#but it's always something like she's the life of the party

[cupid-styles]

a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day. 

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.” 

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.) 

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life. 

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago. 

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that. 

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups. 

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish. 

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it. 

Until now. 

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem. 

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods. 

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation. 

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply. 

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception. 

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her. 

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either. 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept). 

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed. 

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response. 

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response. 

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number. 

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.” 

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach. 

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?” 

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure. 

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it. 

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. 

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm. 

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline. 

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name. 

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Something New (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: you and Jessie get teased for your assumed “vanilla” sex life, you decide to take Jessie on a trip to find some new things to try in the bedroom.

Warnings: suggestion to sex, sex toys, visiting adult store, (handcuffs, blindfolds, strap-on, buttplug, vibrators), none of the toys actually being used.

WC: 2.4k

A/N: if yall want a part 2 in which the toys are actually used, I can do that :)

“Oh come on there’s got to be something you want to try that we haven’t?” You pull up the sheet from where it had been kicked off the bed, covering your naked body before laying down next to your equally naked girlfriend.

“I don’t know.” Jessie just remained lying on her back, not making eye contact with you. Her chest was still rising and falling quickly, catching her breath.

“Oh come on, don’t be shy with me, after what we just did there’s no reason to be shy.” You two had just finished what was supposed to be quick morning sex but turned into a competitive match. Giving each other orgasm after orgasm until about 11am when you both finally tapped out.

“Are you asking because of what happened at Sam’s house?” Jessie asks.

The two of you had been at a party the night before at Sam’s with the rest of the team, playing various card and board games which led quickly to playing drinking games that somehow always ended up in discussions of everyone’s sex life.

When you started dating, you and Jessie had agreed to not disclose too much about what you two do behind closed doors to your nosey teammates. It was originally an idea out of shyness on Jessie’s part, you had never minded indulging your teammates in your experience but out of respect for Jessie and your relationship you kept your mouth shut for the most part. You started to like the secrecy of what went on in your beds, no one knew the details, just you and her. So when you were asked the craziest thing you’ve done in bed, you sipped away at your drink instead of answering. Unsatisfied with your choice to not answer, Sam began to accuse you and Jessie of having an incredibly boring and “vanilla” sex life. You tried to defend yourself and Jessie, Jessie being too shy to be any help, the teasing from your teammates had only continued.

“No.” You’re quick to answer, not even really thinking. “Okay maybe, I don’t know, I don’t think our sex is boring though, I love having sex with you. It just made me think and just thought I’d ask if there was anything you wanted to try.”

You truly didn’t find your sex life with Jessie boring at all, she was excellent in bed, able to meet and exceed your needs and the two of you being athletes meant you had the stamina to last as long as you wanted. You collectively owned a strap-on and a vibrator but nothing else. It worked for the two of you, it was great sex. But even great sex sometimes could use something new, something for a little change of pace. You also knew Jessie well enough to know even if there was something she was interested in, she most likely would keep it to herself until you pried it out of her.

“I don’t know.” You can tell she’s withholding information, still too shy to put her ideas into words. But you decide not to push it, it was a little bit of a personal question to throw on her and expect an immediate answer.

“Alright babe, if you come up with anything, you can tell me. Want to get a shower?” She nods, finally making eye contact with you as you both get up from the bed and move to the bathroom. You let the question go unanswered for now, secretly hoping Jessie would come up with something to tell you in the next couple of days.

After a week passes since you had asked Jessie if she wanted to try anything out in bed and not getting any form of a hint or answer, you decide maybe a little field trip would help. Maybe Jessie just didn’t know what she wanted to try, maybe this would give her some suggestions.

“Where are we going?” Jessie asked for the fifth time since you told her to get dressed and ready to leave the house. She claimed she needed to know where you were going so she could dress appropriately.

“I’ve told you, it’s a surprise.” You turn back to look at your girlfriend as you grab your keys.

“You know I hate surprises.” She mumbles as she follows you down the hallway from your apartment out the door. Jessie wasn’t a big fan of surprises, she liked having all the information and surprises made her feel out of control.

“Jessie it’ll be fine, I promise. If you hate it for some reason we can leave. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I trust you.” She gets into the passenger seat of your car and you start driving. You debated having her close her eyes but it didn’t feel necessary, you weren’t going too far. You drove for another 25 minutes before you pulled into the parking lot of a small shop.

“You brought me to an adult store?!” Her voice is a mix of confusion and also a little bit scared.

“Yes, I did but we don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I just thought, maybe we could look around?” You don’t want her to feel forced, but you thought this would be a good way to maybe suggest new ideas for the two of you.

“What if someone sees us?” You’re convinced her voice is raised a few octaves.

“Jessie, we’re adults. We’re also publicly dating, people know we have sex.”

“Still.” She was bouncing her leg, head swiveling to look around the car to the empty parking lot, and she was nervously playing with her fingers. You start to think maybe you should’ve asked if she’d want to do this before you made it a surprise. Or maybe just going online shopping would’ve been a better choice for someone like Jessie.

“Babe,” you place a hand on her knee, trying to settle it, “we don’t have to go in. If you don’t want to, we won’t. We also can go in and then immediately leave, whatever you want.”

She doesn’t say much, just looking at the door of the shop. You can tell she’s having an argument within herself on what she wants to do. You let her ponder, she slowly stops fiddling with her fingers, wiping her hands, that were likely sweating slightly on her legs.

“Let’s go in.”

“Are you sure?” Now worried she feels forced by you and like she has to go into the store.

“Yeah.” Before she’s able to get out of the car you grab her hand.

“If you want to leave, just tell me, we’ll go.” She nods and you both get out of the car and walk into the store.

You’d been in a store like this once before, buying a joke gift for a bachelorette party, but never when looking for something you actually wanted. The toys you owned had been purchased online.

You didn’t know where to start so you decided to just take a lap around the whole store, then figuring out where you wanted to look. Jessie followed you around like a lost puppy, her eyes barely leaving the floor, glancing up only to look at you.

You move over to the wall of dildos, you liked the one you had for your strap currently, but a new one wouldn’t hurt. It’s a little overwhelming, every color and size imaginable on the wall, ones that vibrate, ones that spin, ones that have heating elements. That sounded like a fire hazard to you. Your eyes scan over all the options, a few catching your eye, you prefer the fun colors, you look at sizes comparable to the one you already owned. It worked for both of you, no reason to make too much of a change with a new one.

You turn to see Jessie, surprised to see she’s actually looking up at the wall instead of the floor. You watch as her eyes scan, before setting on a blue dildo that looks to be slightly larger than the one you already owned. Her eyes wander away and then come back to the blue one. You give her a second to make a decision or movement to grab the toy, she doesn’t.

“You like that one?” You point at it on the wall. Jessie doesn’t say anything, just turning to look at you and then back to the box and then to the floor.

“Jessie, if you want it we can get it.” You notice the slightest nod of her head, but she doesn’t make a move to grab it. You sigh, letting out a small laugh at your girlfriend’s shy behavior, given she was the opposite in the bedroom once you got her going. You take the box off the wall and throw it into the basket you had picked up.

Jessie walks away and out of the section you were in, not saying anything to you. Now it was you who was the one following her around the store. She moves over to a wall of assorted items. Small vibrators, bottles of lube, gags, paddles, all sorts of things. You watch her carefully as her eyes scan again. This time they don’t stop for too long on anything. You assume nothing has peaked her interest. She takes a few steps around the corner to another wall of items. You grab a bottle of lube off the shelf, identical to the one you already owned, you weren’t running out quite yet but there wasn’t really such a thing as too much lube.

You scan the wall yourself before following Jessie around the corner. You see her hand reach out slightly toward something before she withdraws when she notices you coming around the corner. Her hand drops but she’s still looking at it when you come over. It’s a blindfold and handcuff set.

“Really?” You look at her, shock probably across your face as your hand grabs the box. She nods again, still not using her voice. You throw it in the basket. The thought of your hands restrained to the headboard while Jessie had her way with you, or hers being restrained while you got to tease her had you clenching your thighs together, ready to leave the store and try it out.

You are now just following Jessie around the store, less looking for yourself and just watching her eyes carefully as she has yet to actually say any words about what she wants to you. As you walk by a section of harnesses you see ones with a pocket where you could put a vibrator. You try to think if the one you have at home has a pocket but you can’t remember.

“Babe,” you whisper yell across the store to where Jessie was wandering around. She quickly comes over to you. “Does our harness have this pocket? I can’t remember.”

She nods at you and gives a quiet “Yes.”

“Oh, should we get something for it? We don’t have anything small enough to go in there.” You grab for one of the smaller bullet vibrators and hold it up to Jessie, cocking your head to ask her if she wanted it. She just gives you a nod again.

Jessie returns back to where she was before, you follow her over. She’s looking at another wall of assorted items. Only instead of walking past this one her eyes are glancing and then looking away only to draw back to some boxes. When you realize what she's looking at, your jaw nearly falls open, but not wanting to make her question her interest you keep a straight face.

“That?” You point at the silver butt plug Jessie was looking at.

“Only if you’d want it?” You realize she means she wants to use it on you, if you’d let her. You’d never tried it, but figured no harm in trying things out.

“Sure, I’m open to trying whatever with you.” You grab the box, throwing it into your surprisingly full basket. You hadn’t realized how many things you had picked up on your lap around the store.

You’ve nearly made it through the whole store, taking a last stop to look at some of the lingerie. You flip through the options while Jessie is back to standing behind you as if she was hiding. You find a red lacy matching set and throw it into the basket, you look back to see Jessie’s eyes wide as she sees what you had picked out. You flash her a smirk, knowing she’s picturing you wearing the outfit.

“You all done?” You ask your girlfriend. She gives you a nod and reaches into her pocket grabbing out her wallet and handing you her card.

“I’ll get it.” You wave off her card but she sticks the card into your hand again. You roll your eyes, taking her card and turning to go check out, leaving Jessie wandering behind you, not wanting to interact with the employees.

You check out quickly and look back to get Jessie’s attention as you’re ready to leave. She follows you quickly out the door and rushes to the car. You place the bag in the trunk and get in the drivers seat.

“See I knew there was stuff you wanted to try but were too shy to say it.” You poke at her cheek. “You could’ve told me.” You tease her gently you knew she was shy, she always had been since you met her, she was shy with everyone.

She doesn’t say anything but you notice the blush on her cheeks reddening. You decide to leave her be, not wanting to tease her too much. At least not yet, maybe later in the bedroom.

You throw the car in drive and leave the shop, heading home. When you get home you throw the contents of the bag on the bed. “So where do you want to start?” You ask Jessie turning to see her looking at everything you had bought.

“Handcuffs maybe the new dildo too?” She says with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised at you, no longer shy like she was at the store.

You nod quickly at her.

“Get on the bed.” Her tone is demanding, she reaches to pick up the handcuffs and blindfold as she makes her way to the side of the bed. You lay down and Jessie straddles your waist, her weight holding you to the bed. She drops the handcuffs before grabbing your hands with hers interlocking your fingers and pinning your hands above your head with her strength.

She leans down as if she’s going to kiss you, before moving to the side to place her lips against your ear. “This is going to be fun.”

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[starfxkr]

western nights (pt. 1)

pairing: older!trailer park!jj x reader

summary: jj maybank knows he's too old to be messing around with a young girl like you, but he does it anyways

warnings: age gap, smut (fingering), that's p much it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jj was known for bein a sleaze around the trailer park. a two time felon who's doing his best to lay low by taking odd jobs around the complex so the feds don't come knocking at his door. you could catch him doing anything from mowing lawns to helping out the grandmas who's sons long stopped coming to check on them. girls came and went out of his trailer at all times of the day--clothes askew and hair messy.

but once he set his eyes on you, everyone else went out the window. he'd known of you of course, having grown up in the complex you're whole life but you were nothing more than one of many little shits running around in a little conglomerate of cheese puff fingers and sugar highs. he paid you no mind, maybe you were one of the kids he's bought crappy water pistols for, maybe not. one summer though, one summer he's on your lawn fixing your car because your mom asked, and there you were-- sitting pretty on your lawn chair reading some trashy book in what he thinks is the smallest dress he's ever seen.

the two of you lock eyes and from then on he's always finding a reason to sniff around you.

each time you pass by jj's place he lets out a whistle, sayin "wish the girls looked as good as you when i was that age." and you just roll your eyes and keep walking. he always finding something to fix around your house and your mom becomes more and more enamored with him not noticing he only has eyes for you.

it all comes to a head during a birthday party--your mom's to be exact. the whole little block is drinking, kids running around, barbecue in the air but you're sitting across from him in his too hot trailer trying to wrangle a beer out of him.

"you even old enough to drink yet? you still got one baby fat on ya." he pinches your cheek and you smack him away with a scoff, leaning over with your hands on either sides of his hips on the couch

"does it matter? you're gonna give it to me anyways." the little pout on you face makes his dick twitch in his jeans, and he makes no effort to hide his growing erection.

"nuh uh little girl, gonna need to see some i.d." you squeak when he pats your ass to 'search' for your wallet, fingers dancing at the hem of your denim skirt and sliding up you shirt to cup your breast, "feels like you're old enough to me."

your eyes flutter shut when he swipes a calloused thumb across your nipple, a tiny hmph of pleasure works it's way past your lips when he pinches the soft flesh.

the beer is quickly forgotten when he lifts your shirt off, wasting no time in getting his mouth on you--licking the sweat from the valley of your breasts and sucking on your neck as you move to sit on his lap.

"should we even be doin this? y'know my mama's realll sweet on you." you pull away from him but make no move to leave.

jj just scoffs and waves it away, running a hand through his blonde hair in irritation, "lots of women are, nothin new, been this way as long as i can remember but it never mattered to me much."

you can tell he wants this conversation to be over, his eyes raking over your body and his fingers tugging at the button to your skirt even as you cross your arms in front of you, "if she finds out we're fucked."

he shrugs, "then don't let her find out."

that's all you need to continue, letting him capture your lips with his, his rough hands travel over your soft skin, stoking the fire building steadily inside of you. despite your veneer of coolness, he can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck under his palm.

"you scared of me or somethin?" his voice is raspy when he whispers against your jaw.

you whimper in reply, "n-no?" even you notice you don't sound too sure--maybe there's a little fear despite your flirting. you wanted to be good for him, you wanted him to like you.

he looks like he doesnt believe you, but he lets it go.

