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vitalverstappen · 13 days ago

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Fresh Out The Slammer - L. Stroll

summary: now, pretty baby, i'm running back home to you

pairing: Lance Stroll x childhood friend!reader

warnings: swearing, smoking, drinks, use of y/n

word count: 2.9k

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

It finally happened.

After months of the relationship slowly dying, the plug was finally pulled. You would be lying if you said you were mad about it, as you had been mourning the relationship while you were still in it. But you were definitely disappointed at how much you had lost yourself while with him.

Everyday, your friends found you hiding away from them, spending time in your ex-boyfriend's apartment, hoping you’d get a better day with him than the one before. And each day would end with you disappointed that you couldn’t catch the high you once had with him.

But as you spent those years cooped up in that dingy apartment, your mind wandered. To your friends, the old life you had, and there was one person in particular that flooded your thoughts.

Lance.

The two of you sort of grew up together, as your family moved next door to him in Montreal when you were in grade school. You’d always been close with him, though life had pulled you in different directions over the years. He was the kind of friend who knew your quirks, the way you laughed too loud at dumb jokes, and the way you’d always order the same meal at your local diner.

Before you got into your relationship with your now ex-boyfriend, Lance was your partner in crime. The two of you were inseparable, balancing on a delicate tightrope between best friends and something more, though neither of you dared to actually make a move on each other (except for the one time after a high school party that you woke up in his bed… but neither of you dared to ever bring that up).

Once you got into that relationship, you lost touch with a lot of your friends, including Lance. You’d still get glimpses of his life through his Instagram posts, though most of those were with some vague caption about the most recent grand prix.

You couldn’t help but to feel a pang of regret every time you scrolled through his posts, the shots of him at races or exploring new cities, living a life that seemed so full and so free. It made you feel small, like you’d let years slip by without ever truly reaching for something of your own. The relationship had consumed you, and somewhere along the way, you’d lost the spark you’d once had.

But now, after everything had fallen apart, that spark was starting to flicker again. You felt an emptiness - yes - but also a sort of restlessness, like your soul had been asleep for too long.

With every passing day, you slowly began to piece yourself back together, reaching out to old friends and going to places you loved. That’s how you found yourself out at one of your favorite bars in the city, surrounded by your favorite girls.

You were still in the process of rediscovering who you were outside of the relationship, but tonight, the weight felt a little lighter. The bar was buzzing with laughter and live music, a mix of old regulars and new faces. Your friends were their usual selves - lighthearted, lively, and full of energy. They pulled you into the night, encouraging you to laugh and drink, to forget the heaviness that had weighed on you for so long.

The familiar comfort of being around them was a balm to your weary heart. They knew about the breakup, of course. They’d been there for you in the quiet moments, the ones where you questioned everything. But tonight, it felt like a chance to just be. No more reflecting on the past. No more wondering where it went wrong. Just living in the presence for once.

You found yourself laughing more than you had in months, a little buzzed but feeling freer with each passing minute. As your friends chatted about their own lives - work, travel - you felt a shift within you. The old you, the one who would jump into these nights without hesitation, was starting to come back to the surface.

While a few of your friends chatted away, you pulled your phone out and began to tap through social media. Lance had recently posted a story, and without hesitation, you tapped on it. The view of the Montreal skyline from the top of some skyscraper caught you off guard. He was in town.

“Ooooo what’s Stroll up to?” one of your friends asked, peering over your shoulder, causing you to jump out of your skin.

You quickly turned off your phone, thrown off by the question. “Uh, I don’t know. In some city, I guess.”

“Bullshit, he’s in Montreal,” another of your friends said, “we all saw his story.”

One of your other friend’s eyes lit up, “Why don’t you invite him? I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, running a few fingers through your hair. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

“That sounds like even more of a reason he’d want to see you,” your friend said. “Invite him over. He can’t be more than a few blocks away.”

Your shoulders slumped, clearly not getting out of this. You sighed, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement bubble up. Your friends were relentless when they got an idea in their heads, and it seemed like tonight was no different. As much as you had tried to keep the idea of Lance at an arm’s length… at least for the moment… now the seed was planted, and there was no way to avoid it.

“Fine,” you muttered, your fingers already hovering over your phone screen.

With a deep breath, you pulled up Lance’s contact and started typing, your heart racing as the words appeared on the screen.

Just saw your story. You back in town for the Grand Prix?

Your thumb hovered over the send button, and for the moment, it felt like the whole world was waiting on you. What was the right thing to say? Should you keep it casual, or should you let a bit of that old familiarity slip in?

I’m out with some friends tonight. Would be great to catch up if you’re free?

You pressed send before you could overthink it. And you stood there, staring at your screen, waiting for a reply that you weren’t sure you even wanted.

The minutes dragged by, and your friends were practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of you reconnecting with Lance. They were giddy, tossing suggestions about places you could meet up or how you should play it cool when he responded. You couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, but it only made the waiting feel worse.

Finally, just as you were about to set your phone down and stop thinking about it, the familiar ping of a notification broke the silence.

Lance’s name lit up your screen.

I’m in town for the race, but I’m free tonight. You still in the city?

Your heart skipped a beat. That was quick.

You replied almost instantly, the words flowing before you could stop them. Yeah, I am. We’re at the bar we always used to go to. You should stop by.

You hit send, and then quickly tucked your phone back into your bag, trying to pretend you weren’t about to throw up from nerves. Your friends were watching you like hawks, waiting for any sign of his response. You forced a smile, and tried to focus on the conversation, but your mind kept drifting back to Lance.

Minutes passed. Then the door swung open, and a burst of cool night air rushed into the bar. For a split second, you thought it was him, but it was just a group of guys laughing as they entered.

Then, another few minutes later, the message came.

I’m on my way. Be there soon.

Your stomach flipped.

“He’s coming,” you blurted out, your voice sounding slightly too high pitched. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, and the sudden surge of nervous energy only made it worse.

“Oh my god, this is happening,” one of your friends whispered dramatically. “I can’t believe you’re about to see him again.”

You grinned, feeling both excited and terrified. It had been so long since you’d seen Lance, and now there he was, about to walk through that door. You hadn’t even begun to process what any of it could actually mean, and yet the anticipation hung thick in the air.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open again. This time, you knew exactly who had walked in.

You turned around and saw him standing there - Lance, looking just as you remembered, yet somehow different. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, and his eyes, though still the familiar shade of brown, seemed to carry a weight you hadn’t noticed before.

His eyes scanned the room, and you watched as he waved to the group of guys who had come in loudly earlier. It quickly clicked that they were some of the other drivers. It wasn’t long before his gaze landed on you. The smile that spread onto his face was almost shy, like he was still unsure of how to greet you after so long.

Your heart skipped a beat as Lance made his way toward you, the rest of the bar noise fading into the background. For a moment, everything felt suspended in time, just the two of you, standing there, surrounded by the laughter and chatter from your friends, but only seeing each other.

When he reached you, he stopped for a second, as if gathering his bearings. Then, with a soft chuckle, he said, “It’s been too long. You look… well you look like you’ve finally been living life.”

You smiled, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “I’m getting there,” you replied, trying to keep things light despite the butterflies doing flips in your stomach. “It’s been a weird couple of years.”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Yeah, I get that. It’s hard to stay in touch with both of us having different lives. I’ve been… all over the place.”

The awkwardness that had lingered in the air slowly started to dissolve, and you realized how much you had missed his presence. That familiar comfort was still there, almost like no time had passed.

Your friends had already taken to teasing you, grinning at the two of you like they were watching an episode of their favorite show. “So, are we going to do this whole catching up thing or what?” one of them piped up, giving you a mischievous grin.

Lance laughed and turned to them. “I mean, if it’s okay with you all, I’d love to steal her for a minute.”

You saw a flash of something in his eyes as he said it - something that was both familiar and new. The playful tone in his voice had you laughing, the knot in your chest loosening with every passing second.

“Sure,” you said, gesturing to the doors that led out to the balcony. “Let’s grab a drink and do that whole catching up thing.”

As the cool summer air hit both of you, your nerves settled even more. You placed your drink down on a table and took out a pack of Marlboro’s from your purse, along with a lighter.

“You smoke now?” he asked, watching you as you lit the cigarette

You shrugged, “Picked it up as a coping mechanism. I wanna quit, but old habits die hard,” you answered, showing him the pack as if to offer him one, which he politely declined. You took a long drag, letting the ashes fall off the ledge of the railing. “So tell me, what’s it like being a superstar driver these days?”

Lance smirked, glancing back inside to the bar where his gridmates were downing god knows how many drinks, though there was a hint of humility in his expression. “I wouldn’t say superstar… It’s a lot of long hours and a lot of travel. You know, typical Formula 1 stuff. But it’s been… interesting. Lots of highs, lots of lows, but I’m grateful. Not everyone gets to live that dream.”

You nodded, impressed despite yourself. “It’s honestly wild to think about. You’ve always had that drive, you know?”

Lance’s eyes lit up, the smile on his face widening. “Yeah, I guess it’s in the blood. But what about you? Last time we talked, you were… well in a different place.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but feel a little vulnerable. You hadn’t fully realized how much of yourself you’d lost until he had pointed it out.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softer now. “I got a little lost in it all, but the relationship ending kinda felt like breaking out of the slammer. I’ve been starting to focus more on things I forgot about for too long. Like reconnecting with people who actually know me, not just the version of me that fits into someone else’s world.”

The cigarette in your hand had burned down to a nub, and as you walked over to the ashtray, you could feel Lance’s gaze on you with every step you took. It didn’t feel threatening in any way, it was more as if he was trying to read the things you hadn’t said out loud.

When you returned next to him, your lips parted slightly, like you wanted to say something more, but instead, you just nodded. “I get that.” Lance spoke, filling in the silence. “It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re giving so much of yourself to someone else. But it’s good to see you finding your way back.”

That last line from him hung in the air between you two like something sacred - soft, heavy, and full of quiet truth. You looked over at him, really looked at him this time. The Lance you used to know was still there: the boy with a quick wit and stubborn heart. But he’d grown, and you had too. Maybe that’s what this whole night was about - two people, bruised by life in different ways, standing face-to-face again and wondering if there was still something worth salvaging beneath the dust of time.

You gave a soft laugh, a little disbelieving. “You always have a way of saying the right thing without sounding cheesy.”

He smiled - god, that same crooked smile - and leaned against the railing next to you. “Well,” he said, “maybe I’m just saying what I should’ve said years ago.”

That stopped you. It wasn’t a bold declaration, not quite. But it was honest. More honest than either of you had dared to be back then. And somehow, in the thick silence that followed, your heart didn’t race the way it used to in panic - it thudded solidly, rhythmically, like it finally had something steady to beat for.

You looked out at the city, the lights glittering like little moments waiting to happen. You could hear the murmur of the bar behind you, the distant clink of glasses, your friends’ laughter filtering through the glass. But all of that felt far away now.

“What do you think would’ve happened,” you asked, “if we hadn’t lost touch?”

Lance looked thoughtful, not brushing it off like a hypothetical meant to be laughed away. “I think we probably would’ve screwed it up,” he said eventually, smiling gently. “We were kids. Timing was shit. But… I also think we would’ve found our way back here eventually. To this. Us.”

That word us felt heavy in your chest, but not in a bad way. It didn’t ache. It resonated.

You flicked away the last of your cigarette and turned fully toward him. “Well,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected, “we’re not kids anymore.”

“No,” he agreed. “We’re not.”

There was something electric in the air then. Not the volatile kind you’d been used to in your past relationship. It was something calmer, fuller. The kind that felt like maybe, finally, you weren’t chasing a high. You were returning home.

You reached for your drink, more out of habit than thirst, and took a slow sip. “So what now?” you asked, keeping your tone casual, though your heart was suddenly lighter.

Lance tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now,” he said, “we figure out if the versions of us that exist today still fit the way they used to.”

You raised a brow. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we figure out if they can fit in a new way,” he said. “No pressure. No pretending. Just… truth this time.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds dangerously healthy.”

Lance laughed, and for a moment, the years melted away. “Don’t worry,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “I’m sure we’ll still mess it up a little. Old habits die hard, right?”

You laughed, really laughed this time, and something inside you clicked back into place. The girl who used to find joy in messy nights and quiet conversations. The one who danced without a care, who didn’t shrink herself to make room for someone else. She was here. And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to let herself fall—gently this time.

You looked over at him, your voice soft but sure. “Let’s not let this slip away again.”

Lance held your gaze, and there was no hesitation in his eyes. “We won’t.”

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redbird-tf · 5 months ago

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Teach me

Dean x little sister

Summary: dean teaches you how to change baby’s oil

(I suck at summary’s)

Word count:885

Warnings:none

The morning sun bled through the thin curtains of the dinghy motel, tugging you awake with a groan as you rubbed your eyes. You sat up, feeling the strange stillness of waking without one of your brothers nudging you-always being the last to rise. Confused and Grumpy you blinked against the light and scanned the room from your spot on the fold-out couch. Sam still snoring in his bed but the bed next to him was empty. Tossing aside the thin blanket, you pushed yourself up, not bothering to change out of your T-shirt and sweatpants, and made your way to the door in search of Dean.

Opening the door you were surprised to find him just a foot away standing in front of the Impala with the hood ajar. He turned his head at the sound of the door “Morning kid” he greeted you. You took in the scene of his toolbox and bottles of unmarked fluids scattered on the ground beside him. “What are you doing?” You asked groggily. “Baby needs an oil change” he explained grabbing a tin pan and wrench. You’d probably seen Dean work on baby a hundred times by now, but the sight stirred a long-buried memory. You could almost see John teaching Dean how to replace spark plugs, while you sat nearby, munching on a sandwich. Was it spark plugs? You wondered, John had never taken the time to teach you anything about cars.

“Dean” you called out right before he could crawl under the car. “Yeah?” He replied sitting back on his heal, turning to look at you. You hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Could you teach me?" Your voice wavered slightly, uncertain about what you were really asking. Dean raise his brows, surprised by your interest but after a brief pause, he gave you a small grin and waved you over.Excited, you scrambled to join him, crawling under the car. You mirrored his position— back pressed against the gravel, face turned up toward the Impala's undercarriage. “This is the oil tank, we have to drain the old oil before putting new oil in” he pointed up at the black plastic box that hung above you. You watched carefully as he scotted the tin pan between you both, unscrewing the nut from the tank and letting the old thick dark oil drip out. “Now, we have to remove the oil filter” he explained pointing across your body. “This thing?” You questioned, pointing at the cylinder shape above. He nodded “think you can you loosen it?” He asked. You looked back at rhe filter and wrapped your hands around it tightly, twisting to the left with all your might, but couldn’t get to budge. Your hands dropped back down and you looked to dean in defeat. “Try with this” he said handing you a wrench. With the wrench secured around the filter you tried once more, and a big smile reached your face feeling it break loose. “Nice!” Dean praised, his voice laced with pride.“Now replace it” he instructed, taking the old filter from you and handing you a fresh one. You placed the new filter into its spot and tightened it down then turned to dean for approval. He gave you a thumbs up “follow me” he said crawling out from under the car.

“Now the last and easiest step…” he started to explain picking up a large grey bottle “filling the tank” he moved to the engine and you watched as he unscrewed the oil cap and started steadily pouring, then stopped and handed the bottle to you. The bottle was heavier than you'd expected, a flicker of doubt crept in as you positioned yourself over the engine. Taking a shallow breath to steady your hands, you tilted the bottle and began to pour. You were doing well until your hand wavered, and a small splash of oil spilled onto the engine. You let out a small gasp, “your alright” Dean calmly reassured you. When you felt the bottle empty you pulled back and looked at Dean as he clapped his hands together. “You just did your first oil change kid” his smile reached yours and you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself.

Dean closed the hood with a satisfying thud, wiping his hands together before slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Now, how 'bout we wake Sam and get ourselves some breakfast?" he said, flashing you a wide grin. You nodded along “Thanks for teaching me Dean” you said softly. “Anytime time kid, dad should have taught you long ago” he mentioned, heading towards the motel. “I'm glad it was you de” you admitted, your voice quiet but sincere. Dean stopped in his tracks, and for a split second, you caught something flicker in his eyes— vulnerability, maybe? It was a look you’d never seen on Dean before. He quickly shook his head with a scoff “Always rely on you for an ego boost. Wait until we get to the real stuff” he teased, his grin returning as he reached out to ruffle your hair. You scowled, pushing your hair out of your face, and trailed after him back inside. You had a lot more to learn, but there was nowhere else you’d rather learn it than by your brother’s side.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean spn #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester x little sister #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff

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crowsofdarkness · 4 months ago

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Cam Boy!Bill Skarsgard: Bill Reaches Out-Part Two

-pics not mine.-

Pairings: CamBoy!Bill Skarsgard x Viewer!Reader

Summary: Bill isn't ashamed of the work he does, showcasing his body online for anyone willing to pay. His number one rule was never to make a connection with anyone who either sent him messages or paid for private one-on-one video sessions. That was until you decided to request a certain private session.

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes Bill having an only fans page, masturbation, phone sex, virtual sex, and language.

Authors Note: this is a limited mini-series, just a bunch of blurbs that take place in this universe. i'm not sure exactly how long this will be. tags will be open for this if anyone is interested!

CamBoy!Bill masterlist.

BILL

“Oh, fuck,” I grunted while guiding my hand up and down my cock, desperate to finally reach that high I’d been chasing for awhile now.

The red light on my camera continued to blink, indicating it was still recording, and I eased my body deeper into my bed. Sweat stuck to every inch of my skin and with my free hand, I brushed away some strands of hair from my forehead. My legs shook while my thighs burned, the positioning I was in not exactly comfortable. But I would do anything for the perfect content.

Except my body wasn’t cooperating with me tonight. It had been a rough week trying to cum and I blamed being tired, working too much on filming content. Yet deep down, I knew it wasn’t the truth. There was only one main reason why I’d been having trouble having an orgasm.

Her.

The woman who has been clouding my mind ever since our one on one private video chat a week ago.

Y/N.

I video chatted a lot of different men and women who signed up but none of them clung to me the way Y/N did. For days after, I tried to rack my brain on why she had this hold on me but in the end, I was fucking clueless. All I could think about is how shy she was. How she wanted to do more with me but she didn’t quite know how or what to do. The way she hesitantly took her shirt off that night and the crimson hue that covered her entire body made my cock so fucking hard. I wanted to mark every inch of her skin with my teeth and cum. I wanted her screaming my name while I buried my cock so far deep inside of her cunt.

I wanted to corrupt her, show her everything in my world that would make her blush. I wanted Y/N to be mine even without knowing anything about her.

“Shit!” I cursed through gritted teeth, the familiar burn igniting in the base of my spine.

I gripped my cock tighter, my pace almost bruising, but just as fast as that burn sparked, it was gone.

Slamming my bed in frustration, I got up and turned off the camera. The idea of recording content tonight for my Only Fans was clearly not happening. I tried to tell myself that it was fine, I posted a tik tok earlier today and uploaded some unseen old content on my Only Fans so if I didn’t record new content tonight, it’ll be okay.

My limp cock swung slightly as I moved about my bedroom to grab some clothes before stalking into the adjacent bathroom. After I turned on the water, I let the steam fill the air and rested my hands against the bathroom counter. My phone had been plugged in here for the last thirty minutes so before jumping in the shower, I decided to check my notifications. It was always the same, never bothering to pay attention, so just as fast as I picked up my phone I was ready to set it down until one name stuck out like a sore thumb.

