the tip in. “You’re so goddamn tight,” he cooed and my eyes rolled back at trying to suppress a noise that threatened to erupt from the depths of my soul at him splitting me open for him, slowly easing in centimeter by centimeter. Too tight for him not to savor the feeling of me throbbing around him.
“Joel.” I whispered, hardly audible.
“Silent.” he warned, a crazed look in his eye as he stilled his movements.
I nodded, and he wasted no more time stretching me slowly along his cock, he pushed in hard and fast the rest of the way. Watching me fall apart and lean against the counter for support.
I opened my mouth and forced myself to make no sound, grinding my hips back against his as he panted softly, stilling when he filled me to the hilt, “So good, baby. Such a good girl.” he gripped my hips hard and picked up a slow rhythm, filling me and then retreating fully. Teasing that delicate spot so deep inside my own fingers can never reach.
I whimpered softly, hardly a sound at all and he snapped his hips against my ass, “So pretty like this. Staring at yourself getting fucked by your father’s best friend. So obedient and quiet for me.” he watched us in the mirror, my face red from suppressing myself. Knuckles white against the edge of the counter.
His hand snaked around my hip to my stomach, trailing down until he found my clit, rubbing deliciously slow circles around the sensitive bud.
I couldn’t help it, the feeling of being full to the brim and the added pleasure from the sensitive spot forced me to release a moan of pure bliss, “That’s so good.” I let out, and he clamped his other hand over my mouth, shaking his head quickly and pulling out of me.
“On the floor, lay down.” he pointed to the floor and I laid on my back, he fit himself between my knees and covered my mouth again, using his other arm to support his weight above me. “Silent. This is your last warning.”
I nodded, eyes wide, boring into his serious, caramel colored irises.
He snapped his hips to mine, this new angle filling me even better, and his pace was fast, desperate, hard. He never took his hand off of my mouth the entire time he whispered praises against my neck while he bit, kissed and licked my tingling skin.
I stayed silent for him, taking in his hushed praises through heavy lids and flushed skin, My breathing hitched as I felt the waves of my orgasm begin to ripple through me.
“Cum for me, Sweetheart. I want to feel how good my cock is to you.” he pressed his hand down more firmly, a reminder of my task. Silence.
My eyes rolled back sharply as I arched into him, clenching desperately as his cock, breathing labored as my nails clutched into his hips, leaving small crescent shaped marks in his skin.
“Good girl. Good girl. Look how pretty you are when you fall apart for me.” he bit his lip as he continued his pace, riding out my high while chasing his own, and I held my breath against his hand.
It wasn’t long after mine that he began to crumble, his pace faltering, his breaths ragged as he ground his hips against mine slower and slower. Softer and softer. He pulled himself out of my throbbing pussy and let his warmth burst out over my thigh.
Finally removing his hand from my mouth I clutched the fabric of his shirt desperately, pressing his lips to mine. He grunted against my lips; a satisfied, unconscious noise. When he pulled away and pressed his forehead against mine, I could only imagine the expression I was making for him. Fucked out, touched out, desperate to take him again. Properly, not on the bathroom floor while a party raged on around us outside.
As if having the same thought, he cleaned me up with a washcloth from the linen closet and slipped into his jeans, buckling the belt. “Go to your room and wait a few minutes. Don’t wanna look suspicious.” he shrugged.
“Right.” I nodded, scrambling for my shorts and grabbing the bikini bottoms from the floor, only bothering to put the shorts on before pushing the door open and hurrying to the stairwell.
“Wait.” Joel’s voice was a harsh whisper, and I turned to face him, “Let’s do this properly next time.” He suggested, “Not in a bathroom.”
I nodded once before running up the steps, feeling empty now that he wasn’t buried inside of me but knew time was of the essence right now. I figured I’d make up some excuse about being clumsy and spilling a drink or food on my outfit and that’s what took me so long inside, fabricating a lie I’d hold onto forever if I had to. Ensuring that nobody would ever find out about the questionable dynamic of Joel and my now extremely complicated relationship.
When I returned outside around ten minutes later, I was thankful nobody batted an eye. Nobody missed me, and Joel was making himself busy at the snack table, popping a pretzel in his mouth and chewing with a knowing, cocky smile on his face.