"then get over here." jj yanks you back towards him until your face was tucked into his neck. he doesn't even bother taking your skirt off, just hikes it up and tugs your panties down with a smack on your ass until they're sitting right below the swell of the soft flesh.

the moan that leaves your lips when his fingers graze your clit is almost pornographic, you hadn't even realized how wet you were until you heard the slick sound of his fingers plunging into you with ease. he was obviously skillful, he found that sweet spot inside you with no problem, rubbing it in time with the thumb on your clit while you squeaked and squirmed against him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

you were slick and dripping down his palm, doing your best to squirm away from the assault on your pussy but he wouldn't let you, chasing after your thrashing hips and letting out a soft grunt when you sink your teeth into his neck. the way he used his fingers should be a crime--scissoring them open and slowly dragging the pads down your front wall just to hear you mewl like a kitten at the feeling. the thumb on your clit still rubbing in quick, confident circles and he could tell by the way it swelled and throbbed that you were close.

"bet those little boys never made you feel like this huh?" he laughs at you whining response, the answer is extremely apparent by the sound of your growing wetness--your high pitched keen drowned out by the sloshing of your pussy, "there you go sugar, just let it all out."

you choke out a moan and drench him, pussy locking tight around his knuckles as you pulsed, squirting your release all over his lap. there was no way he had you feeling like that just from fingering but here you were, pulse rushing in your ears as he got your clothes back right, sitting you on the couch with a kiss on the forehead as he left to go change seeing as though you soaked his jeans.

when he comes back he lets out a chuckle at the sight of you still sitting there dazed and he finally gives you that beer, "get yourself together aight?" i'll see you back out there.

it takes you almost 20 minutes to finish the beer, still trembling and pussy aching with the need to be filled. you finally step outside, eyes hazy and brain turned to mush when you notice you don't have your panties on.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

to be continued

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ truth, dare, spin bottles you know how to ball, i know aristotle. ‘

𝜗𝜚… previous chapter - next chapter

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!verstappen!y/n x lando norris ) y/n is the younger sister of world champion max verstappen and an author known for her young adult romance novels despite never being in a relationship herself. lando norris is a formula one driver and is secretly an old friend and a fan of her books since 2020.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , brooke flecca

𝜗𝜚… triggers , none I don't think (maybe some cursing)

𝜗𝜚… authors note , thank you so much for 100 followers!! new driver series coming out soon based on an album ( I'll be making a fic for a diff driver based on each song )

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

the drive there had been relatively calm. it wasn’t awkward though, y/n and lando had known each other for years, despite not talking for the past two . the conversation was laced with nostalgia as they reminisced on his rookie year, when she went to every race and he’d been convinced she was his “lucky charm”

the air outside was warm with a flowy cool breeze, australian autumns were always nice and provided a small comfort to the girl who’d appreciated the weather. 

the club they’d gone to, however, was packed and it felt suffocating. y/n was never the one for clubs, she liked people, she liked dancing and music. but putting them together with a mix of alcohol and drugs never was something she enjoyed. (her brother on the other hand was the opposite)

she’d hung back near the bar slowly sipping on a sprite. she never drank alcohol; it was a personal preference, she hated the feeling of being out of control. lando had picked up drinking since the last time they’d saw each other, he was partying his little heart out with their friends now. 

y/n hung back watching him with a sorta fondness in her eyes, the scene was beautiful to her, romanticizing the true happiness he was experiencing to ignore how claustrophobic she was feeling. and how she’d been picking at the skin around her nails and the pit in her stomach. 

lando seemed to almost hear her cry for help, as he left the dance floor and walked over to her. she assumed to order another drink since he’d only had one. “you alright?”

y/n nodded but her mouth spoke differently, forever honest. “I feel like i‘m suffocating a bit, if i’m honest.” she admitted cringing as soon as she said it.

lando understood, but she knew he would. he helped out his hand, “then shall we?”

she furrowed an eyebrow and with pursed lips her eyes flicked up and down to his hand and then back to him. “shall we what?”

“bail.” 

“you were having fun, I'm a grown woman. if I wanna leave, I will.” y/n reassured guilt filling up her throat.

lando shook his head with a small grin that he always seemed to adorn. “oh c’mon I invited you, I'm here to spend time with you anyway.”

hesitantly the dutch girl took his hand and they hurried out of the bar, met with fresh air at last and a chill of the night. it felt a bit silly but y/n thought about writing a book in this moment, she thought about how she’d described the scene, how the two old friends reconnecting would turn into something more. 

she knew it was only a fantasy, all her books were. picturesque moments painted carefully by her hands, nothing that’d happen in real life. especially to her. she’d been confident in herself but she’d come to terms on how unsuccessful her love life had been. she was twenty-three and hadn’t dated a single person, not one out of the eight billion people on this earth.

so she’d lost hope. lando shouldn’t give her hope, she knew no one would ever follow through with it. she had enough self respect to stop trying to chase false dreams. 

they’d been walking down the street of melbourne for a few minutes now in a comfortable silence though she’d been surprised lando managed to keep his mouth shut this long. the sky was clear, the stars brighter than she’d seen in a while, the streets were practically empty and the air smelt of saltwater. 

“where are you taking me?” y/n asked realizing they’d passed lando’s car a couple minutes back. 

lando looked at her, “do you not trust me?” 

she pretended to think about it for a moment before meeting his gaze which remained on her. “haven't seen you in two years, maybe you've changed.”

he really had. he’d changed so much but somehow not at all, “you definitely have.” lando seemed to backtrack in his mind as his words came out as an insult. “in a good way I mean, I’ve just missed you.”

he missed her. maybe it’d been her chronic loneliness talking but she hadn’t heard those words from anyone in years. she looked down at her feet, a small smile growing on her face. “I missed you too, a lot.” 

“why didn’t you call or text, I swear I would’ve thought you died if not for your instagram.” lando wasn’t mad or at least he didn’t sound it, still y/n was embarrassed there was no reason for her to fall off the face of earth like she did, maybe she was just destined to be lonely and needed to prove she could do it. maybe that didn’t need two years to prove, she’d been proving it for twenty-two years.

“I’m not mad, I’m just happy to see my idol again.” he bumped into her shoulder with a smirk.

y/n giggled looking at him unconvinced. “your idol?” 

lando nodded, “I'm your biggest fan, don't you know?”  

“mhm of course I knew, reading august in two days must’ve been a new record.” the day lando commented on her instagram post saying he’d pre-ordered her book, she’d gone to her records of past books. he’d bought every book she’d ever read. every single one. even the special edition covers she’d published. 

never had anyone done a gesture like that for her. sure it might’ve been just because he’d like to read, but y/n wanted to live in a bliss where he did it for her.

watching the view change in front of her as they continued down the street she recognized where they’d been walking to. the beach. once they’d reached the place where the concrete ended and sand started. they both took off their shoes, lando grabbed hers holding them for her. 

the sand was soft to the touch, the beach was empty now and spanned for miles. waves crashed down onto the sand in a nice pattern of noise. it was pitch black except the moon which provided a nice soft light into the water far out. the breeze felt stronger here, y/n crossed her arms struggling to provide warmth to her bare arms.

the pair had taken a seat on the slightly wet part of the sand closer to the water. “it’s beautiful out here.” she commented. “like some shit you’d see in a rom-com.” a genre she knew too much about. 

“is this the part where I tell you you’re the only girl I’ve taken here?” lando said looking at her she could hear the smirk in his voice. 

y/n let out a laugh. “is this the part where I act surprised because you’re known for being such a ‘player’?” 

“I’ll do the whole yawn and arm over shoulder thing if you want, make this really realistic.” lando took off his black hoodie revealing a matching black t-shirt underneath. “here by the way.” 

he handed her the hoodie, “oh I’m fine.” she very clearly was not. she wanted to tell him to stop her some kind of hope, to not make her fall for him as she was now. 

“you so are not, you’re shivering and it’s freaking me out.” y/n wasn’t sure if she should’ve said thank you or been offended by ‘freaking him out’. she took the hoodie, it was soft fabric and smelt of his cologne, which smelt expensive. 

she put the hoodie on, relieved by the warmth she suddenly felt. after a while of chatting and laughing about stupid things like they used to, y/n comfortably rested her head on his shoulder, eyes feeling the need to shut but they wouldn’t like she wanted to be conscious for every moment of this, knowing she’d miss his comfort as soon as it was gone. 

“do you have to wake up for your flight early tomorrow.” he asked, his voice soft and he cautiously started to run his fingers through her hair, until she’d relaxed more and he was more confident with his innocent touches.

“mhm.” she mumbled. 

he carefully brushed the few knots in her hair, “should I take you home then it's getting late.” 

everything in her body was telling her to stay no, to stay there, she never wanted to leave. but her mind spoke differently, she had a book signing tomorrow she couldn’t miss her flight nor could she be too tired. she replied again, more disappointed than before, “yeah probably.”

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 856,756 others

yourusername last night in aus was well spent 🫶

tagged | @landonorris

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user34 OH the lando & y/n girlies are screaming rn

yourbestfriend oh my god you finally went outside 🤯

landonorris gotta make sure she gets some vitamin c every once in awhile

user54 i just know twt is going crazy

landonorris hope to see you in japan 🙏🫣

yourusername we’ll see 🤭

maxverstappen as a redbull fan I hope

user89 we are all living for your active era rn

user21 all her f1 posts having lando in them is making me cry they’re everything to me

user54 I’m getting 2019 lando y/n flashbacks

your bsf 🫶 sent you a text!

𝜗𝜚 ˖ ࣪₊˚ yourusername posted a story

seen by maxverstappen, lilymhe, davidmalukas and 645,765 others

landonorris replied to your story

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ landonorris posted

liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourusername and 972,342 others

landonorris another race done onto japan we go 😉 ( featuring special guest my celebrity crush )

tagged | @landonorris

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yourusername omg I love when I see my fan pages in the wild 🤭

landonorris ok babe don’t push it 🥰

user53 babe?!!!

user76 they’re so in love it hurts

user32 getting his first podium of the season while she’s there she really is his lucky charm

user98 HIS LUCKY CHARM 😭😭

mclaren y/n should come to more races best race result so far nice job!

user43 even mclaren loves them 🙏

user58 their actually my faves

carlossainz I think I’m your idol actually 🤔

landonorris whatever helps you sleep at night

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @cedarbcws @c-losur3 @lclitaa @forurforeverwinter @stinkyjax @littlexscarletxwitch @spideybv28 @ijustgomessitupx

[honeybeefae]

hi coming in a lil early for Smutty Tuesday but hear me out:

Azriel with a size kink and a corruption kink - a reader who is shy, quiet, easily flustered.

They’re at some party or gathering, reader gets overwhelmed and decides to hide away in a room to read her /definitely not/ smutty romance book. Azriel finds her, finds out what she’s *reading* (he definitely teased her about and her blush gave it away) and whatever resolve or restraint he has just snaps at the idea of ruining her 🫠🫠🫠

*insert rubbing hands together evilly here*

Life Imitates Art (Azriel x Reader)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Size Kink, Corruption Kink, Oral through Panties, Oral

The room you are hiding in offers you peace and quiet, something sorely lacking in the ballroom just down the hall. You were always easily overwhelmed, preferring to stick to the shadows and be the wallflower, so you are certain no was missing you as your fingers turn the page.

You feel your lips curl up in a shy smile as your eyes scan over the page, the vulgarity in the text making your heart race. Nesta certainly has an interesting collection of books...you would have to steal from the pile more often.

Everything around you disappeared as you delved further and further into the story, rubbing your thighs together at the unholy images racking your brain with each word. You were so engrossed that you didn't hear the door open nor the footsteps walking towards you.

A large, scarred hand fell between the pages, and it made you jump. Your face went as red as a tomato as you saw the infamous Shadowsinger above you.

"I knew there was someone missing from the party..." He murmurs, hazel eyes dark as you try to snap your book shut. His hand prevents it though, fingers curling against the bottom and pulling it easily out of your grasp.

"Wait, that's-" You try to reach for it, but he clicks his tongue, giving you a warning glance before turning to read.

"His fingers curled inside me, touching me in places that I had dreamed of him caressing," Azriel's voice was pure sex as he smirked, enjoying the way you shrank into the chair from embarrassment. "I could only see his eyes as he watched me between my legs, his hot breath fanning across my c-"

"Stop!" You plead, covering your ears. "Please, I get it, just don't read further."

"What's wrong, Y/N? You were just reading this yourself, were you not?" He teased, snapping the book shut with a loud thud. "Why are you so embarrassed now?"

You groan and cover your face, shaking your head to try and see if this is simply a dream. However, when you peek through your fingers, Azriel was still there, watching you.

"Did you like it?"

"Az, I didn't mean for you to find me reading-" You protest until he leans forward even more, both of his hands bracing on the arm of the large lounge chair and caging you in.

"That's not what I asked you, little mouse. Answer me." His tone is authoritative, shivers running down your spine as you crane your head back to look him in the eyes.

"I...yes, yes, I liked it." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you see his jaw clench, the fabric of the chair crunching from how hard his grip had gotten.

"Was that so hard?" He asked, gaze falling briefly to your lips before back up to your eyes. "I didn't know a girl like you read those kinds of books. I wonder what else I don't know about you..."

One of his hands came up to rest against the column of your throat, his eyes lighting up with enjoyment at the way you swallowed at the contact. Your breath hitched when he knelt in front of you, his hands falling to your thighs and spreading them with ease.

"Have you ever been tasted before?" Azriel murmurs, slowly bunching your skirts up your leg to reveal more and more skin.

You felt like you were going to faint as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening, confused as to how this had escalated so quickly but not at all upset.

"Y/N." He calls, pinching your thigh and making you squeak. "Answer me when I ask you a question. Have you?"

"N-No, I've never...I've never done anything like this..." You mumble.

Azriel stops at the top of your thigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment as his nostrils flare. You try to sit up, worried you've upset him, but gasp when he all but shoves you back down into the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak again, his gaze fully concentrated between your legs where your panties were just starting to become visible. You swear you saw him shaking, his wings extending as he finally stops when he reveals yourself fully.

"Little mouse..." He moans, wrapping both of his arms under your thighs and yanking you forward until your ass was hanging off the end of the seat. "I can't wait to ruin you."

He immediately licks a long stripe over your lace underwear, his spit soaking through as the sensation sends your body buzzing. You whimper as he eats you out through the thin material, making sure to soak your entire underwear as you wiggle and roll your hips.

When he's had enough teasing, he moves his hand to each side of your hip and rips through them like paper, wasting no time in getting back to feasting on your pussy. Your fingers grasp his short hair, your eyes squeezing shut as your pleasure only increases.

"Oh, Az, please!" You gasp, back arching when he hums his praises of your vocalizations. "Fuck!"

"That's it, pretty girl," He moans, sucking and nibbling on your clit as his ring finger circles around your entrance. "Scream for me."

As he gives you another particularly hard suck that makes you see stars, he also pushes his finger into you. You moan loudly, walls clamping down on the intrusion as he curses.

"Stars, you are so fucking tight," Azriel hisses, thrusting in and out. "I can't wait to stretch you out, princess. To see this tiny cunt swallow me whole."

