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pbaz7 · 4 days ago

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SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 8

paige x azzi

warning: mentions blood, fighting

word count: 8.9k

a/n: hi guys 🫣 so sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger last chapter but it needed to be done lol. i hope this chapter brings you a little comfort as much as it’ll make you sick to your stomach! i was harassed to post without minimal proof reading so please let me know if there’s any mistakes. like always feel free to leave comments, reactions or ideas 🫶🏼

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Azzi laid curled in Paige’s bed, the usually warm sheets cold around her, with the smell of Paige lingering heavily in the fabric. Tears silently slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow as she stared across the empty space all night.

She got up and left at the first sight of sunrise that morning after taking a long shower and putting on some of Paige’s clothes. Before leaving she grabbed Paige’s spare set of keys not wanting to leave her house unlocked.

Three days passed before Azzi had calmed her mind enough to format a few texts but they went undelivered meaning Paige’s phone was off. So Azzi tried to be patient. She told herself that Paige needed space just like she’d taken herself three days before reaching out. Told herself that maybe she was in the gym every hour of every day again, working through whatever was sure to be going on in her head. But by day six, it felt like the silence was clawing at her throat and she felt sick knowing she played a part in whatever Paige was feeling.

When Cam’s name lit up her phone on day six, Azzi swiped to answer it immediately.

“Hey,” she said, her voice completely horse after not using it for days.

“You okay?” Cam asked tentatively.

“Yeah…Have you heard from Paige?”

Cam paused. “No. I was actually calling to ask you that. I think her dumbass broke her phone again or something; none of my texts are going through and my calls are going straight to voicemail.”

Azzi’s stomach lurched when she realized Cam didn’t know anything either. “We got into a fight,” she said quietly, her eyes locking on the far corner of the room so they didn’t start glossing over again. She really didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. “A few nights ago. Almost a week.”

She could hear Cam shifting on the other end of the line. “What kind of fight?”

Azzi let out a humorless laugh. She knew she was being a little rude but God it felt like a stupid ass question. “A fight, Cam. What do you mean what kind?”

Cam was quiet for a moment and Azzi could feel the tension building through the phone in that silence.

“I just…I need details. Whatever you wanna give me so I know what’s going on with her,” Cam said her voice strung a little tight. “Paige doesn’t turn her phone off like this. Yes she get’s upset and goes MIA but I always know where she is, she always at least checks in.”

Azzi closed her eyes, wiping at the tear that dropped to her cheek harshly. “She was in her gym when I showed up late to her house. She was already…not okay. Frustrated.”

“Ok and what happened?”

“I tried to get her to come inside and we went back and forth for a little bit…I brought up the club and she got defensive so I got frustrated. It just spiraled before I could figure out what was going on in my head.”

Cam stayed silent as she listened to what happened.

Azzi’s voice cracked. “I fucking flinched, Cam.”

Cam blinked on the other end confused. “What? What do you mean?”

Azzi covered her face trying to stop the tears, she was so fucking tired of crying. “She was trying to calm things down saying she didn’t wanna fight and she reached for me, wanted to grab my face like she always does…she does it everyday Cam.” She chokes back a sob before continuing. “But I flinched before she could even touch me.”

The line was quiet so Azzi just kept going, talking about it for the first time.

“She didn’t even do anything wrong, Cam. She was just trying to stop the fight before it got bad,” Azzi whispered. “And I flinched like I thought she was going to hurt me. The way she looked after that…” Azzi let out a choked breath. “She looked so…broken. Like I destroyed her. Like she couldn’t believe I thought she could ever…” She didn’t finish the sentence as she sucked in a deep breath.

Cam exhaled slowly, her own worry starting to rise knowing how Paige was. “Fuck.”

“I swear to God I know she’d never hurt me,” Azzi said. “I swear I know. I just wasn’t thinking and everything happened so fast.”

Cam didn’t say anything for a few moments then she said, “I’m coming over.”

“Cam—”

“I’m coming Azzi. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Azzi didn’t bother to argue with her, she didn’t have the energy to be honest. She just sat on the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes and staring at her phone like she could will Paige’s name to appear on the screen.

Cam didn’t say much when she got to Azzi’s house that night. She just took off her shoes at the door, climbed in the bed behind Azzi, and wrapped her arms around her like she’d done a thousand times for Paige before. She didn’t offer any empty words that probably wouldn’t help. Just the warmth and the sound of someone else breathing that Azzi had been missing for days.

By morning, Cam was already on her phone calling people. Azzi stirred awake when she felt her shift on the bed, her eyes blinking open to find Cam’s eyebrows drawn tight and her voice low as she spoke to someone who clearly didn’t have the answers she was looking for.

When Cam turned and noticed that Azzi was awake the first thing she said was, “She’s not at the cabin or anywhere in Minnesota.” She lowered her phone before adding “And she hasn’t been back to her house either.”

Azzi sat up, her throat already tight for the day before she could brush her teeth. “Then where else can she be?”

Cam didn’t answer because she didn’t know. She stared at the screen in her hand for a while before feeling like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner. When she realized she scrolled through her contacts and tapped one name and held the phone to her ear.

It rang once. Twice and then a third time.

Azzi felt like her heart climbed higher with each one and she didn’t even know who Cam was calling.

Then the fourth ring cut off.

“Hey,” DiJonai’s voice echoed through the phone. “She’s with me. Stop worrying.”

Cam exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days and Azzi’s head snapped toward her when she heard it.

“She’s okay?” Cam asked, already putting the phone on speaker so Azzi could hear.

There was a long pause. “No not really,” DiJonai said.

Cam frowned. “Is she telling you anything?”

“No,” Nai replied. “She won’t talk to me about whatever happened. She just showed up at my door at four in the morning looking like somebody shot her damn puppy in front of her and she’s been like that all week. Won’t eat much unless I literally force her. I don’t think she’s been sleeping either. Just…off somewhere in her head all day.”

Cam’s heart dropped hearing the state of her sister. “How in her head?”

DiJonai sighed. “I don’t know…I’ve never seen her like this honestly and you know there’s been some shit.”

Cam looked at Azzi whose face was unreadable as she looked at the phone. “Can you give her the phone?”

DiJonai sighed again before saying, “Yeah hold on I’ll try.”

A moment passed then they heard footsteps and a door opening. There were muffled voices before the clear sound of DiJonai saying, “Just stop being an asshole and let her hear that you’re alive.”

Azzi clutched the blanket tighter around her legs as her eyes locked on the phone like it might will Paige to pop up in front of her.

There was a moment of static and shuffling, then a voice barely made it through the speaker sounding cracked and hoarse. “…Hello.”

Cam exhaled sharply. “I should kill you Paige.”

Another beat of silence. Then Paige’s voice came through again dryly, “That might not be so bad right now.”

A loud thump came through the phone, followed by a muffled “Ow.” An unmistakable play by play of DiJonai smacking the hell out of her.

Cam rubbed her temple. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, Cam,” Paige mumbled.

“You’ve got a fight in three weeks,” Cam reminded her gently, even though she was 100% sure Paige hadn’t forgotten.

“I know.”

“You ready?”

“No.”

Cam’s chest rose. “You gonna be ready?”

A pause and a fake laugh. “No.” Paige’s voice sounded empty. Completely detached from the present and it scared Cam more than anything else.

“Do we need to cancel it?” Cam asked carefully.

“I’ll be ight,” Paige stated. “If not, I’ll just get a real nice and deserved ass whooping out of it. Maybe finally find out what it’s like to get knocked out, you know.”

“That’s not funny Paige.”

“Well.”

Cam looked over at Azzi, whose eyes hadn’t moved from the phone once. Her eyes were glossy and her fingers were tight where they gripped her blanket.

Cam decided to ask what she already knew. “You talked to Azzi lately?”

There was a long pause at the question. Then Paige’s voice came back, somehow sounding more distant than it was before. “Why’d you call?”

Cam blinked, not surprised by the deflection. “Because your phone’s off and you’ve never done that before. I was worried.”

Silence again, suggesting Paige was done with the conversation. Cam didn’t wait to hear the inevitable dial tone. “Have you talked to Azzi?”

“Why are you asking me about her?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

Paige was too exhausted to go back and forth so she just closed her eyes. When she spoke again her voice had softened in the worst kind of way. “I fucked it up,” she said, like the words hurt her throat to say. “So I’m just…not tryna talk about it right now.”

Azzi looked down, her nails digging into her palms. Cam saw it but didn’t say anything. She just pressed Paige for a better answer “How’d you mess it up?”

There was a rustle on the other end. DiJonai must’ve moved toward her or something, but the line stayed quiet for a few seconds before Paige finally spoke.

“She was just tryin’ to talk to me that night and I was so far in my own head I couldn’t see straight. She brought up the club and…I got defensive. I thought she didn’t get why I did what I did. Like she was just trying to write it off as me being—I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to prove anything. He put his hands on her, Cam.” Her voice was shaking, despite how flat it sounded.

“And I didn’t wanna argue with her Cam. I swear I didn’t. She’s everything to me I lo—” Cam took the phone off speaker when she heard her starting to break down.

Azzi had to turn her head away as tears hit her collarbone. Cam put a hand gently on her back.

“I should’ve been calmer. I should’ve put my hands in my pocket or something. Done more to make her feel safe but I didn’t and that’s on me. All of it.”

Cam swallowed hard, her tone gentler now. “Do you want to talk to her?”

There was a long pause. Then Paige’s voice came so small it barely carried over the speaker “…She’s with you?”

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut from not being able to hear Paige’s response.

Cam looked at Azzi with a soft smile in her eyes. “She’s been calling and texting you,” she said gently into the phone.

There was hesitation on the other end. A shuffle. DiJonai’s voice carried softly, saying, “It’s ok.” Paige finally spoke, “Can you…can you give her the phone? Only if she wants it.”

Cam held it out.

Azzi took it with a trembling hand, wiping the tears that had already fallen. She held the phone up to her ear and cleared her throat lightly. She spoke first but her voice cracked around the edges. “Hey.”

On the other end, there was a long exhale. Like Paige had been holding her breath for days. “I’m so sorry,” she said, and even over the phone, the weight of her tone landed deeply in Azzi’s chest..

“You don’t need to apologize,” Azzi said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” Paige replied softly. “I never should’ve—” She stopped herself, took a long, shaky breath. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the phone. “I miss you too.”

A quietness filled the space between them.

At almost the same time , Cam stepped out of Azzi’s room and DiJonai quietly exited her guest room, leaving them alone.

There was a pause in the soft static of silence before Paige’s voice came through, horsley. “Have you been eating?”

Azzi took a breath. “I’m trying.” Then after a second she added, “You?”

“I’m…cutting,” Paige said after a small hesitation.

“You don’t start cutting until two weeks before your fight.”

Paige didn’t respond.

Azzi waited with her lips pressed together. Paige tugged at the edge of the blanket wrapped around her legs, curling into herself just a little, her silence saying more than anything she could say.

Gently, Azzi asked, “Are we going to talk about it?”

Paige’s voice was soft as she said. “Of course. Just not over the phone.”

Azzi nodded even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Are you coming back soon?”

“I can’t. Not until the fight,” Paige said.

“Why?”

Paige stared at the ceiling, trying to swallow down the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to say that she hadn’t trained since that night. That every time she so much as thought about getting in the cage, all she could see was Azzi flinching. That the image of the woman she loved looking afraid of her was lodged somewhere deep in her bones, making it impossible to move.

“There’s an extra trainer down here in Dallas,” she said instead. “Thought I’d take advantage of that.”

Azzi knew Paige was lying. She could tell by her voice but she didn’t push. “You don’t feel ready?” she asked instead.

“I got a lot of catching up to do,” Paige said.

The line went quiet again, both of them teetering on the edge of something delicate and not wanting to say the wrong thing.

Then, softly, Azzi asked, “Do you think we’re going to be okay?”

Paige’s voice broke gently through the silence. “I think we’re talking…and that counts for something right?”

Without speaking, both girls slowly shifted to lay on their sides, mirroring each other across state lines. Phones cradled against their cheeks, tucked into pillows. The air between them was still tentative, still filled with a slight tension and recent pain but it wasn’t unbearable anymore after hearing each other's voices.

There were small silences, tiny hesitations as they talked, unsure of how to be anything but soft with each other right now.

Paige found herself smiling, just a little, just from hearing Azzi’s voice. Her cadence, her sighs when her girlfriend said something a little outlandish, the quiet way she said Paige’s name like it still meant something to her.

And Azzi, she felt her chest loosen for the first time in a week. Like maybe she hadn’t ruined everything. Maybe she hadn’t completely broken the woman she loved. She still had a piece of her even after that night.

They stayed like that, talking about nothing and everything, until the weight between them started to shift just enough to make breathing easier.

…

Those three weeks with Paige in Dallas and Azzi in LA were hell for both of them, respectfully.

In Dallas, Paige didn’t so much live as exist. Days passed like static, one bleeding into the next. She now slept too much and barely ate, only getting through meals when DiJonai sat in front of her like a sentry with her arms crossed, waiting for every last bite to disappear from the plate.

It wasn’t until two weeks before the fight that DiJonai had enough of Paige not training.

So she yanked Paige out of bed early that morning. She didn’t say a word as she threw a hoodie at her aggressively, and drove them to the gym in complete silence. Paige didn’t ask where they were going, she didn’t really care. She just stared out the window, her thoughts drifting everywhere but where she was.

The second they stepped inside the empty gym, DiJonai threw a pair of gloves at her. They hit her chest and dropped to the floor. She didn’t bend to pick them up, just looked at them.

“What are we doing here?” Paige asked flatly.

“You have a fight in two weeks,” DiJonai said, already starting to stretch on the mat.

“I know.”

“So you need to train.”