“There’s my girl.” my dad’s voice cut through the yard and I snapped my attention to him before I could fall apart looking into the eyes of his best friend.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal characters#joel miller smut#female reader#tlou fanfiction#dads best friend
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Sweet Caroline (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)
Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Work has been super busy lately, but I got ahead of schedule this week and I listen to music at work and everything kind of fell together and I wrote this. It's not the best I mean TBH it's probably very crappy, I know that, but it's cute and sweet. I hope you enjoy! :)
Summary: The rivalry between Boston and New York is deep-seated and long-standing, but you're proud of where you come from—just smart enough to not announce it from the rooftops in Hell's Kitchen, or to your friends. Turns out, no matter what—through years of friendship, marriage, and everything that follows—there will always be the rivalry to some degree.
Suggested Listening: Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond
Warnings: Fluff, Boston vs. NYC rivalry, not proof read at all, really
Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page
Word Count: 1,046
Moving from Boston to New York City is a cardinal sin. It doesn’t matter that it was for law school: “You couldn’t get in to Harvard? Suffolk?” “Oh, too good for Boston, now, are ya?” The kind of comments go one and on, especially once you made the decision to stay, having met your two best friends and deciding to open up a law firm with them. You can just imagine the similar sort of comments you'd get in Manhattan if people heard that you're from Boston. Therefore, you keep that part of your background on a strictly need-to-know basis, only free to wear your Boston attire and drink your Dunks in the comfort of your own apartment. The first nice spring day in the city means that your Bostonian nature is out in full force in your home—some windows cracked, a pot of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee brewing, and your favorite hand-me-down Red Sox t-shirt you’ve had for years comfortably situated onto your body.
Your freeze when you register a knock on the door.
“Knock, knock!” you hear Foggy call through the old wood. “We’ve got pizza and case files!”
“Just a second!” you call, putting down your mug of coffee and making your way over to let them in.
“Traitor!” Foggy shouts almost immediately.
“What?” Matt asks, his face scrunched in utter confusion.
“Oh, Fog, c’mon,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I am being no such thing!” Foggy defends. “This is a proportionate reaction for the situation!”
“I think you’re both forgetting that one party in attendance is blind,” Matt chimes. “Can someone please fill in the details?”
“(Y/N)—if that’s even her real name—is wearing a Boston Red Sox shirt.”
“I will not accept Bostonian slander in my apartment, so if you boys—.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Matt rushes, putting a hand on your closing door. “You’re from Boston?”
“Yes.”
“Why’d you never mention it?”
“Never came up.”
“Lie,” Foggy interjects. “The day we met, we asked where you were from.”
“You said the city,” Matt adds. “We understood that as New York City.”
“That was a misinterpretation on your part. Boston is a city, and I did grow up there,” you clarify. “Hence, I’m from the city. You are at fault for not inquiring further.”
“It feels like I don’t even know you,” Foggy sighs.
“Okay, goodbye, drama kings,” you say, trying to close the door once more, only for both of your friends to slip in.
“Seriously, why’d you never just tell us?” Matt asks.
“You act like I told you I had a secret family or I was Daredevil or something!” Foggy has to help steady Matt—Matt's clumsiness is starting to get more concerning. “I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react as through and through New Yorkers. I’ve heard everything in the book about Boston while I’ve been here. I didn’t want to hear it from my friends, too.”
“(Y/N),” Matt says, the tips of his ears bright pink. “We don’t mean it like that.”
“Then how do you mean it? How else and I supposed to take it?”
“You blend so will with New York,” Foggy says.
“Now I’m insulted.”
“No—it’s just that you’re a natural, really. That’s why we’re shocked. That, and you don’t speak like—.”
“—like I want to park the car in Harvard Yard?” you question with an exaggerated accent, making them both laugh, albeit nervously.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint.” You pick up your mug of coffee from the counter, taking a sip. “What case files did you bring?”
“Sweetheart, she smells so good,” Matt hums in delight as you both rest with your newborn in the hospital room.
“I know, Matty,” you smile. "Or are you forgetting that pregnancy made me have super senses, too?”
“Yeah, but that’s nature at work.”
“Mm,” you hum, taking another sniff of her head. “She smells so new.”
“Is it weird we’re this enamored with sniffing our newborn?”
“No. We made her. We have the right to sniff.”
As you continue to fawn over your daughter, you hear a gentle knock on the door. You notice Foggy and Karen peeking their heads through the crevice, gifts and balloons in hand.
“Is now a good time?” Karen asks.
“Well, you are interrupting our baby-sniffing time, but I guess an exception can be made for you two,” you say.