Tik Tok: xxY/Nxx liked your video.

With the amount of followers I had, I never really paid attention but the second I saw her name on my screen, I couldn’t help but be curious. Sure enough, it was Y/N. Her tik tok only had a few videos that consisted of her and her friends doing the new trends. I watched every single one, especially the one of just her where she tried to do a recent “thirst trap.” While I thought she looked absolutely breathtaking, I could tell she was extremely shy and nervous.

On her profile she had her Instagram linked so obviously I clicked on it and let out a groan of pleasure at the amount of pictures pulled up. While she was nervous posting on Tik Tok, Y/N had confidence on Instagram.

The steam from my shower had spilled into my bedroom but I refused to step inside the shower. I scrolled through her Instagram for the next few moments, my cock becoming painfully hard. The spark I lost the last few days began to flicker inside of my gut and with one hand wrapped around my cock, I liked picture after picture of her. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more so I clicked on the direct message button before I even thought about what I was doing.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are, Y/N? Because you are,” I breathed into the microphone, leaving her a voice memo. “Fuck, I need to see you again. Think we can do another video chat? I miss how creamy your skin looked against your bed sheets. I miss those perky breasts. Fuck.”

My pace on my cock slowed when the orgasm was teetering on the edge. I knew it was going to be over soon but I wasn’t done leaving her a message.

“I need you, baby. I tried to stay away but you haunted my dreams. I need to hear you moan my name. Need to see you touch your pretty cunt. Oh my fuck-.”

I let out a howl of a moan as the cum spilled into my hand, body convulsing with euphoria as I panted Y/N’s name over and over again; still recording.

Letting out a deep breath, I smeared my cum over my lower stomach and eyed the two minute long voice note. This could go two ways.

Y/N could listen to this and get extremely freaked out, block me or worse call the cops.

Or.

She could reply back with her own voice note.

Not bothering to think another second about my choice, I hit send and locked my phone to finally step into the shower.

READER

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my lap, the sounds of Bill moaning and begging playing on a loop. My entire body ignited with a blaze so hot, I had to shed my sweater, sitting in just a tank top and shorts. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck as I replayed the message over and over again.

It all started a few minutes ago when I was sitting in bed reading a book and I received notification after notification of someone mass liking my posts on Instagram. My heart nearly fell out of my ass when I noticed it was Bill who was behind it. I hadn’t heard from him in about a week since our one time video call. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about him non stop since. I would watch his Tik Toks but that was it. I couldn’t muster the courage to watch his Only Fans content because I still couldn’t come to terms with what we did together. It wasn’t wrong, I knew that. I was so embarrassed with myself that I needed to pay a man to give me attention.

Although, now, I wasn’t paying Bill. I should ignore him. Move on and focus on a relationship that wasn’t started on a sex website. But he sent me this message. He reached out first.

And some message it was.

Wiping my palms on my thighs, I let out a breath and slowly sent a message back.

Me: First off, what the hell kind of message is this? Whatever happened to hey, how are you?

Me: Also, how did you find my Instagram?

Bill replied almost instantly and my jaw dropped at his message.

Bill Skars: Did you touch your pretty little cunt while listening to my voice memo?

Bill Skars: I found your tik tok since you liked my recent video and you have your instagram linked. I must say, I fucking love what I see.

By now, the heat had all but vanished from my body but I could faintly feel the wet spot in my panties.

Me: You’re insufferable. I can’t believe you talk like this to a woman you haven’t met.

Bill Skars: You’re aware of the content I post. Plus, when we video chatted you seemed to love the way I talked.

The heat returned to my body in a flash and I adjusted my position on my bed so I was on my knees while I typed another message.

Me: Why are you messaging me? I thought what we did was supposed to be a one time thing?

Bill Skars: I’m addicted. I haven’t been able to cum for the last week. I stalked your instagram and boom, painted my hand.

As much as I wanted to revolt in disgust, not being used to having someone talk to me this way, but instead I squeezed my thighs tighter. The image of Bill cumming in his hand because of my pictures was clear in my mind.

I did that. My pictures.

Me: You just admitted to stalking me. Do you know how fucked up that is?

Bill Skars: Does it turn you on? Make you wet?

Licking my lips, I continued to ignore the wet spot in my panties and typed.

Me: What do you want?

Instead of replying, Bill now went silent so with a sigh I placed my phone on my bed and decided to pass the time by making myself something to eat. When I returned to my room twenty minutes later, I noticed two new messages from Bill. My heart beat wildly in my chest. I couldn't breathe as I read them.

Bill Skars: To talk.

Bill Skars: I mean it, Y/N. All the joking aside. If I make you uncomfortable in any way, please say so and you can block me. No hard feelings.

For a beat, I thought about my decision on what to do. Originally I signed up for that private video chat in hopes of talking with him and now that he wants the same, I should take it. But what would come of talking with someone who does what he does for work?

Only one way to find out.

Me: No, you’re fine. I’ll admit I’m not used to having someone talk to me the way you do. It’ll take some time.

Bill Skars: So does that mean we’re friends now? We can talk all day every day about how our days went and what we ate for dinner.

I stifled a giggle before laying down in my bed.

Me: You’re so funny.

Bill Skars: So I’ve been told.

Bill Skars: Can I have your phone number? I absolutely despise texting on Instagram.

As soon as I sent him my number, my phone lit up with a facetime call and almost immediately, I sat up in bed to look at my reflection in the mirror across my bed if I looked somewhat decent. With a quick fluff of my hair and adjusting my shirt, I hit the green button.

Bill’s face appeared on my screen and I mentally cured at how gorgeous he look. He must have shaved somewhat recently because he only had a small amount of stubble on his upper lip.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“So do I need to expect random facetime calls from you?” I teased while lounging back on my bed.

Bill shrugged while he sat on his couch. “Depends if that’s alright with you.”

“More than alright,” I admitted.

“I missed seeing your beautiful face.”

Once again, my skin ignited at Bill’s words so I did my best to make him not notice.

“We video chatted once for ten minutes and you literally just stalked my instagram,” I said.

“It’s nothing compared to the real thing,” Bill winked.

I raised a brow. “It’s facetime. It’s not real.”

“What if we make it real? Not right now but once you’re comfortable.”

I bit my lip which made him let out a deep groan while rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I asked. “I just bit my lip.”

“Exactly. You don’t realize how fucking sexy you look doing that.”

Clearing my throat, I adjusted my arm underneath my pillow to become more comfortable while I held onto my phone with my other hand.

“So when we meet in person, how would that work? You’ve stated before you live on the east coast. I’m nowhere near there,” I said.

I wasn’t about to tell him exactly where I live. Not after getting to know him outside of his only fans.

Bill gave me a lopsided smile, one that made my heart flutter. “You said when.”

I rolled my eyes. “If. If we were to meet, that is what I meant.”

“Sure,” he nodded, not believing a word I said. “We can figure out the logistics of all that when it comes to it. For now, let’s just get to know each other.”

“Is this a friendship that could potentially lead to more or is it just sexual?” I asked the question that had been burning on my tongue since I answered the phone.

“I’m fine with just talking. I’m fine with keeping this strictly sexual. I’m fine with both, more partial to both. But it’s whatever you want.”

“I already told you the last time that I’m not familiar with the whole sexual side of relationships. So I would need some tips and patience,” I said.

Bill smiled. “I’ve been told I’m a very patient teacher.”

My cheeks burned while my stomach flipped with the prospect of this new relationship.

“So, what do you want to know?”

For the next long while, Bill and I talked, both about our lives and our interests. It was nice having someone to talk with about random stuff, things that other people in my life didn’t care to know. Bill listened intently the entire time, never interrupting. I returned the favor, laughing at some of the stories he told me growing up. I didn’t judge when he divulged on why he started an only fans account.

Peering over at the clock on my end table, my eyes widened when I realized it was just after ten in the evening and I had the early shift at work tomorrow. Yet I didn’t want to stop talking with Bill. So I did my best not to let him see how I yawned into my pillow.

“Tired?”

While we were talking, he moved from his living room into his bedroom and we both were laying down in our respective beds.

“No,” I lied but soon another yawn fell from my lips and Bill chuckled, the noise going straight to the butterflies that seemed to blossom in our conversation.

“Get some sleep. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

I frowned which made Bill let out another groan, like the one from earlier. “You gotta stop that, angel. You’re making me crazy over here.”

“Angel?” I teased when I heard the pet name slip.

A crimson hue covered his cheeks but he did his best to mask it by running a hand over his jaw.

“Sorry, it just slipped out. If you don’t like it-.”

“No,” I quickly shook my head. “I like it. It’s nice.”

“Good because it stays.”

We both stared at each other through the phone, not saying a word, as we wore stupid goofy smiles. I reveled again at how nice it was to have someone that was wanting to talk to me.

My eyes began to feel heavy so Bill spoke right before they closed for the night.

“Dream of me, angel. Only me.”

#bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard blurbs #bill skarsgard fics #bill skarsgard x you #bill skarsgard au #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard reader insert

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obsessedwithceleste · 2 months ago

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Ethically

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott

week 1 of @acourtofchaos 's Festival of AUs

Summary: next door neighbor! au— In which Mattheo and Theodore’s methods for spending time with each other aren’t always the most ethically sound

word count: 4.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Mattheo had always thought that the worst part of moving had to be all the fucking boxes. You had to load up all your shit into dozens of flimsy cardboard boxes, break your back moving it all, and then deal with the mess of reversing your previous hard work and unboxing all of it. But standing here outside his new apartment, boxes piled up lining the hall as he repeatedly tries jamming his key into the lock, he’s beginning to realize that it can in fact, get worse.

“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” A voice asks, causing Mattheo to jolt back, his key clattering to the floor.

“Fuck. No. I’m trying to get into my apartment, but this bloody key doesn’t fit the lock,” he replies, bending down to snatch the key off the ground, not bothering to glance at the stranger who’d snuck up on him.

“That’s probably because you’re at the wrong door. Empty apartment is one door over,” the voice says, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

Mattheo freezes, blinking once before slowly turning his head to glare at the apartment one door down the hall, and then finally turning fully to face the stranger. His plea to not call the cops on him is quickly replaced by a sharp in take of breath as he gets a good look at his new neighbor.

Tall with soft brown hair, sharp eyes, and a devious smirk grinning down at him; Mattheo feels his chest tighten, bobbing his head in a quick nod before shuffling over to the correct door, a cold sweat washing over him. Why did it have to be him? He wonders to himself as his key finally turns allowing the door to swing open.

"Name's Theo by the way. If you ever need anything," his neighbor calls out before disappearing into his own apartment.

As soon as Mattheo steps into his new home he wants to melt into the floor. Great first impression he thinks bitterly to himself. New neighbor is hot as hell and the first thing he does is try to break into his apartment. Unknowingly to be fair, but still.

Not allowing himself to dwell too much on it, Mattheo begins lugging boxes inside, letting a pile grow in the middle of the would-be living room. It was going to be a long fucking day.

The first thing Mattheo notices the next morning, other than the pain in his lower back from sleeping on a mattress on the floor, is the distinct lack of anything edible in his new home.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with the hassle of moving food and all the nasty smells of spoiled, rotten food that could come with it. But by the way his stomach was now rumbling, he was beginning to see why that had been rather short sighted.

With an agitated groan, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, barely making the effort to brush his teeth and throw on a new hoodie before venturing out to find some food. As soon as Mattheo exits the apartment complex, he’s blinded by the early morning sunlight. Grumbling, he makes his way over to his car, an old beater sure, but one of the first he’d ever worked on.

The door closes with a gentle thud, and Mattheo turns the keys, the engine slowly spurring to life before sputtering out just as quickly.

“Oh for the love of-“ Mattheo throws his head back, groaning as he swings the door back open.

Stupid spark plug had probably come loose again. He really needed to find time to fix that, it was starting to get annoying. Opening the hood of his car it’s clear his suspicion had been correct and he’s about to adjust the damn thing once more when a voice calls out behind him. Startled, Mattheo jumps, the back of his head slamming on the hood of the car as he lets out a string of curses.

“Need a ride?”

Mattheo turns and of course as luck would have it, finds Theo standing behind him, once again attempting to hold back a laugh, his own set of car keys dangling between his fingers. Why did the world hate him?

“Ah, no! Nope! Everything’s fine over here, thanks,” Mattheo replies, tripping over his words as if he’d never strung a sentence together before.

Theo just raises an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his rather beat up car unconvinced.

“It’s really not a problem,” Theo says, tipping his head towards the car parked directly next to Mattheo’s.

“I—“ Mattheo pauses, looking down at the loose spark plug.

It would take him seconds to fix. But what the hell? If his smoking hot neighbor wanted to give him a lift, who was he to decline?

“You know what? That would actually be great,” he hears himself declare, closing the hood of his car with a dull thud.

Theo looks rather pleased with his answer, unlocking his car and gesturing for Mattheo to hop in.

"I never actually got your name," Theo trails off as Mattheo gingerly steps into the cars.

"Mattheo. Matt. Whatever you want," he rushes out, mentally face palming as Theo lets out a soft laugh.

"So where were you headed?" Theo asks as the car hums to life.

"Just to pick up some food and stuff," Mattheo mumbles back as he takes in the tidy interior of the car.

Clean leather seats and not a single piece of trash littering the floor. It was nothing like his own beater, but that car had been the only constant in his life these past few years.

"Convenient. I was headed to the store myself," Theo replies easily as he backs out of his parking spot.

Mattheo can feel his heart stop when Theo's hand lands inches away from him, resting on his seat as Theo turns to check out the back window. He can't tell if his mouth has gone completely dry or if he's salivating uncontrollably as his eyes lock in on Theo's forearm and the veins protruding from it. God he needed to snap out of it. Get a grip.

Mattheo spends the rest of the ride trying to survive awkward small talk and looking out the window at the new city he found himself in. When they finally pull into the parking lot, he finds himself following Theo inside like a lost puppy. There's an awkward pause where Mattheo isn't quite sure if he's supposed to go off on his own or not, but Theo answers that question when he gives him a strange look.

"Never been to a grocery store or something? Come on," he says, grabbing a basket.

Mattheo feels like he’s shopping with his mother, carefully putting items into the basket and hoping he doesn’t get any strange looks or raised eyebrows. Theo on the other hand goes about as if it’s business as usual, tossing this and that carelessly into the shopping basket.

It all feels terribly domestic, especially for two people who’d barely ever spoken before, but somehow, with each aisle they meander through it grows increasingly more comfortable.

When they finally make it to check out, Mattheo has to fend Theo off, insisting that he’ll pay.

“Can’t hijack your grocery run and let you pay,” he grumbles, shoving his card into the reader.

The following weekend Mattheo finds himself pulling yet another batch of cookies out of his oven. The sugary sweet aroma filled his apartment and flour coated every surface of the kitchen. He’d always liked baking growing up and seemed to have a bit of a knack for it. That was a lie. He did not like baking and he was actually terrible at it. But Theo didn’t have to know that.

Unfortunately, Mattheo’s first batch of cookies had come out hard as rock on the outside, but still raw on the inside. He had no idea how that was even possible. The second batch had almost caused the fire alarms to go off after he’d gotten distracted and forgotten them in the oven. But this batch. Well, they looked normal, tasted normal, and Mattheo hadn’t immediately gotten sick after trying one so they’d have to do.

Over the course of the last week, Mattheo couldn’t keep track of how many times he’d accidentally run into Theo. He swore he’d never seen any of his other neighbors this frequently. It seemed like every time he turned around, Theo was there with his smug grin and some little quip that made Mattheo putty in his hands. It was driving Mattheo insane.

Not to brag, but Mattheo had always considered himself to be a smooth talker if he did say so himself. Charming, charismatic, the works. So to be left a blubbering fool every time Theo so much as breathed in his direction. Well that simply wouldn’t do.

Carefully picking out the best looking cookies from the pan and dumping them into a plastic container, Mattheo is ready for battle. He straightens his shirt and smoothes out his hair one last time before swinging his front door open and marching the twenty feet over to the neighboring unit.

Taking a deep breath of determination, Mattheo steels himself before giving a solid, firm knock on the door. A moment passes. Then two. Maybe this was a bad idea. Another moment goes bye. Mattheo is about to turn tail and flee back to his apartment when the door swings open, revealing Theo leaning casually against the door frame.

Nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting on the other side of the door. Nothing. All the confidence he’d built back up. Gone.

Theo’s eyes burned into him leaving scorching trails, his god forsaken smirk dancing across his lips as he stands in front of Mattheo in nothing but a grey bath towel that clings dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t even flinch at the way Mattheo’s eyes rake his body up and down before forcing their way to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere else.

“Can I help you?” Theo’s voice comes out smooth, but Mattheo can still detect a hint of a snicker as his neighbor continues leaning on the door frame as if it were just another Tuesday.

“Uh, yeah, I mean no,” Mattheo hears himself stuttering like a bumbling idiot, and forces himself to stare at the ground, trying to compose himself. “I made cookies. Thought I’d bring some over as a thanks for the ride.”

He can feel the bob of his adam’s apple as he shifts awkwardly, thrusting the container out and trying not to ogle his neighbor’s very bare chest.

“I’d let you ride any time,” Theo replies, that sinister smirk securely in place as he accepts the container of cookies.

His fingers brush against Mattheo’s for a moment too long as Mattheo feels his brain short circuit. So much for being cool, confident, and collected.

“whAT,” Mattheo wheezes, sure he must have misheard.

But Theo just tilts his head cockily, eyes raking over the curly haired boy in front of him.

“You can ride any time. I know car stuff can be— inconvenient,” Theo replies smoothly, clearly enjoying Mattheo’s flustered state.

“Right! Yes. Thanks again. I’ll just— be going now,” Mattheo responds, tripping over his words once more before retreating back to his own apartment, Theo’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Mattheo feels himself sink to the floor; face red, palms sweaty, and heart beating out of his chest. The hell was that. He was being messed with surely. There was no conceivable way a guy like that was flirting with a guy like him. No, he needed to calm down, and chill out before he embarrassed himself further.

God, what had he become.

Theodore Nott generally liked to keep to himself. He observed others from afar, kept his head down, and minded his business. He liked it that way.

What he did not do was greet new neighbors. And he definitely did not offer them a ride in his car, much less to go grocery shopping with him. And answering the door half naked and sopping wet? Absolutely not. So how he had gotten to this point, he really didn't know.

It had all started when Theo had returned home one day to find Mattheo jamming a key into the lock of his door with a look of sheer rage and determination. From the stacks of boxes lining the halls, it was clear that this was his new neighbor.

“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” he'd asked, trying to make light of what was surely about to be an awkward situation.

What he hadn't taken into account was the fact that his new neighbor was ridiculously attractive. Theo could feel his chest tighten, feet shifting awkwardly as the new neighbor fumbles with the key, clearly agitated as Theo directs him to the correct door.

He does his best to keep his eyes from raking the new stranger up and down, but he can't help the way they lock onto the soft brown curls, or the faint scar on the bridge of his nose.

The new neighbor doesn't even spare him a second glance when he calls out his name before Theo escapes into the safety of his apartment. Well. That was enough social interaction for the week. Humbling as always.