“I said I know.”

DiJonai turned around with her jaw clenched. “Then put the damn gloves on, idiot.”

Paige didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t thrown a punch in three weeks.”

“I’ve been working out.”

“Jogging on the treadmill and lifting half your usual weight isn’t working out. It’s you bullshitting.”

Paige just stared at her.

“You do realize you’re risking your life, right?” DiJonai snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked away. “You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I think you’re so in your head about other shit that you’re forgetting what stepping into a fight means.” DiJonai took a step closer. “This isn’t some play fight, Paige. This isn’t sparring or an exhibition. You know this shit is real. If you go in there half-assed, half-ready, half-whatever it is you’re fucking feeling you don’t come out the same.”

Silence.

DiJonai’s voice changed. “I can’t watch you do that to yourself…I won’t. And I think you knew that and that’s why you came here instead of going to Minnesota. You know I won’t coddle you like everyone else will.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

DiJonai just waited. Her patience wasn’t infinite, but her care for Paige had been since they met for some reason. It was one of the reasons they got along so well.

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gloves on the ground again.

“Put them on,” DiJonai said again, quieter this time.

“I can’t,” Paige said, her voice cracking.

“Why the fuck not, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she looked everywhere but at DiJonai. Her voice came out defeated when she spoke. “Cam told you about the club, I’m assuming.”

DiJonai gave her a small nod, her eyebrows narrowing. “Yeah…what about it?”

Paige exhaled like the weight of the night was sitting directly on her lungs. “After that night Azzi was just off. She thought I didn’t notice but I could tell it freaked her out and I just—I was so mad at myself for letting her see me like that and our argument just confirmed everything I already knew.”

DiJonai folded her arms across her chest. “Okay…but Paige, you knocked some dude out for smacking your girlfriend's ass. You did exactly what every damn testosterone-filled man would’ve done.”

“I know,” Paige mumbled, still clearly upset with herself.

“I’m not saying it was the right thing,” DiJonai added quickly, “but Azzi’s overreacting a little.”

Paige’s head snapped up at that. “She’s not,” she said simply. “She’s not overreacting. Don’t say she can’t feel how she does.”

“She is,” DiJonai insisted, calmly. “You’re acting like you blacked out and don’t remember what happened. You didn’t. You lost your cool because some idiot violated your girlfriend and you’re a natural protector. There’s a difference.”

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” DiJonai agreed. “But if you had actually blacked out, like everybody keeps claiming, you wouldn’t have stopped when security got involved. You would’ve swung on them. You would’ve left him with more than a fucked up nose and a busted cheek. But you didn’t. You stopped.”

Paige shook her head. “I lost it Nai.”

“Yeah you snapped. That’s not the same as being out of control,” DiJonai pushed. “You’re scared because you think this proves something about you but it doesn’t.”

“It proves I’m not who she thinks I am,” Paige mumbled.

“No, it proves you’re human,” DiJonai said back. “One who cares clearly. You snapped because someone disrespected the person you love, not whatever story you’ve been narrating in your head.”

Paige didn’t respond, her hands just trembled slightly even thinking about putting on the gloves.

DiJonai took a small step closer so they were face to face. “She’s scared, I get that. I understand that she has the right to feel what she feels. But don’t twist that into thinking you’re not worthy of her or love or whatever dramatic ass scenarios I know you’re coming up with. You messed up, that’s it.”

Paige looked down at the mat, her voice suddenly small. “She flinched Nai.”

Paige’s eyes brimmed with tears but they didn’t fall. “When we were arguing. I raised my voice a lil bit and I ain’t like that so I was tryna stop the argument and she flinched like I was gonna…like I was gonna hit her.” Her throat bobbed hard as she choked on her own breath. “That’s not something even you can explain away. That’s not someone overreacting, she was scared of me. I’m supposed to be where she feels the safest and she’s scared of me.” As she said this a single tear dripped from her eye before she wiped it away aggressively.

“That might’ve been her reaction, yeah. But that doesn’t mean she’s scared of you Paige. It means it’s complicated and that you have to work through it with her.”

Paige didn’t answer.

“You think she’d still be calling you if she really believed you’d hurt her?” DiJonai asked gently. “You think she’d still pick up the phone for you when you text her?”

Paige sat on the mat with her head bowed. DiJonai let her sit there for a few minutes hoping that she’d will herself up. Talk herself through everything going on in her head.

But after a while DiJonai exhaled. She could see it in Paige’s eyes, in her posture. She was feeling more than just guilt, whatever it was sat bone-deep. Sitting in a place where words weren’t going to reach her.

“Alright,” DiJonai said. “If you’re convinced you can’t control yourself, let’s test it right now.”

Paige looked up at her in confusion, just in time to see DiJonai pull her own hoodie off and toss it aside.

“Get up.”

“What?”

DiJonai stepped closer. “Get. Up.”

Paige didn’t move so DiJonai yanked her up. “DiJ—”

Suddenly as soon as she was on her feet DiJonai pushed her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble back. “How far you think I can get before you snap?”

“Stop,” Paige warned.

But DiJonai didn’t. She got in Paige’s face, eyes to eye. “Do it. Show me how man you think you can get. Show me how you think you can just black out.”

“DiJonai—”

Another shove. This time it was harder on her chest.

“I’m standing right here. Disrespecting you. Pushing you. Provoking you.” She shoved again, more force behind it. “Lemme see you tweak like you think you will on the people you care about. Let out all that anger you been holding in.”

Paige’s jaw clenched as she took a tight breath. She wouldn’t look at DiJonai, she just stared past her.

“What you not mad yet?” DiJonai prodded. “You don’t wanna swing on me? You a pussy all of a sudden now?

Paige didn’t move.

DiJonai’s voice lowered. “What’s wrong? You scared imma flinch like your lil girlfriend?”

Paige’s eyes snapped to hers clearly pissed off but she still didn’t move.

DiJonai waited for a reaction. A twitch in her fingers. A slip, anything to provide Paige right.

But all Paige did was breathe. It was gritty and broken, but controlled.

A few seconds passed and then DiJonai leaned in, softer now. “You’re pissed,” DiJonai said. “You’re hurt. You’re drowning in your own head and you still didn’t touch me. You know how to control yourself Paige so please stop acting like you’re one step away from hurting the people you care about.”

Something cracked when DiJokai said that. Paige’s face crumpled before she could stop it and her shoulders folded in as the weight finally caught up to her. Her hands trembled as her breath hitched twice. Then she was crying, not just tearing up and letting one or two tears drip, but full on crying.

She stepped forward and DiJonai caught her easily. Paige leaned into her shoulder like her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, letting out a broken, muffled sob that had been sitting in her chest for too long.

DiJonai held her there and just let her cry. “You’re ok I swear.” Paige only cried harder, her fingers gripping the back of DiJonai’s shirt .

They stood there for a while as Paige just let herself cry, sobs falling out of her here and there until she physically didn’t have anything left in her.

When Paige’s breathing started to get a little more even, DiJonai leaned back enough to look her in the eye. “Now pick up the gloves.”

Paige blinked a few times, her eyes still wet and puffy, after a second she slowly bent down to grab the gloves.

…

Back in LA, things weren’t falling apart like they were in Dallas but they weren’t quite holding together either.

Azzi hadn’t left the house in days. Cam, Rickea, and Rae had made it their personal goal to keep her distracted, throwing together movie nights, spontaneous baking sessions and a lot of tequila. They dragged out old board games, ordered her favorite takeout, and gave her space when she needed it. But no matter how many activities they lined up everyday, Azzi stayed emotionally elsewhere.

She was still eating, still showering, still going through the motions. But her heart wasn’t in it.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Paige looked at her right after. Like Azzi had confirmed her worst fear in a split second and in the rest of that second, all Azzi had wanted was to take it back. To reach for her. To tell her she didn’t mean to move, that it wasn’t about her. That she wasn’t scared of her, But but hadn’t been able to. And now Paige was in Dallas, and she was in LA, and there was nothing but space between them.

That night, after Rae had gone to bed, Cam and Rickea found Azzi curled up in the corner of the couch with a hood pulled over her head and her eyes distant. The TV was on but it was muted, the lights only flickering across Azzi’s face.

Rickea sat next to her and Cam brought over ice cream, putting it on the table.

“Why did I flinch?”

Cam looked at her softly. “You wanna talk about it?”

Azzi hesitated and they let the silence sit comfortably until she was ready. “I don’t know why I did it.”

Rickea sat next to her, listening.

“I grew up in a happy home,” Azzi said. “Two parents who love me. My dad doesn’t raise his voice, and my mom’s idea of discipline was a disappointed stare. So it wasn’t a reflex.”

Cam stayed quiet.

Azzi looked down at her hands as she talked herself through her tangled thoughts. “I wasn’t scared of her. I’m not scared of her.” She corrected herself. “But I think something about the way she looked, like she’d stopped feeling anything. It kind of hit me weird. Like all this energy was coming off of her, and it just—my body reacted before I could stop it.”

Rickea tilted her head. “You think it’s from something you saw before?”

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t think so. It wasn’t like a memory. It was more like...I don’t know. Shock. That night...I think I was scared of what she was feeling. Not what she’d do. I knew she wasn’t going to do anything to me.”

Azzi looked down, playing with her cuticles. “She looked at me like I confirmed every worst thing she’s ever believed about herself.”

“I should’ve said something,” Azzi added again. “But, I let her walk out thinking I didn’t feel safe with her.”

Cam’s voice was soft. “So tell her when you can. Make sure she hears that.”

Azzi’s eyes stung. “I just want her to come home.”

Rickea leaned her head against Azzi’s shoulder. “She will babe.”

It was 1:43 AM in Los Angeles. 3:43 in Dallas. That same night, technically, when DiJonai got Paige to pick up the gloves and Azzi worked through her feelings on the couch.

Paige was sitting on DiJonai’s balcony with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she stared at the sky.

Back in LA, Azzi was curled on her patio couch in her backyard, with one of Paige’s hoodies keeping her warm. She hadn’t planned on texting her, but her fingers moved anyway.

A message lit up Paige’s phone.

Azzi [3:43 AM]: You up?

The response came to Azzi almost instantly.

Paige [1:43 AM]: yeah wassup mama ?

Seconds later, Paige’s phone lit up again with an incoming call and she answered on the first ring.

“Hey you,” Azzi said softly.

“Hey,” Paige echoed back, just as soft.

“What are you up to?”

Paige tilted her head back, eyes tracing the constellations. “Just...staring at the sky.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” Paige asked, already smiling.

Azzi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she raised her phone and took a picture of the sky from her backyard, and sent it.

Paige pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to look. The moon was the same in both places.

She brought the phone back to her ear. “What you doing out there?”

“It’s cold in the house,” Azzi said.

“Turn the heat up.”

“I don’t want to.”

The words hung there.

They both knew what she meant. That it wasn’t really about the cold. That she wanted Paige’s body next to her to keep her warm. But neither of them said it.

After a few quiet seconds, Azzi asked, “Why are you up?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

There was a pause, then a soft smile ghosted Paige’s lips. “You.”

“What about me?”

Another pause before Paige said quietly, “How much I miss you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, smiling a little. “I miss you too.”

A moment passed before Paige spoke again. “I went to the gym today.”

Azzi perked up. “That’s good. Did you hit?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi smiled with her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

Paige’s voice caught a little. “Why?”

Azzi shifted in her seat, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands. “Because...you weren’t before.”

Paige stared out at the sky. “How’d you know?”

“Your voice.”

“What about it?”

“It’s lighter now. It always changes a little after you hit for real. When we were talking the other day it never changed. So I knew you weren’t letting anything out.”

Paige was quiet, her eyes stinging at Azzi noticing something as small as that. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked. “If you knew I was lying.”

“Because I would lie too, if I thought it might make you feel better.” She let that sit before asking, “That’s what you were doing, right? Trying to make me feel better?”

Paige blinked hard, nodding even though Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice was quiet again when she spoke. “DiJonai reached out to me.”

Paige blinked, straightening up a little. “She did?”

“Yeah...asked for my number.”

Paige let out a soft laugh. “She’s annoying like that.”

Azzi smiled faintly at the familiar sound. “We talked…” she started, then trailed off. She didn’t need to finish. Paige already knew what they talked about.

“We can talk about it when I get back,” Paige said gently.

“In two weeks?” Azzi asked, the time sounding heavier when she said it out loud.

Paige nodded instinctively, then remembered Azzi couldn’t see her. “Yeah,” she said. “We can’t talk about this over the phone.”

Azzi understood so she didn’t press for anything more.

There was a lull in the conversation before Azzi shifted the energy like she always did to make Paige lighter. “You know your beautiful precious Audi is probably at the airport, getting dirty and racking up a pretty big bill.”

Paige let out a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Paige smiled. “Go get it for me then if you’re so worried.”

Azzi scoffed playfully. “What?”

“You know where my spare key is.”

“You want me to go get your what…two hundred and forty five thousand dollar car and just drive it?”

Paige grinned. “Mhmm.”

Azzi laughed, it was that easy, bright laugh that Paige had missed more than anything.

“Just don’t try to put any gas in it like you did the Escalade,” Paige added.

“Oh my God,” Azzi groaned, laughing louder. “How was I supposed to know it didn’t take regular?”

“You shouldn’t have been trying to pump gas in the first place princess,” Paige said softly.

Azzi smiled to herself for a second before she said. “I miss that.”

“Me too.”

Azzi stretched her legs across the outdoor couch cushion, pulling Paige’s hoodie tighter around her. “So…what else is going on in that head of yours?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Everything. Nothing. Depends on the hour really.”

Azzi gave a soft laugh. “I see you’re still dramatic, huh?”

“Can’t help it.”

Azzi smiled. “Whatever.”