“I’m gonna ignore the baby-sniffing comment because I’m too excited to meet my niece,” Foggy beams as they enter the room and get closer. “Oh, wow. That’s a cute baby. I mean, of course she is, look at the gene pool she got to swim in.”
“She’s precious,” Karen whispers in awe. “Great job, guys. More so to you, (Y/N).”
“Thanks,” you breathe, resting your head against Matt’s.
“Does she have a name yet? Or is she still Baby Girl Murdock for now?”
“Well, Matt had a suggestion,” you start.
“Caroline,” he finishes, smiling sweetly at your daughter.
“Aww. Caroline Murdock. It’s so pretty,” Karen hums. “She looks like a Caroline.”
“Caroline?” Foggy asks. “Like . . . Sweet Caroline?”
“Foggy, how long has it been since you found out that I’m from Boston and you’re still on this?” you chuckle.
“No, it’s not that! It’s nice. It’s a real show of love for a New Yorker to name their kid after the anthem of the enemy city.”
You look down at your daughter, the picture of relaxation as she rests in your arms.
“Sweet Caroline, bum, bum bum,” you begin to sing. “Good times never seemed so good—.”
“So good! So good! So good!” Matt adds on.
“Traitor,” Foggy smirks.
“You’re gonna be my little cute Boston fan, aren’t you?” you say softly.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Matt tries.
“You don’t even like sports!”
“It’s the principle of the thing! And you don’t like sports, either.”
“It’s the principe of the thing,” you mock.
“Yeah, but I love her.”
“I do, too.”
“So, Caroline? Is it official?” Karen asks.
“How about Caroline Josie Murdock?” you offer. “She does need a middle name, after all.”
“It’s perfect,” Matt hums, kissing your temple.
“A perfect marriage of Boston and New York,” Foggy smiles. “Just like her parents.”
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Afterthoughts and Alcohol- Liv X Luca
A/N: Part 1 of Liv & Luca's LONG teased angst....
Word Count:3.5k
Stop here & here before continuing on.
The timezone difference between the West coast and East coast has Livia Meier banging her head against the wall of her bathroom stall. Well, metaphorically.
Luca and the Minnesota Wild have been on a long, road trip. Although Liv doesn’t live with Luca in Minnesota, his road trips still feel like a burden on their relationship. They talk less. He is out with the boys more. Then add in the three hour time difference and they both feel like two ships passing in the night. Liv fights the frustrated tears growing in her eyes as she fixes a smudge of her freshly applied, mauve pink lip stain.
Heading for my nap. Text you when I’m up 😘
Liv sighs as she slowly walks out of the women’s bathroom inside UBS Arena. She looks down at the message, wanting to tell Luca how much she misses him and how distant things feel with them right now. But it is not the time. Not right before a game and when she is out with her friends for a fun night.
Instead, she sends back: ❤️💋😘
Camilla and Harper, her good friends from freshman year and now floor mates, await outside the bathroom for Liv.
“Ready?” Harper asks, sliding her arm through Liv’s. They begin to walk to the left.
“I think we missed warm ups. Will he care?” Camilla wonders. She nervously bites her lip as the girls weave arm in arm through the busy concourse to the Isles family seats.
“No. I don’t think Ryder Hughes noticed we missed warm ups on a rivalry hockey night.” Liv laughs at the mere thought. He has the same focus and intensity as his dad, Jack. His ability to block out the rest of the world has always been admirable to Liv.
Tonight is Girl’s Night Out sponsored by Ryder Hughes. He has been begging Liv to come watch a game to show her some “real East coast hockey” for the past several months. But class and flying to Minnesota and Devils & Rangers games, have taken up most of Liv’s time. She figured it was time to throw Ryder a bone. He has been so helpful and supportive as Liv has begun the process of starting her second book. He is constantly checking in to make sure she has eaten or has enough coffee or has taken a shower in the last three days. Only a year and a half has passed since Liv’s first book was published, but she had forgotten how difficult and stressful it can be to meet her publisher’s demanding deadlines.
Enter Ryder Hughes as Superman.
And Luca, of course. His role is shaped more by distance than Ryder’s, but Liv tries to shelter those details from her boyfriend. She doesn’t want to make Luca feel bad for missing out on “Librarian Livy”- his nickname for her because of the blue light blocking glasses she wears while she writes.
“Where is Luca tonight?” Harper asks as they sit down in their seats. Liv can feel eyes of the WAGS on her- the Devils and Rangers and Wild and now Islanders girl? The puck bunny label practically writes it’s self across Liv’s forehead.