Theo has no clue what comes over him the next morning when he sees his handsome neighbor bent over his car, the hood propped up, shielding him from the early morning sun. When he offers him a ride, he's sure the curly haired boy will say no and they'll both move on with their day, so he can't help the perhaps overeager grin that spreads across his face when the boy gives in.

He finally learns his new neighbor's name, Mattheo, on their drive to the nearest grocery store, and really Theo is too focused on the mantra of 'stay calm, don't be weird' repeating in his head to pay attention to much else other than the giddiness of being within arms reach of Mattheo for an extended period of time.

When it comes time to pay, Theo tries to insist that it's no big deal as he pulls out his wallet, but one look from Mattheo has him melting into the floor. His cool, care-less attitude had Theo in a choke-hold, and paired with those big, brown eyes? Theo feared he was in over his head.

What Theo had now dubbed 'the cookie catastrophe' truly felt like an out of body experience in which Theo had no choice but to watch on in absolute horror.

The knocking had started shortly after Theo had stepped out of the shower. He was going to ignore it like he usually would, but against his better judgment he shuffled over to the door, peeking through the peephole to find Mattheo waiting on the other side. Not a single thought was running through Theo's brain as he swung the door open, not realizing until it was too late that his hair was sopping wet and he hadn't even had the decency to throw on sweatpants.

He tried to play it cool, leaning casually against the door frame and just hoping that if he didn't acknowledge it, neither would Matt. He watches though as Mattheo's eyes widen slightly, taking in the sight before him and clearing his throat. A hint of red appears in his cheeks and Theo can't help but grin as Mattheo stutters a bit over his words. But as soon as Mattheo presents him with homemade cookies, Theo just knows he's done for.

He doesn't even hear the words come out of his mouth, “I’d let you ride any time,” until Mattheo is sputtering in front of him, cheeks burning red as he laughs nervously, arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

Theo can't help but admire the flexed bicep before quickly jumping to clarify that car issues could be annoying and hoping he'd saved any of what little dignity he had left. When Mattheo finally retreats back down the hallway, Theo slams his door shut with a resounding thud, the past several minutes feeling like a blur. What was wrong with him? He thought to himself, ripping the lid off the container and shoving a cookie into his mouth.

That's how he ended up here though, towel slung over his shoulder and clutching a bottle of shampoo in his free hand as he knocked shakily on Mattheo's door. He couldn’t help it. The only things he’d been thinking about these past few days were the way that blush had creeped up onto Mattheo’s face when he opened his door, and the way his muscles had flexed when he had reached up behind his head. But oh god, what was he doing here?

It's clear Mattheo is wondering the same thing when he opens the door, brows furrowing as his head tilts. Theo lets out a nervous cough.

"Ah, sorry to bother, the water's out in my apartment and I just got back from a run so I was wondering—" he lets the question hang in the air and Mattheo blinks once before rushing to pull the door open further.

"Yeah, of course, I mean sure. No problem," he replies, that familiar tinge of red once again painting his cheeks as Theo brushes past him. “Bathroom’s just there,” Matt says, directing him past the living room.

“Right, thanks,” Theo replies, taking his time to subtly glance about the apartment.

There was a sofa that looked like it had seen better days, a coffee table with take out containers littering the surface, the television had some movie flickering across the screen, and more boxes that needed to be unpacked.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind Theo, his head falls back, a dry laugh escaping his lips. What had become of his life? This was psychopath behavior he thought wryly to himself. But he’d come this far.

Quickly switching the water on, Theo takes what has to be the fastest shower of his life before stepping out and doing his best to dry himself off. His sweatpants go on and then he looks at the ratty old shirt he’d worn over, another scandalous plan forming in his head. He really shouldn’t.

When he exits the bathroom, Mattheo’s head snaps onto him from his spot on the couch and Theo watches as the blood rushes to his face once more. He would never get tired of that.

“Whatcha watchin?” He asks, trying to keep a casual, straight face as Mattheo’s eyes noticeably lock in on his bare torso.

It takes a moment for Mattheo to respond and Theo can feel himself preening at the attention.

“Uh, whatever you want,” Mattheo replies, still openly gawking.

Theo raises an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face, a newfound confidence beginning to grow.

“You inviting me to stay?”

The question seems to shake Matt out of his stupor as he finally seems to realize he was staring and blinks up at Theo.

“Only if you want. I don’t want to hold you hostage or anything,” he jokes with a sheepish grin.

Theo finds himself letting out a low chuckle, humoring his neighbor as he takes a seat next to him, his shirt and towel all but forgotten in a heap on the floor.

“I’ll order us a pizza. Least I can do since you let me rack up your water bill.”

Mattheo knew that he was going crazy. He'd accepted it really because every time he closed his eyes, visions of his shirtless neighbor eating pizza on his couch and laughing at his bad jokes flooded his mind. It was like the images were burned into the back of his eyelids.

This however, was an entirely new level of insanity, even for him. See it started simple enough, Theo had caught up to him in the parking lot and walked into the building with him. Only when Mattheo had gotten to his door, he'd reached into his jacket pocket for his key only to come up completely empty.

His frantic search had apparently caught Theo's attention because his neighbor had turned towards him, head tilted in that annoyingly sweet way and asked if he'd forgotten his key. And then of course his neighbor had to be all benevolent and chivalrous and offer to let Mattheo stay over in his apartment because the office was closed and calling a locksmith would be annoying and expensive. And how could Mattheo possibly say no when Theo was looking at him with eyes like that?

Mattheo was just about to bashfully accept the offer when his hands slid into the back pockets of his jeans, fingertips grazing across the cool, hard metal of his key. Clutching his fist, he shoves the key deeper into his pocket before following Theo into his apartment.

And now here he sat on Theo's pristine leather sofa eating Chinese takeout while being hyper aware of how often Theo's knee was knocking into his own.

"I can grab you a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans," Theo is saying, breaking Mattheo out of his thoughts.

"Sorry?" Mattheo mumbles, clearly having not been paying attention to Theo.

Theo just laughs though, setting down his box of noodles.

"I was saying that you could borrow a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans. Unless you like sleeping in denim of course."

"No, no, that would be great, thanks," Mattheo replies quickly, shoving another bite of eggroll into his mouth before he could say anything else stupid.

Theo lets out another soft laugh, his head shaking slightly as he gets up and disappears into what Mattheo would assume to be the bedroom. He reemerges just moments later with a pair of black athletic shorts, tossing them onto the couch next to Mattheo.

“I’ll find a movie or something to watch if you want to get changed. Bathroom’s over there,” Theo tells him.

It only takes Mattheo a minute or two to change and settle his heart rate before he re-emerges, settling back down on the couch. He knows he must look stiff as a board sitting there, but he can’t not focus on the way Theo’s eyes flicker as he watches the television, or the way his arm is slung casually across the back of the sofa, his hand mere centimeters away from the back of Mattheo’s head.

Mattheo could not tell someone a single plot point of the movie they’d just watched by the time the screen goes dark. He was far too busy over thinking. Too busy in fact that he barely hears Theo announce that he’s going to run to the bathroom.

“Hey, you left your jeans in the bathroom,” Theo calls out as he opens the door.

As he goes to toss the crumpled pile of fabric, to Mattheo’s absolute horror, a gleam of metal shines through the air before clattering onto the floor. Two pairs of eyes lock onto the familiar looking metal key. Mattheo lets out a nervous laugh.

"It was in there all along?" he chuckles, decently sure that there was fear written across his face.

But Theo just raises an eyebrow, a smile growing on his lips.

"Yeah, you know that's crazy. I'm sure you didn't just happen to forget it was there so you'd have an excuse to hang out with me," he replies cockily, inching towards Mattheo like a lion hunting its prey.

Mattheo gulps.

"Nah. No. That would be crazy," Mattheo laughs.

Theo is directly in front of him now, bent down to look him straight in the eyes.

"Crazy like pretending the water is out in your apartment so that you can use your hot neighbor's shower instead?" he asks.

Mattheo can feel his eyes widen slightly at the implication, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for words.

"I have never baked cookies before in my life. Also, that day you gave me a ride to the store, it was just my spark plug that was loose. I could have fixed it in two seconds," he blurts out.

Theo is laughing now, collapsed on the sofa beside him as Mattheo also lets out a loud laugh, the insanity of it all finally crashing down on the both of them.

"That actually feels really good to have off my chest," Mattheo says once they'd both calmed down.

His head is resting against Theo's shoulder and his hand is entrapped between Theo's fingers.

"I hope you know I think you're a psychopath," Theo says, though there's no real bite to his words.

Mattheo just snorts in response.

"Oh you're one to talk. By the way, who the hell answers the door half bloody naked? What was that about?" he asks.

"I was excited to see you," Theo defends.

Mattheo can hear the sheepish smile in his voice as he tilts his head to rest on top of Mattheo's and it's quiet for a moment.

"So does this mean I can convince you to sleep in the bedroom tonight instead of on the couch?" Theo asks.

"Won't take a lot of convincing," Mattheo replies.

A silly little idiots-in-love piece that’s completely unserious because I can’t get these two dorks out of my head🤪

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #Theo Nott #Mattheo riddle #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #Mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheodore #mattheodore fanfic #mattheodore fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfic #theodore nott fluff #mattheo riddle fluff #festivalofaus

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 3 months ago

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Buried Secrets Chapter 3: So It Begins

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile. Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 8.5k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Frankie's ex sucks, the struggles of addiction recovery (it's Frankie), crude guy humor

Chapter Quote: “You’re the expert, I’ll let you strap me down properly.”

Frankie’s POV It had been almost a week since stopping by the gallery to see Mya, but we had been in touch several times to discuss plans and time tables so that she could draw up the contract. We agreed that I would take a small team down early to do a little recon on the area she was planning to explore. She was actually the one to suggest it, relying on me to choose the best place for camp and to plan security protocols based on the geography of the area.

Pope, Benny, Will, and I would be leaving in a matter of days to scout the area. We were also planning a small side mission of our own, hoping to secure Lorea’s money from the canyon we dropped it in nearly two years ago. The possibilities of all the things that could go wrong were weighing heavily on me, so much so that I could feel that old craving for escape prickling under my skin. I was working double time to keep myself distracted from the urge to give in.

The sun was setting over the distant horizon by the time I arrived home from the office. After pulling into the gravel driveway, I sat there for a beat, staring at the small creek that ran through my backyard and the tree limbs blowing in the breeze. I could feel the numbness beginning to set in. The same numbness that always hit before a deployment. I suppose it was my way of compartmentalizing things, my life from the job. It was something I needed to do so that I could focus. It would also make it easier for me to tie up loose ends before I left for an extended time - completely taking my emotions out of the equation.

When I finally got out of the truck, I made a beeline for the little shack that I called my garage, needing to keep my mind and hands busy until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. I was in the midst of trying to remove a stuck spark plug when the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the driveway caught my attention. I moved to stand in the doorway as I wiped my hands on a stained and tattered rag, finding Mya kicking her leg over an old black Harley Davidson. The sight probably should have shocked me, but for some reason it didn’t. If anything, something about it felt more natural than her classier persona.

I couldn’t help admiring her curvy figure in tight black jeans and fitted biker jacket as she removed her helmet and shook her hair free around her shoulders. She gave me a small smile as she unzipped the jacket, revealing a tight black t-shirt that showed the slightest hint of midriff and hugged her breast just right before she removed her aviators and hooked them into the collar of her top. The straps from the small leather backpack she wore only seemed to emphasize her chest further, causing her shoulders to retract and back to straighten. Her thick rubber soled boots crunched across the gravel as she approached, her smile widening as she looked me up and down. I knew this version of her would probably haunt my dreams later.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by…I have your documents ready,” she called out.

I huffed out a laugh, “It’s funny, I don’t remember telling you where I live…”

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal that she knew.

My brows pinched together, “You could at least act like you’re embarrassed about your creepy stalker ways, you know.”

She chuckled, “Why? What’s the point? I already told you I’d been watching you.”

She had no shame, which was somehow even hotter than if she did. I sighed and shook my head as I fought a smile, “Fair point…well, please step into my home office while I clean up.”

I moved aside, allowing her to enter the garage, watching as she appraised the old muscle car taking up most of the space. She walked around the front of it, raising an eyebrow in my direction. “70 Chevelle?” she asked. I nodded. Her lips tugged upward on one side, “Candy Pearl Apple is a nice color choice.”

She continued to surprise me. I didn’t take her for a muscle car aficionado. Then again, she was a fan of old relics, so maybe I shouldn’t have been shocked by it.

I nodded, “Yeah, it was my dad’s. I can’t take the credit for the color choice, but I do like it.”

Her hand slid up the curve of the fender as she peered underneath the open hood, “She run?”

I shrugged, “Depends on your definition of run…I’ve been trying to get her in working order. She spent years sitting with no attention, so she’s been a bit stubborn.”

She was looking at me through her lashes now with that smirk that was quickly becoming my weakness.

“You changing out the spark plugs?” she questioned as she motioned toward the pile that I had already removed.

I sighed, “Yeah, trying to. That last one’s stuck. I’ve sprayed half a can of penetrating oil on it and let it sit for 24 hours. Still no luck…”

She walked over to stand in front of me, tilting her chin upward in her defiant way. “You got a heat gun and socket wrench?”

I knew what she was about to suggest. It was my next step. I didn’t say anything though because I wanted to see where she took this. Instead, I pursed my lips and walked toward the workbench to get the items she asked for and held them up.

She gave me a toothy smile as she moved to tie her hair up, her shirt riding upward to show more skin that I couldn’t help staring at. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she removed her small backpack and leather jacket. She then reached over to snatch the heat gun from my hand, clearly having noticed my wandering gaze. I smiled nervously before turning my attention to the motor. She followed, stretching her torso to lean across the dirty metal to inspect the offending spark plug, causing her shirt to ride up further than it had a moment ago. It took everything in me not to stare at all the newly exposed skin, especially with the hint of a tattoo peeking out along the side of her rib cage. Fuck. Can she get any hotter?

Mya turned on the heat gun, pointing it at her target. Her eyes cut toward me, “If you heat up the cylinder head it’ll cause the metal to expand…then the plug should easily pop out.”

After a few minutes, she held her hand out for the socket wrench. I passed it to her without question, watching her work in silence. I had to put extra effort into focusing on the task at hand, because if I didn’t, my mind was going to wander to some dirty places that involved fucking her on the hood of the vehicle in question. My competency kink was definitely being activated by this.

With several turns of the wrench, the spark plug came loose. She turned toward me, rolling the offending hunk of metal in her fingers with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You already knew how to do that, didn’t you.”

It was a statement, not a question. Busted.

I shrugged, “I did…but I wanted to see if you were actually gonna do it.”

She approached, seeming almost cocky as she came to a stop in front of me, “Frankie, Frankie. You have so much to learn about me. Whether I’ll do something isn’t the question you should be asking…”

I arched a brow as I crossed my arms over my chest, “Oh yeah? What should I be asking then?”

Her lips tugged upward on one side, “What I won’t do is a much shorter list…”

I couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that slipped out at her suggestive tone. Her eyes bore into me, so much so that I felt the need to divert my gaze.

She was testing me, and I was failing. The smirk that I both loved and hated was back on her lips as she held up the part she had just removed and offered it to me, “Here’s your plug. I guess this means you owe me one. I’ll have to think up something creative for my repayment…”

My brows arched as I reached out to take it from her, her fingers lingered against mine for a moment longer than they needed to. When I glanced up at her face, her eyes were focused on our hands, her brows furrowing ever so slightly as something sparked between us. I could feel the warmth from her skin spreading through my body, and for a brief moment, something told me she felt it too. She jerked her hand back, rolling her lips together before turning away.

“Looks like I got a little dirty, mind if I wash up?” she asked.

I shook my head as I watched her avoid my gaze, “Go for it.”

She moved over to the utility sink, taking her time to scrub her hands and wrist clean. When she was finished, she tore a paper towel off from a nearby roll to dry her hands before turning toward me, seeming perfectly at ease in her new environment.

“Well, now that problem is solved…” She reached for her backpack, digging through it before pulling out a thick envelope, “It’s time to get down to business. I have all of your documents ready to go, including the pickup information for our larger equipment that’s being shipped in.”

She paused, pulling out a map, then unfolding it to spread across the workbench. I walked over to stand next to her, feeling the heat of her body from head to toe. She leaned in closer as she moved to point out her plans as she spoke, “These are the centralized coordinates I’m looking at. If we can set up camp as close to here as possible, that would be ideal…but I know it’ll heavily depend on the terrain. So, I’ll need you guys to identify a spot. I plan to explore within a five mile radius of this area, so as time permits before we all get down there…I would like you in the air looking for anything out of the ordinary. It will at least give us a starting point if you see something worth checking out.”

I nodded, taking mental notes of how all of this would fit into our plan to sneak off for Lorea’s money.

She pulled back to peer up at me, “I plan to come down with a small team several days after you guys so I can put them to work clearing the area for camp and cutting paths as needed. There's an old vehicle trail several miles out, but it’s in a poor state. So, I’m not sure how close the vehicles will actually be to camp. Because of that, I wanna make sure we do have the choppers nearby in the event a quick exit is needed…so keep that in mind when finding us a spot to set up.”

I smiled down at her, “I thought security and evac plans were my job…”

She shrugged, “You can’t do your job efficiently if you don’t have all the information.”

I chuckled, noting that her confidence was almost disarming. In all my years I couldn’t recall ever having met someone like her before. I knew that was part of her allure, stealthily sucking me in and awakening something inside me - a new craving that I didn’t understand and couldn’t describe if I tried.

We stared at each other in silence for a beat too long before she turned toward her backpack and began to rummage around in it. I could already tell she was going to make me crazy, I just didn’t know if the weird tension I was feeling between us was real, or purposefully being done by her to throw me off and manipulate me for whatever game I was sure she was playing.

She turned back toward me, waving something in her hand. “I got you a sat phone. I assume you know how to use these?”

I scoffed out a laugh and nodded, “Of course I do.”

She smiled, “Good, less I have to explain…Anyway, hopefully it won’t be confiscated when you land. I’ve preprogrammed my number and a few others in, but I’ve also included a list of them in your paperwork too...just in case.”

I nodded along, taking the phone from her.

“You got the choppers lined up? Everything good to go with your equipment?”

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, all is well. I ended up getting three choppers. Got a deal and thought it might be better since we’ll be doing aerial searches. I got a smaller one for that…it’ll use less fuel.”

That wasn’t something I had discussed with her, so I was curious to see how she would take me acting without her approval. Her brow twitched upward before she nodded, “Ok, that wasn’t a bad idea actually…”

I gave her a toothy grin, feeling like a dopey dog that was just told he was a “good boy”. I needed to rein it in before I let my loneliness take over and cause me to lose focus. This was a job, and I was working for her. It wasn’t an ideal situation to start anything even if I was in the headspace for it.

I sobered, then scratched at my beard, turning my attention back to the map laid out in front of me but not really seeing it. “Well, I’ll go through all of this tonight. I’ll text you if I have any questions.”

I could feel her eyes on me, the energy between us shifting - dissipating as I closed myself off. She seemed to pick up on the change, stepping away to put her jacket back on and collecting her backpack.

“Sounds good. I-I guess next time we see each other, we’ll be sweating our asses off in the middle of the Amazon.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes as an uneasiness took over. “Yeah, can’t wait.”

Her eyes were on me, analyzing for the briefest moment before she tilted her chin upward as a means of saying goodbye. Then, she disappeared out the door.