Paige let her words sit in the quiet for a beat before asking, “How’s Cam?”

“She’s good. She tried to get me to go on a hike in a cave earlier.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Hell no.”

Paige laughed. “It’s the bugs isn’t it?”

“Yes you know I hate them and dirt…and being hot.”

They sat in silence for another stretch but this time it was the kind that felt familiar. Like Azzi just letting her girlfriend be her usual self for a second.

Eventually Azzi asked, “You nervous?”

Paige blinked. “About what?”

“The fight.”

Paige was quiet for a long moment. “No…” Then, “I don’t know. I think I’m thinking more about what I have going on than who I’m fighting.”

Azzi’s voice was soft. “Do you want me to come?”

Paige’s eyebrows knit slightly. “Do you want to come?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Paige looked up at the sky like it might give her the right words. “I just…didn’t know if you’d want to see it. After everything you know.”

Azzi’s heart twisted hearing how fragile Paige sounded. She didn’t sound like a fighter right now, more like a girl trying not to lose herself in her own thoughts.”

“Of course I’m gonna be there, pretty girl,” Azzi said gently.

Paige swallowed hard. “I’d understand if you didn’t want to though. It wouldn’t make me think less of you or anything like—”

“Baby,” Azzi interrupted softly.

Paige’s stopped rambling. “…Yeah?”

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper. “Stop.”

Paige’s eyes fluttered closed. “Okay.”

They kept talking again about nothing, about everything. They didn’t solve anything, didn’t touch the deeper pain just yet, but the call was another thread pulling them back to each other. Azzi talked about Rae accidentally burning popcorn and setting off her smoke alarm. Paige told her about the old lady who almost knocked her over at Whole Foods trying to get the last jar of almond butter before giving it to her because her eyes reminded her of her granddaughter.

They laughed. They reminisced. They went quiet. They missed each other so loudly without saying it.

By the time a soft orange hue bled into the Dallas skyline, Azzi yawned, curled tighter in Paige’s hoodie.

Paige smiled faintly, watching the sun peek out over the horizon. “…I’ll talk to you later?”

Azzi whispered, “Of course.”

The call ended quietly and Paige just sat there for a second, holding the phone to her ear like she could still hear her.

Eventually, she walked inside.

DiJonai was already in the kitchen, pouring coffee in a tank top and sweats. “You were up all night,” she said, without looking up.

Paige blinked slowly, dragging her feet toward the hallway. “Yeah.”

DiJonai sipped. “You should get some sleep, Oscar the Grouch.”

Paige cracked a tired smile. “She told you she calls me that?”

DiJonai just hummed, not answering as she turned to grab some cream.

Paige smiled again, softer this time, before disappearing into the guest room to finally get some sleep.

The next two weeks felt like an eternity that stretched until it couldn’t anymore.

Every day, Paige trained. Her trainer had flown to Dallas and she stayed in the gym, trying to silence the chaos in her head by drowning it with sweat and repetition. It worked sort of. At least during the hours she was moving, she didn’t have to think.

When she wasn’t training, she forced herself to sleep. Heavy, dreamless sleep that made her forget everything for the rest of the day. Her eating had improved, barely, but it still wasn’t where it needed to be. She tried, but every time she ate she felt like she was going to throw up so meals were only half-finished, picked over and left cold.

She and Azzi talked a good amount of times. Nothing too deep. Just enough to keep the tether between them tight. They shared updates, teased each other lightly, and exchanged sleepy goodnights. It was effortful, but it mattered. It reminded them they were still trying.

…

The day before the fight, Paige flew to Vegas. The weigh-in was quick, her body lean under the lights. When the numbers flashed on the screen — 132 — the entire room looked surprised . Murmurs passed across the room. That was way too low for someone like her who was a natural 141.

Paige barely had time to step in her hotel room before her phone was ringing.

She answered on the second ring, barely getting out a “Wassup” before Azzi’s voice came through sharp.

“Paige 132? Are we serious?”

Paige winced. “Az, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Azzi snapped, not yelling at her but clearly upset. “You told me you were eating better.”

“I am baby,” Paige mumbled, rubbing a hand over her face. “Just…not enough, I guess.”

Azzi exhaled hard through the phone. “Paige. You don’t have anything to prove by—.”

“I’m not trying to.” Paige interrupted her gently.

“I need you to take better care of yourself. I know you’re not doing it on purpose but you’re hurting yourself, which hurts me baby.”

Paige didn’t say anything.

There was a knock on her hotel room door a second later. She opened it, still on the phone, to find DiJonai standing there with way too many food containers and colorful drinks balancing between both arms.

“I got hydration and hella carbs,” she said, stepping in the room without waiting for Paige to say anything.

Azzi’s voice came through the phone. “Is that DiJonai?”

“Yep,” Paige sighed.

“Good. Let her bully you into eating. I’m serious.”

DiJonai dropped everything onto the table like it was an intervention. “She told me the number,” she said flatly. “Now eat. I don’t care what it is, pick something and start chewing.”

Paige rolled her eyes but dropped on the couch and pulled a container toward her.

Azzi’s voice softened. “I’m not mad, okay?”

“I know.”

“I just want you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, Az.”

“Okay.”

They didn’t say bye. Paige just stayed on the phone while she started eating, Azzi’s quiet presence on the other end somehow making the food go down easier.

…

Everyone from L.A. had made the decision without saying anything out loud: none of them would go to the back to see Paige before the fight.

It wasn’t out of distance or anything like that. They just all understood what seeing Azzi before the fight might do to Paige. What it might undo. Azzi hadn’t argued about it even though the ache in her chest to be near Paige had grown to be almost unbearable. She just nodded when they suggested they just go to their seats early today, understanding more than anyone.

So, it was just DiJonai, Paige’s trainer, and her cutman in her concrete room behind the arena. The space was filled with the buzz from the fluorescent lights and anticipation that pressed through the walls and into Paige like a second skin. But instead of the calmness Paige usually carried before a fight; that eerie, focused stillness. Today, she was constantly moving.

She paced in tight circles with her jaw clenched. She cracked her neck every few minutes, rolled her shoulders and threw combinations at the air. Sometimes she’d slap the side of the travel bag hanging nearby, then step back like it offended her when it swung back with an equal opposite reaction.

DiJonai sat on one of the chairs with her legs crossed, watching her the entire time. “Paige sit still,” she said a few times. Each time with a little more insistence, a little more urgency.

But Paige didn’t listen.

Her trainer with his arms folded, finally stepped in front of her mid-pace, holding up a hand to make her stop. “You good?” he asked.

Paige nodded, but it was a twitch more than a nod. Her hands were in fists and her shoulders were tense.

He studied her for a second. The bags under her eyes weren’t from a bad night of sleep, they were from weeks of actual unrest. The sharpness in her face was no longer from her conditioning, it was depletion. The dullness that used to flicker behind her eyes before a fight now weighed heavier.

He exhaled and lowered his voice. “You got one round tonight.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“You got one round,” he repeated. “To make something happen or I’m calling the fight.”

She stared at him, stunned at how serious he sounded.

“I’m not gonna watch you get hurt tonight because your head’s not in it. I’d pull you completely if they hadn’t already announced your card. You either go out there and handle it in one round, or I’m stopping it. You’re not walking in the cage just to bleed or whatever you got going on kid. You got me?”

Paige swallowed hard and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest.

She heard him loud and clear.

DiJonai watched the interaction from the corner. She didn’t say anything but Paige saw the worry in her eyes when she looked at her.

She felt too much in that split second. Way more than what she was supposed to be feeling before a fight. Every ounce of pressure and pain and disgust she’d been feeling rising to the surface.

She took a deep breath and another to ground herself. Slow her racing heartbeat down as the noise of the arena filtered through the hallway walls, muffled but rising.

The lights above the cage were blinding, humming faintly in her ears as Paige stood in the winning corner, the one reserved for reigning champions. Her gloves were already tight on her hands but nothing felt real.

Across from her, in the challenging corner, her opponent bounced on the balls of her feet psyching herself up like they always did.

The announcer’s voice echoed somewhere beyond the fog in Paige’s head, drawing cheers from the crowd then the bell rang and she stepped forward.

And then everything just went blank.

It wasn’t like tunnel vision. It was more like drowning. Paige moved on instinct instead of reading her opponent. Her body was reacting without her brain processing what was happening. She didn’t remember measuring distance. Didn’t remember her footwork. Didn’t remember loading up or throwing anything. She doesn’t remember anything.

But her fists landed and they landed hard.

Each punch came suddenly but fast enough that her opponent couldn’t react: a left hook that snapped her head to the side and an immediate cross that sent blood flying, a knee to the ribs that folded the girl in half. Then the blur of movements that pinned her to the cage like a ragdoll. The crowd roared in admiration, the cage floor trembled, and Paige kept going.

She used her opponent like a motionless heavy bag and she didn’t even blink. Her corner wasn’t yelling instructions, they were stunned into silence, watching what they thought was about to be a disaster of a fight turn into something completely different.

Then an uppercut Paige threw cracked her opponent's jaw and it seemed like the sound echoed through the arena. Her eyes rolled back before her body hit the floor and she was out cold.

That’s when Paige heard the bell blaring in her ear effectively bringing her back to her body. Her chest was rising and falling fast and her lungs were begging for air she didn’t realize she needed.

The referee grabbed her wrist and lifted it into the air shouting something she couldn’t process before the crowd erupted.

But of course Paige didn’t smile. She blinked, dazed and confused, trying to place herself in the moment. Trying to figure out what just happened.

Her gaze slid to the other side of the cage where the girl was still down with medics crouched around her, speaking frantically, shining a light into her eyes.

Suddenly, Paige felt sick. Not dizzy. Not tired or exhausted. Just…sick to her stomach.

Because what the hell just happened?

She looked down at her gloves and her throat bobbed when she saw the blood smeared along the knuckles, dried and wet all at once. She checked her arms, her torso trying to figure out if it was hers, hoping somehow it was hers, then she squeezed her eyes shut because she didn’t want to know what she already knew.

Her heart pounded so loud in her throat it felt like it might tear through skin. Her mouth was desert dry, and her tongue was heavy, like she’d been chewing cotton. Each breath came tighter, hotter, like the air in the arena had turned into a sauna, a full hundred degrees and rising faster.

The cheers were still echoing as she pushed past everyone, barely aware of the cameras trying to catch her face, her reaction. She didn’t give them one, she never did but this time she felt a numb hollowness.

She walked mechanically through the back corridors, yanking her gloves off in disgust with shaky hands the second she cleared the lens of the last broadcast camera. She threw one that landed hard on the concrete floor behind her and the other one just slipped from her hand.

By the time she got to her assigned room, the adrenaline was still shooting through her nerves but she felt something else rising quicker.

She stumbled straight to the bathroom, her body dropping to her knees at the toilet before she could do it herself and she threw up.

Nothing of actual substance really came up because she hadn’t eaten much. But her body just needed to let something out before it consumed her from the inside. She stayed there until physically there was nothing for her body to let out, just white foam from the acid of her stomach burning her throat.

When it was over, she sat back on her heels, breathing hard. Her palms pressed against the cold tile until her head just fell back to rest on the wall. She stayed there for a few moments, unsure if she had the strength to get up, if she even wanted to get up but eventually she did.

She gripped the edge of the sink and pulled herself up, blinking against the harsh overhead light.

Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Sweat clung to her eyebrow and jaw and her eyes were glassy and red. She looked tired. Like someone who’d somehow won something and lost something at the same time.

She rinsed her mouth, spat once, then again. She whipped a towel across her face and rolled her shoulders back to straighten her posture. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth then she stepped out of the bathroom into a room that was full of people.

Her trainer stood in the corner still talking quietly, almost excitedly with her cutman. DiJonai sat near the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching Paige carefully the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Rickea, Cam, and Rae were there too, but their faces blurred into the background.

Paige’s eyes moved across the room in a frantic motion, barely registering anyone until they landed on Azzi.

The moment she saw her, Paige’s chest lightened like she could finally breathe. Her feet moved on instinct, carrying her forward a few steps until she froze. Remembering the last time they’d been this close, how the night had ended and Paige still didn’t know what version of herself Azzi saw when she looked at her now.

But then Azzi opened her arms and Paige’s legs carried her the rest of the way unsteadily until she collapsed into her chest. She clung to her like her presence alone was the only thing keeping her here, her arms wrapped around her tightly and her face was buried deep in Azzi’s neck.

Azzi held her up whispering, "I'm so proud of you baby."

That broke whatever fragile hold Paige had on herself and she dry-heaved once into Azzi’s chest, the weight of her words hitting something too raw inside her. Her face stayed buried in her neck trying to muffle the quiet, shaky sounds, ashamed of how much she needed this. How much she needed her.

Everyone in the room exchanged silent glances and one by one, they slipped out the door quietly to give them space.

When it was just the two of them. Paige finally let herself feel and she felt like everything was crashing into her chest at once. Azzi held her close, with her arms steady around her frame. She whispered soft nothings in her ear: small comforts, high praises, reminders that she was here, that Paige wasn’t alone anymore. Every so often, she pressed a light kiss to her forehead gently, rubbing at Paige’s sweaty back but Paige couldn’t stay present.

She was blinking too fast, breathing too shallow. Her arms were slack on Azzi’s shoulders, and even though she hadn’t let go of Azzi, it felt like she was floating somewhere far away. Her eyes darted across the room, tightening her jaw every so often, teeth working against the gum she’d thrown in after vomiting, trying to mask the sour taste in her mouth.

Azzi noticed it all, noticed how Paige’s senses seemed to be in overdrive so she moved to ease them.