“Um, he is in Seattle.” Liv clears her throat of the awkward phlegm setting in from the stares.
“Ugh, I love Seattle! It’s all moody and dreamy.” Camilla murmurs. “Do you ever visit him on the road?”
“No, the road is sacred.” Liv rolls her eyes. “It is where all the bonding and real focus on hockey happens. You know without the distraction of their loved ones.”
“I wanna be a WAG so bad!” Harper whines. “Livy, how do I get Ryder to notice me?”
“I think you need to be European….” Camilla teases, eyeing Liv from the side.
“Stop.” Liv shakes her head. These two are good friends and always tease Liv about the “hot, hockey men” entranced by her aura.
“Livy, will you sponsor me for Swiss citizenship?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” Liv laughs, bringing her mixed drink to her lips for two quick sips.
“Maybe Lio will marry me.” Harper jokes.
“He is a mess. Stay away from him.” Liv mutters. She likes Harper too much to allow her to enter Lio’s puck bunny trap. Camilla and Harper share a look, shamelessly bonding over their admiration of the oldest Meier child.
The Islanders win the game against the Buffalo Sabres 2-1 in regulation. The girls want the experience of waiting for an NHLer and no amount of whining from Liv can get them to move along. So they wait, and wait, and wait for Ryder to poke his head out from the tunnel. He gives a wave and big grin, then climbs the stairs by twos.
“Great game!” Harper blurts immediately.
“Thanks for the tickets, Ry!” Camilla cheers as he enters the row.
“Hey ladies, thanks for coming.” He goes in for a quick hug with each one of them, ending with a longer one for Liv. “Good hockey, eh?”
“Looked similar to what I have seen.” Liv pokes his side, shrugging like she is unimpressed. He actually played well tonight.
“Better colors though.”
“Mmm, I like green. Brings out my eyes.” She narrows them at him when he rolls his back at her.
“Trust me, you look better in blue.” He points to her plain blue shirt with no representation of his team. “What are you up to after this?” He seems to address the group, but his attention stays on Liv.
“I don’t know that we have decided.” Liv murmurs.
“Well, we have a green light tonight, so a bunch of the guys are heading out. You wanna tag along?”
“Yes!”
“Duh!”
Both girls chime in for Liv. She sighs, tilting her head back towards the arena roof to consider. She really didn’t write enough this week. She should go home and try to get a couple thousand more words done to feel good going into the weekend. Luca is coming into town next week and she wants to spend all her time with him, not worrying about her next check point.
“Livy, your deadline will still be there tomorrow.” Ryder winks, knowing her inner turmoil. He very dramatically juts his bottom lip out at her, then looks up towards the rafters as he bats his eyes. He looks cute and boyish, earning a smirk from her.
“Wow.” Liv snorts. “Fine, but you’re buying my drinks all night. I’m not paying.”
“Beautiful girls never pay with me.” Liv ignores the way Harper and Camilla giggle as they head down the stairs to leave in Ryder’s swanky, black Porsche.
- - -
Inside the VIP area of some bumping club Liv has never heard of, she lays her head back on the booth and belts out the lyrics to Party in the U.S.A. Ryder is next to her, nursing his second whiskey neat as the rest of his teammates scatter through the upper area of the club. Camilla and Harper are long gone, mingling with the single members of the Islanders while Liv was sitting by herself. Ryder just came and plopped himself down after doing a lap around the level.
“Are you glad you came?” Ryder smirks as the song finishes.
“Mhm. Thanks.” Liv says genuinely.
“I knew you would feel better if you came out. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to have fun too.”
“I do have fun.”
“Yeah, but I mean have fun here, in New York, not only when you’re jet setting off to Minnesota. You live in one of the best cities in the world and you never do anything the city has to offer.”
“Life for me here is temporary.” Liv shrugs. It is. Once she is done with school, she is going to Minnesota. She wants to build a life with Luca.
“You’re gonna throw away a whole life here for someone else’s dream?” Ryder asks. “Kinda shitty of him to ask.”
“He didn’t ask.” Liv shrugs her shoulder slightly, feeling defensive.
“But he also didn’t tell you to stay in the best city in the world for your career.” Liv pauses.
No, Luca didn’t tell her that.
“Maybe Mr. Perfect isn’t so perfect.” Ryder suggests.
“If I wanted to stay, he would support that.”
“Come on, Livy. You think he loves being hundreds of miles away from you for most of the year?”
“What is he supposed to do, Ry? He can’t control where he plays. You know that.”