I turned, leaning against the workbench with my arms crossed over my chest as I watched her through the window. After mounting the bike, she sat for a moment, staring toward the garage with a confused look before finally putting her helmet on. She shook her head from side to side as she started the bike, backing out of the driveway without a second glance in my direction.

I sighed, realizing this job was getting more and more complicated with each passing day. It was obvious this woman was about to test me in ways I didn’t even know possible.

The following morning, I awoke already dreading the day ahead. I needed to tell my ex, Maria, that I was leaving town for a job. Given her disdain for me, I knew this conversation wasn’t going to go well. I had to drag myself out of bed, rushing to get ready so I could pop in to see her at work while she was on her break.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the bank, where she now worked as the branch manager, I could feel my anxiety ramping up. I really didn’t want to do this, but I needed her to know that my kid was important to me, regardless of what she thought.

She spotted me as soon as I stepped inside, her purse already on her shoulder as she was on her way out to lunch. Her face tensed, lips setting into a tight line as she moved towards me. She walked past without a word, exiting to the parking lot.

The minute we were alone, she whirled on me, “What the hell are you doing here? Showing up without a warning…”

I expected this, holding my hands up in surrender before speaking. “I’m sorry, I just needed to let you know that I’m leaving town for a job…I’ll be gone for three months, but I’ll be back in time for our court date.”

She scoffed, “A job? Of course. Obviously not much has changed with you.”

I shook my head, “No, this is a legitimate security detail for an archeological dig. It’s not what you think…”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that. I thought you weren’t doing field work anymore? That was obviously a lie, wasn’t it?” Her tone was clipped. Angry. She didn’t care what I had to say.

“I’m making an exception for this one. It’s a major account…a lot of money for our security firm…”

“Yeah, last time you fed me this line of bullshit, Tom came back in a body bag.”

My jaw clenched as I took a steady breath. She was trying her hardest to bait me into an argument already.

Her lips twisted into a smile, “You know what… why am I complaining? Maybe you’ll come back in the bag this time and I won’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

This was typical for her. She really had turned into a cruel person these last couple of years.

I shook my head, attempting to ignore her latest verbal daggers. Instead, I focused on turning the conversation back to my reason for stopping by.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’ve transferred the next three months of child support to your account, plus a little extra. I wanted to see if you need anything else before I go and also give you a number to reach me if needed.”

Her eyes narrowed, I could already tell she was about to spew more vile.

“I don’t need your money, Frankie. Tony makes more than enough to take care of us.”

She said that, yet she didn’t have any problems spending it.

“Well, that’s great…really, but it’s not for you, it’s for my daughter. So, I don’t give a damn if YOU need it. Besides that, I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize getting my visitation rights restored. So, you’re gonna take the damn money whether you like it or not.”

She snorted out a laugh, “Why can’t you just be an absent father? Life would be so much easier if I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit. Actually…I’m not even gonna argue with you. If you make it back this time, I’m sure you’ll lose your shit again and I won’t even have to worry about it because you’ll ruin it all yourself.”

I stood there, hands on my hips, staring at the pavement as I let her berate me. I didn’t even bother to fight back. Instead, I just nodded along, “Yeah, Ok. Well, I’ll make sure the money goes through before I leave. I’ll text you the number so you have it. If you call and I don’t answer, send a text because the signal may be spotty.”

Her cheeks flushed from anger over the fact she wasn’t getting the response out of me she had hoped for. I was done letting her provoke me. It was proof I had changed, which probably pissed her off further, if she was even willing to acknowledge it.

“I’ll let you get back to your lunch break. I’m sure Tony is waiting for you…”

I didn’t even bother to tell her goodbye, instead turning without another word to head toward my truck. I wasted no time starting the engine and pulling out of the lot. I sat at the red light, counting backwards from ten before taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart.

It didn’t matter how much I tried to mentally prepare myself to deal with Maria, it was never enough. She always knew exactly what to say to make it hurt. On some level, I knew that I probably did deserve some of her hatred, but she didn’t have to be so cruel.”

I could feel that familiar itch, that craving to dull the pain and slip off into oblivion so I could forget about my problems, if only for a short time. I let out a shaky breath, reaching for my phone to call Pope.

He answered on the second ring, sounding breathless and frustrated, “I really hope your interruption of what will probably be my last fuck for the next three months has purpose?”

I snorted out a laugh. That was exactly what I needed right now. His ridiculousness was always a good distraction. “You’ve got one hour to finish that up. Then I wanna get everyone together at my place to go over the plans one last time before we leave tomorrow.”

He sighed, “Fine. Fine. Can’t promise I won’t feed your ass to a jungle croc over this though…now fuck off. You’re wasting my time.”

I was chuckling as the line went dead. I shot off a quick text to Ben to let him and Will know while I waited in the drive thru at the nearest fast food joint, planning to gorge myself on a large chocolate shake and fries as a distraction and hopefully settle my cravings.

We did need to go over things one last time, but I also really needed a diversion after this morning. It forced me to focus on the mission ahead and nothing else. We ended up working late into the evening, planning our time table and going over our packing lists.

We were at Miami International Airport before the sun rose the next morning. After ten hours, we finally touched down in Lima, Peru for our three hour layover to Cusco. Thankfully the flight to Cusco was only an hour because we had to hit the ground running. There was no rest for the wicked after all.

The plan was to stop in Cusco to first pick up our vehicles, then stop at a storage warehouse for our equipment that had been shipped via ocean freight. Once we had everything on board, we finished out the last leg of our journey, which was a nine hour drive to Puerto Maldonado - the southern gateway to the Amazon jungle. After a brief stay at a rented compound to catch up on some rest, we made our way to a private heliport where our choppers awaited us.

Our first order of business was to check out the coordinates Mya had provided us with and find a place to set up camp so that I could report that information back to her. We had that out of the way fairly quickly, managing to find a small field near the coordinates. It would be just big enough to set the birds down. I surmised that we could set up camp around the outskirts under the tree canopy. As hot as it was, we definitely needed the shade.

The proposed area wasn’t too far away from the river and there appeared to be some small waterfalls nearby as well. I figured the water sources might come in handy since we would be there for such an extended period of time. The old road Mya mentioned was about 3 miles out from the location. However, with my view from above, I wasn’t sure how drivable the road was. It definitely didn’t look good. That wasn’t my problem to figure out though. She had guys coming to clear paths for the vehicles, so I would let them worry about it.

I had Pope make note of the coordinates and snap some aerial pictures to send over for Mya to share with her team so that they knew what to expect before they arrived. Once we had everything we needed, we headed back to the heliport to refuel. After calling Mya with the updates, we went off grid for our next adventure and hoped like hell that no one noticed us missing for the next forty-eight hours. As far as anyone was concerned, we were out doing recon on the area with a shitty signal.

It was a fourteen and half hour flight to the coordinates where we stashed Lorea’s money. I also had to find a place to sit the chopper down while we worked to retrieve our prize. Given that we had no idea what state the bags of money or the gorge were in, we didn’t have a good estimation on how much time it would take to retrieve the cash, but we gave ourselves a five hour window to work with.

Even with the auxiliary fuel tanks on board, we still needed to stop and refuel once on the way down and once on the way back. Pope had a contact who was helping with that to keep us off the grid. This contact was also responsible for getting Pope to St. John with our special cargo so that he could meet with the lawyer he had on retainer to set up the payouts from an LLC. If all went according to plan, he would be back with us before we met up with Mya and her team in Puerto Maldonado at the end of the week.

The plan seemed straightforward and fairly risk free. We looked at it from all angles and felt like we had planned for every contingency - or so we thought. Everything was going smoothly, we had a top of the line asset to get us to the location, the weather couldn't have been more perfect, and we were all in good spirits.

After finding a nearby place to land at the top of the mountain, we made our way down to the gorge where the money had been stashed nearly two years ago. Our excitement soon faded once we laid eyes on the area. Several large boulders had dislodged and fallen into the crevice, wedging between the walls and leaving only small openings to the floor below. We could just make out the shadow of the bags through the beams of light shining through the cracks.

Pope sank to his knees in defeat as he surveyed the area. “There has to be some higher power working against us,” he said with an exasperated sigh.

Benny brushed it off, “Naa, come on. There has to be some way around this. Maybe one of us can fit through one of those holes.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, not having a lot of confidence in that idea as Will and I exchanged a worried glance. We moved, exploring the area to find an opening big enough that would allow one of us to slip through to retrieve the money hidden several hundred feet below. We spent about thirty minutes searching until Benny called out suddenly, excitement on his face as he insisted that he found a spot. We made our way over to have a look, hope blooming in my chest at the possibility.

We all stood around the opening staring at it. Will and I grimaced as Pope kneeled down for a better look.

“What ya think, Pope? Can you fit through that?” Benny asked.

Pope shrugged, “I dunno, maybe. It’s worth a shot. It’s the biggest opening I see. Let’s…uhh…yeah, let’s try it. Get out the harness and rope.”

We worked to get Pope rigged up and lowered him down about 10 feet to the opening. After several failed tries, anger got the best of him as he slung a handheld flashlight against the rock wall. He began muttering out a string of expletives in Spanish as he kicked at the boulder blocking his path. It didn’t budge of course. I huffed in frustration. This wasn’t how I saw this trip going.

Benny snorted, “Well, maybe if he didn’t have an ass the size of a small country, he would fit.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Pope called out from below us. “Lemme see your giant hulking body make it this far in you fucking troll.”

Pope’s words rolled off Benny as he chuckled at our friend.

“Fish, you think you can fit?” Pope called out to ask.

I leaned over the edge of the cliff, peering down at him and shaking my head. “If you’re not fitting through, I’m definitely not.”

“Yeah, big dick Morales ain’t fitting through that,” Benny said through laughter.

I gave him an admonishing look, “First of all, what the actual fuck? Second, stop being an asshole. I know that’s how you cope with stressful situations but it ain’t helping.”

I heard Will snort out a laugh behind me for calling out his brother.

I sighed, “Alright, let’s pull him up. This obviously isn’t working.”

Once Pope was topside, we stood staring at each other. Frustration was clear on everyone’s face.

“We got any explosives?” Benny asked.

Will shook his head, “That’s too risky. Obviously, we don’t wanna chance all these large rocks falling on top of the money.”

“What if we chisel out the side of the boulder to make the opening bigger?” Pope asked.

Will gave me a questioning look as I grimaced, “I don’t know about that. We don’t fully have eyes on how that thing is being held up. One wrong chip and it could fall down.”

“This is such fucking bullshit…” Pope shouted as he slung the harness he had just removed to the ground.

Benny looked at Pope, “Yeah…too bad your girlfriend and her brother disappeared. I’d bet one of them could fit through that hole.”

“I wish you would shut the fuck up about her,” Pope seethed.

Will stepped between them, “Guys, chill the fuck out. Stop bickering like an old married couple. It’s not solving anything.”

I looked at my watch, we were short on time and we still had to hike back to the chopper.

“We’re running out of time…no more dicking around. We need to figure this out now or go,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Will shook his head, “I’ve got nothing.”

I looked to Pope and Benny, they both shook their heads along with Will.

I huffed out a quiet, “Fuck.”

We spent some more time checking the area for a larger opening before finally giving up. We hiked back to the chopper in silence. I couldn’t help thinking this was our penance for all of the chaos and pain that resulted from the last time we attempted to get this money. The money was cursed, never meant to be ours and destined to rot away in the Andes Mountains.

We were halfway to our refueling point when Pope finally spoke, “We’ve got three months down here. Surely, we can get something figured out before we have to go back.”

I puffed air out of my cheeks, “Yeah, maybe.”

The rest of our trip was quiet as we all stewed in our thoughts. By the time we landed in Puerto Maldonado, I was ready to switch gears and put that disaster out of my mind before I drove myself crazy.

I called Mya that evening to check in, lying my ass off by saying I hadn’t found any areas of interest yet when the truth was we hadn’t been out to look. I wasn’t too worried though, I still had two days to check things out. I wasn’t completely convinced I would find anything anyway. The forest canopy was too thick, making it seem like a wasted effort. She didn’t seem upset or shocked by my response, only replying that she was bringing in some equipment that might help solve that issue.

Before hanging up with Mya, I confirmed her arrival time, which was Friday - two days away. The thought of it caused butterflies to form in my stomach. We were about to be in each other’s vicinity for the next three months in the middle of the fucking Amazon jungle. It was making me feel on edge and anxious. I knew that I would really have to put in the effort to keep things professional. I also needed to make sure the rest of the team did as well.

Early Friday morning, we gathered at the heliport, going over checklists and making sure we had the first wave of needed supplies that Mya requested be flown to the campsite along with our equipment. We had just finished up and were preparing to load everything when Mya and her small team arrived. They were soon followed by five of my team members, including one of the other pilots, who had flown in early to begin their security detail for the small group. We took advantage of the extra muscle and put them to work loading the choppers while Mya and I touched base.

As I listened to Mya make small talk about their trip down, I couldn’t help noticing her more laid back appearance. Her silky dark hair was up in a messy pile on top of her head. Bits of stray strands stuck to the moisture beading on her neck and forehead from the heat. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and I realized that I liked her better without it. The fitted tank top that she was wearing showed just a hint of cleavage, which was only emphasized by the sweat sliding between her breasts. For the first time since we arrived, I wasn’t mad about the high temperatures because of the way it was making her skin glisten in the sun. Her dark fitted cargo pants tucked into her lace up boots further emphasized the curve of her hips and ass in a way that was completely distracting as she walked a few steps in front of me toward the bundles of cargo to be loaded. Everything about her was drawing me in and making my mind go fuzzy.

Her presence quickly became overwhelming, causing me to tune out her words. I snapped back to focus when I noticed the scowling man with greased back hair lurking nearby - the same guy that had interrupted our meeting at the gallery. Mya noticed me eyeing him as I listened to her plans, causing her to pause, her lips curling upward as she waved him over to us.

“Mr. Morales, this is Comandante Veracruz. He’s here as a representative for one of our benefactors supporting the expedition.”

My eyebrow arched at the mention of a benefactor, but I didn’t say anything. The look she gave almost begged me not to.

I smiled, shaking the Comandante’s hand, squeezing a little harder than really necessary. He seemed to do the same as he gave me a smarmy smile.

“Veracruz, this is Frankie Morales. He’ll be in charge of safety and security. He’s also the pilot who’ll be helping me with the aerial searches.”

I released his hand, allowing him to move it to rest on the small of Mya’s back as his eyes scanned over me. His thick Spanish accent and low voice sounded almost threatening when he finally spoke, “Well, it sounds like we will all be spending a lot of time together. Mya and I look forward to working with you.”

My gaze flicked to Mya just in time to catch her eye roll. It didn’t escape my notice (or Mya’s apparently) the way he talked about her, as if they were a unit. His body language was almost possessive, claiming her as his. Mya’s eyes drifted over to meet mine, now trying to read me. It was probably obvious to her that my hackles were raised. Everything about this guy screamed - threat.

I gave Veracruz a tight smile as my gaze moved back to him, “Yeah, I can’t wait to get started. I think it’s definitely gonna be an adventure.”

Adventure definitely wasn’t the word I wanted to use. I could tell this guy was going to be a pain in my ass. I was already hoping he would fall in the river and get eaten by a croc or some other jungle predator.

Mya asked if she could hitch a ride with us to the campsite on the chopper rather than riding in the vehicles and hiking in. I obliged of course, not realizing that meant Veracruz was a package deal. I was half tempted to tell him I couldn’t take both and stick him on the other bird, but I refrained.

Once all of the cargo was loaded, I boarded to begin my preflight ritual. I could hear the guys moving around in the back as they got settled in. Just as I was about to put my headset on, Benny appeared in the cockpit with a toothy grin on his face and holding his arm out as if presenting the open seat next to me.

“Given that the boss lady is ridin’ with us, I think she gets shotgun, don’t you Catfish?”

He leaned back, allowing Mya to squeeze past him so she could sit down. She smirked up at him, “Thanks, Benny.”

He nodded, then turned, shooting me a suggestive wink and smacking my shoulder as he made his way to the back. I sat frozen as I watched his retreating form. I really could have punched him in his pretty boy face for that. My attention turned to Mya, watching as she strapped herself in. She didn’t seem to have any issue figuring out the harness, but she left it too loose.

I nodded toward the buckles, “That’s not secure. You need to tighten it up or else you’ll slip out if we crash.”

I be damned if she didn’t lean back into the seat, causing her chest to stick out further as she held her arms up out of the way. Her lips twitched upward, “You’re the expert, I’ll let you strap me down properly.”

I turned forward, staring out the window for a beat and puffing air out of my cheeks before looking down to unbuckle my harness. I stood, leaning over to tighten her straps. I could feel heat rising up my neck as my fingers grazed over parts of her midsection and chest. I could feel her eyes on me as I worked. When I dared to glance up, I found her staring at my face without blinking. Our eyes locked as I pulled the last strap tighter than it really needed to be. I grabbed the harness with both hands just above her chest, giving it a strong tug to make sure it was buckled securely. Her eyebrow twitched upward just as I felt my jaw tighten. Without a word, I returned to my seat and buckled back in.

Behind me, I could hear the guys laughing about something. I was silently cursing myself knowing they had probably been watching that entire interaction go down. I could already tell, they were not going to make this easy for me.

Once we were in the air, I stayed focused on the controls. I could feel Mya’s eyes on me off and on - more than that, I could just feel her. It was like there was a weird energy humming between us the whole way. I felt a sense of relief when the clearing where we were touching down came into view, but it was only temporary. We wouldn’t be stuck together in an enclosed space for the rest of the day, but I would still be with her - near her. We would be sleeping feet from each other and having meals together. Beyond that, we would be roaming the Amazon jungle, working closely so that I could keep her safe. I sighed, realizing that I needed to focus and get my shit together.

After landing, some of Mya’s team that rode in the other chopper immediately got to work, clearing space and setting up tents and whatever else they had brought along while my team worked on getting the security measures in place. Mya and I were dancing around each other as we handed out orders and worked with our respective groups to get things set up. Though I was busy, I was aware of where she was at all times. I refused to let her out of my sight, at least until I felt better about the security around camp.

Everything was in place by nightfall. We were running through our final equipment checks when Mya approached the small tent with all our surveillance equipment setup inside. She stood by silently, listening to me on the radio with my team as we tested the motion sensing cameras that were strategically placed around the perimeter of camp. Just as I finished up, Veracruz joined us, making his presence known as he leaned in to look at the monitors in front of me along with all the equipment laid out on the folding tables. I wasn’t really in the mood to deal with him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked him in a clipped tone as he picked up a spare motion sensor and began to fiddle with it.

I could see Mya in my periphery, fighting a smile as she turned her head, suddenly becoming interested in something on one of the monitors.

“Are you really relying on a bunch of technology for security in the middle of the jungle?” he asked with a judgmental tone.

I snorted out a laugh, “No. I’m not. I’ve got guys on watch 24 hours a day…walking the perimeter with weapons and on comms. They’ve got night vision too.”

Veracruz nodded, then pointed at the monitors. “How are you running all of this?”

I tried to bite back my condescending laugh. This guy clearly lacked common sense. “Satellites, blue tooth, solar panels…and auxiliary batteries and generators when needed. We’ve got high def cameras with night vision and infrared sensors surrounding the area in addition to all of the hidden motion sensors too. It’s gonna be hard for any person or animal to get through without us knowing.”