Carefully, she guided Paige to a seat, crouching slightly to ease her limp body into the chair without jarring her. Once Paige was settled safely she stood up, moving to turn off the lights plunging the room into darkness other than the light coming in from the bottom of the door. The room was already quiet, the echo of voices gone as soon as the others left. Azzi moved back over to where Paige was and gently reached for Paige’s face with one hand squeezing her cheeks a little. “Spit it out,” she said softly.

Azzi cupped her hand as Paige let the gum fall into it. Azzi threw it away before kneeling down in front of her.

“Give me your hand,” she whispered.

Paige lifted her hand and Azzi took her fingers and guided them gently to her chest, pressing her palm flat against the space over her heart. Paige’s hand was freezing cold and shaky but Azzi’s heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath it.

Azzi placed her hand over Paige’s, holding it in place. “There,” she murmured. “Close your eyes and just be with me right here, beautiful.”

Paige’s head fell back against the wall as she fluttered her eyes closed. The rhythm she felt beneath her palm wasn’t her own, but she let it be her center. The constant beat of Azzi’s heart was the only thing that didn’t feel too loud, too much, too fast. They sat in silence like that for what felt like a long time. Then finally, Paige whispered, “I don’t know what happened.”

Azzi’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean, baby?”

Paige swallowed hard, her hand still resting over Azzi’s heart. “The fight Az. I don’t remember any of it.”

Hearing that Azzi didn’t have any words to offer. Nothing she could say that would make that easier to swallow for Paige. So she didn’t try; she just moved forward, sitting up enough to pull Paige’s head to her chest, wrapping her arms around her again.

Paige let herself be held, tears slipping silently down her face. “Can we go back home?”

Azzi glanced down at her. “To LA? Tonight?”

Paige nodded, not lifting her head.

Azzi nodded too, brushing her fingers through Paige’s damp hair. “I’ll make it happen, baby.”

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 2 months ago

Text

don't lie to me

part I — part II — part III

pairing: boyfriend's!dad!ben x girlfriend!reader

content warning/s & word count: 18+!, ben being his own warning, forbidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, age gap, language, toxic relationship, heartbreak, smut (dirty talk, dry humping, fingering, clitoral stimulation, mutual masturbation, squirting, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, spanking, marking, spitting, degradation, gentle humiliation), guilt, I think that's it. 7.1k

You didn't know when things started to go bad. Not really. But you remembered when they started to go good, and that felt important.

You and Jamie had been together for a long time. Too long, probably. Long enough to make leaving feel like failure. Long enough to confuse nostalgia with love.

It was good in the beginning. Golden, even. The kind of romance that made your friends roll their eyes but smile when they said you were lucky. Jamie had a casual kind of charm, easy in his skin, confident in the way most college boys were—like he knew the world would bend for him eventually. He brought you gas station flowers and kissed you like he meant it. He called you his girl and made you feel like that title actually meant something.

The first year was everything.

After that, the cracks came quick. The texts got shorter. The kisses got rarer. He stopped asking if you got home safe and started forgetting you were even coming over. You'd sit in your car outside his house while he "finished up at work," only to wait two hours and see him post a photo from someone else's party.

He always had an excuse. You always believed him.

Because that's what you did when you loved someone. You gave them the benefit of the doubt. You softened your edges to fit theirs, even when it left you bleeding.

Lately, it had gotten worse. The kind of worse that was hard to ignore. He stopped coming home when you were over. He'd call you, say he was just running errands, and then not show up until midnight. If at all.

So you started spending your time with someone else. Not by choice. Not at first. It just happened that way.

Because Ben was always the one who answered the door.

You'd knock, expecting Jamie, and there he'd be—broad-shouldered, barefoot, always a little scruffy like he hadn't decided whether to shave or not. He'd take one look at your apologetic smile and sigh like he was already annoyed with his son, then step aside and tell you to come in.

You'd sit on the couch with him, sometimes in silence, sometimes not. Watch football with a mug of tea he made without asking how you liked it. The commentary on the screen would hum in the background, but your attention would drift, eyes trailing the way he sat—casual, like nothing in the world could touch him. Like the room shaped itself around his gravity.

He was different from Jamie. Steady. Solid in a way that didn't demand anything from you. People used to say he was wild, back in the day. That he was the reason everyone wanted to party at their house in high school. Jamie used to brag about it, say his dad could drink anyone under the table and still wake up at dawn to run five miles. There was something about Ben that made people lean in when he spoke. Something sharp in his smile, wicked in his humor, but dulled by the years like a knife worn smooth by use.

He still cursed like a sailor, still called politicians jackasses and made crude jokes that made you choke on your drink, but there was a gentleness there too. One you weren't sure anyone else saw.

He always hugged you when you left. Tight. Firm. His hand splayed across your back like he meant it, like it mattered that you'd come.

Sometimes he said things that made your stomach twist.

"You could do better than him. That boy don't deserve someone like you."

You always brushed it off. Told yourself it was just a dad thing, a gruff attempt at keeping his son humble. You never thought there was truth behind it.

And even if there was, you'd spent so long pretending Jamie was still the boy you fell in love with... it felt dangerous to let yourself want someone who actually saw you. Someone who never made you feel like too much or not enough.

Ben never made you feel like a placeholder. But Jamie did. More and more.

And now, you were twenty-three, sitting on the same couch you always had, wrapped in the blanket Ben threw onto your lap without a word. Jamie wasn't home. Again. You didn't even ask where he was this time. You just waited. Like always.

Ben didn't ask either. He just turned up the volume on the game and passed you the popcorn.

It wasn't weird. But maybe it had been building for longer than you realised. You'd forgotten how easy it was to be around him.

The couch sagged a little beneath his weight as he shifted to grab the remote, muttering something about "goddamn commercials" under his breath before flipping to something less noisy—reruns of some old action flick, grainy and overacted. He always said he liked the classics. Said actors nowadays didn't know how to throw a punch without a green screen.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he settled back, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other cradling a sweating bottle of beer. His legs were spread comfortably, boots still on. He hadn't changed out of the work shirt he wore to fix the gutter earlier that afternoon—collar open, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, grease still dark beneath his nails.

You hadn't meant to fall asleep. You'd just meant to sit down for a minute. Rest your legs. Let your spine uncurl into the couch that still smelled faintly like woodsmoke and cheap detergent.

Ben was still next to you. One leg stretched out, the other bent just enough for his knee to brush yours. You weren't sure if it had always been that close. His beer sat half-finished on the table, and he was flipping through channels with the kind of concentration that made you think he'd been doing it for fifteen minutes and still hadn't found anything worth watching.

"Jesus," he muttered, "is it all just reboots and dick-measurin' contests now? Whole industry's got its head up its ass."

You blinked blearily and smiled into the throw blanket he'd tossed at you earlier. Not handed. Tossed. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn't noticed you shivering and grumbled something about "central heating bein' for soft little pricks."

He noticed everything. Just never talked like he did.

"You okay?" He asked without looking. "You were out cold for, like... four whole minutes."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Right." He snorted. "You were just aggressively meditatin' with your mouth open."

You laughed before you could stop it. A sharp little sound in the quiet. His mouth twitched, just barely.

That was the thing with Ben. Everything was just barely. Just under the surface. Just on the edge of being something else.

He leaned back, arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers drumming against the cushion behind your head like he wasn't thinking about how close they were. Like it didn't matter.

"You know," he drawled, "I always figured my kid was dumb, but this shit? Tellin' you to come over and then pulling a Houdini? That's a whole new level of dumbass. Like, Olympic-tier."

You grinned, cheeks warm. "You're not supposed to say that."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "What's he gonna do? Cry about it into his fuckin' vape?"

You shook your head, biting your lip to hold in another laugh. "He says he's just busy. Work's been—"

Ben made a sharp noise in his throat. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make excuses for him." He finally looked at you. Direct. That sharp green stare like he was lining up a target. "He's not that busy. Nobody's that busy. You don't leave someone like you sittin' on a couch with a guy like me unless you're either a fuckin' idiot or just don't give a shit."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Your heart thumped a little harder.

Ben ran a hand over his jaw, rough and tired. "Christ. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I... I know."

He shifted, tension bleeding into his shoulders like he was trying to shake it off. "You're tired. Go crash upstairs if you want. Guest room's clean. Or Jamie's, if you feel like baskin' in the smell of Axe body spray and underachievement."

You smiled, soft. "I like sitting with you."

Ben paused. Brief, but enough to notice.

"Yeah," he said, quiet. "I like it too."

And that was it. He didn't touch you. Didn't move closer. Just let it sit there between you, real and unspoken.

The TV flickered on, casting blue light across his face. The room was quiet. Safe.

Then your phone buzzed. You looked down. Jamie. Ben caught the name on the screen and went still, like a hunting dog catching scent. He didn't say anything—just leaned back a little, eyes still on the screen.

You answered.

"Hey," you said, already curling into yourself, trying not to sound too hopeful.

A laugh. Not Jamie's. A girl.

Then Jamie's voice, distant and smug: "Yeah, hey. So, I've been thinking. We should break up."

It hit like a car crash. Sudden. No brakes. You blinked at the wall, your mouth parting in disbelief.

Ben's head turned, slow and sharp. "He what?" He said, voice low.

You didn't answer. Couldn't. You were still listening to Jamie—still trying to make sense of what he was saying while someone giggled beside him, soft and syrupy.

He told you to grab your stuff and head out. That was it. No apology. No hesitation. Just a quick, "Later," and the line went dead.

Your phone dropped to your lap. You didn't cry, but Ben stood slowly, the couch groaning as his weight shifted. He didn't speak at first—just watched you, jaw working like he was biting down on something bitter.

You forced yourself to move. To smile like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't just been gutted from the inside out by a boy who couldn't even break up with you alone.

"I should grab my stuff," you said lightly, pushing the blanket aside. "Jamie's not gonna be back anytime soon, so..."

You moved to stand, but Ben stepped into your path before you could take a full breath. His hand caught your wrist—not hard, just enough to stop you.

"Hey."

You looked up at him. His eyes searched yours, green and dark and unrelenting.

"Tell me what just happened."

You shook your head, tried to pull your arm back gently, but he didn't let go.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit," he snapped.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't cruel. But it cut through the air like a blade. Your stomach twisted.

"I'm serious," you insisted, keeping your voice light. "It's not a big deal. We just... talked. That's all."

His grip tightened—not painful, but firm. His other hand hovered for a second, like he didn't know where to put it. Then he let it fall.

"Don't lie to me," he said, quieter now. Rough around the edges. "You think I don't know what that voice means? I've known you too long for that."

You looked down at where his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your skin warmer than it should've been. That was when you noticed it—his hands were clean now. The dark streaks of grease that had been etched into the creases of his knuckles earlier were gone. No smudges under his nails. He'd washed up when you weren't looking.

When you were "sleeping." He'd done it quietly. Without saying anything. Like he didn't want to wake you.

Your throat tightened.

"It's fine," you said again, barely above a whisper. "Really. I just... I should go."

Ben exhaled hard through his nose. Then he stepped in, close enough that the scent of clean soap and warm cotton hit you like a memory. His hand was still on your wrist. He dropped his voice.

"You're not goin' anywhere until you tell me what the hell just happened."

You hesitated. Swallowed. It wasn't even that you wanted to protect Jamie anymore—you just didn't want to see it. Didn't want to put the words into the air and make them real. But Ben's stare didn't budge. And you'd never been good at lying to him.

"He..." You took a shaky breath. "He called. From someone's car. A girl. She was laughing in the background."

Ben's jaw clenched, sharp enough that the muscle jumped.

"He broke up with me," you finished, soft and stunned, like you were still catching up to it.

He didn't speak. Not at first. His thumb brushed against the inside of your wrist—once, slow. It felt like a pulse.

"Fuckin' coward," he muttered.

You didn't argue. You didn't say anything at all. Because the silence that followed felt like the beginning of something neither of you could name.

Ben didn't let go of your wrist until you blinked again. He watched you like he was waiting for you to crumble, to fall apart right in front of him. And maybe you would've, if he hadn't caught you first.

"You're not drivin' like this."

"I'm fine," you tried again, but your voice didn't hold. It cracked at the edge.

"No, you're not," he snapped, already steering you back toward the couch like the conversation was over. "You're shakin' like a goddamn leaf and your face is doin' that thing—don't gimme that look."

"I'm not—"

"Sit."

You sat.

Ben stood over you for a second, running a hand through his hair like he wanted to rip it out. Then he turned, muttering under his breath as he stomped toward the stairs.

"Little shitbag can't even grow a pair to break up with a girl like a goddamn man," he grumbled. "Calls you from someone else's fuckin' car? While she's gigglin'? Jesus Christ, what a pathetic excuse for a—"

He kept going as he climbed the stairs, the sound of his boots thudding heavier with each step. You stared at the muted television, every nerve in your body ringing. Your hands were curled into the hem of your shirt. Your chest ached.

You hadn't realised how heavy the silence in this house had gotten until Ben's voice had filled it.

A few minutes later, he came back down with your overnight bag slung over one shoulder, his jaw set, expression thunderous.

"That my stuff?" You asked, sitting up straighter.

He dropped the bag near the hallway, closer to the guest room than the front door.

"Movin' it."

You blinked. "What?"

"The guest room." He shrugged like it was nothing. "Jamie's room smells like old socks and broken promises. You're better off."

"I can't stay here."

"Sure you can."

"Ben—"

"I already called him." His voice was low, clipped. "Told him not to come home tonight. Told him if he did, I'd knock his teeth so far down his throat he'd be spittin' molars 'til Christmas."

Your mouth fell open.

"You... you didn't."

He raised a brow. "Sure did. And he agreed. Pussy little prick probably didn't want to face you anyway."

You shook your head, heart starting to beat faster. "I can't do that. It's not fair."

Ben looked at you for a long second. Then he let out a breath through his nose—tight, bitter.