"I want it," You whine, looking down at him desperately. "I want you so bad, please I can't take much more."

There was the familiar feeling of your orgasm building, but it felt so much more intense than you were used to. You didn't have control over your body or your words as pleas and whines flow out like water.

"You can and you will." He snarls, pulling away as he adds a second finger and starts scissoring you open. "You'll take everything I give you. Do you know why?"

You shake your head, your clothes feeling too tight on your skin as he curls his fingers and hits that spot that makes you scream.

"Because this is mine." Azriel curls his fingers again, bringing you that much closer to the edge. "Your cries, your moans, your pleasure, it is mine and mine only. Only I can give you this, bring you to this point, and you'll take it and thank me."

"Yes, only you!" You repeat, barely coherent, as you start to clench around his fingers. He adds a third one, coming back to hover his mouth over your clit.

"Do you want to cum, mouse? Want to make a mess all over this chair, my fingers, my face?" He taunts you, watching as your cheeks heat up again from his words. "I want to hear you say it before you cum."

"Az, please!" You cry, hips bucking as he starts to flick your bud with the tip of his tongue. However, your words fall on deaf ears as he waits for you to give in, to speak those filthy thoughts aloud.

Shame will come to swallow you whole at a later time, your pleasure fogging your mind until all you can think of is Azriel's tongue, fingers, cock...

"I want to cum! I want to cum on your fingers, on your cock, I don't care!" Your voice breaks as he keeps you on edge, his pupils blown wide as he watches you fall from your pedestal of innocence and into his awaiting arms. "Please, please, please. I need it, I need you-I just-"

You can't finish your sentence as he mumbles against your sopping cunt and starts curling his fingers again, licking your clit just right to send you falling into an abyss of carnal rapture.

Your entire body seizes up, your mouth falling open to silently scream. He continues to fuck you through it, prolonging your pleasure as tears form in the corner of your eyes. You had touched yourself before, had made yourself cum, but it never felt this powerful.

Azriel watches you, his breathing ragged as you look at him with hazy eyes. It takes you a moment to realize he had picked you up and was carrying you out of the room and up the stairs, your head resting against his chest.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask hoarsely.

"To my room. I told you you'd take all of it, Y/N, and that doesn't just mean an orgasm."

[lilasamaaa]

In the crowd | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3.6K.

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, drugs, mentions of violence.

Summary | Reader's an engineer at Scuderia Ferrari in Maranello. While attending the season's launch party, her drink gets spiked.

Author's Note | Hi all! After the longest time, I've felt the need to come back here for some silly writing. New blog because the last one got cringe. Let me know what you think!

One might think that after two years within the scuderia, the season’s launch parties would make her less uneasy. That after two years of being apart of the engineering team, she would finally be used to attending public gatherings. That after two years, she’d be a natural at walking in the open, feeling the glances slide over her figure. She is stunningly beautiful. Perhaps that's her burden. She doesn't realize it. 

When she walks across the paddock or the stands, she knows people are staring at her. She avoids meeting their gazes, feeling embarrassed. She thinks there must be something wrong with her outfit, with her gait. Why else would they stare for so long?

In Maranello, there’s a bakery at the corner of the HQ building where she stops every morning. The cashier always offers her something extra. A coffee. An additional pastry. She finds him polite, very customer-oriented. One morning, as she was freeing her croissant from the paper napkin it was wrapped in, she’d discovered a phone number scrawled in pen ink, with a hastily drawn smiley face. She’d stared at the napkin, perplexed, seated at her desk. He must have made a mistake, she thinks. It must have been meant for the customer before her. The one with the beautiful blonde curls and the Chanel perfume. She didn't call, didn't send a message. She continued to visit the bakery. The cashier never mentioned the number, proving her theory.

Someone brushing past her brings her back to earth. The party is in full swing, and she’s just not. She spots her colleagues bustling around the buffet and the bar, engrossed in lively conversations. While some don't even notice her, others wave their hands, encouraging her to join them. She forces a smiles, returns the wave. Then she tightens her grip around her clutch. Anything to make her feel like she’s in control. To make her forget that the music’s too loud, the lights too vibrant, the air too hot. 

She doesn't remember ever feeling comfortable in her body. Years of growing up in an unstable family where love was doled out sparingly do that to a person. 

"Hey," comes a familiar voice. She turns her head, her big eyes catching sight of Livio’s, one of her colleagues. "Are you not dancing?" he continues, a drink in hand. His whiskey breath hits her straight on. She discreetly glances at her watch, noting that it's barely nine.

"I haven't had enough to drink for that," she replies, trying to dodge the invitation.

"Let's go get you something then," Livio responds, grabbing her arm and heading towards the bar.

She's noticed that men always do that with her. Not just her colleagues, but people she doesn't know either. She's too kind, too gentle; she never raises her voice. So they grab her by the hips, the arms, the wrists. Anything is an excuse to touch her. She hates it.

"What do you want?" Livio asks.

Nothing, really, but she can't say that.

"Something sweet, please. I don't like strong alcohol," she replies. Livio seems to ponder her question for a second, his mouth pursed.

"I have something for you to try, wait," he continues, signaling to the bartender. "You're going to like it, don't worry."

A few seconds later, a glass of Plymouth is placed in front of her, and she looks up at Livio. Does he think I've never tasted gin in my life? she wonders, puzzled. She would like to refuse the drink, ask for the cherry liqueur she discovered last time indeed. But already, Livio has grabbed her glass and hands it to her with a big smile. "Salute," he exclaims, downing his own glass in one gulp.

Cries and applause suddenly echo in the large reception hall, causing her to turn her head. It takes her a few minutes to understand the reason for this sudden commotion. Until she sees them, a few meters away.

Charles and Carlos.

Her eyes can't seem to tear away from the two pilots making their way through the crowd to a small stage where a microphone is set up. It's tradition : to kick off the season in style, the entire team eagerly awaits the drivers' speeches. Everyone wants to hear their words, their encouragements, their hopes and goals for the season.

A friend once asked her if she knew Charles and Carlos personally. She can't really say yes. That would be a lie. She's exchanged words with each of the athletes before, giving them information about the race, their car, and the expected weather. These exchanges have always been brief and cordial. Professional. Nothing more.

Even though... No, she thinks, lightly shaking her head. That was nothing. But still...

It had happened just before the race in Singapore, last year.

A friend from engineering school had moved there at the beginning of the year, and they had agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was an opportunity to reminisce about the years spent at Polytechnique, studying (a bit), suffering (a lot), and getting drunk (a whole lot).

She had chosen a long emerald green silk dress, slit up to mid-thigh. The perfect balance between classy and sexy. She had no intention of charming her companion - notoriously attracted to men, anyway - but this meal was the perfect excuse to leave her eternal Ferrari jumpsuits for something more feminine.

In the long corridor leading to the elevator, she'd suddenly felt on a catwalk, letting herself get caught up in the moment and rolling her hips perhaps a tad too exaggeratedly. The person emerging from the corner at the far end of the corridor surprised her, but not enough to disrupt her stride, her heels clicking against the floor.

She had recognized him immediately, of course.

Dressed in a simple fitted black polo and a pair of dark jeans, his eyes had not left hers throughout their crossing. When the two had finally reached the same level, she'd breathed out a small "Good evening, Carlos," suddenly insecure about everything. Her outfit. Her gait. The messy bun revealing her neck. The cleavage leaving no room for a bra and showing the beginning of her breasts.

He had passed her, nodding in acknowledgment, and each had continued on their way. She was certain... No, almost certain, that she had dreamt the words that had followed.

"That's one lucky guy."

Yes, she was almost certain she had dreamt it. Watching the Spaniard in the distance take hold of the microphone and tap it gently to check the connections, she became increasingly convinced. There was no chance that this man, chiseled from marble, could have noticed her. Desired her.

His accent echoes throughout the room, and she instinctively closes her eyes, as if bathed in the gentle sun of Madrid. She's not listening - not really - only catching words here and there. "Truly an honor," "Very impressed by your efforts," "Promising changes." But her mind is elsewhere, between Maranello and Singapore, tethered to the memory that makes her lower abdomen tingle in the sweetest of ways.

"And now, it's time to celebrate!" Carlos says as the room erupts with joy and anticipation.

"Earth to you?" comes a much less pleasant voice than the one that has just quieted down.

"I'm sorry, what?" she says, returning her attention to Livio.

"Oh, wow, you've got to be kidding me. Is it just me, or are you completely absorbed by this guy?" Livio replies, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Who?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Sainz. You were hanging on his every word."

"I just think it's nice that they're giving an encouraging speech. Both of them," she explains, avoiding the Italian's gaze.

"Yeah, okay. Should we get another drink?" he asks, taking hold of her arm again.

She wants to protest. She can still taste the gin at the back of her mouth. It can't have been more than twenty minutes since her first drink. But Livio is already almost dragging her behind him, clearly determined not to let her escape tonight. And once again, that hand locks around her arm. Firm. Not open to discussion. She feels something almost territorial in the gesture, something that strongly displeases her, so she vows to mention it to Livio. Someday. Not tonight.

This time, he doesn't even pretend to care about what she wants to drink, ordering two whiskies straight away. She hates it. The taste, the look, what this alcohol does to her mind and body. But Livio has already slipped two bills to the bartender, and a moment later, the amber liqueur lands in her right hand.

While her drinking companion is already tilting his head back, clearly unaware that this type of alcohol is to be savored and not downed in one go, she observes the glass, intrigued by the few bubbles that are forming on the surface. I had no idea whiskey could do that, she thinks before bringing the liquid to her lips.

A few minutes later, she's managed to shake off Livio by claiming she needed to use the restroom. She crosses paths with Carlos walking in the other direction, maybe three people ahead of her, but he doesn't notice her.

In front of the restroom mirror, touching up her lipstick, her focus changes as she sees a drop of sweat trickle down her temple and slide slowly onto her cheek. I'm rather cold, though, she thinks, almost suppressing a shiver. Her head suddenly feels very light. She blames the alcohol. Putting her lipstick back in her clutch and tucking a strand of hair that threatened to escape from her bun, she pushes the restroom door open again, bracing herself to face the social world once more.

Passing by the buffet, a wave of nausea washes over her, forcing her to stop for a few seconds, leaning against the table and closing her eyes.

"I thought it was you," echoes the sunny accent in her ears. With her eyes still closed, she wishes their new encounter, one that she'd admit she's dreamed about, had happened differently. At a better time. A time when she wasn't battling a fierce urge to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Carlos inquires, raising his hand as if to support her but stopping halfway.

She takes a few seconds to push the unpleasant sensations from her body as far away as possible before lifting her head, opening her eyes, and being rewarded with the exquisite sight of his luscious hair and amber eyes.

"Hi," she manages to utter in a faint voice. "Great speech," she continues, still leaning against the table.

"You look pale," the driver responds, looking concerned.

The words escape her lips before they even reach her brain. She regrets them instantly. Something inside her just give way, like a dam.

"Sorry. I must have looked better in Singapore," she says.

Carlos widens his eyes, surprised, before letting out an awkward laugh.

"Sorry for staring at you like that, that night. You were... Well, you are...," he continues, seeming to search for his words.

She would so love to hear the rest, to know what he was going to say. But dizziness seizes her, and she feels herself tipping against the table. Well, almost, because suddenly, an arm wraps around her waist, pressing her against a chest that, yes, she's also dreamed about several times. But not like this. Not in this state.

"Hey," Carlos says, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm so sorry, this never happens to me. I must have had one drink too many, I—"

"I saw you at the bar not even ten minutes ago," the Spaniard continues. "No alcohol hits you that fast. Not even shots."

"I'm fine," she says, and the pilot understands that she's saying it not only to reassure him but herself as well. And, as if the words had commanded it, the fog in her mind dissipates a bit. Enough for her to gently detach herself from the pilot, finding her balance on her own two feet again. She'd like to take advantage of this newfound clarity to keep the Spaniard close to her. Him, that she never crosses paths with, whom she never speaks to, and yet who appeals to her so much.

But Charles arrives. He smiles at her, asks if she's okay, if she's enjoying the evening, and oh, "I'll borrow him for a moment, I'm so sorry, sponsors, you know," and oh, once again, she finds herself alone at the buffet, watching the two men walk away, Carlos still watching her as he reluctantly retreats.

"I was beginning to think he'd never leave," Livio says, leaning against the buffet, his hip brushing against hers.

She wants to scream. Oh, how badly she wants to.

Sensing that she's not going to respond, the Italian tries his luck again.

"Should we dance? You seem intoxicated enough, now."

She doesn't even have time to respond before her colleagues guides her onto the dance floor, eagerly pressing his body against hers. His breath, previously tinged with whiskey, now betrays hints of tequila. The guy never has enough, she thinks, twirling reluctantly.

And there it goes again. The nausea, the queasiness. Spinning her around like a puppet doesn't help, she tells herself. She comes to a halt, cutting off Livio's momentum, causing some dancing couples to narrowly avoid colliding with them. Feeling vulnerable, she tries to get away, to seek refuge elsewhere. But her wrist is once again trapped.

"You don't look well. Come on, let's get you some fresh air," Livio says, heading towards one of the large glass doors.

She's often been described as naive by her loved ones. She believes that the whole world means well towards her, never suspects anyone of ill intentions. She would even say about herself that she has no instincts, let alone survival instincts. No sense of danger. Yet, perhaps for the first time in her life, something deep inside her is screaming not to follow the man. Her signals are on alert. Everything is flashing red in her mind. For her, it's a first. So, without thinking, without worrying about offending her colleague, she acts.

"I don't need to go outside," she says, trying to free herself from his grasp. She's sweating. She feels the unpleasant sensation of a thin layer of dampness creeping over her neck, her back, her hands.

Her feeble resistance is no match for Livio's strength, as he pulls her outside despite her protests. The music is too loud for anyone to hear their altercation. Divided between the buffet, the bar, and the dance floor, no one pays attention to this mismatched couple, to the determined man dragging a struggling woman behind him.

The door closes heavily behind them, stifling the sounds of the party, captured on the other side. It's cold outside, she feels it because her whole body shivers. But she, who was cold just a short while ago, feels like she's boiling. She raises her hand to her forehead, wiping away another bead of sweat that's formed between her eyebrows. What's happening to me? she thinks internally, troubled. Alcohol has never put her in such a state before.

"I'm so glad I ran into you tonight," Livio begins, either oblivious or indifferent to the young woman's condition.

She doesn't respond, feeling her head spinning, leaning against the wall behind her, gasping to try to catch her breath. Trying to control the burning heat that's engulfing her body.

"You look really beautiful tonight. Quite a change from the work overalls, huh!" the man continues.

She's not exactly sure at what moment he slipped between her legs, facing her, just a few centimeters from her face. But he's there, too close, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his gaze - and his alcohol-laden breath.