Veracruz turned, pausing to stare at the monitors as they cycled through all the camera feeds. That bothered me for some reason. I moved to stand in front of him, blocking his view as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Any more questions I can answer or does that cover it?”

He gave me a tight lipped smile, “I think that covers it.” He moved to leave, pausing to look over at Mya, “You coming?”

She shook her head, “No, actually. I need to talk to Mr. Morales about our plans for tomorrow.”

I could tell he didn’t want to leave her with me as he stood silently for a moment, evaluating his options. He finally nodded, then stalked away toward his tent.

Mya let out a quiet sigh as she watched his retreating form. I wanted to ask her what the deal was with him. Were they together? I didn’t really understand their dynamic. All I knew was I didn’t like the guy or trust him. I figured she wouldn’t tell me the truth if I asked anyway.

I leaned back against the table, meeting Mya’s gaze. “So, how are you feeling about everything now that we’re here?”

I watched as she reached for a folding chair and plopped down into it, raking her hands down her face as she puffed air out of her cheeks.

“It’s…overwhelming and I’m already fucking exhausted.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I can’t argue with that. At least you don’t have to share a tent with three dudes. I’m already banking on not getting any sleep for the next three months.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, you’ve probably got it worse than me.”

Her eyes drifted to the monitor behind me. She nodded toward it with a smirk, “So, you have a camera pointed at my tent?”

I pursed my lips, turning to look at the monitor. I feigned ignorance and shrugged knowing I had placed that one myself. I wanted eyes on her at all times. “We have cameras on several of the tents. Our tent is in the frame too.”

She was giving me a look that said she thought I was full of shit, but I ignored it and changed the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Are we taking the bird up?”

She nodded, “I’d like to. I know you said the canopy is too thick to see through, so I think before we go up…we need to install some equipment. I got us a LiDAR pod. It’ll give us 3D images of the forest floor...”

I snorted out a laugh, “I know what LiDAR is.”

She shrugged, “I don’t wanna make any assumptions about your knowledge on laser imaging technology.”

I laughed, “I’m sorry, I should appreciate how thorough you are with everything. It has made things easier on my end…”

Her lips curled upward as she peered up at me through her lashes, “I aim to please.”

Fucking hell. Is she doing this shit on purpose? I had to look away. “So… what time would you like to get started?”

She sighed, “As early as possible, I guess. I have a feeling we won’t be able to sleep in even if we wanted to…between the heat and sounds of the jungle…so probably as soon as the sun rises.”

I nodded in agreement, “I assume you know where the LiDAR pod is?”

It was her turn to nod, “Yeah, it’s in the supplies tent…to the right, in a crate. I can help you with it in the morning.”

I huffed out a laugh, “I can handle it.”

She rolled her eyes and held up her hands, “Fine. Whatever.”

That action had some sort of primal feeling bubbling up inside of me that I didn’t really understand. “You really giving me an attitude right now?”

She bit into her bottom lip as she relaxed back against the seat, “Yeah and you better get used to it.”

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes focused on her mouth. I wasn’t sure if I was aroused or annoyed. Maybe both? I chewed on the inside of my cheek as my eyes narrowed on hers. She stood from the chair with the hint of a smile playing on her lips as she approached me, “And with that, I’ll leave you.”

Her hand came up to rest on my shoulder as she leaned in closer. I couldn’t look at her, instead choosing to stare at a pile of waterproof equipment cases stacked in the corner as she spoke in a low voice, “Don’t stay up too late. You and I have got a looong day tomorrow. Goodnight, Frankie.”

I gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, before she sauntered off toward her tent. I turned, watching her retreating form as I puffed air out of my cheeks. I really couldn’t figure this woman out.

I grabbed the chair Mya had just vacated, pulling it over in front of the monitors to sit down. The monitor in front of me cycled through to the camera facing her tent. My fingers moved of their own volition to zoom in. My eyes were drawn to the opening. She had zipped the netting closed, but not the cover. I could see her moving around inside, pacing as she flipped through what looked like the worn leather journal I had seen in her office. She chewed on her thumb nail as she scanned the pages, eventually closing it and sighing heavily before tossing it onto a nearby table. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head revealing her black bra straps hugging her back as she moved through the curtain that divided her tent into another section.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and switched to another camera view of the jungle. I shouldn’t be watching her like that. It was wrong and was one hundred percent egging on the hungry animal inside of me that was begging to be let out. I was so fucked.

About an hour later, one of my team members came to relieve me of my duties in our little security headquarters so I could get some rest. Our tent sat next to Mya’s. I couldn’t help staring toward it as I walked, noting that it was now completely dark. I sighed to myself as I stepped into our home away from home.

Our living quarters were not that bad. We had lived in worse conditions when we were in the military. The tent as a whole was completely enclosed, with a tarp-like bottom that was attached to the walls so no animals or insects could get inside. It was fairly sizable with one large room where we had cots lined down the sides of it. We had a folding table and some chairs in the far corner and a few smaller folding tables we used as night stands. We had made it as homey as we could. There was a separate smaller room that we used to store our personal items, equipment, and weapons. We also used it for privacy when needed.

I found the guys already passed out in their cots. Benny and Will were both snoring loudly. Pope was lying on his stomach with a pillow over his head. I rolled my eyes at the sight, not even bothering to be quiet as I moved around to prepare for bed.

I lay in my cot, listening to the sounds of the jungle outside. As our little camp compound grew quiet, the animals grew louder. Loud enough, it almost blocked out the sound of the snores beside me. I tried to focus on the sounds of the frogs and insects and allow them to lull me to sleep, but my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Mya. I wondered if the jungle sounds would keep her awake or if she was sleeping through it. I thought about the way she had looked at me today. I thought of how soft the skin of her back looked when she pulled her shirt over her head.

I could already feel myself getting hard with the path my thoughts were taking. After letting out a measured breath, I turned to my side. The firmness of the cot and the way it curved upward quickly took my mind off Mya as my shoulder began to ache from the odd angle. I huffed and turned onto my back again. At that point, I somehow managed to shut my mind off and drift to sleep with the sounds of the Amazon rainforest playing in the background, now completely drowning out my snoring roommates.

Chapter 4: X Never Marks the Spot

A/N: Happy Monday, my lovelies! I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. Things are really going to start picking up next chapter now that the gang is all together. Mya is pretty stuck in her defiant ways and it absolutely drives Frankie insane as they set out to explore some interesting readings on the LiDAR scans. Veracruz will be Veracruzing hard. There will also be lots of complaining and jokes from the guys too.

As for this chapter's discussion...

Mya is really laying it on thick with Frankie. How much of her behavior is just fucking with him and how much of it is wanting to fuck him do we think?

Frankie is obviously attracted to her, but he's fighting it. Do we think he will break first? Or will she?

How we feeling about Frankie's ex?

The guys have run into a bit of a problem with getting that money. How do you think they will solve it? If only Pope didn't have an ass the size of a small country...😂

How much hell you think the guys are going to give Frankie over Mya? Benny has clearly already started.😏

Veracruz is already staking his claim. How do you think things are going to play out with him and Frankie?

And just an honorable mention, something about nerdy tech savvy Frankie is kind of hot, right?

Lastly, I felt it important to emphasize how loud the jungle is at night. Especially when everyone has their tents so close together...just keep that in mind for later.😆

Until next time, 💜Mysty

Group 1 Tag List:

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

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@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892 @pedrostories

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #triple frontier #new chapter #frankie goes on an adventure #and gets his fucking money

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driverlando · 10 months ago

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🗞️ is that max verstappen buying butt plugs in the same sex store that i am currently in or ??? OMFG it is him!!! he just bought handcuffs too…

Spotted: Max Verstappen’s Surprising Shopping Spree—Handcuffs and More!

In a shocking and unexpected twist, Formula 1 World Champion Max Verstappen was recently spotted indulging in some rather intimate shopping. Witnesses report seeing the Red Bull Racing star in a well-known Amsterdam sex shop, browsing a selection of adult toys and accessories. The surprise sighting has left fans and onlookers buzzing with curiosity and excitement.

The Unexpected Encounter

An anonymous source, who happened to be shopping in the same store, couldn’t believe their eyes when they recognised Verstappen casually strolling through the aisles. “Is that Max Verstappen buying butt plugs in the same sex store that I am currently in, or ??? OMFG, it is him!!!” the excited witness tweeted. The sighting quickly became the talk of Twitter.

Verstappen, who is known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, seemed quite relaxed and at ease during his shopping trip. Dressed in a low-key outfit, the 26-year-old driver didn’t shy away from picking up some interesting items. Among his purchases, the witness noted, were a set of handcuffs, raising plenty of eyebrows and questions.

A Peek Into Verstappen’s Private Life?

This unexpected encounter offers a rare glimpse into the private life of one of Formula 1’s most private and focused athletes. While Verstappen is typically reserved about his personal affairs, this outing suggests he’s not afraid to explore new and adventurous aspects of his life.

The incident has sparked a flurry of speculation among fans and the media. Who is the lucky partner joining Verstappen on this adventurous journey? Is this a new relationship, or is he simply adding a bit of spice to an existing one? While the Dutch driver has kept his romantic life relatively low-profile, this public purchase has certainly set tongues wagging.

Fans React

As news of the sighting spread, reactions have been mixed. Some fans were amused and delighted by the revelation, taking to social media to share their thoughts. “Max Verstappen buying handcuffs and butt plugs? I guess we all have our hobbies!” one fan tweeted, accompanied by a laughing emoji. Another wrote, “Love seeing F1 drivers being normal people with fun sides! You do you, Max!”

Others were more reserved, respecting Verstappen’s right to privacy. “Everyone’s entitled to their personal life, even celebs,” one comment read. “Let the man shop in peace.”

The Shop’s Response

The sex shop, which is popular among locals and tourists alike, declined to comment directly on the specific purchases or the presence of high-profile customers. However, they did issue a general statement: “We respect the privacy of all our clients and are pleased to offer a discreet and comfortable shopping experience. Everyone is welcome to explore their desires in a safe and judgement-free environment.”

What’s Next?

While the incident has certainly piqued public interest, it remains to be seen if Verstappen will address the situation. Known for his focus and seriousness on the track, this playful and unexpected side of him has caught many by surprise. Whether this was a one-time visit or the start of a more open exploration of his personal interests, only time will tell.

For now, fans and followers of Max Verstappen will be left to speculate and, perhaps, see him in a slightly different light. This peek behind the curtain reminds us all that even the most celebrated athletes are human, with their own unique tastes and interests.

Stay tuned for more celebrity gossip and behind-the-scenes glimpses into the lives of your favourite stars. Whether on the track or off, the excitement never stops!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #driverlando2k

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

Text

Black Ice

Bangtan Christmas drabble 7 - read the rest here.

Min Yoongi only cares about three things. The thrill of drifting, his friends, and cars, in that order. Somehow, you've got under his skin. Part of the Drift Kings AU.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Street racer/mechanic! Yoongi, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Min Yoongi knows loneliness. He knows the unrelenting ache of it, the way it permeates every aspect of one’s psyche.

He knows what it feels like to look for a connection that isn’t there.

When he was ten his father took him into work for the first time, and it was then, amongst the smells of engine oil and new paint and pinewood air freshener, that Yoongi discovered his first true love.

He pored over engine diagrams, admired the easy simplicity of every tool falling into its destined purpose, got used to his clothes being stained from tuning up cars all day long.

He’d loved every minute of it, and the truth is, he still does.

Then his cousin Yijin had given him a lift down Mount Samo one day, and 14 year old Yoongi had learned that there was more than one way to soar.

He learned to drive navigating the hairpin bends of Mount Samo, and although he’s perfected the art of drifting up and down it, could do it blindfolded a hundred times over, the thrill of it has never really faded.

He’s picked up a collection of friends over the years, all of whom love the adrenaline of street racing – not knowing what’s round the corner, trusting your own reflexes and instincts to save you when you can barely see for the blood rushing in your veins.

Kim Seokjin, his oldest and closest friend, the chaebol prince who can put together a Supra’s turbo-2JZ engine almost as quickly as Yoongi himself. His sister, a corporate princess who makes Yoongi’s heart soften and the opposite happen to his cock. They’re the two people Yoongi would do anything for, not that he’d ever tell them that.

Jung Hoseok, the gifted mechanic with a heart of gold and the sunniest demeanour Yoongi’s ever been able to tolerate, creature of the night that he is.

Jeon Jungkook, the baby fuckboi of the group, a man with the looks of a god and the persona of a baby deer. Yoongi finds it hard to be anything but endeared by his earnest good nature and anything but amused by his swaggering. Maybe one day the kid will grow into the bad man he so badly wants to be, but Yoongi hopes not. He’s great the way he is.

It’s been a while since Yoongi felt lonely, in fact his life’s pretty good right about now.

And at this exact moment? It’s perfect.

Yoongi’s senses are on overdrive as he swings into a hairpin bend on Mount Samo, tires gripping tarmac sideways. His foot taps the throttle, his hand on the handbrake just in case but he doesn’t need it, he knows the terrain so well his body’s reacting on instinct.

Sideways on he can see Seokjin to his right, composed, barely breaking a sweat as his rear wheels scrape the very edge of the path, inches from the steep drop.

Yoongi catches sight of himself in his own rearview mirror, teeth bared in a feral grin as he shoots out onto the final stretch, so fast there’s nothing to see but black.

He’d normally stop, celebrate his win with a cigarette, but he’s got somewhere to be tonight.

Behind him now, Seokjin’s headlamps flicker in lieu of a goodbye.

Yoongi depresses the horn, a sharp short blast, and then he’s gone.

***

Kang Yubin’s been supplying Yoongi’s father’s garage for years, and Yoongi’s been going to him for car parts since before he knew a spark plug from a catalytic converter.

The Kang warehouse has an unassuming front in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Seoul. Yoongi parks outside the familiar glass door, can see the dim lighting filtering through the tinted glass as he approaches.

He pushes open the door, stops, nonplussed.

Instead of Kang Yubin’s steel-rimmed glasses and grey hair, he’s greeted by you.

Half your face is obscured by a black face mask, your hair up under a baseball cap, but you’re definitely not who he expected to see.

He blinks.

Your eyebrows rise.

‘Are you lost?’ you inquire, an edge to your voice that pulls him out of his surprised reaction and reminds him why he’s here.

‘I was expecting Mr Kang,’ Yoongi replies.

Coming closer to the counter he picks up on a guardedness to your posture, a weariness that you don’t bother to hide.

‘I’m his granddaughter,’ you say, brief. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to stare at me, what do you want?’

‘Spark plugs – I have a —’ Yoongi breaks off as you get up.

‘I know who you are, and I know what car you drive. Stay here and I’ll get you your stuff.’

You disappear behind a door, return in minutes with a cardboard box.

You pull a box-cutter out of a desk drawer, slit the masking tape, pull the flaps up.

‘Feel free to take a look,’ you say, looking at him.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to verify that they’re what he needs.

‘How do you know who I am?’ he asks, as he pays.

There’s a faint spark in your eyes, a flicker so quick he wonders if he’s mis-read it.

‘My grandfather said you were due around this time.’

You nudge your shoulder vaguely in the direction of the screen to your left, a view from the camera overlooking the front of the warehouse. ‘Not many people drive a car like that.’

You take his money, nudge the box in his direction.

‘Pleasure doing business, Min Yoongi. I’ll give my grandfather your regards.’

You’re already looking back down at your phone like you’ve dismissed him.

Yoongi picks up the box, casts another glance at you, and leaves.

He’s still thinking about you when he reaches home.

***

Yoongi’s concentrating so hard on the engine in front of him that he barely hears Seokjin approach.

‘Dinner?’ asks Seokjin, eyes flicking over the V configuration of the 8 chrome cylinders in the custom Nissan with interest.

Yoongi leans back, massages the crick in his neck from leaning over.

‘Yeah. Quick though, the client wants a rush on this.’

They exchange a look.

‘More money than sense,’ Seokjin says, critical.

‘Pays the bills,’ Yoongi counters.

They have similar opinions about rich clients who want their supercars tuned up. It’s rare that a client’s got the ability to do justice to the horsepower under the bonnet of the flashy exteriors.

Yoongi shrugs, goes to wash his hands.

‘Is your sister coming?’ he asks.

Seokjin’s still admiring the engine. ‘Not tonight. Jimin’s in town,’ he says. ‘There’s a race later, if you change your mind. I’m meeting Jungkook after dinner.’

‘Is he still sulking over Mijin?’ Yoongi asks, falling into step beside Seokjin.

There’s no need to confirm where they’re going, they always stop at a tiny restaurant run by an elderly woman who seems utterly unimpressed by their good manners but makes the best broth in town.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but his tone is sympathetic. ‘You know how it is. People never expect him to be as soft as he really is.’

Yoongi nods. ‘Tell him if she can’t appreciate him she’s the one missing out.’

Seokjin snorts. ‘Tell him yourself, he’ll love it. Are you coming to Seulgi’s party?’

It’s rare that Yoongi goes out at night, he’s busy and he does his best work at night time, both in the workshop and on the streets, but he’d promised Seokjin he’d go.

‘Next week?’ he asks.

Seokjin nods, pushes open the door to the restaurant.

‘Yeah, don’t forget.’

***

Seulgi is a friend of Seokjin’s, they’d dated briefly, years back, but it hadn’t worked out.

She greets Seokjin enthusiastically at the door, the pink flush on her cheeks deepening as Seokjin gives her an affectionate hug.

She beams at Yoongi, and he smiles back because he’s not proof against her cheerful nature.

It’s how he became friends with Hoseok, after all.

‘Drinks, let me get you drinks,’ Seulgi cheers, leading them into her kitchen.

Seokjin’s swept away by Seulgi and her friends, he’s always been a popular guy. He shoots Yoongi a look as he’s pulled into the lounge, which Yoongi pretends not to see.

He lifts his cup to his lips, decides to go outside for a bit.

The deck outside has a few scattered people, mostly couples, some groups.

Yoongi leans against the wall, looks around idly. The throbbing bass of the music feels like a heartbeat. The night is cold and crisp, the skies clear, but there aren’t any stars visible in Seulgi’s backyard.

He lets his mind wander to his next project, restoring a classic Toyota for a friend from the circuit. He’ll need parts.

He wonders if you’ll be behind the counter when he next goes to the Kang warehouse. Then he’s straightening up, unsure if he’s manifested you into reality.

He’s never seen your full face, but he’d know your eyes anywhere.

You’re standing across the deck, looking straight at him, coat open over a dress that shows a hell of a lot more than the hoodie and sweats you had on the last time he saw you.

For the first time tonight, Yoongi feels a prickle of interest.

He’d known you’d be beautiful, there’d been something about the way you carried yourself.

You’re still looking at him.

Yoongi walks over.

‘Who’s manning the warehouse?’ he asks, when he gets close enough.

You tilt your head. ‘Are you really so concerned about my family business, Min Yoongi?’

There’s a mocking note in your voice, Yoongi finds he likes it.

‘You have the best quality parts,’ he says.

Your smile blooms over your face, making your eyes bright. ‘I knew there was a reason my grandfather liked you.’

Yoongi nods to your dress. ‘You look pretty.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘You look pretty too.’

Yoongi can feel his lips curving. Are you flirting with him? Seems like you are.

He’s all for it.

You’re raising your cup now, taking a sip.