"No," he said finally. "It's not. But it's the first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house. And I'm not lettin' you crawl out the front door like you're just some fuckin' afterthought."

Your breath caught.

He didn't seem to notice what he'd said—he was too busy crouching to unzip your bag, mumbling something about pyjamas and Advil, like this was any other night. Like he hadn't just dropped a live wire between you.

You sat frozen, replaying the words.

The first goddamn time anyone's treated you even half as good as you deserve in this house.

You weren't sure exactly what he'd meant. But something about the way he said it, the heat under the gravel of his voice, the way he hadn't looked at you after—it felt like a confession. Small. Raw. Dangerous.

You looked away, cheeks burning.

He didn't mean it like that. He couldn't have. You were just upset. You were reading into things. Making it worse than it was.

Ben was just being... kind. That was all.

Ben moved through your bag with that familiar, rough focus he had when something pissed him off. He didn't bother asking about what to grab—he just reached into it and fished out your pyjamas, a ratty old pair of flannel shorts and a loose t-shirt. He tossed them at you with a grunt, the fabric landing in your lap.

"Change. Now. I'm not lettin' you leave this house tonight. You need sleep. And if I gotta make you comfortable to get it, then I will."

You took a deep breath and nodded. Maybe you'd actually get a good night's sleep here for once—something you hadn't been able to do in weeks. Maybe it was the comfort of Ben's familiar grumbling, or maybe it was the fact that the world felt just a little bit safer when he was here.

"Thanks," you murmured, standing up and heading toward the guest room to change.

When you came back out a few minutes later, the house was still. The television had been muted, and there were two cold beers sweating on the table. Ben tipped his head toward the beers with a casual nod.

"Take one if you want," he muttered, still clearly worked up about his son. "Or if you're picky, you know where I keep the good shit."

You hesitated for a second, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Good shit. Ben's idea of "good shit" usually meant top-shelf whiskey or one of those small-batch bourbons you could only find if you knew the right people. You weren't picky tonight.

"I'll take the beer, thanks."

Ben grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes were already back on the TV, his jaw tight with whatever thoughts were spiralling in his head.

"You know," he started, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself, "you're always so goddamn polite when you're here. Always so considerate. Thoughtful. Mindful. You don't act like the rest of 'em."

He didn't look at you. Instead, he grabbed his own beer and took a long sip, eyes still fixed on the TV.

"You're too good for him," Ben added, his voice barely above a murmur. "That kid... James, he's been a goddamn disappointment for a while now, and I've been too patient with him."

You couldn't help it—you let out a small giggle at the way Ben spoke about his son. It wasn't just the words, but the way his voice broke with frustration and the rawness of it all.

"You know," you said softly, taking a sip from your beer to hide your smile, "I didn't think you'd be so pissed."

Ben's lips twisted into something that could've been a smile if he wasn't so damn angry. "You didn't think I'd be so pissed? You must not've been listenin', sweetheart."

You shook your head. "I didn't realise how much that pissed you off."

"Don't get me started." He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. "He's been draggin' his ass through life like a fuckin' kid playing pretend. And you? You deserve so much more than that. Always takin' care of everyone but yourself. Jamie don't appreciate you." His voice softened for a second. Then it hardened again, muttering, "Useless waste of space."

You chuckled under your breath, the sound foreign in the quiet room. Even in a moment like this, Ben could still pull that laugh out of you. It wasn't even a joke, really. But the way he spoke about his son was so Ben—raw, unapologetically real, and somehow endearing even when it was brutal.

You looked at him, confused by the sharp pang of emotion in your chest. You should've been angry. You should've been crying. But instead, you found yourself giggling, something warm in your belly, even though the weight of Jamie's call was still hanging over you.

"Why do I feel like I'm laughing at the worst possible time?" You murmured, shaking your head. "Like, I know you're furious, but..."

Ben didn't look at you right away. He just took another long pull from his beer and muttered, "Yeah, well. Better to laugh than cry, right?"

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself.

Then he glanced over—brief, like he couldn't help it—and added, a little quieter, "Kid pulls that shit on you, and you're still sittin' here being polite... no wonder I'm the one losin' it."

Ben hadn't stopped ranting since you sat back down.

Your beer was cold in your hand, sweating like your palms. He was muttering, swearing under his breath, one hand raking through his hair while the other gestured to ghosts in the air around him.

"Fuckin' unbelievable. Kid's got a girl like you sittin' in his house and decides to toss you aside like a fast-food wrapper." He scoffed. "Jesus Christ."

You didn't say anything. You weren't sure you could. There was a weight in your throat that hadn't moved since the call ended. But Ben kept going, voice low and sharp like a knife sliding over a whetstone.

"I mean, really—what the fuck does he think he's gonna do better than you?" He turned, finally facing you, heat still simmering behind his eyes. "You're here, lookin' like that, sittin' on my couch in your little pyjamas, and he's out there dick-first in somebody else's backseat?"

You looked up, startled. "Ben..."

But he wasn't done.

"God, if you were mine..." His voice dropped, rough and quiet, the words dragging out of him before he could stop them. "I wouldn't let you leave the fuckin' bed."

The silence snapped taut.

You sucked in a breath. Tiny. Audible. And his eyes flicked straight to you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks instantly, your fingers tightening around the bottle in your lap, heart hammering like it wanted to break your ribs. You didn't look at him. Couldn't.

But it was too late. He'd seen it. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. Not softer—never softer—but lower. Controlled. Deliberate.

"Yeah. You like that, huh?"

Your head turned toward him before you could stop it, eyes wide.

Ben didn't smile. His expression barely changed. But he shifted on the couch, leaned in just a little, forearm braced against his knee, beer bottle hanging forgotten between his fingers.

"'Course you do. He doesn't have a clue what he had." His voice rasped, barely above a whisper now. "Didn't know how to look at you. Not really. Not like I do."

You were trembling. Not from fear. Not from heartbreak. From something darker. Thicker. Want. You couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. His leg brushed yours when he leaned in further.

"Sittin' there in those little shorts," he murmured, eyes dropping—slow, deliberate, dragging over your thighs and back up. "All sweet and soft, tryin' to play it cool. Like I haven't been noticin' every fuckin' inch of you for months."

Your breath caught.

Ben let the silence stretch. Then he leaned just a little closer, his voice so low it felt like it was inside you.

"Tell me the truth," he said. "The little fuck ever even make you moan?"

You gasped. You didn't mean to. It slipped out of you like a secret, sharp and quiet and real. Your eyes snapped to his—wide, shocked, pleading for him to pretend he hadn't said it.

He didn't. His gaze didn't waver. If anything, it darkened.

"Or was he too busy admirin' his own reflection to figure out how to touch you?"

You stared at him, frozen.

"Bet I'd only need one hand," he muttered, more to himself than you. "Maybe two, if I wanted to be generous."

Your thighs pressed together.

Ben's eyes dropped. Noticed. His jaw ticked. He leaned in—closer now, the heat of him thick in the space between you. Close enough to count every fleck in his eyes, every scar on his knuckles, every breath that ghosted between your mouths.

"You're thinkin' about it now, huh?"

You couldn't answer. You didn't need to. Because your body already had. And Ben? Ben looked like he was about to sin for the first time in his life—and fucking thank God for it.

Ben hadn't touched you. Not once. And still, your whole body was trembling.

Your knees were pressed together, your thighs aching with tension. You could feel the way your breath stuttered in your throat, the way your grip had gone white-knuckled around your beer. He was still so close. Still watching you like he could see straight through every layer you'd ever used to protect yourself.

"You're thinkin' about it now, ain't you?" He asked again, quieter this time. Like a secret.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. But something in your silence made his eyes darken. Made the air in the room twist into something dangerous.

Ben sat back slightly, but only to set his beer down on the table. The bottle clinked. His eyes never left yours.

Then, voice low and deliberate, he said the thing that broke you.

"If I had you," he murmured, rough and slow like gravel in molasses, "you wouldn't be sittin' here wonderin' what it feels like to be wanted. You'd be fuckin' glowing."

Your stomach dropped. A sound slipped out of you—unbidden, humiliatingly soft.

A whine.

Ben's jaw ticked. And then—he smiled. Not sweetly. Not kindly. He smiled like a man who'd just won something.

"Yeah," he muttered, almost to himself. "There she is."

You looked at him, startled, every nerve in your body tight and humming. But he didn't move toward you. He didn't lunge or grab. He just spread his legs a little wider and patted his thigh, lazy and confident.

"C'mere."

You blinked.

"What—"

His brows lifted. "You want me to make you feel better, don't you?"

Your breath caught again.

He cocked his head, smirk widening like he could see every thought unraveling behind your eyes.

"Or you gonna sit there playin' good girl until it hurts?" His voice was velvet-wrapped sin, laced with dry amusement. "Your call."

You stared at him, frozen. He didn't push. Just let his hand rest on his thigh, palm open, warm and steady.

"Not gonna beg," he said, tone lighter now, teasing. "You want it, sweetheart, you come take it."

That did something to you. The challenge. The smugness. The fact that he was still so patient with it. Like he knew he didn't need to do anything but wait you out.

And god help you, it was working.

You swallowed hard. Shifted slightly on the couch. Heart hammering.

Ben's gaze flicked down—watched the movement. Still didn't touch you. But his voice dropped one last octave. Soft now. Almost sincere.

"You want comfort?" He said. "You want someone to show you what it's supposed to feel like?"

His hand flexed against his thigh. The invitation was silent. Waiting.

"C'mere, baby girl."

You didn't move at first.

Just stared at his lap like it might catch fire if you touched it. Your fingers tightened around the neck of your beer bottle, your pulse thudding against the inside of your throat like it was trying to climb out.

Ben just watched you. Silent. Still.

You set the bottle down. Carefully. Deliberately. It hit the table with a quiet clink. Then you stood. Moved in front of him. Stood between his knees.

He tilted his head back to look up at you, brows raised, like he was amused that you'd made it this far. Like he was proud.

His legs were spread, but not wide enough—not yet. You looked down at the space between them, at the lazy way he was leaning back into the couch, relaxed in that heavy, masculine way like his body knew you were coming before you did.

"You look like you're tryin' to solve a fuckin' puzzle," he said, voice low, teasing. "Ain't that complicated, sweetheart. You want it, you take it."

You flushed. Still, you didn't move.

Ben's voice softened, but somehow it only made everything worse.

"You nervous?" He asked, head cocked slightly. "Or just takin' your time with me?"

You glanced at him, breath shaky, and he smiled—soft. Not mocking. Not smug. Just warm.

Then he leaned back further into the couch and spread his legs wider, thighs shifting beneath the thin cotton of his sweats, settling in like a man getting comfortable.

Waiting. Watching.

"I've got all night," he murmured. "But you don't need to wait, baby girl. You want to feel better?" His eyes flicked to your mouth. "Come take it."

Your knees nearly buckled.

You climbed into his lap before you could stop yourself. Slow. Careful. Like if you moved too fast, you might spook yourself and bolt back to the other side of the room. Your legs slid over his thighs and you lowered yourself, your hands braced on his shoulders, every part of you tense with something that felt like fear and desire tied together with string.

And only then—only when you were fully in his lap, straddling him—did he touch you. His hands lifted. Large, steady palms settling on your waist like he'd been waiting years for permission.

"Shit," he muttered, almost to himself. "Look at you."

You swallowed, your breath catching.

Ben's hands flexed against your sides. Just a little. Just enough.

"You're shakin'," he said softly.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

"Not scared of me, are you?"

You shook your head.

"Good," he murmured. "'Cause I'd never hurt you, baby. Never."

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. His voice dropped further—more gravel, more hunger.

"I'll ruin you. But I'll never hurt you."

You whimpered. Couldn't help it.

And Ben smirked, like that was exactly what he was hoping for. Then he leaned in. His mouth hovered just beside your ear, breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered, voice thick and deliberate. "Use your words."

Your breath stuttered. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

"I... I want you," you managed, quiet and trembling.

Ben's hand stilled on your waist. Then he let out the softest, filthiest little sound—something between a hum and a chuckle.

"Yeah?" He rasped, tipping his head to look at you fully. "Want me to what, sweetheart?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He grinned, slow and dark, eyes dragging over your mouth.

"C'mon," he said, voice a touch rougher now. "You're already in my lap like a good little thing. Say it like you mean it."

You were shaking. Not with fear. Not anymore. With the pressure of it all—of him, of you, of everything he'd said. The weight of being seen. The heat coiled so deep inside you it ached. You wanted. God, you wanted. You wanted him like you'd never wanted anything in your life.

Ben's hand slid from your waist to your hip, slow and possessive, his thumb dragging across your skin through the thin fabric of your pyjama shorts.

"Still waitin', baby," he murmured. "Thought you had something to say."

You broke.

"I want you to touch me," you whispered, breathless. "I want you to make me feel good. I want—" you swallowed, cheeks burning, "—I want you to fuckin' ruin me."

Ben's groan hit you like a thunderclap.

"Fuck," he hissed, head falling back slightly. His hips jerked once, grinding up into you so hard and slow your whole body jolted in his lap. "Christ on a cross."

You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, the thick press of him beneath you lighting a fire between your legs.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers flexing hard enough to bruise.

"You want it that bad, huh?" He rasped, voice wrecked. "Want my hands on you? Want me to make that pretty little body beg for it?"

You whimpered. Nodded. Couldn't breathe.

Ben's mouth curved, dangerous and pleased.

"Then come give me a fuckin' kiss, baby girl."

You didn't lunge. You leaned in slow. Tentative. Your breath caught in your throat as you moved forward inch by inch, like some part of you still didn't believe this was happening. Like getting too close might wake you up from whatever this was.