"I said, you look really beautiful tonight," Livio says. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" she says, jaw clenched.

"Do you find me attractive?" the man asks, meeting her gaze.

The warning signals reappear along with the nausea. She barely has time to push the man away and lean to the side before emptying her stomach inches away from his feet. The naivety stops there. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, realization hitting her painfully.

"What did you do to me?" she asks, her knees giving way under her weight, sending her crashing to the ground. He sneers, rolling his eyes, as she crawls a few meters, trying to put some distance between them. She's now sitting on the ground, her back to the wall.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Italian replies, offended.

"Did you put something in my drink?" she asks again.

"Come on, now. I've been helping you ever since you said you weren't feeling well. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

For a moment, her colleague's wounded look makes her seriously doubt herself. Maybe it really is just the alcohol, she thinks, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, why would someone deliberately choose to harm her? Why jump to that conclusion? Livio has always been charming. A bit clingy, but charming.

"I'm sorry for implying that. I'm gonna head back inside," she says, trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Livio answers, pushing her back down.

"What? why?" she asks, surprised.

"It wouldn't be very wise to parade in front of your colleagues and superiors in such a poor state," the Italian begins, his tone almost mocking. "It really doesn't give a good impression of you. It's not very professional."

"I haven't done anything, just had a few drinks," she responds, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're so wasted you can't even stand. At a work event. Do you want to get fired or something?"

She opens her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words come out. She can't seem to figure out if Livio is with her or against her anymore. His words are harsh, aggressive, but deep down, the engineer probably isn't wrong. She struggled to secure a position here, at Ferrari. Even though she believes herself to be fairly skilled at her job and puts in long hours, there are hundreds of others doing the same work as her every day. And hundreds more who could replace her if the need arose.

She's not indispensable. She's not even that good at speaking Italian, having always had more ease in English or in French, even though she spends the majority of her evenings reading books in the language. She's just a tiny cog in the machine. She thinks about Carlos, too. What would he think, seeing me stumbling in the middle of the dance floor like a mad woman?

"Let me drive you home," Livio says, extending his hand. "Spare you the embarrassment."

She hadn't realized how tired she was. The offer is rather tempting. Getting back to her apartment, her cat, her bed. Above all, escaping the crowd. Forgetting this evening. Forgetting whatever she thought there was with Carlos, too, while she's at it. As a stronger wave of sleep washes over her, she temporarily closes her eyes.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you in the car."

After her brain, her legs refuse to cooperate too. Her body barricades itself, trying to keep her firmly sheltered. Losing patience, Livio hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She wants to protest against the position she finds herself in. That's so unladylike. Her last few connected neurons grapple over strange thoughts. I hope nobody sees my underwear, she thinks before her brain disconnects once again.

She's so far gone, yet the next words sound crystal-clear in her ears.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sounds like Carlos, she thinks, delirious.

"What does it look like to you? I'm bringing her home. She's wasted," she hears, and she thinks it might be Livio, because she feels his body shaking with each words.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave with her. Put her down."

"Yeah? So you can have your way with her?"

"No, so I can punch you in the fucking face," the accent-thick voice shouts.

She must have passed out for good because she doesn't remember anything else. When she wakes up next, which feels like an eternity later, she's sitting against a wall, this time indoors, wrapped in a golden emergency blanket. There's no more music. Opening one eye, then the next, she's met with Carlos' brown ones. She tries to speak but her mouth feels dry. The Spaniard hands her a glass of water, helping her bring it to her lips.

"I somehow managed to look even worse," she jokes, reminiscing their earlier encounter.

"The paramedics have just arrived. They're going to take you to the hospital for a check-up," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Carlos," she replies.

"I haven't done the half of what I would have wanted," he says, regret filling his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to be the worst timing ever, but I... I actually wanted to ask you out, before Charles interrupted us and before, well... this," he says, gesturing around them.

He doesn't see it, but hidden under the blanket, she pinches her arm. Hard. Just to make sure she won't wake up a second time. Seeing that nothing changes, she lets out a little laugh.

"If you wanted me to wear that silky green dress, I'm so sorry, but I ruined it in the washer."

"You can wear a garbage bag for all I care," Carlos replies, looking at her fondly. "You'll still stand out in the crowd."

[bambi-slxt]

vampire!triplets:

✨a concept✨

crack/smut lmao

nick is Not A Fan™ of his new life.

"the fact that i have to drink- to consume another being's blood, just to survive, is fucking ridiculous."

but when the urges overtake him he goes fucking feral.

matt doesn't feel very strongly about it. his need for blood is an annoyance, sure, but he knows there are options.

matt begins to frequent an affluent BDSM dungeon, where people have a heightened understanding of consent (which he always asks for) and are more likely to enjoy pain, thus making his meals much easier and actually enjoyable for all parties involved.

"it just makes the most sense, it's literally the obvious solution."

he always was the smartest of the brothers.

chris is. something else. he wants to feed all the time.

chris's first meal was a girl he pulled into the bathroom, kissing her lips and cheek like a man starved, slipping his hand up her skirt while she wrapped her legs around him.

he bit down on her neck and plunged his fingers into her pussy at the same time.

"listen," he said, trying and failing to wipe away his blood-stained smirk with the back of his hand, "it's not the worst thing in the world."

nick has many conflicting things to say about his new condition.

car video, filmed at 2:21 am on a friday: "i mean i don't go out in the sunlight enough to really be bothered by that, so who gives a fuck?"

kickback at Tara's, exactly 10 hours later: "if i have to put another squirt of sunscreen on my skin, i'm dropping a motherfucker from the rooftops."

"squirt was crazy."

matt forms friendships with some of his more willing victims partners and a surprisingly close bond occurs between him and one of his edgier girls.

"do you like how i make you feel?" he purred, swiping a droplet of blood from her neck and letting her suck his finger, cradling her head against his chest. "that's how you taste. you taste like life."

chris discovered his body could withstand much more pain and ran with it - literally.

"I CALL THIS ONE THE FLYING PTERODACTYL-"

"i didn't think the motherfucker would drop himself from the rooftops."

request to be on the taglist here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee  @st7rnioioss  @nonat-111  @cindylcuwho  @evie-sturns

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

<< First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don’t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

Index: Chapter 1 - Size of A Plum

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 2 - With a ‘U’ or an ‘O’ | ‘Ours’

Trent snuck downstairs carrying his laptop and he quietly crept into the office. He sat in the big chair leaning forward towards his Mac and hit print. He sat there impatiently waiting while trying to think of something cute he could write on the tickets he was printing. He figured it out eventually and jogged back up to your bedroom. Beams of morning light seeped into your bedroom through the window. You rubbed your eyes open to see that Trent was awake next to you. You smiled at your perfect boy in the bed.

“Morning, baby.” He cooed in a hoarse morning voice. The smirk on his face made your heart falter. You covered your embarrassed face with your thin pale pink manicured hands hiding from him. You muttered out a ‘morning’ interspersed between your giggles. Trent shook his head amused at the child-like action. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mummy to be.” He whispered, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck, his hands caressing your stomach underneath your shirt. “Will you be my valentine, baby?” He whispered in your quiet room. You could feel his heart beating in sync with yours. Everything felt right. He pulled away from your neck to see the smile widening on your face. You rolled your eyes at him facetiously and nodded your head yes.

“You already know my answer. I always say yes, pretty boy” you draped your arms up around his neck and pressed soft kisses to his cheek.

“Want your surprise now or later?” He looked at you with a cheeky smile excited to show you.

“Hmmmm, I guess now sounds good.” You giggled eager to see what the surprise was. He said okay and reached over to his bedside table. He handed you a little card. One of the best things about Trent was his spontaneity. Despite his schedule and intense lifestyle he always managed to surprise you somehow. You opened a beautiful envelope. Inside were two plane tickets to the Maldives and a cute little note.

“Did you see one more in the envelope?” He cooed suspiciously. You peeked inside and there was a fake little tiny ticket for your baby he had printed. It was about half the size of a credit card so you missed it. You giggled. It was so cute he was already including your baby but also you couldn’t help but squeal about going on a holiday this summer just the two of you. No other boys, no crazy parties just you two together.

“Thank you baby! So so so much! I can’t wait.” You giggled, wrapping him a big hug. He gave you a kiss and you began your day. Although you didn’t have anything planned until that night. Trent was taking you out for dinner so after the pretty lazy day around the house you got dressed. You were going to a nice restaurant and landed on wearing a red Valentino mini skirt you were thrilled still fit you. You wore a gray sweater and a pair of black So Kate heels. It was fairly simple but lately getting dressed up was kind of bumming you out. Your changing body had you feeling insecure. You weren’t exactly ready to let go of your wardrobe once things really stopped fitting.

“C’mon little plum.” Trent cooed, he was referring to your baby after you had told him last night that was how big he or she was at the moment. He wrapped his arms around you standing behind your frame. His hands rubbed over your stomach. “You look beautiful, baby. Ready to go?” He cooed, placing kisses behind your ear. You hummed and grabbed your black Chanel flap bag. Trent had made a reservation at a restaurant you loved for Valentine’s Day. It was an expensive French brasserie he really didn’t care for but you absolutely loved. These were times that you knew he really would do anything just to make you smile, even endure watching you eat foie gras and escargot. To be fair, he was fine. Steak frites was actually something he liked so it worked in the end. You rubbed your smooth leg over his under the table as you sat discussing what you wanted to get for dessert. The whole dinner it was just about killing you that you couldn’t have wine anymore so sweets would have to do. From the moment you sat down it was apparent the waiter was a Liverpool fan. His face lit up when he saw Trent seated. Trent could tell as well. He was cordial but it was your night together so his focus was solely on you.

“Try this, T. It’s really really good.” You poked your fork into a tart holding up a bit for him to try. He gave you a love sick smile but said ‘no’ He didn’t want any because he was ‘in season’ so you shrugged it off. You bit a little of the piece you had offered him. Trent leaned over the table and took your fork from you abruptly popping the remaining piece of the tart on the utensil into his mouth. He cocked his head and gave a surprised face impressed with the taste. You raised your eyebrows at him feigning an annoyance that he changed his mind on trying it. “Oh now you want to try it?” You giggled. You fed him more of your dish and wiped the corner of his lips with your thumb unnecessarily wanting to glide your fingers over his perfect pout. He kept his hand on your thigh as you talked and talked about your future and gushed about how much you loved the other. It was another perfect date in the books of Y/N and Trent.

When you got into the car to head home, you leaned onto Trents shoulder as he drove. Wearing your once favorite heels was exhausting; you couldn’t wait to take them off so you sat barefoot now in the front seat next to him. Your arms wrapped around his bicep as he draped his hand over the steering wheel to drive. Your lips formed into a pout as you let go of his arm and brought your fingers to cradle his handsome face.

“Going to post me on your Instagram, valentine?” You giggled, squeezing his cheeks.

“Baby… I really don’t want to stir up the chaos. I can’t have you getting upset. You know you’re mine that’s what matters.” He tried to reason with you worried about the potential stress of peoples comments affecting you and your baby.

“You’re so dramatic, T! Just post me on your story at least! Tell everyone how much you love me! Pleeassse. It’ll be my Valentine’s Day gift” You giggled letting go of his arm to cross your own over your chest. He groaned, pulling into your driveway. He opened the door for you and let you climb onto his back. Trent carried you into the house as you held the Louboutin heels in your hand. When you got into the house he walked directly into the living room and gently plopped you on the couch. You couldn’t hold in your excitement seeing the coffee table in the room was filled with pink flowers. You pouted and reached out to pull Trent down into a hug. He sat next to you and leaned his head onto your shoulder as he began scrolling through the photos on his phone. He smiled, looking back on all the memories you had documented together.

“Okay, baby, fine. Not like a vacation to the Maldives isn’t a gift. Greedy girl” he feigned a look of defeat. Ultimately, both he and you knew he was never going to say no to anything you asked. You squealed, pressing a wet kiss on his cheek with a dramatic ‘mwah’ sound.

“My forever valentine” he mumbled under his breath as he typed it out over the instagram story. It was a picture of you two kissing in your back garden during a party, Trent’s hands on your ass, yours around his neck, bodies squished together. You loved that he picked such a PDA filled photo. It was a hot but mushy photo. You loved him so much. At the end do the day he didn’t care what people said about either of you online he just wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. You had posted a carousel in feed post on your own instagram. It was simple and not overtly showing him. A picture of your hand laced with his, a photo of your face squished onto his cheek on a plane, and a short video of you blowing him a kiss at Anfield. You captioned it ‘4 life 🤞’ with no tag. You smiled some more as you watched Trent jokingly roll his eyes before he hit post on his story. “By the way… this” he shook his phone at you. “Isn’t your gift, baby. Let’s be real.” He cooed. “Go ahead…see what you got.” he giggled seeing your eyes widen, really starting to inspect all the boxes in front of you.

“So if the surprise was the Maldives, then this is….?” You questioned him with a childish smile. You sat on the couch cuddled up close to him.

“This is because you’re my valentine, baby, and I love you very much.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. He handed the gifts to you one at a time. An extra large Dior candle, tan Prada shearling slippers, Baccarat Rogue 540, Dior x Rimowa carry-on luggage for your Maldives trip, and the gold Bvlgari Serpenti Viper you’d been eyeing for months. It was all too much. He completely spoiled you.

“You don’t have to do so much every year you know?” You tried to tell him but both you and he knew he would never have holidays go any other way. You were so appreciative of everything but he didn’t need to, you’d love him just the same.

“Oh! One more, baby. For the valentine we’re waiting to meet.” He cooed, handing you a little box wrapped with a bow. You untied it carefully and lifted the lid. You opened it up and there was the tiniest cutest Moncler fleece coat that had little bear ears on the hood. It was so fucking cute. You pouted at him. “I saw it the other day and I just wanted them to have it. It was so fun shopping for them, baby. Everything is so small.”

“You… and it are so fucking cute, T.” You cooed back. He hummed picking up the the tiny jacket admiring how small it was. “I have somethings for you too by the way.” You giggled. You gave him some real gifts; an Assouline coffee table book of Formula 1, a pair of Prada sneakers, a Louis Vuitton silver monogram speaker, and a bunch of other things you knew he’d like. Gifts were definitely a love language in your house. The thing you most wanted to give him though was a bit more exciting in your opinion and probably would be mutually enjoyed. You pulled out one final bag cheekily. You gave it to him and he fumbled through the tissue paper. He pulled out a sexy Fleur Du Mal pink and red lace piece of lingerie.

“Oh yeah?” Trent’s eyes lit up. You hummed a ‘mmhmm’ you snatched it out of his hands, got up from the couch and scurried upstairs.

“Are you coming?!?!” You yelled back down to him. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head in disbelief at how perfect you were for him. He stood up with his cock already beginning to harden just from the thoughts about you in that little piece of fabric alone. When he walked into the bedroom you were on your knees sat back on your heels in the lingerie.