In the night time lighting, your lips glisten with moisture and whatever lipstick you’ve got on, making him wonder what they’d look like around his cock.

You eye him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Yoongi says, ‘Do you like cars? Want to see mine?’

***

You’ve got your legs either side of his torso, your ass bouncing in his lap, and Yoongi’s front seat’s reclined all the way to make room for you to ride him.

The lines of your beautiful body are reminiscent of a triumph of masters of Italian design. Long smooth thighs, tightening around him with every rhythmic thrust.

The curves of your breasts, bouncing right in his face.

The long line of your neck, head thrown back, the pulse in your throat fluttering as he holds your hips so he can fuck you back, fuck up into your sweet warmth.

His cock fits inside you like he was made for you, and god fucking damn, you feel so good around him he’s on a hair trigger.

Yoongi cups the back of your head, tugs you down so you’re close. Goosebumps prickle your flesh as he tells you how good you are.

Your eyes close as he kisses your bare neck, flicks his tongue against your skin.

You had been whimpering steadily as your arousal dripped down onto him, soaking his balls, pooling at the base of his cock, and as Yoongi picks up the pace he’s gratified by the hitch in your breathing.

Yoongi’s always been damn good at helping his partners find their pleasure, and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

Your breasts are still in his face, half out the low neck of your dress, chest heaving.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over the outline of your hardened nipple, and you cry out, muffled with your mouth against his skin but still loud enough to make his ears ring.

His balls tighten up even more as your walls flutter around him, and Yoongi would know you were coming even if you hadn’t gasped it.

God, you’re so sweet and sexy he’s lost.

He can feel your panting breaths against his neck, the weight of your warm body as it goes lax after your peak, the sweet grip of your cunt taking in everything he has to give you as he releases, a pulse of pleasure so intense it sends shockwaves through his skin.

Yoongi’s floating, and like reaching the summit of Mount Samo, he immediately wants to do it again.

You’re looking at him, lips still so swollen and pretty his spent cock gives a residual throb inside you.

‘Like my car?’ Yoongi asks. It’s stupid, but it makes you laugh and he’ll be as stupid as you like if it makes you sound like that.

Your chin lifts, and you say, ‘It’s all right.’

The flash of merriment in your eyes gives you away.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe next time we can get the car started and I can actually take you somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ you tease. ‘Are you a good driver?’

Yoongi reaches out, tucks the lock of hair that’s fallen over your eye behind your ear.

‘Let’s find out,’ he says. ‘Where do you want to go?’

***

Yoongi’s thinking about you the next morning when he wakes up. He’d ended up taking you back to your place, where you’d kissed him sweetly at the door and bid him goodbye like a promise to see him again.

His phone rings and he’s still got you on his mind, so it takes a second for him to regroup.

‘The maknae needs help,’ Seokjin says, no preamble. ‘I’m going to swing by yours, be there in ten.’

Yoongi hangs up, wonders what the hell Jungkook’s got himself into this time.

By the time Seokjin arrives, Yoongi’s had time to bolt coffee and change, but Seokjin still raises a brow as he swings into the passenger seat.

As always, Seokjin’s impeccably dressed, dark hair swept back from his forehead like he’s going to his own fucking wedding instead of about to deal with some shit that’s going down.

Yoongi suppresses a yawn, tugs his beanie down over his brow.

‘What’s going down with JK?’ he asks.

Seokjin cuts off another car so smoothly they’re halfway down the intersection before the irritated horn blares.

‘Remember that race the other day? Jungkook beat Seungho fair and square, I was there.’

Yoongi groans. ‘The fuck. I thought we weren’t going to race that fragile asshole anymore.’

Seokjin glances in the rearview. ‘The maknae was still hurting over Mijin, I thought an easy win might make him feel better.’

‘So what’s Seungho done?’

‘Brought in the big guns,’ Seokjin says grimly. ‘Called in some guys from Hongkong. JK’s with them now.’

Now Yoongi’s fully awake. ‘Should’ve taken my car instead of this piece of shit,’ he says.

Seokjin just laughs. ‘Don’t worry about my car, Yoongi. Maybe think of a way to hide that big–ass hickey on your neck.’

‘Suck my dick,’ Yoongi says, like they’re 16 again.

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Seokjin returns.

***

Yoongi parks up outside the Kang warehouse, pushes open the door.

You look up from your phone. Your face mask is off, so Yoongi has the privilege of seeing the way your lips curve in a smile.

‘There’s been a shipment of fuel injectors,’ you say. ‘Want to take a look?’

Yoongi stops just in front of the wooden half-panel that separates you from him.

He tilts his head.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Also, I took my friend’s Honda for a spin today, I’ve got a list.’

He smooths out the piece of paper he’s got folded in his pocket, places it on the counter.

You pick it up, get up. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi runs a hand over the hickey over his neck. ‘I’ve been taking shit all day, about this,’ he adds.

‘Yeah?’ you ask, but you don’t seem the least bit contrite. ‘You did your share of marking, Min Yoongi.’

Yoongi asks, ‘What time do you get off?’

You’re about to answer when the door opens.

Yoongi turns and tenses immediately.

Fucking Shin Seungho.

‘You following me?’ he asks mildly.

Seungho scoffs, doesn’t deign to reply.

‘I’m collecting an order,’ he says to you.

Your face mask is back on, your face carefully blank. ‘Sure, what’s the name?’

When you go into the back to collect it Seungho turns to Yoongi.

Yoongi concentrates on the silkscreen of a cat on the wall behind the counter.

He can feel Seungho’s eyes on his face.

Just try it, fucker.

The fact was, he’d pushed Seokjin’s Honda to its limits beating Seungho’s friends today, and although the adrenaline’s ebbed, there’s a thin streak still running through his bloodstream, and he’s a spark away from igniting.

Seungho takes a step closer, and Yoongi turns to face him like he’s got all the time in the world.

You return just as Seungho opens his filthy mouth.

‘Looks like you’ve paid,’ you say, passing the box across the counter to Seungho.

You pull out the box cutter, slit the package, open it up for him to check, but don’t put it down.

‘Am I going to have trouble here, boys?’ you ask.

Seungho barely looks your way, Yoongi’s always known the man lacks vision.

‘Nah,’ Seungho says finally. He picks up the box, sneers at Yoongi.

Yoongi blanks his expression. There’s no way he’s going to start shit with Seungho in front of you.

The asshole’s not worth it.

As soon as the door closes behind Seungho you put down the box cutter.

The next words out of your mouth surprise him.

‘Shit, you’re hot when you’re mad, Yoongi.’

Yoongi stares at you, flummoxed, then he laughs.

‘Just when I’m mad?’ he asks.

You shrug. ‘Take me out on a date and I’ll tell you more.’

‘How about right now?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Let’s go.’

***

As your grip on his hair loosens, Yoongi lifts his mouth from your cunt, swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Helps you tug your panties back up, smooths your skirt back down over your thighs.

He notices you’ve still got his cum in the corner of your lips. As he watches, you flick your tongue out, lick delicately.

His cock stirs with interest, and you act like you know it.

‘More later?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. After I win.’

Yoongi reaches over to help you with your seatbelt, arranging it across your chest, between your breasts, securing it.

You lean forward and kiss him as the belt clicks into place.

Yoongi starts the engine, turns the heating back on because he’s noticed your hands get cold easily.

‘I can drop you off at home before the race,’ he offers. ‘Come see you after.’

‘I want to see you drive,’ you say.

Yoongi wouldn’t say it, but he’s pleased. He knows he’ll keep you safe, it’s a circuit through the city outskirts he’s done a million times, and he’s looking forward to you meeting Seokjin and Hoseok and Jungkook.

He flicks on the lights, rolls into oncoming traffic. Heads North.

By the time he pulls up to the starting line there’s the usual crowd gathered. He parks up next to Seokjin and Hoseok.

In his rearview he can see JK surrounded by people. He’s lost the sad puppy air he had for a few weeks whilst he was pining after Mijin. The kid’s going to be all right, not that Yoongi’s ever had any doubt about that.

Engines all around him are starting up, a deafening series of rumbles.

Beside him, Seokjin waves, and Hoseok smiles so brightly it’s blinding.

The flag waves, and Yoongi accelerates.

Checks on you in the rearview, and you’re as pretty as he remembers.

Min Yoongi’s spent a lot of his life looking for connection, and by his reckoning, he’s doing pretty well right about now.

Lights flash by in a blur.

Yoongi drives.

Author note: And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, hope you've enjoyed, here's to a brighter 2024. This time last year we were saying goodbye to Kim Seokjin, I can't wait to start welcoming the boys back again. Happy holidays to you all!

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic

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inky-writing · 5 months ago

Text

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: animal attacks, bad parenting (lol), stalking, it is short, typos maybe?, i think that's all...

Word count: 1,593

Book II - Chapter 5: From the Shadows

Mid-January in Forks was as dreary as ever. The constant drizzle coated the roads and rooftops, but for the Swan household, there was some change. Bella had begun to rejoin the world, step by step. The last days of December had been filled with warmth, Charlie and Y/N doing their best to pull Bella out of her room for New Year’s Eve celebrations. And to everyone’s relief, Bella had made the effort to join them, sitting quietly but present as they watched the countdown on TV and shared a toast of champagne.

Now, two weeks into the new year, the signs of her slow recovery were becoming more evident. Bella spoke more, even if it was still mostly short sentences. She ate meals with Charlie and Y/N more regularly and even initiated conversations. The most significant change came when she approached Y/N one morning.

“I found bikes to repair,” Bella said, her voice quiet. “I think fixing them up could be... good.”

“For you, or for the bikes?” Y/N teased, arching an eyebrow.

“For both,” Bella replied, managing a faint smile. “Do you want to come with me to Jacob’s?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

That afternoon, Y/N and Bella drove to Jacob Black’s house in La Push, three rusted motorbikes strapped into the bed of Bella's old truck. The later seemed nervous, fidgeting with the wheel as they pulled into the driveway, but Y/N could tell there was excitement mixed with her hesitation.

Jacob greeted them with a wide grin, his enthusiasm practically radiating. “Bells! Y/N! Where the hell have you been locas?!”

Together, they unloaded the bikes, Jacob already launching into an assessment of what needed to be fixed. “The engines are shot,” he said, squatting next to one of the bikes and peering at the rusted metal. “But the frames are solid. We’ll need new spark plugs, brake cables, and probably a ton of grease, but we can make these beauties rideable again.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Y/N said, crossing her arms and smirking.

Jacob grinned. “It’s easy if you know what you’re doing. You’ll see.”

As the three of them worked, the atmosphere became lighter, filled with the sounds of tools clinking and Jacob’s animated explanations of every repair. For the first time in months, Bella seemed at ease, her laughter mixing with Y/N’s as they joked about their lack of mechanical skills.

It wasn’t long before Quil and Embry showed up.

“Hey guys! This is Bella and Y/N Swan. I told you about them.” said Jacob. The two boys quickly greeting them both before turning to Bella. “Sooo... You're really his girlfriend?” said Quil, lightly laughing.

“Humm, we're just... friends.” responded Bella, feeling a little uneasy.

Jacob rolled his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend, Quil. She’s a girl, and she’s my friend.”

Y/N burst out laughing at the exchange, covering her mouth to keep from snorting. Bella turned red but managed a small smile.

Quil smirked. “A girl and a friend, huh? Subtle difference there.”

Embry snickered, nudging Quil. That's when jacob began talking again. “Not that you’d know, seeing as you had to take your cousin to the last dance.”

Embry grinned, seizing the opportunity to pile on. “Yeah, Quil, how’d that go? Did she step on your toes, or did you step on hers?”

“She’s a great dancer!” Quil protested, though his flushed cheeks betrayed him.

Y/N shook her head, laughing along with the others. The banter was infectious, and for a moment, it felt like everything was normal. Even Bella was smiling openly, her posture more relaxed than Y/N had seen in weeks.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the garage, Y/N realized how much she had missed this, being surrounded by laughter and light-hearted teasing. It wasn’t just Bella who needed this afternoon, she did too.

When they finally packed up and said their goodbyes, Bella seemed lighter, her mood noticeably improved. Y/N couldn’t help but glance at her cousin and think that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to turn around.

January 19th, 2006

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter, but today, a particular topic dominated the conversation at Forks High School: the strange attacks happening around town. As Bella approached the table, she hesitated for a moment, taking in the lively conversation among Jessica, Angela, and a few others.

“I’m telling you, I saw a bear,” Angela insisted, her voice firm. “It was huge, and it was near the trailhead by the cliffs.”

Jessica snorted, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Angela. A bear? In Forks? We’d know about it by now.”

“Charlie’s gotten calls about bears,” Bella interjected, sliding into her seat. Her voice was quiet but carried enough conviction to make Angela sit up straighter. “It’s not impossible.”

“That’s so creepy,” Jessica said, her dramatic flair kicking in. “I mean, what if it’s not a bear but, like, a mountain lion? Or something else?”

Angela gave her a withering look. “It wasn’t a mountain lion. I know what I saw.”

As the debate continued, Y/N sat at the end of the table, her earplugs in, listening to Fleetwood Mac, and her attention on the article she was finishing for the school newspaper. She had joined the journal at the start of her senior year, mostly as a way to channel her thoughts and keep herself busy. Right now, the paper was her priority, not bear sightings.

She was vaguely aware of the conversation swirling around her, catching snippets between the lyrics of her music, but she focused on polishing her piece, tuning out the back-and-forth.

Later that evening, after dropping Bella off at home, Y/N sighed as she turned into the driveway. Charlie’s cruiser wasn’t there, a clear sign that he was on one of his many overnight shifts.

When she stepped into the house, the empty fridge confirmed what she had already guessed: Charlie hadn’t had time to shop. It wasn’t surprising, given the increasing pressure he was under with all the reported attacks in the area.

Y/N headed back out, deciding to make a quick run to the supermarket. She made a mental list as she drove, adding cat food to it. The black cat that had mysteriously attached itself to her was now a permanent resident in the house. Charlie hadn’t objected to her keeping it, as long as she promised to take care of it.

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket hummed faintly as Y/N wandered the aisles, tossing essentials into her cart. She scanned the shelves with practiced ease, though her mind was elsewhere, on school, on Bella, on the strange changes she had been experiencing.

She reached the pet aisle and grabbed a bag of cat food, smiling to herself at the thought of her newfound companion. The cat had been a surprising source of comfort, its constant presence grounding her somehow.

As she moved to the checkout, a strange feeling crept over her, a prickling sensation at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her. She glanced over her shoulder, but the aisle behind her was empty.

Shaking her head, she told herself she was imagining things. She had been on edge lately, her heightened senses and the strange occurrences around her making her more paranoid than usual.

Still, the feeling didn’t leave. As she pushed her cart toward the exit, she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder again, gripping the handle tighter.

Carlisle’s pov

Carlisle sat in his rental car, parked in the far corner of the supermarket lot, watching as Y/N emerged from the store. Her familiar forest green Jeep was parked a few spaces away, unmistakable.

He shouldn’t have come back to Forks, but something had pulled him here. The feeling had been relentless, gnawing at him since that night in december. He told himself it was because of his family’s abrupt departure and the consequences it had left behind. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth.

It was her. Y/N.

Seeing her now, even from a distance, filled him with an ache he couldn’t comprehend. She looked different. He noticed she had cut her hair and was now wearing that strange necklace. It reminded him of something, but he didn’t know what exactly.

He hadn’t planned to approach her. He just wanted to see her, to confirm she was safe and well. But as she paused at the checkout line, he felt a pang of longing so strong it almost made him step out of the car.

Instead, he stayed where he was, gripping the steering wheel and fighting the urge to go to her.

She paused in the parking lot, looking around briefly before climbing into her car. Carlisle exhaled, relief and guilt mingling in his chest. He had no right to be here, to watch her like this. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

As her car pulled out of the lot, he sat in silence, staring after her until the red glow of her taillights disappeared into the night.

Notes: I AM SO SORRY IT IS SO BAD!!! I had really little time, so consider it a 'transition chapter' :'(

Tag list: @inky-bonnie @irelanrose @i-cant-pick-an-aesthetic09 @wandererthemadhatter

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forestclan-clangen · 6 months ago

Text

MOON 2 (Part 1)

(Note to new viewers: the scenes have dead pixels on purpose! It's meant to emulate a cartridge game you found plugged into an old TV set!)

<< FIRST | < PREVIOUS |

Talonpaw is assigned to Iciclepool as a mentor. Redstar defies hundreds of moons of ForestClan tradition, and bans apprentice trials - no cat will need to seek approval from the Woods before being trained.

(Talonpaw, apprentice, male, 6 moons) (Redstar, leader, female, 61 moons) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 58 moons) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 35 moons) (Hopechase, warrior, female, 84 moons) (Barleywave, warrior, male, 31 moons) (Windfur, medicine cat, male, 16 moons) (Morningkit, kitten, female, 4 moons) (Shiverkit, kitten, female, 2 moons)

---

Talonkit was nervous.

In fact, most of the Clan was. As Talonkit officially turned six moons old, this meant he was no longer a kit. In ForestClan, this was not a joyous occasion, or a day of celebration. This was a day of dread.

Talonkit loved to be noisy and play pretend with Morningkit about fighting off all the monsters in the woods. He loved winning against fake badgers and fake foxes in the shapes of Barleywave, Iciclepool and Hopechase. But the Woods were real. And he heard whispers when Lakestar was still alive. He heard what ForestClan does to new apprentices - before they could be given a mentor.

"Redstar will keep her promise, won't she?" Cloudthunder whispered to Iciclepool, looking at her expectantly. Iciclepool did not look at the she-cat, her eyes focused on the leader's den as they waited for Redstar.

The crowd grew silent as Redstar finally emerged from the leader's den and padded up onto the High Rock. The gentle wind filled the void left behind by gossiping voices. It left a thick tension in the air, like a dark fog at dusk. Despite that, Redstar's voice rang clearly.

"Talonkit. Please come join me."

Talonkit trembled before reluctantly climbing up onto the High Rock. He stared at his paws.

He didn't expect Redstar to lean in and whisper to him personally.

"Hey. It's going to be okay."

Talonkit hesitated. "Y-You can't...promise that," he said meekly.

"But I can."

Confusion ran through the young cat. What did she mean? Before he could ask, Redstar placed her tail on his shoulder.

"Talonkit, from this day forward until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Talonpaw." she declared loudly to the Clan. "And by my rule as the new leader of ForestClan, I seek to adjust the Code we follow. I call upon our ancestors in StarClan to hear my decision, and approve my choice. From this day forth, no apprentice shall be forced to seek approval from the Woods. Apprentice trials are now outlawed - and mentors will be appointed right after an apprentice is named."

Shocked and delighted murmurs rose from the small crowd below. Barleywave shoved Cloudthunder playfully and said, "See? She kept her promise."

Talonpaw's eyes were wide, shining with wonder. "Really?!"

As Redstar nodded, Talonpaw let out a screech of joy as he leapt off the rock. Hopechase laughed as she rushed to stop him, grabbing him by the scruff.

"Wait! Your mentor, dummy!" Hopechase let go of him, pushing him back towards the rock. "Wait for your mentor to be named!"

Talonpaw had just enough sense to pretend to be embarassed, climbing back up to a now very pleased Redstar. Her eyes shone with a light that few had ever seen from her when she was a deputy - like a spark of life had been returned to her from the stars. She passed on that look to Iciclepool, who shared in her joy.