“Sure, but I hope you know you deserve more than to only be someone’s girlfriend in some shitty, fly over state. I can’t imagine that’s what your parents want for you either.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Maybe, but at least someone here wants what is best for you.”
“So does he.” Liv finishes with a whisper. They both look away from each other, taking drinks to cool off some of the tension. Liv avoids the pull of Ryder’s gaze a few minutes later, wondering if she should head back to her apartment instead of continuing the night.
“Hey.” Ryder murmurs softly. He reaches out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. He watches his thumb brush over her fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset.” He forces a smile. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
But are you happy? An internal voice asks Liv. Are you happy with how many more months of long distance? Or the fact that you and Luca have only talked once on this five day road trip? Or how short the conversation was and the way he goes hours without responding to a text? Will this be how it is in Minnesota? Is Ryder right? Will you only be Luca’s girlfriend, a WAG, and not a published author with a bachelor’s degree and working towards a master’s?
Liv swallows down her nerves, squeezing Ryder’s hand back while pulling in a steady breath.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m fine. Great even.” She finishes, groping for her glass on the table and slamming the rest in one huge swallow.
But the rest of the night, Liv is swimming in and out of reality. She has a hard time being present with the group. The amount of alcohol she consumes doesn’t help. She gets upset when realizing Luca never texted her before he headed to the arena. She was in the bathroom, scrolling through Instagram when she saw his arrival picture posted on the Wild socials. His phone is right there in his hand, but she has no new messages from him.
How is this so easy for him? How is she sitting here spinning her wheels, waiting for any sliver of attention, and he is walking into that arena without a care in the world? Before she thinks better of it, she sends a text to him.
Going to bed. Sweet dreams.
Then she fills her Instagram story up with all the pictures she can take of every Islander and her. She takes shots with their star center, captain, and goalie. Her and Ryder snap tongue out, ultra posed pics. She shoves at Ryder’s face as he tries to hand her another shot. Camilla and Harper join in on the pictures too- sexy, pouty faces as Liv sheds her jacket and runs around the hot VIP area in her black tank top.
Liv is catching her breath off the dance floor with a fresh tequila soda when her phone buzzes on the bar top.
Your bed looks different these days. Have fun, baby! Call me when you get home?
He is as sweet as ever, which is so annoying to Liv.
She sees Ryder on the dance floor with Harper, who is falling all over herself at his attention. Liv scoffs. Pathetic. Harper throws her arms around his shoulders. His hands go to her hips, holding her up and in place as her upper body sways. Everything feels like it is getting sloppy. Harper pulls herself into his chest, cuddling up into his arms. He lets her, but his eyes wander up to where Liv is. He raises his eyebrows at her. Liv shrugs in response. Ryder leans down to Harper’s ear, saying something that has her nodding.
Liv scans the crowd as they wade through to get off the dance floor and to the stairs leading to VIP. Every woman turns their head to look at Ryder as he passes. If he notices, he doesn’t let on. Liv shakes her head in awe of it. She can feel their hot gazes judging her when he stops next to her. He throws his hands on the railing she is leaning on, smiling in greeting at her.
“Another night where you have your pick of the place.” Liv cocks a brow at him. A piece of hair falls across his forehead and instinctively, Liv reaches up to brush it away. Ryder goes still with her skin on his. He closes his eyes for a moment, then slowly turns fully towards her, setting his blue eyes on her face.
“They aren’t the girl that I want.” Liv holds his gaze for three breaths, then looks away, taking a gulp of her drink. She ignores his words, unable to comprehend fully if that was insinuation or not. She can feel the way her body responds to the alcohol. She is a little unsteady on her feet, feeling her inhibitions fall away, and the anxiety dissipate until she feels completely comfortable in her skin.
The feeling doesn’t last as Camilla and Harper get downright sideways. Camilla is in tears crying over her ex-boyfriend with a rookie who looks like he wants to run through the brick wall to get away from her. Harper is falling asleep on the bench and the bouncer is throwing his thumb over his shoulder that she has to go. Ryder helps Liv get them back into his car.
“Are you okay to drive?” Liv wonders before getting in.
“Yes. I’m sober. Saw you three getting wild and stopped drinking so you would be safe.” The consideration touches Liv. She is contemplative as she gets into the passenger seat. Her seatbelt clicks into place then Ryder pulls out into traffic. As the car shifts, Liv feels something shifting inside of her too. A softness is growing where she felt jealous and out of control earlier.