Ben didn't move. Didn't blink. He just watched you.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy, and he was breathing slow—calm on the outside, but you could see it, the storm under his skin. His hands stayed where they were, resting on your waist, fingers flexing every so often like it was taking everything in him not to pull you down the rest of the way.

"Yeah," he murmured, voice so low it vibrated through you. "That's it. C'mon. You're right there."

You inched closer. Your knees squeezed tighter around his hips. Your hands found his chest, broad and hot beneath your palms, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat through the thin cotton of his shirt—deep and steady like a drum.

"Take your time," Ben said softly. "Ain't goin' anywhere."

That wrecked you.

Your mouth hovered just above his now, your nose brushing his, your breath mingling with his in the warm, electric space between.

"Good girl," he rasped. "Now kiss me."

And you did. You pressed your mouth to his—slow, open, reverent.

He met you there. And it was everything. His lips moved with yours like he'd mapped this moment out in his head a hundred times. Deep. Unhurried. Filthy in the way it devoured your breath but never pushed. His tongue dragged against yours with a groan that left your thighs trembling, his hands tightening on your hips as your body melted down into his.

He kissed like he was teaching you something. Like he wanted you to remember this when you were alone later, wrecked and ruined and aching for him again.

You moaned against his mouth and he pulled you in tighter, his fingers bruising into your hips as he rolled up into you, slow and hard.

The kiss deepened. Wet. Heavy. Hot enough to burn. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging just enough to make you whimper before he soothed the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth. "Listen to you."

You ground down harder, chasing friction, and he met you, hips grinding up into yours like he couldn't help himself anymore.

One of his hands flew to the back of your neck, dragging you deeper into the kiss as his hips thrust up again, slow and deliberate. The other guided your movements, helping you rock in his lap, the thick ridge of him grinding perfectly through the layers between you.

"Atta girl," he growled against your mouth. "That's it. Just like that. Ride it out."

You writhed, panting, your fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, grounding yourself as he took you apart without even needing to move.

His kisses were wet, filthy, all tongue and heat and groaning breath. He kissed like he meant it. Like he owned your mouth. Like it had been his since the first time you said hi to him at the front door and he let his eyes linger a little too long.

You cried out as he guided your hips harder, the friction dizzying, filthy sounds echoing through the room.

"You're so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your lips. "So good for me. He ever get you makin' these sounds?"

You shook your head, dazed, lips slick and parted.

"Didn't fuckin' think so."

He kissed you again—harder this time, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your name. His grip tightened as he ground up into you again, slow and punishing, like he wanted to drag every sound out of you and make you remember it later, alone in your bed, still aching for him.

"You feel that?" He rasped, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. "That's how bad I wanted you. Every fuckin' time you walked in here, smilin', bein' sweet, sittin' at my table like you belonged there—this is what I had to fight."

You whined again, rolling your hips down into him, chasing more.

Ben groaned, hands grabbing tight at your ass now, dragging you down against him in rhythm.

"No more fightin', baby," he growled. "Not now."

And you believed him. Because whatever this was—it had already taken you both.

You couldn't stop moving. Every time your hips rocked into his, every time his hands dragged you closer, it just got worse—better—hotter. You were soaked through your pyjamas, breath coming in shallow little pants between kisses that only got filthier the longer they lasted.

Ben was panting now too, forehead pressed to yours, lips slick and pink and kiss-bruised. His hands were still on your ass, guiding every motion like he was conducting a symphony made just for him.

"You're drivin' me fuckin' insane," he groaned. "You feel what you're doin' to me?"

You nodded, breathless.

He growled. Actually growled. Then his mouth was on your throat again, teeth dragging slow over your skin before he pulled back just enough to look at you—his pupils blown wide, jaw tight.

"Off," he said, nodding toward your shirt.

You froze. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

But Ben didn't push. Just let his hands slide back to your waist, eyes dragging over your face, patient even while he looked like he was seconds from snapping.

"You don't gotta be shy," he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. "Not with me."

You swallowed, then reached down with shaking fingers and pulled your shirt over your head.

Ben's mouth parted.

His gaze dropped like a stone, dragging down your neck, your chest, every inch of newly bare skin until it landed on the swell of your breasts and stayed there. You weren't wearing a bra—hadn't expected to need one—and the second he saw that, his hands twitched.

"Jesus fuck," he muttered. "Look at you."

You shifted in his lap, suddenly aware of everything. Your breath, your thighs, the way your nipples peaked under his stare.

Ben leaned forward.

Not kissing. Not touching. Just bringing his mouth close enough that you felt his breath against your chest. His hands slid up—slow, warm, calloused—and cupped you gently, like he was still making sure you were real.

"You been hidin' this from me all this time?" He rasped.

You whimpered.

And then he kissed your breast. Open-mouthed. Hot. A filthy, reverent drag of his tongue over your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth and sucked.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—!"

"That's it," he muttered against your skin. "Let me hear you."

You moaned, rolling your hips down into him again, needy and shaking.

He pulled back with a wet sound, licking his lips as his hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Gonna show you what it feels like," he said. "You remember what I said?"

You nodded, dazed. "One hand."

Ben smirked.

"Damn right."

He leaned in, kissed you again—slower this time, deep and thick and hot—while his hand slid inside your waistband, knuckles dragging down over soft, soaked cotton.

"Fuck me," he breathed. "You're already drippin'."

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders, rocking into his touch without shame now.

Ben's fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds over your panties, just enough to make you cry out.

"That's right," he growled, "ride my fuckin' fingers. Show me how bad you needed this."

You did. You couldn't stop. You were shaking in his lap, panting into his mouth, his hand wedged between your bodies while he stroked slow and deep over the thin barrier of your panties, never rushing, never giving you quite enough.

"Ben—please—"

His mouth was back on yours, swallowing the desperate sound as his fingers finally slipped under the fabric and found your clit—bare, wet, aching.

You sobbed into his mouth.

"Shh," he whispered, kissing you softer now. "I got you, baby. Gonna make you come just like this, sittin' pretty in my lap. Nice and slow."

He circled your clit with maddening precision, dragging two thick fingers through your slick heat while his other hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you there, his.

"You're already so close," he muttered, voice wrecked. "I can feel it."

You gasped, grinding into his palm, head falling to his shoulder. He kissed your neck, your jaw, your temple.

"You gonna come for me, baby girl?"

"Y-Yeah—Ben—"

"Then come. C'mon. Wanna feel you fall apart."

You shattered.

It hit fast and hard, ripping through your core like a lightning strike. You cried out, clutching his shirt, grinding into his hand while your thighs trembled around him. Ben held you through all of it—murmuring filth into your hair, groaning into your ear, his fingers still slow and gentle even as you gasped and bucked against his lap.

"That's my girl," he whispered, dragging his fingers back up to circle your clit one more time just to watch you twitch. "Fuckin' perfect."

You were still gasping when he kissed you again—deep, slow, savouring you.

"Look at that," Ben rasped against your mouth, fingers sliding lazy circles over your oversensitive clit. "Just made a fuckin' mess in my lap."

You whimpered, thighs twitching as your hips bucked into his hand again, helpless and overstimulated. "I-I can't—"

"Yeah, you can." He nipped at your jaw, then kissed the sting away. "Gonna give me another one while you take care of me. That too much for you, baby girl?"

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You shook your head, breathless. "No. I—I want to."

Ben growled. Low and hungry.

"Yeah?" He leaned back slightly, eyes locking on yours, smug and reverent all at once. "Then show me."

You slid your hand between your bodies with shaking fingers, reaching down to where he was thick and hard under his sweats—obscene with how long he'd been like that. Your fingertips brushed over him through the cotton, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he gritted, head falling back for just a second. "There you go. C'mon, sweetheart. Take it out."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband, fingers curling around him—hot, hard, heavy in your palm—and Ben groaned, loud and wrecked.

"That's it. Fuck, your hand's so small," he growled. "You gonna stroke it nice for me, baby? You gonna be good?"

You nodded quickly, already moving your hand, pumping him slow, your grip slick with the way your own arousal coated your skin. You couldn't believe how wet you still were—how much you needed more, even after what he'd just done to you.

Ben's breath caught as your fist curled tighter around him.

"Jesus," he hissed. "That's it. Don't stop. Just like that."

His fingers moved faster now, dragging tight circles over your clit, dipping down to tease through your folds before sliding up again, matching the rhythm of your strokes. You gasped, thighs trembling, your hips rocking into his palm at the same time as you jerked him in your fist.

The motion was filthy. Perfect.

Wet sounds filled the room—your slick, his cock, the breathless moans you couldn't hold back. He was panting now, fingers digging into your thigh to steady you.

"Such a fuckin' good girl," he growled. "Sittin' there all pretty in my lap, makin' me feel so fuckin' good—Jesus, keep goin', baby, don't stop—"

You moaned, your forehead pressed to his shoulder, breath hot against his neck as you stroked him harder. He was throbbing in your hand now, his hips jerking up into your fist as his fingers circled your clit ruthlessly, forcing another orgasm up your spine like he needed to feel you fall apart again before he let go.

You cried out, hand faltering, and Ben caught your jaw in his palm, kissed you hard and open-mouthed, tongue filthy against yours.

"That's it. Come with me," he whispered against your lips. "Wanna feel you squeeze my fuckin' fingers while I come all over your hand. You want that?"

"Yes—Ben—yes—"

"Then fuckin' take it."

You shattered again—your whole body tensing, legs trembling, hips grinding into his hand as the orgasm crashed through you harder than the first, and at the same time, Ben snarled your name, hips jerking up into your fist as he spilled hot and thick over your hand and into his sweats, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a desperate groan.

You were both panting, wrecked, clinging to each other in the thick, sticky heat.

Ben's hand slid from between your legs, dragging up your thigh, slow and reverent. He pressed his lips to your temple, still catching his breath.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You were worth waitin' for."

a/n: AHH! So, obviously an AU. I hope y'all liked. I liked. Just let me know what you thought... I'm kinda obsessed with this one. The dynamic feels so baddirtywrong and it's my favourite. Ew. Also, you know the craic, if the warnings listed above aren't evident yet? They will be in the next part. Hehehehe. I just needed a lil break from "eyes too close to let me" and also... I was high and this became sentient all by itself. In the words of William Butcher: you're all fucking welcome. Until the next one? Smin signing off. All the love.

Ben/Soldier Boy taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @bittersweetfig @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @kaz-2y5-spn <3

#pfiahc writes #my writing #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy fic #soldier boy au #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys fanfiction #the boys au #the boys smut #the boys fanfic #the boys x female reader #the boys x you #the boys x reader

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gghostwriter · 9 months ago

Text

Camaraderie

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.1k a/n: something short n’ sweet, get it? i know i said i was sick and I still am but i wanted to really write something based on this post so i did and since I’m still battling the flu, this isn’t my best work nor has this been edited but still posting it for the fun of it all! Hope you like it. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Spencer Reid was never one to forget. After all, his near perfect memory didn’t allow him to, which was a curse and a blessing on itself. So it came to everyone’s surprise when Morgan came strolling in the BAU office after hours to pick him and Luke up for a scheduled boys’ night out and the boy genius innocently asked what he was doing there.

“No way,” Morgan chuckled, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Pretty boy has forgotten something? It must be my lucky night ‘cause this only happens once in a lifetime.”

“You really forgot?” Luke clarified as they all packed into Morgan’s four door vehicle. “Oh man, I thought you were pulling my leg a while ago when I brought it up and you made no comment.”

“It really slipped my mind!” Spencer’s voice going up in defense.

The duo laughed.

“Or maybe you’re getting old,” Morgan needled as the car came to a stop at a red light.

Spencer shook his head, wishing to drop the subject. “Hey, do you mind passing by the apartment for a bit? I didn’t tell her that I was going to be out late since it you know, slipped my mind—”

“Can’t you just text her for that?” Morgan argued back.

“—and I’ll drop off my dirty go bag.”

“Oh got the missus doing the laundry?” Luke teased.

“She’s not my wife yet,” he sighed dreamily. If he was going to be honest with himself, he was looking forward to it. He had half the mind to propose elopement when got down on one knee but the excitement you radiated off when discussing about themes, dinner placements, and the wedding gown was enough for him to dispose of that idea quickly. It didn’t matter how fancy or how long the planning would take, as long as at the end of it all, he got to call you his and you get to call him yours. Everything in between was just lavish wrapping to present the world Mr and Mrs Reid.

The car came to a stop, bringing him out of his musings.

“Thanks Morgan,” Spencer started to exit the passenger seat. “No need to go up, I’ll be quick.”

They both shook their heads, also stepping out—Morgan from the driver’s side and Luke from the side beside him.

“We’ll say hi to the future Mrs Reid,” he patted his back as the trio packed into the elevator up to his floor.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. With your busy work schedule and the upcoming nuptials, it was a rare occurrence for anyone from the team, expect for Garcia, to catch even a glimpse of you.

Echoing melody was the first thing that greeted them once they stepped out of the lifts.

He laughed under his breath, already knowing that it was coming from the home you both shared. It had been a ritual for you, of sorts, as the only neighboring apartment was empty from tenants. There was really no one to scold you for making any ruckus at this acceptable 7pm time. Spencer, for one, wasn’t one to spoil your fun. He loved seeing you be free, dancing around in his clothing and singing the lyrics no matter how off key.

Key slotted to the door, he let themselves in without any words exchanged—just looks and laughter under their breath.

—and I’m obsessed Are you free next week? I bet we’d have really good

Spencer admired your swaying form from behind. Wearing his Caltech tee that was three times too big for you, neckline slipping off to one shoulder. His very own personal sunshine chasing away all the darkness that had tainted his very being.

Unaware of your audience, you belted out the next cheeky lyrics. “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my—”

Luke slapped his mouth to stop his chuckle from escaping while Morgan’s eyebrows raised at an all time high.