"Iciclepool, you have been a wonderful mentor before, when our numbers were greater. I hope that with this new apprentice, you will welcome a wonderful new warrior to our Clan in time."

Iciclepool did not hesitate to approach Talonpaw, who bumped noses with her enthusiastically.

The small crowd below them chanted Talonpaw's new name with joy in their hearts - "Talonpaw! Talonpaw! Talonpaw!"

Redstar felt her heart sing. When she was young, this chant felt like a eulogy - a somber prayer to the youth who may never come back from their initiation. But for the first time in her life, an apprentice ceremony finally sounded like a celebration, a graduation - as it always should have been.

---

As Windfur and Talonpaw watch some shooting stars together, Talonpaw asks him for reassurance about the trial ban. Windfur doesn't have the heart to tell him that nor StarClan, nor the Place of No Stars are responsible for the woods' hunger. Talonpaw didn't like that Windfur avoided his question.

(Talonpaw, apprentice, male, 6 moons) (Windfur, medicine cat, male, 16 moons)

Shiverkit is oddly observant of her surroundings, and Cloudthunder learns something very important from her. Redstar watches this interaction from across camp.

(Shiverkit, kitten, female, 2 moons) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 35 moons) (Redstar, leader, female, 61 moons)

Redstar is surprised at how much Shiverkit intuitively understands about Deep Roots. ForestClan never told kits how they could rarely enter dens - it gave them nightmares. Shiverkit thinks Redstar is acting weird. Morningkit overhears their conversation and gets really scared.

(Redstar, leader, female, 61 moons) (Shiverkit, kitten, female, 2 moons) (Morningkit, kitten, female, 4 moons)

Hopechase gets a running nose. She has a nice chat with Barleywave, making light of her situation. Windur tries, and fails, to get her to respect her symptoms.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 84 moons) (Barleywave, warrior, male, 31 moons) (Windfur, medicine cat, male, 16 moons) < PREVIOUS | NEXT >

#warrior cats #clangen #warrior cats clangen #warriorcats #wc oc #clangen art #pixel art #forestclan #forestclan moons #Redstar #Iciclepool #Talonkit #Talonpaw #Windfur #Barleywave #Cloudthunder #Hopechase #Shiverkit #Morningkit

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according2thelore · 9 months ago

Note

hi! Been seeing some of ur es/ls fics here and do you have a master linkcfor all of r writing? I really want to find the very dirst one and read from there and get with ur wonderful lore/plot!

hi!

consider this the official ES/LS verse masterlist! i will try to be diligent about updating it, but apologies if i miss anything!

(for those that are new [ hi! :) ], ES = early seasons, LS = late seasons, this is a time travel AU that i've been working on where early seasons (ES) sam and dean end up at the bunker with late seasons (LS) sam and dean)

first official one!

age gap

ES thirsting over LS brothers

finding out LS!Bros are together

making references

talking about john winchester

ES!Dean noticing LS!Sam's "pockmarks"

ES!Sam jealousy (ficlet)

ES!Dean not knowing how to help LS!Sam

discussing ES!Sam and ES!Dean

ES!Sam's thoughts on their life

making references (ficlet)

ES!Dean yearning (ficlet)

the steak one (ficlet)

sam runs away

meeting their friends

taking the spark plugs out of cars

first hunt (ficlet)

foursome (ficlet)

LS!Boys set up ES!Boys (ficlet)

ES!Dean wants to dote

ES!Sam feeling like the last choice

mommy ES Dean vs LS Dean

ES!sam gets injured (ficlet)

showing off sexually for ES!Sam

ES!Sam insecurity

ES!Dean/LS!Sam kissing and resulting drama (ficlet)

how are LS!Sam&Dean similar to John

LS!Boys set up confession with ES!Sam (ficlet)

not stealing firsts

first LS!Sam jealousy

proposing a foursome (ficlet)

unsympathetic LS!Sam

sequel to LS!Boys set up confession

ES!Boys dealing with LS!Boys' conflict

ES!Sam notices the no samulet on LS!Dean

ES!Sam finds The Voicemail (ficlet)

@/whoopsitswincest and i chatting about the verse

LS!Sam jealousy Pt. 2 (ficlet)

ES!Dean being adoring of LS!Sam and LS!Sam is a mess about it (ficlet)

ES!Sam calling LS!Sam "pathetic" (ficlet)

ES!Boys are together, but LS!Boys are not

LS!Sam thinks he's back in the Cage when he sees ES!Dean (ficlet)

deans getting protective over both sams negative feelings about each other (ficlet)

ES!Dean & LS!Sam "come talk to me when ES!YouTwo find it out" (ficlet)

ES!&LS!Brothers & apologies

omegaverse bonus!

a little text break bc tumblr won't let me make this one contiguous list for some reason?

ES!Sam asks LS!Dean what ES!Dean likes in bed (ficlet)

cas brings up the demon blood to ES!Sam

ES!Dean makes LS!Sam laugh and LS!Dean does not take it well (ficlet)

anon writes in about LS!Boys date night/dancing

ES!Sam&LS!Sam talk about dean's habits and ES!Dean&LS!Dean talk about sam's habits (ficlet)

discussion of ES!Sam 'forgiving' LS!Sam

whether LS!Dean would feel comfortable talking about sex with ES!Sam

foursome dynamics!! (banger)

ES!Dean taking ES!Sam's side over LS!Sam (ficlet)

old!Sam in the ES/LS verse (ficlet, kinda)

ES!Brothers are jealous over how close castiel and the LS!Brothers are--they fear they're in a throuple

ES!Brothers find one of chuck's "supernatural" books (ficlet)

LS!Brothers get irritated by ES!Brothers' annoying old habits

continuation of "LS!Sam thinks he's back in the Cage when he sees ES!Dean" (ficlet) & talk of ES!Sam accidentally triggering LS!Dean

anon writes in about an argument b/w ES!&LS!Sam about john; discussion of how their perspective changes over the years

ES!Dean letting himself go full-tilt mommy over LS!Sam, who loves it (ficlet, kind of)

ES!Sam has a vision of LS!Brothers killing someone (ficlet, kind of)

LS!Boys not being able to share a bed and it drives them crazy

i don't have a hard-and-fast masterlist, but i collect the things i write under the tag #lizzy writes (linked here), and that includes things like things i've written in the tags or as additions to other posts!

thank you so much for asking!!! :) i hope you have fun scrolling through the (frankly embarrassing) amount of fic i've got loaded up for this verse!

-lizzy <3

#ask box #lizzy answers #lizzy writes #ES/LS verse masterlist #ES/LS verse #my-prompt-dump

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rollingsins · 2 years ago

Text

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p2

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey continues her quest to conquer the Carpenter sisters. Well, one of them, at least. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 6.1k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, sequel to the first. wanted to try something a lil different - this is mostly from Sam's POV. There will be at least one other part after this one. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Sam’s bed is shaking when she wakes.

She has a fan plugged into the wall. Military grade earplugs. A white noise machine.

And yet, every morning, she wakes to the sound of a squeaking mattress and you moaning like you’re on a casting couch for a bad 60s porno.

Aggravated, she sits up. Launches a pillow at the wall in the hope it will quell your happy groans.

It doesn’t.

“Tara, YN!” She yells, more than fed up, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up.”

You hear Tara groan through the walls. A quiet shush. The bed stops shaking. Sam slumps back into her pillows, content.

Tara has never cared, but at least you can be shamed into silence.

She closes her eyes, snuggles back into her pillows for a couple more hours of precious sleep.

A few minutes go by, and just as Sam is on the cusp of unconsciousness, she hears you let out another, loud moan.

“Oh, Tara-”

Sam sits up.

Fuck this, she thinks as she grouchily shimmies back into an old hoodie, I’ll sleep outside.

When Sam returns to the kitchen - after seventy minutes of tossing and turning with a pillow and a blanket in the apartment hallway - Tara has the audacity to look pleased with herself.

She’s wearing one of your old t-shirts, absent-mindedly stroking your hair as she sips on a cup of coffee. As if her bedroom activities hadn’t driven Sam out of hers.

Sam is fuming. Her cheeks are red as she slams her bedding onto the couch.

You turn at the same time Tara does.

“What’s up, Sam?” Asks Tara, like she doesn’t know the answer, “You look like you’ve just been dragged through a bush backwards.”

“You know what’s up,” Sam growls. She snatches a mug from the kitchen counter and pours herself a healthy helping of coffee, “How many times do I have to tell you-“

“Relax, Sam,” Tara says with a roll of her eyes, “We didn’t realize you were awake. We’re sorry-“

“I wasn’t awake until you woke me,” Sam says, jabbing a finger towards her nonplussed sister, “This is ridiculous. It’s the third time this week. If you two can’t respect my boundaries-”

Your face is a little hot. You shoot an apologetic look towards Sam, “We’re sorry, Sam,” You say, “We get… carried away sometimes.”

But Tara looks annoyed.

“This is our home,” Says Tara, “If we want to fuck, we will. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to-”

Sam slams her hand to the counter, making you jump.

“You asked me to come here,” She growls. She looks a little wild; red cheek, hair messy and ruffled, dark, tired eyes, “You asked me to pitch in. If you want me to go, I’m taking my share of the rent with me.”

Tara crosses her arms, unhappily.

“I’m doing the two of you a favor by being here. You think I can afford to pay New York City rent and California rent? The least you can do is not have loud sex at six AM-” Continues Sam, voice strained.

“You’re right, we’re sorry, Sam,” You interject, eyebrows pinched, “Right, babe? We’ll be quieter.”

Tara’s quiet for a moment, but Sam knows her sister. She knows the things Tara’s thinking in her head, and none of them are favorable.

“I have a life back in California,” Sam warns, “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m taking my money with me.”

Tara’s brows knit.

“We don’t want that,” You say, quickly, “We’re very grateful you decided to help us out. Right, Tara?”

“Very grateful,” Tara says, voice tight, “Sorry, Sam.”

She pauses a moment.

“Babe, you’ve got the ad up, right?”

Sam ignores the spark of annoyance that floods through her and grabs her lunch.

She sighs right before she heads out. Decides she doesn't want to start her day swimming in negativity.

“Bye, YN. Love you, Tara.”

“Bye Sam,” You say, with a small smile, “Have a good day.”

Sam waits a moment.

“Bye, Tara.” She says, once more.

Tara rolls her eyes, “Bye Sam. What, you need me to walk you out or something?”

Sam just sighs and leaves.

Sam has a new job at NYU.

A job she loves.

Her life so far? Deadbeat father, emotionally absent mother. A murderous psychopath as a biological father. A murderous psychopath as an ex-boyfriend.

It hasn’t panned out the way she was hoping.

Nowadays, there’s only two bright sparks in her life.

Her baby sister, and her job.

What more could a girl need?

She’s working in the history department, a subject she’s always been good at. Tutoring students who apparently don’t share her prowess for the past.

Her first assignment is a nineteen year old boy with straight D grades. Her second is a girl who point blank asks if “the Nazis won the Korean War?”

Her third strolls into the library now.

Doesn’t bother to introduce herself. She walks in like she owns the place. Settles herself next to Sam with a coy look in her eye and flutter of her eyelashes.

“Hi,” Says the girl, with a coy smile. A smile that is far too friendly for discussing the Yom Kippur war.

Sam blinks.

“Hi,” She says, a little taken aback. She gets ahold of herself, “I’m Sam. I’ll be your tutor for the next semester.”

This girl has long, flowing strawberry-blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes. She’s wearing a shirt that rides up over her belly button and a pair of pants that are so tight they look as if they were painted on.

The girl watches for a moment. Surveys Sam - like a hungry wolf might appraise a rabbit.

And then she grins.

“We actually know each other,” Says the girl, “At least - we know of each other.”

Sam tilts her head.

“Oh?”

“I know your sister,” Says the girl, and her smile turns sheepish, “I used to live with her. Before she kicked me out.”

Sam blinks.

“You’re Quinn Bailey,” Sam realizes with a start.

Quinn’s cheeks pinch in a tight smile.

“Guilty,” She says with a nervous laugh, “Sorry. This is awkward. I didn’t know the school was going to pair me with you. I mean - I didn’t even know you worked here.”

Sam leans back a little, suddenly on guard.

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’ll ask you to be assigned to another tutor.”

Quinn squints.

“Actually, you can’t,” Says Quinn, sounding apologetic, “There’s only two history tutors - I checked. The other guy’s out for the next two weeks.” She leans in close, eyebrows in her hairline, “Mono.”

She pauses.

“Sorry, this must be awkward for you. But I really do need help. My first paper is due next Thursday.”

Sam sighs.

“Look, Quinn,” She says, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea after you-“

“Threw myself at your sister?” Quinn finishes. Her face is tight - she looks a little embarrassed, “I get it. I do. But you’re the only one who can help me.”

Sam tilts her head.

Quinn reaches over, takes Sam’s hand.

“Please.”

Clearly, it’s been too long since Sam felt the warmth of human touch. Because Quinn’s hand on hers ignites a spark that sends shockwaves through her body.

You need a boyfriend, she thinks momentarily, badly.

Sam retracts her hand, squinting slightly.

And remembers the horror stories Tara had bellowed down the phone line.

“Those girls are very special to me,” She says, “What you tried to do? It’s despicable.”

Quinn looks dismayed as Sam stands.

“Sorry,” Sam says as she straps her back over her shoulder, “You’ll have to find someone else.”

Tara’s in a mood when Sam gets home that night.

She orders takeout, instead of eating Sam’s meticulously planned, healthy vegan curry. She ignores Sam’s attempts at conversation, and turns the TV a little louder when Sam tries to offer her dessert.

Sam gives up, not long after.

She eats dinner by herself, trying not to let her mind drift to Quinn.

“Please,” She’d murmured, “I really need your help.”

Weird, she thinks. Quinn’s touch had imprinted on her mind all night. For such a devilish, evil, homewrecker - she’d seemed kind of sweet. Hopeless, almost.

Like a lost little child, adorned in red lipstick and Michael Kors.

But then she remembers her sister.

You arrive home, not long after Sam’s finishing her plate, batting Quinn’s easy smile out of her brain.

You press a kiss to Tara’s forehead, offer Sam a small smile.

And then you throw your bag down to the floor and disappear into your bedroom.

“Good day, Sam?” You ask when you emerge, towel over your shoulders.

Sam hums.

“Weird day,” She admits. She shakes her head as she catches your questioning stare, “Nevermind.”

You watch her a moment, and then reach down to squeeze Tara’s shoulders.

“I’m taking a shower. Pick a movie for us?” You say with a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Sure, babe,” Tara says.

And then she sits up long enough to shoot a glare over at Sam.

“Just be careful not to shower too loudly,” Tara says, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt Sam’s precious relaxation time. Who knows? She might threaten to not pay the water bill next time.”

Irritation flashes through Sam, hot and fast.

She’d been up at six AM again. Her sister is the culprit. And somehow she’s the bad guy?

“Stop being a brat, Tara,” Sam says, voice tight, “You’ll be twenty next year, you better start acting like it.”

“And is that when I’ll be as demanding and bitchy and sexless as you?” Tara deadpans.

Sam lets her cutlery clatter over her plate. Rage simmers in the pit of her stomach that begs to be unleashed. Primarily on her ungrateful shit-head of a sister.

I move across the country to bail you out, she wants to scream, and you can’t even be hospitable?

But you get there first.

“Stop it.” You say, pulling the remote from her hand, and tugging her up, “You are being a brat. Apologize to Sam and go to bed.”

Tara glares up at you.

“But babe-“

“Now,” You warn, “Or it’ll be your turn to sleep in the hall.”

Tara’s face clouds over.

It’s a familiar look to Sam.

It’s the one she used to give to their Father. Right after she’d choked Sam, or punched her, or pulled her hair.

Her fake apology face.

“Sorry Sam,” She mumbles, as she stands, looking anything but, “Try earplugs next time, maybe.”

“Bed.” You say, “Now.”

Tara storms off to bed, shooting a withering glare over to Sam as she leaves.

Sam’s lips twitch.

She’s used to this - Tara taking her anger out on her. She’s done their whole lives.

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

You sigh, throwing your towel over one of the dining chairs.

“Sorry,” You say, “You know what she’s like sometimes.”

“That therapy is really working wonders, huh?” Asks Sam, a little sarcastic. Her hands are shaking, a little.

You bite your lip, sinking into the seat opposite her.

“Good days and bad days,” You say, “Dr Colmann says miracles aren’t going to happen overnight.”

“That girl needs a miracle.” Sam says, a little frosty. Then, she softens, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m not trying to put you in the middle.”

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, “I know she can be a handful. We’re talking about all the stuff she used to do as a kid in therapy.”

Sam snorts.

“You mean like when she cut off all the heads of my teddy bears because I wouldn’t let her blow out the candles on my birthday cake?”

You blink, a little taken aback.

“No,” You say, slowly, “She kept that one quiet.”

“You better not be talking about me.” Tara’s voice sounds down the hall, hot and angry.

You look from Sam long enough to shoot a glare down the hall, “And you better be in bed. I mean it, Tara. I’ll be there in five.”

Tara huffs, but retreats, nonetheless.

You look back over to Sam, who has a contemplative look on her face.

“I met Quinn Bailey today,” She says.

You stare.

“Why?” Is what you ask, and then you frown, “She’s not trying to worm her way back in here, is she? Because that’s not happening.”

“The only thing she’s trying to worm her way into is an A+ on her history paper,” Sam says, “I told her to forget it.”

You’re quiet a moment, and then you nod.

“Thanks Sam,” You say, “Can you do that? Send her away? Isn’t it your job?”

Sam shrugs.

“I don’t know,” She admits, honestly, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“You can’t turn her away Sam, it’s your job.” Says Sam’s supervisor, sternly, in the morning, “The poor girl was in here in tears last night. There’s no one else.”

Sam pauses.

“It’s just-“ She tries, “She has a complicated relationship with my sister and her girlfriend. They used to be roommates. She made some unwanted advances and they kicked her out. I can’t tutor her. It’s a conflict of interest.”

Her supervisor smiles, a little passive aggressive.

“Spend less time worrying about conflicts of interest Sam,” He tells her, “And more time teaching them”.

He punctuates his point by tapping down on a book about Palestine.

And Sam sighs.

“I could just quit,” Sam says later, over a sad looking salad in the cafeteria with Mindy, “I mean, I only took this job because Tara asked me to help out with rent for a bit.”

Mindy looks over, eyebrows raised.

“Doesn’t quitting your job defeat the purpose of helping Tara with rent?” She asks.

Sam bites her lip.

“I suppose…” She admits, “Though it wouldn’t be too hard to get a new one. It’s not like the pay is that great, anyway.”

“I thought you loved your new job,” Says Mindy, “You were saying only last week how good it feels to finally have something fulfilling in your life.”

“It’s just a job, at the end of the day, Mindy,” Says Sam. She ponders this over a mouthful of lettuce, “Besides, Tara is my sister. She comes first.”

Mindy purses her lips.

“And you think she would do the same for you?” Asks Mindy, after a moment, “Quit her job for you? Fly across the country and move into your apartment to bail her out?”

Sam straightens her shoulders.

“I’d like to think so,” She says, somewhat defensively.

Even if she doesn’t believe it.

Mindy shakes her head with a sigh.

“She won’t even stop banging her girl at six AM for you,” Mindy says, “She won’t even let you get a decent night’s sleep.”