Camilla rushes out of Ryder’s car as soon as he puts it into park. She tosses a wave over her shoulder leaving a passed out Harper to Ryder and Liv. They each take an arm, working together to get her into her apartment. Once inside Liv helps get Harper into bed as Ryder waits in the living room.
“Livy, do you think Ryder fell in love with me tonight? Is that why he is here helping?”
“I think he cares about you, Harp, but maybe try again when you’re sober.” Liv says to her friend. Liv ignores the twisting in her stomach at the thought of Ryder interested in someone. What audacity her tummy has to be churning right now.
Liv’s boots clack down the hall as she finds Ryder by the couch. He is looking at a picture of the three girls on one of their first weekends at Columbia. He seems out of place with his big shoulders, dark hair, and masculine presence in the overly feminine living room.
“That feels like a lifetime ago.” Liv murmurs, stopping next to him. Their shoulders brush.
“You have lived a lot since then.”
“Yeah.” Liv smiles. “Can’t believe I’m graduating in a few months. It flew by.”
“The best years do, especially when you find a safe place to spread your wings.”
“I know it’s going to be hard for you when I leave.” Liv murmurs, sensing the sad undertone to his words. They haven’t spoken about this before, but the implication has been there.
“Yeah, it will be. I’m losing my best friend.” To comfort him, Liv laces their fingers together, tugging him towards the door to leave Harper’s behind.
“Come on, knight in shining armor. No need to get sad and sappy tonight. We have months left together.”
“True. Plus, I’ve got one more drunk girl to tuck into bed.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Sure, but you aren’t sober.” Liv doesn’t argue about that. Ryder makes sure the door is locked to Harper’s apartment, then puts a guiding hand on Liv’s back to walk her the two doors down to her place.
Antsy anticipation intensifies in Liv as she pulls her keys out. Her other hand is still laced in Ryder’s comfortably. His thumb brushes along her fingers and she feels butterflies sweep the walls of her stomach.
“Liv. I’m serious. I know you’re trying to change the subject and move on, but I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. You have this effect on me. I am better when you’re around. I’m scared of who I will be without you.”
Warmth and appreciation spreads out from Liv’s chest to her extremities. That feels so good to hear. She has spent so much of the day feeling like an after thought, a throw away item when other things are more pressing. Right or wrong, Ryder fills her cup right back up. She smiles softly at him.
“See? What am I going to do without that smile.” He reaches out for her face, then drops his hand, remembering what they are to each other. Remembering who she has waiting for her in San Jose or whatever West coast city Liv said he was in.
“We will still see each other.”
“Like this?” His voice gets huskier.
“What do you mean?”
“Just me and you. Like this. Like…” He trails off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He gets bold, cupping her cheek with his hand. Liv closes her eyes and leans into his touch. “I’m trying so hard not to kiss you right now.” Her blue eyes open again at his confession.
Liv should say goodnight. Right now. Danger signs bolt upright in her mind. Red flags whip in hurricane force winds. Alarms bang through her head like cartoon cymbals clamoring together. And yet, her eyes drift, down the bridge of his nose, over his slightly red cheeks, to the full, red flesh of his lips. Her top teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth, then she runs her gaze back up those features to his eyes again.
“Livy…” He whispers her name like a secret.
Her eyes gravitate to Ryder’s lips again, wondering what it would feel like, for one moment, to kiss someone else. But not just anybody, him. Ryder. Loneliness whispers like a siren to feel warm skin against her mouth again. To be held for a moment, desired, not put on a shelf to be taken down when hockey or school isn’t demanding attention.
Ryder leans in, keeping his eyes open, locked on Liv. Her heartbeat blasts through her ears like a freight train as he stops at 80%. All that is left between them is a slim slice of stale apartment air. His warm breath collides with hers right in front of their noses. She tilts her chin up more, perfectly evening up their mouthes.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz
Liv’s phone vibrates in the back pocket of her tight jeans. Her and Ryder stare at each other. Without even checking, they both somehow know it’s Luca. She never told him she was home. Now he likely worries, three thousand miles away.
“I should go.” He sighs dismally. Liv can taste his words in her mouth, feeling the flutter of the air of them on her lips. Then he turns and walks away.
Liv doesn’t answer Luca’s call. She couldn’t speak if she wanted to anyway.
Guilt crawls through her veins, icing her chest and making her unsteady on her feet. Ryder disappears into the elevator. Her back hits her door as she clutches her keys to her chest.
Why did that almost happen?
And what is that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that mirrors disappointment?
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