“Love,” Spencer urgently called out.

“—timezone, but you wanna be—eek!” You shrieked, turning to face the voice of your lover, only to find two more unaccounted for in the audience.

“Hey pretty girl,” Morgan drawled out. “That’s some nice singing you’ve got there.”

You felt your face flush with mortification. Out of all the people to have caught you, it had to be Morgan. The self titled big brother who liked to tease all he held dear to his heart.

“W-what are you all doing here?”

Spencer reached out to give you chaste kiss on the lips. “We’re going out for a boys’ night out and I forgot all about it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all here exactly.”

“I was just going to drop off my dirty go bag and they wanted to say hi,” he smiled at the embarrassment he could clearly see written in your expressive face.

But i bet we‘’d have really good bed chem How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round Oh, it just makes sense How you talk so sweet when—

“Oh my god,” your feet pattering on the hardwood floor as you ran to stop the vinyl still playing in the background. “Not one word,” you threatened the duo with a finger raised up high.

They both raised their hands up in defense but mirth was clearly painted on their faces. This was definitely becoming a lethal ammo perfect for quips and teasing.

“Okay, you three out,” you all but pushed them out to the lobby. “I need to bury myself in copious amount of wine and please, forget everything you saw, okay, and Spence—” you leaned in to give him a kiss goodbye and squeezed his hand that held yours. “—I’ll see you when you get back. Have fun!”

The door slammed shut without another word uttered.

Morgan turned to Reid with a smirk on his lips. “So camaraderie, huh?”

“Shut up,” Spencer quipped back, giving him a slight shove towards the elevator.

But before he himself stepped into the awaiting lifts for a night of no doubt teasing and innuendos, Spencer sent a quick message back to his other half with cheeks red and a grin on his face.

Your wish is my command, love. Later.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #Spotify

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giannaln4 · 11 months ago

Text

Sick

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Your sickness got in the way of a romantic day Lando had planned for the both of you, but to him, making you feel better was way more important than anything. (3.1k words)

warnings: stablished relationship, sick!reader, mentions of throw up, extremely cheesy, fluff

a/n: i was supposed to post this last week when the request was made, i'm sorry it took me so long anon but i hope you like it! also i did make it a little longer and more dramatic than i had to. also this is the first request i post!! i have one more but please keep sending more ideas, i love reading what you have in mind

check out the original request here!

-> Prequel

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

Lando had been sick last week, and you did everything to take good care of him, as much as you could. You carried medications with you, made sure he drank enough water, and gave him tea to help him feel better. You even cuddled him every night to help him sleep.

He was extremely grateful that you made sure to take good care of him. Having to give everything on track sure made it a little difficult, but he did get better eventually, and he said it was thanks to you.

What you never considered, though, was the fact that his sickness would get to you, but the next week, you felt it, and it was even more evident the night after the Austrian Grand Prix.

For some reason, it hit you harder, and the fact that you had been travelling so much didn’t help. You wanted nothing more than to sleep for days until the sickness went away, but Lando had other plans. With how busy he usually is, he always makes you his priority when he’s away from the track, so before going to bed, he shared the plans he had for the next day, including some activities that required you to get ready and leave the comfort of your home.

You both valued your time together, and you could tell how excited he was to take you out and spend the day with you, something that would also help him to take his mind off the events that took place that weekend, so you said yes.

The next morning, you felt him leave the bed, kissing your forehead goodbye as you turned around to face him.

“I have a little something to do before our date, but you can meet me at the restaurant so we can have breakfast together, yeah?” He whispered. You just nodded, and he kissed you again, whispering a little ‘I love you’ before leaving your room.

You went back to sleep as soon as he left, but the sound of your alarm woke you up an hour later. You grunted as you turned it off, looking at the time, knowing you had to start getting ready if you wanted to make it on time for your date, but your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t even leave the bed.

Your current state was unfortunate, to say the least. A pounding headache, a runny nose, a sore throat, constant sweating, and intense body pain. There was no way you could go out.

It broke your heart to have to cancel your day with Lando, but you knew your body couldn’t take it and that he would understand.

Before notifying your boyfriend that you wouldn't make it, you looked up your symptoms to make sure you didn’t need to seek medical attention. The last thing you wanted was to end up at the hospital; you never liked them. You quickly came to the conclusion that it was a simple cold. You should’ve seen it coming; not only did you take care of Lando while he was sick, but you hadn’t been feeling the best the last couple of days and brushed it off, thinking you were just tired.

You sent him a long text explaining that you were sick and apologising a million times for cancelling the romantic day he had planned, feeling terrible for failing him.

You fell back asleep almost immediately, but sadly, not for long. Your body temperature suddenly dropped, making you shiver, so you brought up every blanket and tried to cover your entire body with them, but stopped when you suddenly felt hot again.

You were sure you had never been this sick; you were uncomfortable, your throat was incredibly dry, and your whole body was sticky from sweat. It even hurt to sneeze. You let out a loud moan in discomfort, and a few seconds later, you heard the door open.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you were awake, and I didn’t wanna bother you,” Lando said softly, entering the room. He was holding a few blankets and pillows that covered his face, but you knew he had a worried look on his face. You covered yourself again, up to your head; you didn’t want him to see you like this, not when your hair was an absolute mess and your sleeping shirt looked like you took a shower in it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had something to do,” you asked under the blankets.

His eyes softened when they hit the lump on the bed as he placed the stuff by your feet. “Don’t worry about that; I’m done for the day.” He approached you and kneeled next to you. “Hey, how bad is it?”

“It’s bad. I don’t wanna get you sick again,” you replied, your throat hurting every time you spoke.

“You’ll be happy to know that I don’t care.” He joked, but you remained silent. “I assume you didn’t have any breakfast yet.”

“No”

"Well, I bought you some soup. You should eat it while it’s still hot, it will be good for you.” He stared at the blankets, waiting for you to come out or at least say something "Baby, come on, let me see you.”

You appreciated him being there to take care of you; it truly warmed your heart, and all you wanted to do was show him how thankful you were, but what if he got sick again because of you? What if you look so bad right now that he will break up with you on the spot? “I don’t look good,” you finally muttered.

“What?” He chuckled, thinking you were joking.

“I’m sweating an insane amount; I can feel my hair sticking to my face.”

“Let me braid your hair so you feel less sticky on the face. I promise you’ll feel better.”

You thought about it for a moment and figured he wouldn’t leave even if you directly asked him to, so you uncovered your face slowly and shyly looked at him. “I feel really ill.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what hurts.”

“Everything. My entire body, the headache is terrible, and I get really cold, but after a second, I feel like I’m boiling.”

He touched your forehead as soon as he noticed your blushed face. “Baby, you’re really hot.”

“I know that,” you joked with a smirk on your face.

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his laughter. “Good to know your sense of humour remains untouched.” He stood up and left the room, coming back in a heartbeat as he held a bowl of soup. “You’re gonna eat your soup while I braid your hair and I promise it will make you feel at least a little bit better.”

“My hair is all covered in sweat, though.” You sat on the bed, waiting for him to give you the soup.

“That’s okay. It’s hot, so please be careful.” You carefully took the bowl from his large hands, and you could see the steam that came off of it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes avoiding his as you blew on the hot liquid.

“You might feel hotter for a moment, but this is good; you need a lot of fluids. Now, I’m gonna sit behind you, okay?” You nodded, making enough space for him.

He struggled a little to get behind you, moving softly so he didn’t make you spill any of the soup. “Are you comfortable?” He asked when he finally settled.

“Yes”

“Ok, should I do one or two?” He started brushing your hair. You were right; you were sweating a lot, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to take proper care of his girlfriend, just like you did when he was sick.

“Two”

“Okay. They might not turn out the best, though. I’m not a great hairstylist, but they will help.” You chuckled, knowing he was right, but that was the least of your worries.

You stayed like that for a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to put two braids on you without pulling your hair or making your headache worse. "Done,” he said, getting back on his feet and taking a good look at how you looked with braided hair. His heartbeats began to increase. “You look really cute,” he said as he tilted his head, admiring you.

Your face was burning, and it wasn’t the fever. “Thank you. I actually do feel much better.” And you did; you were surprised at how lighter your head felt without all that hair resting on your face or shoulders.

“See? I told you.” He then kissed his fingertip and tapped your nose with it, making you melt at his touch ”Finish your soup. I’m gonna see if we still have that humidifier.”

He stepped out of the room once again, leaving you alone. Somehow, you already felt better, even though everything hurt the same. But you had to admit that the hot soup was a good call.

Once you were done with it, you laid back down carefully, not wanting to ruin the freshly styled hair. And only a few minutes later, you heard the door again, “No luck with the humidifier, but this will help too.” You paid attention to his hands. He was holding a bucket and a dry cloth in one hand and a bottle of water and some pills in the other. “Just this one last thing, and I’ll let you go back to sleep,” he said, as if he was bothering you; you didn’t feel like he was. If anything, it was the other way around, and you should be the one apologising. He put down the bucket next to the bed and waited for you to sit again, this time paying attention to your damp shirt. “Why don’t you change into some new clothes?”

You looked down at your shirt and felt embarrassed when you noticed how much it looked like you had been drowned in a rainstorm. It didn’t look that bad before, but it must’ve been the hot liquids. “Okay,” you agreed, about to get up, but he stopped you.

He wandered around your shared room, grabbing clean clothes that he believed would be comfortable for you to wear. He didn’t want you to feel too hot or too cold again, so he went for a happy medium. A shirt and underwear. You probably shouldn’t deal with too many layers anyway. “Here, I’ll help you change.”

He helped you with everything, which you were really thankful for since your body was too weak and in pain to do it by yourself. Tossing the dirty clothes somewhere in the room, he proceeded to grab the pillows he had previously set on the bed and started arranging them around you to make your uncomfortable state a little more pleasant.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, looking down at you, and you nodded in response, “Sure?”

"Positive.” Even your voice was weak.

After you were settled, he grabbed the pills and handed them to you, going for the water bottle next “This is for your headache.” He waited for you to take them and watched you get comfortable again. He then reached into the bucket and completely submerged the cloth, making sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. He stroked it over your face a few times. “You’re all good now. Why don’t you try to sleep?”

You looked up at him in pure admiration, “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” you rasped out.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my sick girlfriend?” You could swear you had literal heart eyes right now. “You took care of me when I was sick, and I´m pretty sure this is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, but you should probably get out of here. I don’t wanna get you sick again, your home race is next.”

He shook his head and sat on the chair that was a few feet away from the bed. “What if you need something and I’m not here?”

You smiled at him again, but suddenly remembered what you were supposed to be doing. He must’ve noticed the change in your face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling next to you again as his hand rested on your cheek.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“For ruining our date.”

“Darling, we have a lifetime ahead of us. We have plenty of time to go on dates.”

Those words made you feel a million things at the same time, tears threatening to leave your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replied, his smile so big and sincere that his dimples made an appearance. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

You went back to sleep, and luckily this time you managed to rest for hours. In the meantime, Lando stayed on the bed next to you, doing some work to stay busy and awake, while he kept an eye on you in case you needed him.

The hours went by, and your fever went away, finally. You woke up around 4 PM, slowly opening your eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness.

You scanned the room looking for Lando, but he was nowhere to be found. You figured it made sense that he left. You didn’t really expect him to stay there all day and waste his free day just to be with you.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You groaned in pain and fell on your back again, strangely still feeling tired even after sleeping for hours. Before you could try again, Lando was entering the room.

“You came back,” you managed to say.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just getting you some tea.” He approached you and touched your forehead, relieved that you weren’t hot anymore. “How are you feeling?”

"Better,” you replied, not so sure you wanted him to get worried. “I guess my throat still hurts.”

“I figured, but this honey and lemon tea will help with that.” He smiled at you but when you didn’t move, he could feel the worry come back to him “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like tea.”

“Tell your cold that.” You pouted like a little kid, but Lando’s face remained neutral as he waited for you to take the cup. “I know you don’t like tea, but I promise this will help. Besides, weren’t you giving me tea all the time when I was sick?”

You gave in and took it, knowing he was right, and honestly, you would do anything to ease your sore throat.

You started drinking it, slowly but surely. It didn’t taste as bad as you remembered, and you started wondering if your mom was just bad at making tea. “Would you cuddle with me? If it’s not too gross.” You asked out of nowhere.

“Gross? Why-?”

“Because I have been sweating a lot, and it’s not like I took a shower yet,” you explained, a little embarrassed.

“Were you grossed out when I was the sick one asking for cuddles?”

You answered immediately, “No, but you weren’t this sick.”

“C’mon, don’t be silly.” He was happy you wanted to cuddle. Since he got there in the morning, he was concerned that you just wanted him out of there. Carefully, he got in bed with you, sitting against the headboard and getting into a comfortable position. He waited for you to lay down and nestled you between his legs, with your back against his front.

“Thank you for staying with me. I feel much better with you.”

“Really? Because for a moment there, it felt like you didn’t want me here.”

“I do, I really do. I just-” You stopped for a moment to think about your words “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“Y/N, you know I would never think that.” He was brushing your check.

“Still, you wasted your free day and stayed here all day… for me. We couldn’t even go out like you wanted to.” You then felt guilty about your realisation. “Did you eat something today?”

“I did; I ordered something while you slept. I wanted to get some lunch for you too, but I wasn't sure for how long you’d be asleep. Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him. “I’m still tired.”

Lando had been sick before, and he knew it was exhausting to deal with it, but he doesn’t remember a cold taking him down like that. Still, he agreed to stay there with you while you went to sleep. Again.

A while went by, and he didn’t notice when you started to drift off, but when he felt you shivering on top of him, he opened his eyes quickly.