“Well C’mere baby. Lemme see you first.” He cooed, grabbing your hand to pull you off the bed. You stood up with a cheeky smile looking at him. He walked around you and sat himself down on your bed. He gestured for you to twirl and so you did. “I might need a picture of this one. So fucking sexy.” He groaned looking at you. His cock tenting in his trousers. You giggled and walked towards him. You placed your hands on both his knees and slid them up his thighs. In an instant you found both of you naked, yourself on top of him. Your face buried in his neck. You let out a quiet moan as his large hand caressed your thigh, the other helping guide his cock into your entrance.

“Mmm fuck T…” you whined against his skin as you sank further down his length. He didn’t give you much time to adjust, too eager to start so he snapped his hips up into you hitting your g spot instantaneously. He kept you on his lap on the bed with his arm wrapped tight around your waist. His perfect lips sucked bruises onto your skin. Groaning everytime you clenched tighter around him. He brought his hands to grip your asscheeks thrusting harder into you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he murmured moving to capture your lips in a sloppy messy heated kiss. You moaned when you tasted him. He continued fucking his cock up into you while his hands caressed your back untill he moved them around your sides and then up over you to your tits. He rolled both nipples between his fingers. Your thighs quivered, straddling him when he pinched them. “So fucking beautiful” he growled. Trent lifted his head to look at you. The wrecked expression almost knocked all the wind out of you. The knot of pleasure between his eyebrows and the darkening of his big brown eyes was stupidly attractive. You felt your clit throb. You shifted on top of him to get more contact. He grabbed your jaw to kiss you softly in contrast to his harsh thrusts. He stole your gasp from you when his lips pressed to yours. Trent loved when you were like this. Soft and obsequious on top of him. All you wanted to do was please him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from how your tits bounced as you rode him desperately. His thumb smoothed over your raised nipple. He cursed feeling you clench again.

“Oh fuck T.. I love you. Feel so so fucking good. I’m all yours baby.” You whined. The tip of his cock hit the spot only he knew when he rolled his hips up into you. You arched your back until your tits pressed against him. The wave of your arousal made a mess of his cock and dripping down onto your sheets

“Most beautiful fucking girl. All fucking mine. Feel so good f’me.” You both could feel your highs fast approaching. He slid his hand between your two bodies and down to your clit. You tipped your head back and Trent took advantage of the space pressing his lips to your neck. He nibbled on your sensitive skin scraping his teeth against you, marking you as his. Every movement of his tongue on you made it harder and harder to think. You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter as Trent’s fingers circled harshly on your clit. “Cum on my cock, baby. Be a good girl and cum f’me.” He grunted out. The pleasure started to be too much to control. Your pussy clenched tight around him as your body was filled with white hot pleasure. Your warm, wet, and tight walls become too much for Trent to manage. Swiftly he was twitching and fucking you full of his cum.

“Fuck T…” you whined feeling his thrusts continue but slow. He emptied himself with slow lazy pumps. You both were completely breathless as he stilled keeping his cum nestled inside you. You collapsed into him more and buried your face into his neck leaving wet kisses. “I’m sleepy…” you whispered with a childish giggle. Trent smiled, pressing a kiss to you. You both attempted to come back to earth. He rubbed his hands up and down your spine before gently pulling out of you, his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs.

“I got you, baby. I know.” He kissed your warm bare skin holding you tightly against him. The word around you didn’t exist anymore, the only thing was the two of you. You were exhausted from the love making. Your head rested back on the pillows, you let your eyes close as you breathed softly. The air was thick and warm. It smelt like sex. Trent let you lay on his naked chest feeling himself melt under your touch while your fingers toyed with his hair. Trent frowned and let out a boyish groan when you suddenly stopped.

“Nahh. C’mon, baby, please…” He whined, grabbing at your hand to place it back on his head. “Don’t stop.”

“Okay, greedy boy” the pet name sent shivers down his spine. He somehow managed to grip onto your body tighter then he already was. He loved when you babied him. “So need aren’t you?” You teased with a giggle continuing to play with his hair. He only responded with a hum comforted by your touch. He let his eyes close for a while as you continued to gently play, scratching his scalp gently every so often with your long nails. He was so comfortable like this. Being with you was his absolutely favorite place to be.

You laid in the cinema while Trent sat watching a Europa League match on the telly. He had an away game he needed to travel tomorrow for this weekend so you were taking advantage of your fleeting time together. He looked so cozy bundled in a jumper. You cuddled up next to him dragging your nails over his abs under his top. He purred at the feeling.

An article had come out recently that made you feel sick. Something about how Trent was conceded, disrespectful, a bunch of things he wasn’t and couldn’t have been further from. You weren’t even sure if Trent had read it. You hoped he didn’t. He knew it existed sure, but you put yourself through the pain of reading it in full, breaking your heart that much more. People could never know him the way you did but it upset you so much knowing not everyone saw that he was perfect the way you saw. They couldn’t see the pain behind his eyes reeling over a loss, they couldn’t see him having banter with you making dinner, they couldn’t see him coming home with flowers just because, they couldn’t see the hurt he felt reading twitter when people questioned his place in the England squad, they couldn’t see him rushing from the airport to your home after away matches to get back to you. You curled up next to him and felt safe. You were wrapped up in his arms and his scent. It was so familiar, it made your heart soften as he explained some controversial call in the match. Trent was a constant in your life that you always could count on. It hurt when he was hurting. No matter what it was, he was there for you and you wanted to be there for him. You hated that you couldn’t control what people said about him. Just the same as you knew the intricacies of Trent, he knew them about you. Trent knew you so well without even having to ask what you needed. He knew immediately what type of mood you were in. He knew your body language so well. In this moment, he knew you were comfortable. Something about laying on his chest made your heart slow. You knew this is what feeling safe felt like, this is what true love felt like, this is what home felt like.

Trent was down in Luton for an away match. He laid in his hotel room the night before and gave you one of many habitual calls whilst he was gone. You were laying in your shared bed back up north and the ache of missing him washed over you. He looked at you with his toned tanned torso on display. He was so unintentionally sexy. You were having a hard time not just begging for him right now. You were desperate for his attention but you opted to be a bit more subtle. Trent was on a rant about how pissed he was that a certain referee was officiating tomorrow. You pulled the tiny tank top you were in over your head and swiftly reached behind you to unclasp the lace bralette you had one. Your tits bounced being released.

“Baby, what are we doing?” Trent grappled with his words. He was taken aback by your show. He could feel the blood rush to his cock. He was a goner.

“I need to get ready for bed, T. Keep telling your story.” You teased gesturing for him to go on. You were completely naked now in front of him. Trent found it hard to control himself. You grabbed your boobs, massaging them and playing with your nipples playfully with the hope of seducing him.

“If I play poorly tomorrow this is on you.” Trent said gawking at your hardening nipples. You usually tried to abstain from any messing about days before matches but it was only Luton. He reached for his cock and began stroking his length as he watched you.

“I will make a public statement apologizing for my hand in your form although to be fair… it’s your hand not mine.” He said as your eyes widened seeing his perfect cock stand at attention for you. He rolled his eyes but let out a groan when you sat further back opening your legs for him giving a sly smile.

“Fuck, baby. You’re driving me crazy. You’re so fucking fit.” he moaned as you ran your hands down your body and back up to caress your tits playing with your hardened nipples. “Such a fucking tease, pretty girl.” Trent’s mouth was agape in disbelief staring at your body as you continued dragging your fingers up before sucking on them being incredibly messy, spit pooling in the corners of your mouth, showing him as you licked around them like you would if it was him. He started to tug on his cock some more. You brought your wet fingers down to circle slowly and hard on your clit. You moaned as you picked up your pace.

“Fuck T, I miss you... I-fuck.. I need you.” you whined at the feeling of your quick pace dreaming it could be him. Your brain went fuzzy as your glassy eyes watched Trent work his big hard cock. You bit your lip. You wished he was with you with his hands on you but that couldn’t happen so this was the next best thing and it was feeling really fucking good. You loved the way his gaze felt on you. It was impossible for Trent to get tired of looking at your delicate body. Frankly, he probably could cum just seeing you and knowing you were pregnant with his baby was just doing different things for him.

“Be a good girl and cum f’me” he was barely able to grunt out the words completely enamored by the noises coming from you through his phone that he missed so much. You felt the knot in your stomach snap quick, cumming messily over your own hand. “That’s it baby, feels so fu-fucking good” he shuddered. “Shit baby, I’m gonna cum as well.” He said before he released onto his abs, breathing incredibly hard, eyes shut. You stayed on the phone for a while after cleaning up. Chatting about anything and nothing at the same time.

“Night, my beautiful girl. I’ll see you and our little baby tomorrow night.” You hummed and blew him a kiss. Trent hated watching you grab onto the little teddy bear he gave you before he went to the Euros. You always slept with it when he was away. He was embarrassingly envious of a teddy bear that got to be with you every night. Trent was supposed to be with you in bed not in some stupid hotel alone but work was work. When he came home the next day after winning his match you were long asleep. You watched the final whistle blow but after that you curled up in your bed. You tried your best to wait up for him but by the bedside lamp still left on it was obvious you had failed. Trent slowly crept into your bedroom and pouted at how cute you looked cuddled up in the bed. He turned off the lights and glared at the teddy bear tossed on his side of the bed. He picked it up and made a face moving it. He carefully got in to bed, replacing the bear next to you under the covers. He cozied up wrapping his arms around you pulling your body to him, laying his head on to your chest. You hummed sleepily but didn’t have enough strength to fully wake. You knew it was him. He listened to your beating heart as he placed his hand over your stomach where the two of you's baby was. The feeling of your warm skin made him melt. He was so in love with every inch of you.

“Okay. I’m going to have you lay back for me and we’ll put the gel on your stomach, it’ll be a little cold.” You nodded and laid back feeling the cool gel on your warm skin. You sat on the table at the doctor's office and watched Trent anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. He couldn’t take his eyes off the monitor. “Here is your little baby.” she cooed with a smile as the ultrasound wand stilled on your stomach. She clicked a photo. “Here is their heartbeat.” The sound filled the room. It was so quiet in there, you could hear the whooshing sound of your baby’s heartbeat .

“Oh my god...” you whispered in utter shock. Your hand covered your mouth. It was so real and surreal at the same time. Trent took your hand away from your mouth and brought it to his lips placing a kiss on your knuckles. He laid his head next to yours on the bed watching your baby with you. You noticed how Trent held his breath as the nurse asked if you were ready to know the gender. It made you smile knowing he was nervous too.

“And you are having….” The nurse drew out painful seconds as your anxiety skyrocketed. “Congratulations! You’re going to have a little girl.” She cooed sweetly. Tears appeared in the corners of your eyes. The love in Trent’s broke your heart in the best way. Unbeknownst to you, he really liked the idea of having a daughter.

“Holy shit, baby.” He finally let out the deep breath he’d been holding. Tears built in his eyes just the same. “We’re having a little girl.” He pouted, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, T… a little baby girl.” You beamed, pulling him down to squeeze him in a tight hug. He held onto you while the doctor printed out the photos of the scan.

“Doing okay, beautiful?” Trent asked as he drove you home. You were holding the images inspecting your little girl. He stretched his hand over to you to rub your stomach. You hummed with a childish smile still a little in shock, you finally knew what you were having.

“For you mummy.” You were sat in the living room days later when Trent came home from training with a big bouquet of pink roses for you. You giggled while taking them. They were beautiful and unnecessary but they did make you happy. He sat down next to you and changed the channel from what you were currently watching.

“Excuse me!?! Mummy was watching that.” You kept giggling trying to grab the remote back from him. He laughed holding it further away from you until you huffed giving up so he handed it back to you before pulling you into his embrace. You laid cuddled up to him and left what he had changed the TV to on, you really didn’t care.

“So mummy…” Trent giggled. “Is it mummy with a ‘U’ or an ‘O’ for you?” You hadn’t really thought about it. You guessed your daughter would have a different accent than yours. She would spell things differently than you do. “Just so you know, it will be a ‘U’ in this house. She will say mummy. Not having any mOOmmy nonsense” He dramatized an American pronunciation of the word and gave you a feigned stern face. You didn’t notice but maybe over the years you’d been living abroad your own accent started to change or mend. Your choice of words definitely started to shift to a more British vernacular.

“I guess it’ll be a ‘U’ then.” You giggled leaning back onto him. “Mummy” you mockingly said in a poor attempt to replicate Trent’s scouse accent. He squeezed you tight and you cozied up to him a little more. You watched tv for a while longer until you needed to get a worry you had that starting to plague you off your chest. “T…” you sheepishly called out looking up at him. “Are you upset we’re having a girl?” You asked timidly. It had been bothering you since you found out the gender. He seemed happy but you always knew a dream of his was to play footie with a son.

“No?” He laughed a little confused why you would think that. He rubbed his hands up your sides. “The two most beautiful girls in the world are going to be all mine.” He cooed. It was cute he thought that. It was an incredibly overzealous statement but cute nevertheless.

“I hope she looks just like her daddy.” You giggled pulling at his pouty bottom lip. He smiled imagining having a little twin. “I think I know what I want to name her, T.”

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking?” He smiled at you. He thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. You leaned over you cupped your hand around his ear and whispered like someone else could possibly hear. You told him the name you were thinking and his eyes welled. “It’s perfect. Baby… I’m so thankful that you’re giving me a little girl, giving us a daughter. I can’t explain how amazing this whole thing has been already.”He cooed.

“T… you got me pregnant. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.” You teased giggling but he just squeezed you a little tighter to him sincerely. “I’m kidding, pretty boy. I love you and I already love our little girl so much” You cooed.

“I love my two girls. No one else in this world I’d want to start a family with.” He whispered as you continued watching TV.

“Are you going to make her play footie?” You laughed interrupting his focus on the program. Imagining your baby girl playing with Trent had your heart practically shattering. It was so adorable.

“Up to her, innit?” Trent cooed but he couldn’t help but visualize teaching his kids how to play. His eyes followed something on the screen then they fixed on you. He tilted his head and looked at you squinting his eyes. He smiled examining and memorizing every bit of your face. “C’mere,” he pulled you further into him. “You’re so gorgeous. Going to be the best mummy to her.” He pressed his soft lips against yours and you blissfully hummed. “That’s said with a ‘U’ by the way.” You both laughed clinging to the other.

“We have to make a plan to tell everyone soon, T…” you cooed as you laid in bed later that night. When your bump had begun to start show just a little Trent couldn’t stop documenting the growth. To be fair neither could you but it was cute he was doing it too. His camera roll was filled with pictures of you but as the bump started to form, the time of being able to hide it was starting to dwindle. Honestly it was hardy notable at the moment but you were always pretty fit and lived with a professional athlete so people might’ve started questioning if your body began to change.