“They’ve said they’ll be quieter.” Sam says, softly.

Mindy shoots her a look.

“And how many times have they told you that?” She asks.

Sam averts her gaze.

Too many times to count.

“Don’t do her any favors, Sam.”

Sam stares.

“And I thought she was supposed to be your friend?” Sam asks, somewhat pointedly.

“She is,” Says Mindy, “She’s my friend. And I love her. But she’s selfish as fuck, Sam. You know that. You’re related to that. You’re already being a good big sister. But you don’t have to give up everything for her, Sam. Do something for yourself for once.”

“And Quinn Bailey is me doing something for myself?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised.

“If she lets you keep the job you love, sure.” Says Mindy, “Tara will get over it. Besides, you’re only tutoring the girl. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Sam chews her lip.

And considers it.

“I’ll help you,” She tells Quinn, a little later over the phone, “Despite my better judgment, I’ll help you.”

Quinn lets out a breathy sigh, “Oh, Sam - thank you so much-“

“I’m not doing it for you,” Sam says, voice stern, “And we’re not friends. I don’t want you coming to the apartment and upsetting my sister and her girlfriend. We’ll meet at the library, every evening around eight. Okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, before she hesitates, “It’s not about Tara, Sam, I really just need the help.”

Sam hums.

“See you tonight.”

“You’re meeting who at the library?” Tara explodes over the dinner table.

Sam sighs. Helps herself to more potatoes.

“I don’t have a choice, Tara,” She says, “It’s my job.”

But Tara’s eyes are wide as if Sam has betrayed her.

This is how Tara works. Black and white, no shades of gray.

Mindy’s words echo through Sam’s head.

Don’t do her any favors, Sam.

You touch Tara’s arm.

“It’s alright, Sam, we know,” You say, voice gentle.

“Are you doing this to punish me?” Tara asks, eyebrows knit, “You don’t like us fucking loudly and so for revenge you’re going to tutor the girl who tried to destroy our relationship?”

“I need the money, Tara,” Sam says, voice tired, “If I lose this job I won’t be able to chip in for rent.”

“So get a new job,” Tara says, immediately, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request.

“I like my job.” Says Sam, “I’m not getting a new one.”

Tara splutters. She looks over to you, wide-eyed, “And you’re okay with this?” She asks, in disbelief.

“Tara,” You say, knitting your brows, “It’s not our decision-”

“Like hell, it’s not,” Says Tara, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“There are no sides, Tara.” Sam says, “This isn’t world war three - as much as you’d like it to be. I’m helping her out because I’ll get fired if I don’t. I’ve already told her she’s not coming to the apartment. You won’t have to see her. If she tries anything, I’ll shut it down. Alright?”

You touch Tara’s back.

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, quietly, “Baby, it’s okay. We’re not seeing her again.”

“Yeah, right.” Tara scoffs, “Please. This is just another one of her ploys.”

She looks over at Sam.

“She tried to steal me, Sam, we told you that, right?” She says, sounding scandalized.

Sam rolls her eyes.

“Yes, you told me that,” Says Sam, “And it didn’t count for shit because you’re a loyal girlfriend and your head couldn’t be turned. Right?”

Tara thinks. She blinks as if her brain is short-circuiting.

“Right.” She says, voice slow.

“Perfect,” Sam says, voice dry, as she stands, “Look, Tara, please don’t be mad at me. You know I wouldn’t see her if I had the choice.”

Tara folds her arms.

Sam sighs.

She leans down to press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head.

But Tara jerks away.

“Go, Sam, you’re going to do what you want anyway." She says, sounding surly.

Sam slips her bag over her shoulder.

“Bye, girls.” She says, a little dejected, “Love you.”

But it falls on deaf ears.

You and Tara are arguing when Sam leaves.

“Why do you care so much, Tara?” You ask, voice hot, “You’re scared she’ll try to kiss you again and you won’t be able to resist?”

“Baby, that’s ridiculous.” Tara says, outraged, “I don’t want to see her again because she upsets you.”

Sam sighs, and clicks the door closed.

The sound of both your voices echoing down the hall.

Your neighbors must hate you.

When Sam arrives in the library, Quinn’s already there.

“Hey,” She says, voice bright, and then pauses, “Thanks for coming.”

“It’s my job,” Sam reminds her, voice a little tight.

“Well, regardless, thanks.” Says Quinn.

She sets her books down, slips into the seat next to Sam, wide-eyed and eager. Sam appraises her.

She’s dressed a little inappropriately for a library study session.

Short skirt, crop top. Her hair in pigtails, face flush with eyeliner and blush.

Sam ignores the flutter that settles in her belly and pulls up a chair.

“Was YN mad you decided to tutor me?” Is her first question.

Sam opens her book, and points to the first sentence.

“We’re not talking about them,” She says.

Quinn chews her lips.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Quinn says, “You seem really nice, Sam, you don’t deserve that.”

“Quinn.” Sam says, a little on edge.

Like she’s starting to think this is a mistake.

“Sorry,” Says Quinn, settling onto her elbows, “You’re right. Let’s not talk about them. Tell me all about the Yom Kippur War.”

And Sam does.

It’s a little difficult.

Much more difficult than teaching her other students. Quinn doesn’t take her eyes off her. She plays with her hair, bats her eyelids, licks her lips.

Sam clears her throat, starting to feel like prey.

But then Quinn changes the topic.

“I hope you’re ready to be the most consistent person in my life, Sam,” She says, blowing her hair out of her eyes, “Every night. I think if you were to define my dating life, comedy would be the word that springs to mind.”

Sam raises her eyebrows.

“Mine too,” She mumbles.

Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Tell me about it. I always pick the wrong guy,” Says Quinn, sounding a little frustrated, “Or girl most recently. Always the emotionally unavailable ones - or the physically unavailable ones. I think there's something wrong with me. Like a romance disease.”

Sam cracks a smile.

“I think we’ve got the same illness,” She teases, “I have a similar track record.”

Quinn sits a little straighter.

“Oh, yeah?” She asks, “Like who?”

Flashes of Richie blindsight Sam. His smile. His laugh. They way he’d kissed her.

The way he’d lied to her.

Tried to literally murder her sister.

Sam swallows, bad taste suddenly filling her mouth.

“No-one,” She says, hurriedly, “Just a bad ex-boyfriend.”

Quinn nods.

“I have a few of those,” She says, and then she bites her lip.

Sam reverts to feeling like prey. Something weird simmers in the depths of her belly as she meets Quinn’s piercing gaze.

“Have you only had boyfriends?” Quinn enquiries suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.

Sam’s eyes flicker up.

“Enough about boyfriends,” She says, clearing her throat, “Back to the Yom Kippur War.”

Quinn’s smile is sly.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’ve only had boyfriends, and I only ever will.” Sam says, voice flat, “Now, the war.”

“How come?” Quinn blinks, wide-eyed, “You never wondered? You never tried it?”

“No,” Sam says, “Quinn, please.”

Quinn bites her lip.

“Fine,” She says, with a stretch, “I’ll stop busting your balls.”

Her eyes flicker up to Sam’s.

“As long as you remember - balls aren’t the only option.”

Mindy howls over lunch.

“It’s not that funny, Mindy,” Sam says, looking around. Well aware people are starting to stare, “Hey, shut up. I’m in a crisis here.”

Mindy draws her shoulders. Takes a deep breath. But her face breaks out immediately.

Her laugh turns into a snort.

“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s just too good-“ She says, between breaths, “She really said that?”

Sam nods. It sets Mindy off once more.

“Damn this girl has an agenda,” Mindy says, still laughing, “She wants into those Carpenter panties, she really doesn’t care who’s wearing them.”

“Stop being gross and help me,” Sam hisses.

“Just tell her you like dick,” Mindy says, with a shrug, finally calming down.

“I think we’ve established I tried that already,” Says Sam, cheeks flushed, “I get the impression no means yes to her. You know what - I know it for a fact.”

She chews her lip.

“Maybe I should just quit.”

“Relax, Sam,” Says Mindy, with a groan, “This Quinn girl - she’s persistent, sure. But I doubt she’s dangerous or anything. Worst she’ll do is try to kiss you. Hey, then maybe you can put her in a headlock too. Give you and Tara something to bond about.”

Sam glares.

Mindy holds back another laugh.

“Look - say you quit - then what? You get another job, waiting tables or working at a movie theater and hate your life. More than you already hate it.”

Sam scowls.

“I don’t hate my life,” She says.

Mindy nods.

“Sure, but you don’t love it. Let’s see,” She lists them off on her fingers, “No college degree, no boyfriend, no parents, your friends are a bunch of kids you used to babysit, and your alarm is having to listen to your sister take her girlfriend to pound town every morning.”

Sam’s ears flame red.

“You’re disgusting,” She says, voice flat, “And my life is just fine, thank you.”

Mindy shrugs.

“If you say so,” She says, slurping at her milkshake. She pauses, “God, that just made me sad. Maybe you should bang Quinn.”

“Very helpful,” Sam grumbles, as she stands, “Thanks Mindy.”

Sam gets home late - on purpose.

The last thing she wants to do is deal with the changing winds of Tara’s mood swings. Or even worse - the “I told you so”, which she’s sure is to come.

She hits the gym.

Tries to decompress her own thoughts.

Quinn is only trying to get close to Tara, she reasons, Quinn wants you because she can’t have your sister.

Her treadmill jog turns into a sprint.

And you’re straight.

It’s dark by the time Sam gets home.

But when she enters the apartment, expecting an empty living room - Tara’s sprawled across the couch.

The lights are out, and Sam squints as she makes out her sister's figure.

Tara sits up, like she’s been waiting for her.

Storm in her eyes.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Says Tara, arms crossed. The couch has been transformed into a makeshift bed, in which she is clearly sleeping in.

Alone.

“Your new best buddy Quinn has caused disarray in my relationship.”

Sam sighs, setting down her bag.

“What happened?” She asks, reaching into the fridge for a beer. Alcohol is always necessary when Tara is like this.

Tara crosses her arms.

“You know what happened,” She says, “We got rid of Quinn and you brought her back into our lives.”

“Quinn’s not in your life, Tara,” Sam reminds her, “She’s barely in mine. You really think she’s worth picking arguments over?”

Tara frowns.

“I didn’t pick an argument,” Tara says, “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“And so you’re sleeping on the couch?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised, “What did you say?”

Tara huffs.

“Why do you always assume it was me who said something?” She asks.

“Because it usually is.” Sam retorts. She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a long swig.

Tara’s quiet.

“I just suggested we should… maybe help you look for a new job or something.”

Sam stares.

“Make you quit your job, is what I said, I think.” Tara says, a little sheepish, “YN’s mad because she doesn’t think I treat you well, or whatever. But I told her you don’t care about that. We’re sisters, we treat each other badly. That’s just how it goes.”

She looks over to Sam, expectantly. Like she’s waiting for her to agree.

Sam blinks. A sharp wave of hurt flushes through her chest that she can’t quite swallow.

“I don’t treat you badly, Tara, I love you.” Says Sam after a long moment. There’s pain in her chest, making her words hard to get out, “I flew across the country for you. I’m living in a shoebox apartment infested with cockroaches for you. I fought Ghostface for you.”

Tara blinks.

“I tell you I love you everyday, before I leave, do you know that?” Sam asks, eyebrows crinkled, “But you never say it back. Why do you never say it back?”

Tara just stares, eyes owlish.

Sam might cry.

Mindy’s half-cocked summary of her life had also made Sam a little sad. Because what does she have, truly?

No boyfriend, no friends, a sister who treats her less than human. Like Sam’s a piece of dog-shit on the bottom of her shoe that she can’t quite shake.

She won’t cry in front of Tara.

Sam drops the empty beer bottle to the counter and rubs her eyes. Her sadness momentarily turns to anger.

“I do everything for you,” Sam tells her, after a long moment, “But I love this job. This time you can do something for me. You can accept it.”

When Sam leaves in the morning, the apartment is strangely somber.

Tara’s avoiding Sam. You’re not talking to Tara. Sam’s not talking to anyone.

You don’t really talk to anyone, nowadays, anyway, she thinks, and then bats away the dreary thought.

She spends the day on auto-pilot. Tries to will away the self-deprecating hatred brewing in the pit of her stomach.

Quinn’s smiling when she finally makes her way into the library.

Maybe the only person in her life happy to see her.

It’s a sad thought, even for Sam.

“Joe’s in the best pizza,” Quinn gushes, touching her arm, a little bit into their study session, “Now you live in New York you’ve got to get serious about this kind of thing.”

Sam bites her lip.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in town anyway,” Says Sam, “I’m thinking about going home.”

Quinn tilts her head.

“How come?”

Sam shakes her head.

“I’m just- I’m in Tara’s space. It’s not good for our relationship.”

Quinn hums.

Sam blinks.

“Sorry,” She says, catching herself, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Let’s start on the next chapter.”

“Tara won’t have any space if you leave her here,” Quinn says, tilting her chin, “Believe me. I lived in that apartment. I know how expensive it is.”

“It’s an expensive shit-hole,” Sam mumbles, “You know every shower I’ve had this week has been cold?”

Quinn nods, sympathetically.

“I remember.”

Sam surveys her for a moment.

Her brows crease. And her curiosity gets the better of her.

“Why’d you do it, anyway?” She asks, “Go for my sister? I mean, five minutes alone with the two of them and anyone could see how in love they are.”

Quinn shifts.

Averts her gaze, suddenly shy.

It makes Sam frown.

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, after a long moment, “Your sister- she seems like a really good girlfriend. I’ve only had bad boyfriends. Maybe I just wanted a change. Someone to treat me right, for once.”

“And you really thought you could do it?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised, “Seduce her?”

“No,” Quinn admits, “But it was fun to try. I like that. People I can’t have.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky YN didn’t beat your ass,” Sam says, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I’ve seen her do much worse.”

Quinn licks her lips.

“Your sister is really beautiful,” She says, after a moment, “But you’re much prettier. Supermodel pretty.”

The back of Sam’s neck prickles.

Quinn scoots in a little closer.

Their thighs touch. A spark flushes through Sam’s body, embering into wildfire before Sam can get a grip on it.

Quinn’s lips are red. Her blue eyes are dilated. In the glow of the library-light, Sam could almost lean in…

Instead, she stands. Snapping up like she might die if she doesn’t.

“Quinn,” She says, voice flustered, “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Quinn blinks. She cocks her head, dark eyes flashing with innocence.

“And what am I trying to do?”

“You couldn’t have Tara, so you’re throwing yourself at me,” Sam says, voice firm, “You think you’re slick, Quinn, but I see right through you.”

Quinn tilts her head.

“I just said you were prettier than her.” She says, “Your sister - she’s nice. She’s cute in a pedestrian sort of way. But you - you’re beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Sam can’t help the blush that stems from the bloom in her stomach and sprouts beet red in her cheeks.

Quinn Bailey can talk.

But Sam isn’t falling for it.

“I’ve got to go,” She says, slinging her back over her arm, “I have- plans.”

There are no plans. Sam hopes it isn’t obvious.

Quinn purses her lips.

“Anywhere fun?” She asks, easy smile on her lips, “Maybe I could come?”

“Bye, Quinn,” Sam says, voice firm.

And all but stumbles out of the library with Quinn watching.

“Mindy,” Sam groans, down the phone line on her walk home, “You have to help me. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”

“Let me guess,” Mindy says. She sounds like she’s out somewhere - at a bar, or a particularly echoey house party, “You have a big fat hickey on your neck courtesy of one Quinn Bailey?”

Sam’s cheeks flame.

“I’m straight, Mindy,” She says, though her voice hovers, “You know that. Quinn - she won’t stop. She threw herself at me again tonight.”

“Well, maybe you should just let her fuck you,” Mindy suggests, unhelpfully. She sounds a little drunk, “The girl likes what she can’t have so let her have you. Then she’ll leave you alone.”

“That is some particularly unhelpful logic,” Snaps Sam, “Where are you, anyway? It sounds like there’s three of you.”

“We’re at one of Chad’s lame house parties,” Says Mindy, “God, your sister’s in a mood, you know that? She’s scaring off all the cute girls. Not even YN can calm her down.”

“Oh,” Says Sam, stopping in her tracks, “You’re throwing a party? Who’s there?”

“Me, Tara, YN, Chad, Liv,” Says Mindy, without a beat, “Plus every other freshman on campus. Chad tried to get some seniors to come, but he’s a little far off becoming the campus hotshot again.”

Something pangs deep within Sam’s chest.

Loneliness coils like a snake around her heart, tugging, tugging, tugging.

The line is quiet, and Mindy seems to realize her mistake.

“You don’t want to be here though Sam, it’s super lame. Just freshmen.” She says, hurriedly.

“Of course not.” Sam says, trying to keep her voice light.

Why would she want to be there? At some lame party with kids four years younger than her, drinking like it’s the first - and last - drop of alcohol they’ve ever had in their lives.

Because, sings that little voice in the back of her head, every friend you have in this city is there. And not one thought to invite you. Not even your own sister.

“You can come if you want,” Mindy suggests, a moment later, “I’m really sorry, Sam, I didn’t even think-”

Sam bites her lip. Hard.

“The last thing I want to do is watch a bunch of kids get wasted off keg-stands,” Sam says. She takes in a breath, and she doesn’t know why - but she’s desperate for Mindy to believe her, “Enjoy the party, Mindy, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Sure,” Mindy echoes, “Night, Sam.”

It really is pathetic, Sam thinks as she pours herself a large glass of wine, your life. It’s pathetic.

It’s Friday night.

She should be out. She should be drinking and partying with friends her own age. She should be dancing in a club, dragging a stranger home and regretting it in the morning.

What she shouldn’t be doing - is lounging around in her sister’s apartment, drinking by herself. She shouldn’t be moping about an invitation to a party with a friend group that isn’t even hers.

She’s made Tara her world.

But in Tara’s world, she’s not even a thought.

Not a sun, not a star, not even a moon.

Maybe, if she’s lucky, a bit of space-junk Tara can’t quite shake from her orbit.

Pathetic.

Space-junk, she thinks briefly, that’s a good name for you. A waste of space, more like.

Sam sinks another glass of wine.

The buzz feels nice. But the apartment is too quiet.

Just Sam and her thoughts - a dangerous mix.

And then - her phone buzzes. Sam has five glasses of wine in her. She answers, without checking who’s calling.

And her voice catches in her throat when she hears the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey stranger,” Says Quinn, “I just wanted to call. I didn’t want to leave our conversation the way it was.”

Sam pauses.

She blinks - the room spins.

“If you’re not interested, I understand,” Continues Quinn, and her voice lowers, “But I think you’ve misunderstood me.”

Sam’s heartbeat jumps out of her chest. The hairs on the back of her arm raise, something she can’t quite name surges through her veins.

She swallows, but her mouth is dry. Despite the constant flow of alcoholic lubrication.

Quinn pauses a moment, and then sighs.

“I don’t want you because of your sister,” Quinn says, voice graveled, “I want you because you’re beautiful.”

Sam hums.

She closes her eyes, but she’s still spinning.

High off alcohol, high off arousal, high off something.

It feels nice to be wanted, no matter who is doing the wanting.

She closes her lips, once. Tries to hang up. But she can’t.

Then, she bites her lip.

“Come over.”

#all hers #qbmd #fanfic #mine #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x quinn bailey #scream #scream vi #ghostface!tara

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