“I know, baby. I think after we win the league. We could have a little party to announce her.” He whispered to you, spooning under the covers. Time flew and somehow you were nearing the end of the season and your little plum had grown into a grapefruit.

“Oh, feeling confident aren’t we?” You giggled. Liverpool had a great season. They were 5 points clear with a game in hand so you were merely teasing Trent. “Seriously though, are you sure? Maybe we should do something separate. I don’t want to take away from your accomplishment, baby.” You whispered softly back in the dark room.

“We’ll split it up if that makes you feel better but I wouldn’t mind. Maybe just our immediate families. I wanted to invite your family for the end of the season as well regardless.” He kept talking, continuing to brush his warm hands over you. You hummed, preferring that plan. It was sweet Trent wanted your family to come visit, baby announcement or not.

Marcel and George were over and the three boys were in the cinema watching another team’s prem game debating the controversial point deduction of a team about to get relegated. You had been feeling particularly lethargic that day. You walked into the room and the two two boys turned to acknowledge you and say hi still oblivious to the fact that you were pregnant. Trent turned to see you and his face softened. He held his arms out for you to come sit with him. You laid next to his strong body and wrapped your arms around him but weren’t comfortable enough like that. You pulled his shirt up and laid on his bare abs and chest. The heat radiating off his skin comforting your tired body. He chuckled at your need to be so close to him but he didn’t mind. He didn’t exactly have a body anyone would be scared to show off. You pressed your cheek on his warm skin and closed your eyes. Not to sleep, you just wanted to relax.

“Don’t want to watch, pretty girl?” He whispered quietly into your hair. You shook your head ‘no.’ Your one dainty hand was sprawled across Trent’s chest and he played around with each finger for a while as he watched the game occasionally talking with Marcel and George about it. “Can I get you anything?” He whispered again, tracing shapes on your back with his other hand. You smiled but shook your head ‘no’ again. Frankly you wouldn’t mind a water but laying on him right now was the priority. It felt so perfect, you’d rather die of dehydration than leave the man beneath you. A little while later another question came. “Can I do anything for you, baby?” He was so attentive. It made you feel like nothing could ever go wrong because he would handle every little thing but you took a second to really think about his question.

“A kiss would be good.” You whispered giggling not being able to come up with anything more he could possibly do for you. You moved your face towards his and pursed your lips for a kiss

“I can do that for you, pretty girl.” He leaned into you with his soft plump lips. The kiss sent electricity through your whole body. You always wondered what people meant when they said they only had eyes for one person. This was it, like right now you didn’t even know Marcel and George were still in the room. You only had eyes for him, the rest of the world blurred. This is what love was. Right here with this boy. You pulled away with a big big smile.

“I always think it isn't possible for you two to continue to get more nauseating and yet here we are.” Marcel’s voice broke your eyes only for Trent reminding you they were very much in the room. You giggled and pressed another kiss to Trent’s lips while holding up a middle finger towards Marcel.

It got late so you went upstairs to shower, Marcel and George went home, and Trent stayed put in the cinema when he decided to FaceTime Jude. You weren’t totally sure how they even managed conversations with each other because they both yapped so much. How could one possibly get a word in over the other. Their friendship was really cute and you loved Jude. It just was a little funny when you did hear them converse. It was fast and chaotic, filled with inside jokes, riddled with stupidity and intellect all at the same time. They talked and talked; football, friends, upcoming England duties, general gossip, filling each other in on family. Although the latter topic was when things took a turn.

“Yeah we’ve been staying in a lot more. Y/N’s almost 4 months now so taking it pretty easy up here, mate.” Trent laughed and then stopped instantly when he saw Jude’s eyes widen, his face fall into complete shock.

“Erm, bro, what…?” Jude muttered out absolutely shaken. To be fair Jude was younger than you two so the thought of a baby in his mind was not only terrifying but it was hard to not think it was likely unplanned and a mistake.

“Fuck! You can’t say anything. Serious Jude, not a fucking word.” Trent rambled quickly starting to panic. He sat up more in his seat and ran his hand over his head.

“I won’t, I won’t mate. Are you serious though? Did you plan this? Does anyone know?” Jude rattled back just as fast but his surprised face dropped into one of concern.

“Yeah, we had been trying. Definitely a planned thing.” Trent laughed. “No one knows yet we haven’t told anyone. We wanted to make sure the baby and her were healthy and all that. Bro, I’m so serious you cannot say a word until we let everyone else know.”

“Course. Wow. Congratulations Trentski. That’s fucking mad. I’m really happy for you lot.” Jude giggled a little flustered by the news he just unearthed.

“Yeah, I’m absolutely buzzing. We’re so excited. Y/N is doing well so far and we just found out we’re having a little girl so I’m fucking gassed.”

“Ayye! That’s sick, mate. Congratulations, really. So you're naming her Judy right?” Jude teased but definitely laced with a bit of seriousness he hoped he’d be involved in his best friend's baby’s life somehow.

“Yeah, obviously. First name that came to my mind when I looked at the image of my beautiful baby girl and Y/N.” Trent joked sarcastically laughing. “Thank you though. Shit! Y/N is going to kill me that I told you. How do I tell her you know?” He started to worry. Jude laughed at his panic. Trent didn’t need to fret really, Jude wasn’t going to tell anyone.

“Just tell her it was important I knew because you’re naming her after me. Simple as.” Jude laughed. Trent rolled his eyes.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 3 xx

[thewolvesof1998]

Tidbit Tease Tuesday

Okay so I've been working on something new, not sure how many people would be interested in this but it's really only for one person 👀 Anyways here's a snippet from Gender Swap Buddie aka put your canine teeth in the side of my neck:

Buck had never really thought much about bathroom design and she wasn’t really thinking about it now but sometimes her mind catches on tiny random details at the most inconvenient time, like the crown moulding on the ceiling of this bathroom. It was quite ornate, gaudy, but she suppose that’s normal for a wedding venue, especially one chosen by her parents in an attempt to make it up to Maddie for being bad parents. “Buck,” Eddie mumbles “Yeah?” She replies and it comes out breathier than normal. Eddie drags her lips up Buck’s neck, “I can hear you thinking from here,” Ah yes, the inconvenient time, her best friend, her partner in work and life was kissing her. This was not something they usually do, well, they’ve never done it. Don’t get her wrong, she’s thought about it, been close to doing it more times than she can count on both hands, which since realising she’s bisexual is not normal behaviour for straight friends. She just hadn’t realised Eddie had realised that yet; yet yet yet because even in the depths of her denial it had always been her and Eddie in whatever form that took. That was until she had cornered Buck at the reception party, pulled her into this ornate bathroom and started kissing her. 

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[yasmimkilleruwu]

your headcanons about toby? :D

Some hcs about Toby ^^

Connie, Lyra and Toby wore a matching lanyard, they each had one, but Toby ended up losing his and ended up without it, he actually looked everywhere but couldn't find it, after Lyra's death Toby's mother gave it to him Lyra's necklace for Toby, so he would always remember her and have her close by.

Under no circumstances touch Toby's cord.

He tried to take his own life several times, but Slenderman didn't allow him to do so, but Slenderman doesn't stop him from hurting himself.

Eyeless Jack helps Toby stop cutting himself, he knows how many and where each scar is, so when Toby gets a new cut, he tries to prevent Jack from touching it.

He lived in the mansion, but after a while he started living in a cabin with the Heartless and the X-Virus.

Toby goes days without sleeping, so X-Virus, Heartless, Kate and Eyeless Jack try to make him sleep more, because even though he doesn't have missions, he can't sleep.

Toby was a little homophobic because of his father's influence, but Lyra told him that he shouldn't listen to their father, as it was a bad thought, so he didn't care so much, but his father ended up contaminating it a little his head.

Because of Toby's father's influence, Toby suppressed his feelings for Eyeless Jack and ignored Eyeless Jack for a long time, only going to Eyeless Jack if he really had to, but that didn't last long.

After Toby's father's influence passed, Toby started to wear more extravagant clothes, but he only wears this type of clothes sometimes, he started to accept the clothing suggestions that Nina suggested for him. {Jack liked this change .}

He convinced Eyeless Jack to wear more extravagant and elegant clothes too, as he wanted Eyeless Jack to wear clothes that showed off his body more.

Also influenced by his father, Toby repressed all the feelings he had, his father scolded him when he was crying, saying he was weak and several other things.

Toby is the type of person who forgets everything he's supposed to do, but Eyeless Jack is almost always there to remind Toby of everything.

He gets distracted very easily, so Kate or Hoodie give him missions separately from the other proxies, so they can explain everything so he doesn't get distracted by others.

He used to bring hidden animals to the mansion, so he could have some kind of company, but he stopped when he saw that Slenderman killed them all.

He and the X-Virus are afraid of spiders, this fear got worse when the Heartless caught their attention saying that she had something to show, and when she opened her mouth a spider came out of her mouth.

He's very flexible, he does a lot of crazy poses and of course he doesn't mind as he doesn't feel pain.

It is very common for blood to come out of his nose, as he is almost always stressed.

Sometimes he hurt himself on purpose just to see Jack, because there was a time when he could only see Jack if he was hurt.

Toby's favorite birthday was when, in the afternoon, he had a big party thrown by his closest friends and in the evening Eyeless Jack made a big dinner for the two of them, he received several gifts that day.

He hates being called Ticci, he doesn't know himself or actually doesn't remember why, but he really hates being called that.

Toby is one of the most agile and fast proxies, he is very dangerous if you really irritate him.

He is demiromantic and pansexual. {He is also asexual, but he still feels sexual attraction, but very little.}

{I have several hcs about him, I already said some in another post I made talking about him and Eyeless Jack.}

{And I'm sorry for any writing errors.}

[sweetienans]

Lonesome || R. Cameron

Summary

"What are you going to do with all the money?" Rafe followed you to the store that he didn't even know it was there. Stores in the cut were a new world to him.

"What are you talking about? I don't have any money" You said grabbing some apples and peaches.

"I know you do, or you will do" He reached your lower back trying to gain your attention but you slapped his hands out of it.

"Don't touch me. Rafe I swear to god I don't know what are you talking about. Are you high or something?" You tried to look to his eyes to see if they were dilated but they were the normal blue and tinted green as always.

"I heard my dad talking with one of his lawyers yesterday" he looked straight to your eyes to try to see if you were lying to him. You weren't. "Your mother is dead, and she left you all of her wealth"

Nothing ever happened. No gold, no cross, no El Dorado. Everything followed the normal course. Except for you. Your mother died, not that you actually care. She never raised you. She never appeared until now when apparently she was rich and left you all of it. You didn't want to know anything about the money even though you needed it. And if it wasn't for Rafe, you wouldn't even check the numbers on your bank account. He has a plan, a plan that he would do anything to achieve even if he has to use you.

Pairing: Rafe cameron x reader.

Warnings: use/mention of alcohol, mention of drugs, smut eventually but will be labeled. Violence (jj's father) Ward is still a bad father. 18+ MDNI!

wc: idk

see Pt. 1

Pt.2

You paced through your room all night. Going back and forth with your phone in your hand. What would you do? That was a huge amount of money in your bank account but in a way it didn’t feel like it was yours. You would like to be in another situation where you were mourning your near passed mom but there you were, keeping something you deserved all your life but you were never given. It kinda sucked. And it sucked more than you had to know it because of Rafe. 

You fell asleep near four in the morning and didn’t wake up until 1pm where you felt the door slightly slamming in the entry clicking shut right after. 

“Hey sweetie” your dad peaked through your open door. His clothes were all muddy and had traces of dirt in his head. “I’m sorry I disappeared”

On a normal day you would scold him for not even calling but right now you had a turmoil in your stomach that you couldn’t bear. 

“It’s okay, I’m glad you’re here” you said laying on your side. He nodded and then left you to yourself again, the sound of the shower being on sounded above your thoughts. 

You were quickly to take your phone and start typing the news to JJ but when you were writing the text you started wondering, was it a good idea? Would you even keep the money? you deleted it and instead wrote a ‘hope you have a good day with John B’ message. 

You scrolled through your socials,  incapable of thinking in getting up when a text from Sarah popped up. 

‘Kook party in the night, you coming?’ Meet me at Tannyhill so we can go together’

It wasn’t a lie that you were considered one of the good pogues, you were good friends with Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister and even his friends were good to you. You didn’t understand why but you were always invited and welcomed in their parties. 

You thought about the party and decided that it was a good idea to show up, to clear your mind and do normal teenage stuff before having to worry about the elephant in the room. Telling your dad, telling your friends that in the span of night to morning you were practically a new Kook. It wasn’t your fault. 

You went to the shower and dressed up to go with Sarah. She didn’t give you much information about the party so you decided to put on a yellow sundress that had the neck v-shaped and your white snickers. You put on some makeup, basically tons of blush, mascara and gloss and went to your dad’s room to tell him that you were going out. 

He was face down in his mattress sleeping like he never slept in his life. You decided to leave a note that you knew he wouldn’t read. 

You left your house closed and walked the rocky path to the main street that was basically a highway. Your car wasn’t functioning so you made all your trips walking, it was a long way to Tannyhill but you didn’t mind. 

The gates of Tannyhill opened in front of your figure. The house was massive, it was the biggest house in figure eight all because of Ward’s effort. Something to look up to, to be honest. 

“Girl! you look amazing” Sarah appeared hanging from the side of the porch’s door. “I just have to do my makeup and we can get going, did you walk all the way from your house to here?” she asked, giving you a side hug. 

“Yeah, it’s part of my exercise routine,” you said sarcastically. “My car broke down again so the legs had to do the job” 

“That’s awful, you want a glass of water?” She didn’t even wait for your answer to reach one of the glasses in the higher cabinet above the sink just to fill it with water. 

“Thanks” you said following the blonde to her room. You’ve been up there many times. Sarah was your best friend, beside JJ, the boys and Kie, even though the latter didn’t understand why. “So, where’s this party? Topper 's again?”

“Oh no, after we left last week, some punks wrote shit on the living room walls, his mom got furious with him,” Sarah explained, putting some eyeliner in the corner of her eyes. 

“Did they know who did it?” 

“Mm no, I mean, there were only Topper’s friends” she just shrugged and turned around to face you. “What do you think?” She said giving you a full look of her outfit and makeup. 

“What can I say of the Kook Princess?” you said, rolling your eyes. “You look gorgeous, Topper is going to die when he sees you”

She made a subtle grin but her eyes darted away like she was hiding something. You would ask, eventually. 

When Sarah parked her car, you expected a good looking house, not a beach with a bonfire on it. You made a mental note to never forget your cardigan again. 

“Pogue style?” You asked to make her shiver. She hated the tumultuous fight between pogues and kooks, and you could understand why, but most people couldn’t. 

“Topper house is out of the party market, Kelce’s family from California is staying in his house for the weekend and well Tannyhill is just unapproachable when dad and Rose are there” She explained locking up the car and walking through the sand. 

You walked to her side, waving some familiar faces together but keep walking until you made your way to Topper. 

“Hey pretty ladies” he said in a smug tone kissing Sarah’s cheek. “I thought you wouldn't make it” he said fetching some red solo cups and filling them with beer (the expensive one) 

The difference between pogue beach parties was clearly the cheap beer and that the cops would show up eventually in the night. This was a private beach and people could do what they pleased without having to worry about being incarcerated. 

“Thanks” you said to Topper receiving the cup and downing half of it in one gulp. You needed it, you needed the fun and to keep things out of your mind for a while. 

“Easy” Topper said in a surprised warning. “There’s plenty more” 

“Leave her alone, I’m the one driving anyway” Sarah said pouring her beer in your glass. 

The party went without any problems. People were dancing, some of them were making out and Sarah was nowhere to be seen. You were sitting in a big log beside the fire when a guy that you have never seen sat by your side. 

“Hey” he said in a charming way. You cringed on the inside but nodded anyway to his side. “I’m new here, what’s your name?” He scooted over the log and pressed his thigh to yours, completely invading your personal space. 

That must've been the worst way to flirt with anyone. You took a sip from your drink and cleared your voice to reject him in a nice way. 

“I’m-

“Not interested” 

You turned around to his voice. Rafe's tall figure lingered above yours stepping and blocking the light from the fire making him look terrifying. 

“She’s definitely out of your reach so why don’t you go somewhere else” he said waving his hand to the guy and urging him to leave your side. 

You had a new feeling in your stomach, like the beer was settling in wrong. 

“I got it under control” you said watching him walk and take the seat of the guy. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt, those that are white and had the sleeves in another color, this was green and his cap was backwards making him look more handsome than he already was. 

“Yeah, I can tell” He said, taking your cup from your hands and gulping all the content down. “What about we talk business?

“Jesus” you muttered under your breath and prepared yourself to lift but before you could do the push he circulated his hand around your wrist. “What did I tell you yesterday? I’m not interested”

“I know you received the money” he said looking straight into your eyes, there was no way to deny it. He always had like a sixth sense. “And I also know that you don’t know what to do with it” 

“Look, spending it on coke so you can double the amount it’s not a good idea to me to be honest” you said plainly. 

“You are not giving me a chance” He said like he was hurt because of your words. 

“I don’t even know you Rafe”

“You’ve been Sarah’s friend for a while, you know me enough” 

“You just said it, Sarah’s friend, not yours” you specified. 

“That hurt” he put one of his hands on his chest and you rolled your eyes. “I thought you had feelings but this.. 

“Please, cut the bullshit” You were done and ready to leave. 

“Just invest with me and I promise you won't regret it” he said pleading, puppy eyes and all. 

“Invest with you? or invest in you?” you crossed your arms. “Because for why I understand in the first you have to put money too” 

“I’ll do it if that makes you feel safe” He answered like it was nothing. 

“You are something else Rafe Cameron, but no, I won’t, I don’t trust you” you took your cup from his hands and left him all alone with the words between his lips. He wasn’t going to give up so easily. 

Rafe Cameron was a man of his word and mind. If he had an idea (even a bad one) he would do anything to reach it and make it true. He needed the money to seal a deal with Barry and Ward got him on a leash lately, cutting him loose, so he had nothing, just the two dollars that you threw at him in the store the other day. 

He was going to convince you but apparently not tonight, because even though you had been right, you weren’t even friends with him, telling him that you didn’t trust him broke something on the inside, so he drank, and drank and drank until he couldn’t even get on his feet. 

“Have you seen Sarah?” you asked one of the girls that was dropped in her knees grabbing his friends hair so she can puke. 

“No, go away!” she yelled at you and you thought that you deserved it, bad time to ask. 

This wasn’t the first time that you’ve lost Sarah in a party, she would usually sneak around with Topper but she would always pick you up later. Right now, her car wasn’t in the spot she parked and there were no Topper or Sarah in sight. 

You kept walking around the cars, looking for someone familiar to give you a ride but you didn’t know any of them. You were about to call JJ for backup knowing very well that he will get angry at you for coming to this party when you saw Rafe leaned against his car trying to get inside. 

“You gotta be kidding me” you said, grabbing his shoulders to make his eyes snap open. “Have you lost your mind? you can’t drive this way”

His disoriented eyes, alcohol breath and languid body said that he was more than wasted. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open to look at you. You searched for his keys that were in his hand and snatched it. 

“I’m going to drive okay?” you said wiggling the keys in front of his head. “I need you to lean on me so I can open the door and get you inside, Rafe” 

“Am I dreaming?” he murmured in your shoulder while you put one of his arms behind your shoulders to keep him steady on his feet. “This is much more of what I asked” 

“Tell me about it” you said, manhandling him towards the passenger seat. “How did you end up like this, honestly the booze wasn’t even that good” you talked more to yourself than to him, he was a pure excuse of a man in that state. 

“My heart is broken” he said while looking at you with his eyes half opened while you stretched yourself to put his seatbelt on. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to know Rafe,” you said, closing his door and walking to the driver’s side. 

“Then don’t ask stupid questions” he said pouting and crossing his arms over his chest the moment you closed your door. 

You were good to drive and the way to Tannyhill wasn’t even that long, you would crash in Sarah’s bed and leave in the morning when the sun rises . 

“Invest with me please” he mumbled. You thought that he would’ve fallen asleep if you didn’t talk but he didn't. He was partially awake and ready to keep pushing it. 

“I’m not gonna, I already told you, drop it” you said turning to the road that leads to figure eight. 

“No, no, wait” he said, grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and turning to the opposite direction. 

He hit the curve in the road and one of the cars that were passing by almost crashed against a light pole. “Fuck Rafe! Don’t do that again!” you said pressing the brake and parking on the side. “I was going to drop you at your place, what’s your problem?”

“Let’s go to yours, my dad doesn’t want me there” he said, starting the car again urging you to start driving, giving you zero options. 

“What about Kelce’s or Topper’s?” you asked, finding an option that wasn’t your house, even though it was pretty convenient to you to be in your place and having no need to walk back from someone's house. 

“Topper is with my sister I don’t fucking care where and Kelce’s house is crowded, you can leave me with Barry if you want” he said closing his eyes again. 

You knew better than going to Barry’s. The man sold drugs to JJ's father and he was constantly hanging there, so, if he saw you there with Rafe, JJ and your father would know and they won’t stop asking for the truth. 

You were against a wall, figuratively speaking. No choice at all.

“Fine, let’s go to my place”

author's note: Rafe is coming babyyy. I'm excited, i'm not going to lie. Let me know that you think.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @haruvalentine4321

[sweetestofheartz]

Toby Birthday Headcanons

Usually on his birthday he doesn't do much, even before the accident. All he did was get a birthday cake and a couple small gifts. It would most likely be something simple like a book on a subject he liked, maybe a new movie CD, a new pair of shoes, etc.

It's always celebrated with his Mom and Lyra, his Dad only did back when he was little and before his addiction worsened. One time he did see his dad crash his party a little drunk and while he hated it, he was surprised he even remembered.

However now that he's older and works or The Operator he doesn't remember much about his life. All he can remember is the date, he doesn't realize that it's supposed to be a special event so he doesn't do anything for it.

If you see him with a present it'll most likely be from Natalie or Nina, he just accepts it to make them happy since he doesn't exactly expect gifts. From Natalie it'll be something basic yet useful like a new polisher for his hatchets.

But from Nina it'll be something extravagant looking but it's homemade, like a very fancy bracelet made with stolen stuff or a very very pink and glittery scrapbook. Anything Nina gives anyone will be obvious from how she drowns it in sparkles.

Jack might get him something when they get closer but it won't be much, it'll be like when a distant relative gives you something odd because they don't know what you like. Mostly it's money (even though Toby mostly just steals stuff) or a textbook on anatomy.

All in all he really doesn't like his birthday, he makes him remember how he doesn't have any recollection of his past so he mostly just stays in his cabin and eats a small cupcake Natalie got him.

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - Chapter 4

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 4.9k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 4: seventeen and eighteen

After Rhys had moved, Feyre had never found it easy to go to his house - sure, he was always kind enough to give her a ride and do his best to make her feel at home - but it never felt like somewhere she could relax. The lawns were too manicured, the furniture too fancy, the backyard too big and the fittings too new. This house absolutely screamed of Rhysand’s father, and no matter how at ease Rhys made her feel overall, she was never quite able to shake it even on the best of days when she visited the house.

That feeling was manifesting tenfold in her stomach right now as the party raged around her, raucous and encompassing, and that was without the idea of the next few years ahead of her plaguing her mind. If Feyre didn’t take tonight one step at a time, she felt like she could throw up.

Because tonight was Prythian High’s completely unsanctioned, borderline-official senior year graduation party.

Feyre was dressed uncomfortably - nice, but uncomfortably. Shehad donned a pair of black heels she had borrowed from Elain forever ago, some form-fitting pale blue jeans and a nice, but loose black tank top to try and pull the whole thing together. Realistically, she’d much rather be in some trackpants and an oversized shirt but she didn’t want to fuck this up for anybody, least of all herself. She would have much rather snuck through the side window or something - as clinical as the house could feel, she still knew it well - but it wasn’t an option with her boyfriend at her side as they stepped out of his car. Tamlin grabbed a cooler he had in the backseat before resuming his earlier station, hand at the small of her back as the two headed for Rhys’ front door. Tamlin reached to ring the doorbell but Feyre stopped him, one hand lightly landing on his wrist as it came up while her other fished around in her bag for the key she knew she had. Despite Rhys’ move two years ago, they’d still kept keys to each other’s house no matter what in case they needed something.

“I’ve got this babe,” she said quietly, flashing him a small smile. Feyre could swear she saw his jaw tense, his smile down at her a little forced as she turned the key in the lock. She knew he wasn’t Rhys’ biggest fan, but she trusted he could keep it under control for one night. They’d had to come together for this party in the first place, after all.

Feyre took a quiet, deep breath before pushing the door open to what could only be described as barely controlled chaos inside. Music blared all throughout the house, teenagers scattered everywhere with cups in hand and the scent of alcohol permeating the air. Normally this wouldn’t have been Feyre’s preferred way to spend a Friday night, but she knew that the night meant a lot to Rhys, their friends, and Tamlin, all of whom were off to college in the upcoming fall. Even if she wasn’t the biggest social butterfly, she’d do anything for the people she loved and cared about. So her and Tamlin trudged forward, the throngs of their drunken fellow students parting slowly as they moved into the living room. People were scattered everywhere throughout the house, playing drinking games of various complexity before spilling out in the backyard where people were swimming in the well-appointed pool. Feyre couldn’t help but think for a moment that it almost definitely was some sort of recipe for a liability issue before being pulled from her thoughts at an insistent shout across the room.

“Feyre, you came!”

She was almost bowled off of her feet with how firmly Mor leapt at her for a hug, unable to help laughing as she hugged her right back despite a slight stumble. Mor didn’t hesitate to plant a bright red kiss on her cheek with her signature smile that lit up a room.

“Of course I would, wouldn’t miss watching you guys get messy for the world.”

“Good to see you too, Tamlin. Congrats on salutatorian, by the way.” Mor simply smiled at him, Tamlin narrowing his eyes slightly as he flashed his most practised grin. Feyre lightly slapped Mor's shoulder - she knew that her friends couldn’t help but deliberately try and worm their way under Tamlin’s skin. She was very used to their ribbing, but Tamlin came from a very different family and environment. They had to give him time to adjust.

“Thanks, Mor. Where’s the host? I’ve got beer and wine to unload from my car.”

She smoothly gestured over to the kitchen, where Rhys was making a cursed concoction with whatever liquor he currently had his hands on. Rhys knew he couldn’t get away with raiding his dad’s cabinet, so he and Tamlin struck a deal - in exchange for Rhys hosting, Tamlin was to provide the majority of the drink as his family owned both breweries and vineyards. Not that the promise of free alcohol stopped people from bringing their own contributions to the revelry. Feyre blew a kiss at Mor as she and Tamlin walked over together, watching Rhys with a smile on her face. Once he finished his creation, resulting in an oversized bowl full of a murky brown mixture of liquor that was bound to leave people with heads pounding in the morning, he met Feyre’s gaze. He rushed right over, not hesitating to pull her into a tight hug.

“Hello, Feyre darling!”

“Hello, Rhys my dear!” Feyre hugged back just as firmly, already feeling a little more at ease. She could feel Tamlin staring at him, glad that neither one of them had managed to say anything incendiary for the time being. Once Rhys let go of Feyre, he moved to give Tamlin a terse clap on the shoulder. The smirk Rhys flashed was one of pure confidence and nonchalance, Tamlin doing his best to mimic it. God, she hated teenage male egos.

“Glad to see you made it, Tamlin. I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here?”

“Not at all. I have the booze I promised loaded in the back of my car, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand.” Their conversation was laced with tension that Feyre knew she wasn’t totally privy to - she knew that their parents for many years had it out for each other, but she had no clue how that would extend to the two of them by proxy. Whenever she asked either of them, they refused to elaborate. Usually she was relegated to playing peacemaker between the two, but she was glad they seemed to be willing to at least try to put it aside for one night.

“Of course, lead the way.” He gestured to the front door, beginning to trail after Tamlin, but not before giving her a soft smile. Feyre mouthed the words ‘come back soon’ at him, to which he gave a small nod before returning his attention to the task at hand. For the time being, Feyre grabbed a beer from his fridge and tried to find a less-crowded corner to occupy.

Wherever she wandered inside the house was so full of bodies that, despite the normally over-abundant space, it felt almost claustrophobic no matter where she turned. She knew that upstairs was generally off limits to partygoers - everyone knew that nobody wanted to have any reason to make Mr. Sterling pissed off - but she didn’t want to seem completely anti-social, let alone have people misconstrue anything. Feyre had already had to fend off rumours that she and Rhys were together since they were in middle school and there was no way she wanted to give anybody a reason to add fuel to that proverbial fire. Soon she found herself outside, managing to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a small way off while Cassian was busy trying to pull off a keg stand and failing miserably. He had a rare smile on his face as they watched Amren continue to hold up Cassian despite how much beer he was losing over his face and into his hair. Feyre couldn’t help but laugh, sidling up next to Azriel comfortably amongst the crowd.

“Please tell me this is his first attempt of the night.”

Azriel snorted slightly. “More like third.”

She shook her head a little bit, tapping her beer to Azriel’s plastic cup before taking a generous swig. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching Cassian dismount with no small amount of spluttering and laughter on his part before someone else attempted to take up the mantle. Aside from Tamlin, Rhys and their inner circle of friends were the only people Feyre actually knew at this party. She was only a junior - if she wasn’t so close with them, there was no way she could glance at this whole event, let alone be invited. So by Azriel’s side she stuck, the two of them content to watch the people as the time ticked by until, inevitably, Tamlin found her and insisted on having her stick by his side all night. She didn’t entirely mind - it was nice to have a conversational buffer since Tamlin was very good at keeping people engaged - but it was a little isolating in its own way.

At least I don’t have to talk to drunk people I don’t even know, she thought to herself. It was a small solace.

Feyre had been dating Tamlin for the past six months or so at this point. The first time they had met was when she had accidentally run into him in the halls, unable to see past art supplies and textbooks she had bundled in her arms. It was almost like the moment was plucked out of a movie - he had apologised, helping her gather everything back up before locking his forest green eyes with hers and smiling softly. They’d exchanged names and she had indulged in quiet little daydreams periodically, waving at each other in the halls every now and again. Then all of a sudden they were seeing each other regularly - Feyre often walked dogs as a side gig to try and save more money for her college fund as well as any art supplies she may need, only to find that one of her regular dogs belonged to Tamlin Greenbriar’s family. Little Andras was always more bark than bite, but he brought the two of them closer. It wasn’t long until he had asked her out on a date, leading to something more all quite quickly. It was a bit of a whirlwind, but didn’t every girl deserve to get swept up like that at least once? He cared for her and made sweet promises and made her feel like she didn’t have to worry so much about the future. He could be a bit pushy at times, especially when it came to keeping up appearances, but relationships were all about compromise. If this was one she had to make, then so be it.

Rhys never took kindly to him, though. Her other friends were also a little terse around him, but they all did their best to respect her decision. It meant a lot to Feyre that they were willing to try - Nesta had blatantly told her that he was “white boy privilege personified” and Elain had stayed disturbingly neutral and placid about him, which was never a good sign about how she felt.

But despite it all,, she was determined to make it work - he was a nice guy and she deserved to be cared for. So she kept a smile on her face, saying her hellos and sticking by his side. Eventually, he brought them back inside, the two of them taking a few shots of somebody’s Fireball they’d managed to sneak out before making their way closer to the speakers to dance. Flashing LED lights had been set up, creating a moody atmosphere as they moved in time to the music. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers tangling with his long golden hair as his hands moved down to her waist. Their brows were almost pressed together, a smile on her face and a slightly dark look in Tamlin’s eyes.

“You look gorgeous, Feyre.” he said to her, keeping his voice as low as he could while still trying to speak over the music.

“Speak for yourself.” 

She could almost get lost in the rhythm, were it not for the fact that her feet were starting to kill her. Feyre tried to push it to the back of her mind in favour of Tamlin’s hands slowly but surely creeping their way down over her ass, but after a few songs she couldn’t ignore the sensation any longer. Feyre moved her arms away from his neck, trying to gently pry his hands away.

“Tamlin, I gotta go sit down for a minute, these heels are starting to hurt.” His grip only got tighter - he was quite a few drinks deep and was sometimes stubborn when it came to getting what he wanted in a state like this.

“C’mon Feyre, not even another song? You’re so hot when you’re all dressed up like this.” He pressed closer, his half-hard length pushed against her thigh. Her lip curled slightly - she never liked having sex with Tamlin when he was drunk, and tonight was no exception. That wasn’t even accounting for the fact that it wasn’t their house to have sex in to begin with.

She pushed his hands off more firmly, stepping out of the crowd with a pleading expression on her face. “I’m just gonna sit down for a little bit and then I’ll be back, promise.”

He grunted at her in mild annoyance, sauntering off deeper into the crowd to keep dancing. God, why had she even worn heels to a fucking house party in the first place? They made her legs and ass look nice, sure, but she wasn’t exactly out to impress anybody tonight. Except for maybe Tamlin, but at least that made sense, they were a couple. With small steps she made her way toward the stairwell that led to the second floor, sitting herself down on them with a small sigh. Almost as soon as she had sat down her heels were off, bringing a foot up onto her knee before she began to rub small circles into it with her thumbs. She felt so out of place here. The people at this party weren’t her people, and when everyone else left for college in a few months she’d be almost entirely alone.

“Hey, you okay?” Rhys’ head poked around the corner, padding his way over with nothing but concern all over his face. It was a welcome distraction from the slant of her thoughts and anxiety.

“I’m alright, just, y’know. Choices,” Feyre gestured at her discarded heels next to her. “Consequences.” A light chuckle left her as she nodded back down at her feet, Rhys giving her a small smile back as he came to sit next to her on the stairs.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I did notice that you’d definitely made one hell of a choice with the shoes tonight, yeah. I saw you hobble your way over here from where everyone was dancing.”

“Oh god, was it that bad?” Feyre groaned a little, Rhysand nodding with a chuckle. Her head was in her hands with a whine, her palms pressed lightly against her eyes.

All of a sudden Rhys dragged her feet into his lap, replacing where her own hands had been rubbing small circles into the tender aches of the balls of her feet. Feyre looked back up at him, eyebrows raised with a small look of surprise on her face.

“A bit much, isn’t it, Rhys?”

“What? You're my best friend, you're in pain, I'm trying to help out. We can get you a pair of my slides or something after, just five minutes.” He responded, looking sheepishly at her like it wasn’t at least a little bit odd to have your best friend give you an impromptu foot massage at his massive rager. Feyre snorted slightly to herself.

“Rhysand Sterling, owning a pair of slides - never thought I’d see the day where you chose comfort over style.”

“Hey, I don’t go around croc-shaming you. Not another word.” Rhys lightly pinched the top of her foot, switching to the other foot while the two of them chuckled together as she leaned back against the wall and let him do his thing. Some people might view the two of them as codependent and a little weird, but with how much the two of them had gone through together, she wouldn’t change whatever they had for the world. She let her eyes shut for a moment, letting her mind wander in the haze of a few drinks, the music, and the relief Rhys’ ministrations were providing her. After what felt like only a mere few moments, he gave her leg a light tap, gently moving her feet off of his lap before slowly rising to his feet.

“Well, Miss Archeron, a very fashionable pair of slides awaits.” Rhys joked, gesturing up the stairs with a grin. She flashed a matching smirk, though it turned to a slight grimace as she got up on aching feet again.

“Oh no, please sir, it’s your house. How could I deny you such an opportunity to play host?”

Rhys gasped dramatically, one hand at his chest while the other went to his cheek. “My goodness, and here I thought chivalry was dead!” He hiked up his imaginary skirts as he began to head up the stairs, Feyre following after him. His raven black curls bounced as he eagerly climbed the stairs, Feyre trailing sluggishly behind in comparison, but he made sure to wait at the top of the staircase anyway with a hand extended to help her out. He was always nicer than he had any need to be to her, and it never went unappreciated by Feyre.

The music was much more muffled up on the second floor, thrumming consistently as they made their way down the hallway to Rhys’ room - it always felt much more cosy compared to the rest of his house. While it was still simple and meticulously organised, it contained signs of passion and interest and living. A cushy double bed pushed up in the corner opposite the door, a bedside table with his glasses, a well-worn candle and a lamp right next to it and a low dresser not too far from that.The wall next to the door had a low cabinet with all of his consoles and games in it, a TV perched on top and some small art pieces Feyre had done over the years framed neatly on the walls. Rhys’ room also had a window overlooking the backyard, his desk underneath it with a small bookcase slotted on one side with a wardrobe on the other. A few bean-bag chairs were in the middle of the room, a staple for whenever he and Feyre decided to beat the shit out of each other in whatever game took their fancy that week. This was the place that felt like home to her, and Feyre didn’t think twice about sitting herself down on the end of the bed while Rhys rummaged around in his wardrobe.

Feyre watched him keenly - he always presented himself as relatively at ease to the world, but it was these quiet moments away from everybody else that he actually felt at ease. She often shared the sentiment, usually preferring solitude if Rhys wasn’t around - or, these days, Tamlin either. Feyre had always had to work and push and keep on fighting uphill battle after uphill battle - providing the family with a second income when her father had gotten fired from his job and had to take up something that brought in pennies in comparison. Making sure the house stayed clean and that someone went to the grocery store that week. Keeping on top of her studies and trying to save whatever she could for college. It felt like that burden was only going to get heavier with all of her friends going off to college themselves in a mere few months - sure, she was kind of friends with Clare Beddor and Briar Bell. More like acquaintances, if anything.

But these little moments? All of it fell away.

“Hey, do you still climb up onto your roof sometimes?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth before she could think them over too heavily.

“Not really, especially since you know how my dad can get. Why, what are you thinking?” Rhys had moved from rummaging in the bottom of his wardrobe to under his bed, one slide already thrown haphazardly near his dresser as he searched for the other.

“I’m thinking that you should come on up!” She chirped, heels abandoned on the floor as she strode over to his desk. Feyre reached over to open the window and start climbing out, swearing she heard Rhys mumbling to himself something about her being insane, but she didn’t care - she simply turned back, flashing him a wild smile before beginning to climb through. Soon enough, she had walked precariously over the rough shingles to situate herself squarely in the middle of the roof, facing the backyard full of teenagers with her knees brought up in front of her. Feyre could hear Rhys beginning to clamber up onto the roof after her like clockwork, much more confident in his steps as he came to sit beside her. A beat of silence hung between them for a moment, enjoying watching everyone in his backyard make merry from a distance. Rhys broke the silence first.

“Thanks for giving me an excuse to stop playing host for a little while.” He bumped his shoulder lightly with hers, glancing at Feyre with a soft expression.

“Don’t worry about it. I figured if I was having a hard time down there with everybody, you’d be in the same boat. Besides, you know I like being able to spend some quality time with you. While we can, anyway.” That last sentence had come out a little more melancholy than she intended, wincing slightly at her own idiocy before looking up at the sky. It was easier than looking at Rhys right now - he already felt bad that he was going to a university that was out of town, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for doing what was best for his future.

“You know I’m still gonna visit, right? And we still have each other’s numbers, we can still talk everyday.”

“Yeah, but you and I both know that it’s not the same. Besides, we’re both gonna be so busy busting our asses. I know this year hasn’t exactly been as breezy as you make it out to be to everybody else, and your dad expects so much of you. If I don’t double down on what I’m doing now I won’t get a scholarship, which would mean no college for me at all.”

“I could alwa-”

“Rhysand, I know what you’re about to say, and I can’t let you or your dad hand me this on a platter. If it was from you, I’d want to pay you back, and if you pestered your dad enough about it then we’d both be on the hook. I can do this. It’s just… hard.”

Feyre huffed slightly, readjusting so she was laying back on the roof to stare up at the night sky, trying to recall some of the constellations Rhys had told her about over the years. No matter how hard she tried, it didn’t take her mind off of the words on the tip of her tongue.

“I just wish I could deal with you guys leaving better. I mean, of course I want you all to succeed and do great things. I know none of you can do that if you stay in one place the whole time. But I’m barely friends with anybody else in school. I don’t even know how often I’ll get to see you, let alone anybody else, having to split my time between school and work and seeing Tamlin…”

Feyre could have sworn she saw a twinge of annoyance flicker across Rhys face as she glanced over at him, shifting onto his back as well. “Rhys, I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I just think that making you trek all the way over there to meet him every few weekends is selfish when he knows all that you’ve got going on. Like, we’re going to the same college, I know how long it takes to get there from here. And we both know he’s not going to be happy if you try to see me while you’re there. It’s not exactly fair.” His words were clipped - conversations with Rhys about Tamlin were always respectful, but loaded with tension and annoyance simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully schooled expression.

“I get that, but I’ve got a much lighter workload compared to what he’ll have and it won’t be every weekend, so you and I can figure something out. Tamlin and I are gonna make it work.”

“Just… Remember he’s gotta meet you at least halfway sometimes, alright? You give a lot of yourself to him. Make sure to keep at least a little just for you.” Rhys sighed, meeting Feyre’s gaze with a sympathetic smile and a quiet sigh. He reached out a hand between them and Feyre simply smiled back before taking it, returning her gaze to the stars above. She could feel the tears she’d been holding back about the whole situation begin to prick at the edges of her eyes, grateful that she didn’t have to worry about anybody at the party seeing her cry as they rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m just gonna miss my friends. All this change is just really scary and I don’t know how I’m gonna deal, y’know? Even if it’s not the end of the world, you’re all so important to me. Especially you.” She punctuated her words with a slight squeeze, Rhys giving one back in kind.

“Feyre, you’re probably the strongest, smartest and most brave person I’ve ever met. If anyone’s going to be able to get through this, it’s you. You could do anything if you wanted to.”

“Thanks, Rhys. I love you a lot, even if you’re a prick.” Feyre laughed, something in her heart easing and unfurling a little as she said the words. He was her best friend and he always knew exactly what she needed to hear, when she needed it. Rhys always knew when something was wrong and was as loyal as they came. Of course she loved him. So why did it feel a little bit like there was a weight in her chest as she waited for him to respond?

“Don’t let Tamlin hear you say that,” Rhys responded with his signature shit-eating grin on his face, though there was something not quite right behind his eyes. “Lest he think that I’m out to steal you away or something.”

Feyre knew not to push - Rhys would tell her what was going on when he was ready, so instead she simply smacked his shoulder, sitting back up to glance out over the backyard once more. As she looked out over the crowd, she found her attention was caught by none other than Tamlin, dazedly stumbling through people and looking around in confusion. That was her cue.

“Shit, he’s looking for me. I gotta get back down there, I should drive him home. I had a feeling I’d be designated driver tonight.”

“Well then, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Rhys carefully got to his feet before extending his hand down to Feyre, helping her up before they both made their way back through Rhys’ bedroom window. Once they were back in, he handed her his slides with a smile.

“Go on, you’d be better off to head down there without me. He’s already not friendly with me when he’s sober, I wouldn’t want to make him grumpy for the trip back.”

“...Thanks, Rhys. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay?”

“You better. And the others, too.”

Feyre dropped the slides to the ground, slipping into them without a second thought before giving Rhys a quick hug. Then, before her boyfriend could cause any drunken chaos, she scurried down the stairs to find him.

The drive back to Tamlin’s house was quiet with him half-conscious in the passenger seat, Feyre playing the conversation she had with Rhys in her head over and over. Even as she parked the car and guided Tamlin inside only to find her way back out again to drive her own car home, it was all that occupied her mind. Something between Feyre and Rhys was shifting, wasn’t quite solid like it once was, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Whatever it was, she kept reminding herself that it would be okay. It was Feyre and Rhys against the world, always. But things always changed over time, so maybe that was just what it was - the two of them changing as people, but still growing together?

Whatever it was, she knew it was going to be alright. It was going to be alright because it had to be.

It had to.