You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering, but your skin was so hot that he could melt chocolate on your forehead. He knew that your fever coming back and your temperature going up so quickly were bad signs.

“Y/N?” He whispered, softly moving you, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Mhm?” You hummed. You were holding the blanket tighter and closer to your body.

“How are you feeling?” He kept a low voice, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“I’m freezing.” He was about to embrace you again, but was interrupted when you abruptly sat on the bed. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

He followed your actions and reached down for the bucket that was still next to the bed and placed it between your legs. ‘Not good,’ he kept thinking, rubbing your back for comfort “If that’s the case, then you’re worse than I thought, sweetheart; we might have to go to the doctor.” You didn’t like the seriousness of his voice.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Well, I don’t care whether you like it or not; your fever is coming back and you’re feeling nauseous. I don’t think that’s normal for a cold. You are literally shaking.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep a little more.”

“I know you don’t want to, but we really need to see a doctor.” You didn’t say anything, hoping he would just forget about that, but of course he wouldn’t. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’re here with me right now, aren’t you?” You stayed silent. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, and I promise you’ll feel better, okay?” You nodded. You knew he was taking care of you, good care of you, but anything related to sickness, doctors, or hospitals scared you for some reason. “Hey, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me. I promise,” he said, raising his pinky in front of you, satisfied when you locked it with your own.

#giannaln4 writes #lando norris #ln4 #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff #mclaren #mclaren f1

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urno1luv · 5 months ago

Note

Can you please make the puppy gf yunjin into a full fic/imagine including the things you already said in the short you posted? 🙏🙏🙏

encountering a clingy puppy hybrid called yunjin and falling in love with her, despite her weird and often creepy antics -◇

tags: clingy yunjin, breaking in, she's lowkey a creep (but not a perverted one), obsessive?, desperate sex (gp and non gp versions)

The first time Yunjin noticed you, her world tilted. Her floppy ears perked up, her pupils dilated, and her tail wagged in excitement. Something about you—the way you smiled shyly at your friend, the way your voice carried across the room—made her chest ache in ways she didn’t understand. It wasn’t love at first sight. It was more than that.

From then on, Yunjin became a shadow in your life, always lingering just a step behind, like a lost puppy. At first, you thought it was sweet. She’d always find you during breaks, showing up with your favorite snacks or insisting on walking you to your next class, her arm in yours. Her presence was magnetic—warm, comforting. You didn’t notice how tightly her fingers gripped your arm when she pulled you closer, or how her smile faded the moment someone else tried to talk to you.

But then, the texts started.

“Where are you?”

“Who are you with?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

You’d barely reply before your phone buzzed again, another question, another demand. The messages came at all hours, and when you didn’t respond, she’d call—her voice breathless, almost panicked.

“I was worried,” she’d say, her tone dripping with sweetness, though there was an edge to her words that made you uneasy.

One evening, as you were heading home, you spotted Yunjin waiting outside your door. She wasn’t supposed to know where you lived...😰

“Yunjin?” you asked, trying to mask the surprise in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, holding up a bag, her canines shining through her genuine smile. “You mentioned you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you soup. I just wanted to take care of you.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, but the way her warm eyes bore into yours made your skin prickle.

“Thanks, but… how did you know where I live?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, I asked around. It wasn’t hard.”

You didn’t have the heart to turn away such a sweet girl, but as she followed you inside, something about her presence felt suffocating. She hovered too close, her eyes flicking to every detail in your home as if she were memorizing it. You noticed how she made sure to rub her cheek on your neck... was she scenting you?

That night, after she left, you found a strand of her hair on your pillow.

Days turned into weeks, and Yunjin’s behavior grew more intense. She started showing up unannounced more often, always with an excuse—she’d forgotten something at your place, or she just wanted to see you. She knew your schedule better than you did, waiting for you after classes, walking you home, always there, always watching. Her yearning gaze would follow you in a way that made your stomach twist.

When you tried to set boundaries, Yunjin brushed them off with a laugh, acting as if you were joking.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she teased, but her tone was laced with something darker. To make a point, she suddenly bit your wrist, hard enough to leave a mark, giggling at your yelping.

One day, you decided to take a different route home, hoping for a moment of peace. But as you turned the corner, you found her waiting at the end of the street, her smile too perfect, too knowing.

“You didn’t think I’d lose track of you, did you?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was light, but her eyes burned with something that made your heart race.

You tried to brush it off, but Yunjin’s presence only became more suffocating. She started leaving notes in your bag, little love letters written in her elegant handwriting.

“You’re mine,” one read.

“We belong together,” said another.

---◇

The final straw came when you woke up one night to find her sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Yunjin?!” you gasped, scrambling back against the headboard.

She tilted her head, in pure puppy fashion, her expression unnerving you. “You left your window unlocked,” she said, as if that explained everything. “I got worried when you didn’t text me back. I couldn’t sleep not knowing if you were okay.”

Her fevour and devotion for you sent a chill down your spine. You tried to steady your voice. “Yunjin, this… this isn’t normal. You can’t just come into my house like this.”

Her smile faltered, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—hurt, anger, desperation.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Don’t you see? You’re my everything. I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind racing as you tried to figure out how to get her to leave. But before you could speak, she leaned closer, her hands softly holding your face, her warm hands and heavy breathing soothing your panic slightly.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she whispered. “I’ll always take care of you. Always.”

Her words sounded more like a promise than reassurance, and as she stood to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

The door clicked shut behind her, but her presence lingered—an invisible weight pressing down on you. You stared at the window she’d used to sneak in, your heart pounding as you realized she would never let you go.

when you fall in love ---◇

- despite her overwhelming presence, Yunjin’s softer moments make your heart flutter. the way she looks at you, like you’re her entire world, becomes addictive.

- her obsessive attention to detail feels flattering at times—she remembers everything about you, from your favorite coffee order to the way you like your books organized.

- when she clings to your arm or rests her head on your shoulder, you feel a strange sense of comfort, like you’re her safe place.

- her determination to always take care of you becomes endearing, especially when she shows up with things you didn’t realize you needed, like an umbrella on a rainy day or soup when you’re sick.

- you catch yourself smiling when she texts you goodnight every single night without fail, her messages filled with warmth and affection.

- the intensity in her gaze when she talks to you makes your stomach flip—it’s like she’s silently telling you how much you mean to her.

- over time, her possessiveness starts to feel less threatening and more like she’s terrified of losing you, which makes you want to protect her in return.

- her vulnerability during emotional moments tugs at your heart; the way her voice shakes when she says, “I can’t lose you,” makes you realize how much she needs you.

- the little notes she leaves for you, filled with sweet words and doodles, make your chest feel warm. you keep them tucked away, unable to throw them out.

- one day, when she shyly confesses how deeply she feels for you, her honesty is so raw and sincere that you can’t help but fall for her too. And now you're girlfriends let's gooo🗣‼️

how sex with yunjin is like (non gp version) -◇

- she NEEDS close contact,so she makes sure to have you extremely close when fucking. any position where she doesn't see your face? she's NOT doing it, always whining and grumbling in your ear when she fucks you with her favourite navy blue strap from behind, but you suggested doing it in front of a mirror, and that was the best day of her life. the mascara running down your face, drool running down your chin, and it turns out it's not so bad!!! bc she can lean down and mark your back whenever she wants!! your sessions always end in you flinching in pain when you feel her bite marks, but yunjin won't let you sit in pain for too long!! no no!! she has the BEST aftercare in the world🤞🤞

- praises you ALL the time. she hates degrading you, doesn't like the idea of even disrespecting you, even if you want it😭she definitely says stuff along the lines of:

"C'mon baby, just one more, give me one more doll, i know you can. I know you can do it for me."

"You're so pretty underneath me like this, d'ya know that?"

"Ugh, you feel so fucking good, you're so fucking wet for me, you like that, y/nnie?"

- certified service dom, and ur her lucky pillow princess

- she will scream and throw a tantrum if she doesn't get to taste you on her tongue for at least 2 hours a day. yunjinnie begs all day for you, following you around your house. even at college she would ask to have you. "please, pleaseeee? you're not being a good girlfriend right now."

- when she doesn't get what she wants she wants talk to you at all, until you give it to her. and so you reluctantly do, and that was a mistake. she doesn't let you go until she's positive that you can't walk or talk and your brain scrambled. when there's saliva everywhere, and your clit is sore and an angry shade of red, the 9th orgasm gushing out of your pussy, and your body limp?? she's accomplished her life's purpose.

(gp version) -◇

- desperate as fuck. her breeding kink is absolutely uncontrollable. she would bend you over the kitchen counter, smacking your ass while pulling your panties off (you dont bother wearing clothes around her because shes going to rip them off anyway). she'd push her dick into your pussy, and when she feels you clench around her tip, she already feels like she's in heaven. she wpuld pump her hot, thick cum into you until youre gripping the edge of the counter, panting heavily.

- marking you everywhere. your neck, your waist, your belly, your shoulders, your wrist, your thighs, your pu-

- she lives for the sound you make when you gag on her fat cock... quickly thrusting deep, so that your nose is pressed against her tummy, and her heavy balls slap against your chin as she repeatedly fucks your face without warning

- like the non gp version, she prefers to see your face, and positions like mating press are the best in her opinion!! that's where her cock hits the deepest, and filling your pussy up with her semen is the only thought in her mind rn🤞🤞

#urno1luv #huh yunjin #huh yunjin x fem reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x fem reader #yunjin le sserafim #yunjin smut #yunjin x reader #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #girl group smut #girl group x female reader #le sserafim x fem reader #lesserafim x reader

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jaylver · 1 year ago

Text

THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around.

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one.

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay?

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable.

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now.

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say?

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay.

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging.

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead.

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything.

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him.

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock?

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right.

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place.

"Can I hug you?"

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better.

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away.

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him,"

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you.

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places.

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room.

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably.

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay.

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk.

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step.

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay.

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again?

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real.

"Can we talk?"

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained.

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope.

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while.

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was.

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?"

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him.

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them.

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon.

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare.

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers.

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—"

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night.

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you.

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry,"

"Jay—"

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all?

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened.

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all.

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself.

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears.

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you.

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you.

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?"

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?"

"Of you leaving again,"

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated.

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced. Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else.

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close.

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget.

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible,"

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes,"

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you.

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side.

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

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bueckersworld · 19 days ago

Text

i won’t call you mine

“scared to fall? then i’m your guy, i won’t call you mine.”

SYNOPSIS: a midnight beach meet-up wasn’t supposed to mean anything—but under moonlight and soft confessions, paige feels like more than a passing summer mistake.

WARNINGS: mild language, emotional vulnerability, romantic boundaries, alcohol mention — not consumed.

WORD COUNT: 3k RECOMMENDED SONG: duvet cover — ashley singh. info. masterlist. taglist. just for the summer.

you tell yourself it isn’t a date.

you’ve said it out loud, even—twice. once to your friend when she asked where you were going tonight, and again to yourself in the mirror, brushing a hand over your outfit like you weren’t trying. like you didn’t take twenty minutes picking it out. like you didn’t check her instagram story before leaving, just to see if she’d posted something—anything—since last night.

she hadn’t.

but she did text you.

paige:

you busy tonight?

you:

depends. will i need a new shirt this time?

paige:

no promises.

paige:

meet me on the beach. midnight.

you hesitated—only for a second—then typed back,

send the pin.

and now you’re here.

barefoot in the sand, shoes in hand, breeze in your hair. the moon spills silver over the shoreline and the waves crash just loud enough to drown your thoughts. there’s something sacred about a beach at night—something that makes you quieter, more honest. and maybe that’s why you’re nervous now, standing in the dark, heart racing with the wind.

you see her before she sees you.

paige, sitting near the waterline with her knees drawn up and a hoodie over her head. she looks relaxed in a way you hadn’t expected. grounded. she’s tracing shapes in the sand with one finger, like the ocean’s her soundtrack and she’s just trying to keep time.

you walk toward her, slow. cautious.

she looks up, and when she sees you, her whole face changes.

like it was worth waiting for.

“you came,” she says, standing up and brushing sand from her legs.

“you sent a pin,” you shrug, trying to sound chill.

“true.” she smiles. “but you didn’t have to show up.”

you shrug again, stepping closer. “maybe i was hoping you’d ruin another shirt.”

she laughs, soft and breathy. “i left my drink in the car. but i could run back and fix that.”

“maybe later.”

you sit together on a large towel she’s already laid out, a cooler beside it that you hadn’t noticed before.

“i brought snacks,” she says, pulling it open. “and by snacks i mean mostly candy and one bottle of water.”

“balanced.”

“i’m an athlete. i plan things.”

you steal a pack of sour gummies and kick your feet out in the sand.

“so,” she says, voice low. “tell me something about you.”

you glance over. “like what?”

“i don’t know. something people don’t usually know. something real.”

you chew on a gummy, stare out at the ocean.

“i get tired of pretending i don’t care,” you admit. “i act like i’m not looking for anything, but sometimes… i think i just say that because i’m scared to actually want it.”

she’s quiet beside you. for a second, you think maybe you’ve said too much.

then she says, “yeah. i get that.”

you turn your head. she’s already looking at you.

“people expect so much from me all the time,” she murmurs. “so when i’m not being watched or coached or praised, i just wanna disappear. not belong to anyone.”

“but?”

her lips twist slightly. “but sometimes i wanna belong anyway.”

you don’t kiss. not yet.

instead, you talk.

you tell her about the worst date you ever went on. she tells you about a fan who asked her to sign their forehead. you laugh too hard at the way she mimics them. she laughs at your terrible imitation of a florida accent. the moon keeps moving, the tide creeps closer, but neither of you shift.

it’s not a date. but it feels like one.

not serious. but also… not not.

“you’re easy to talk to,” she says suddenly.

you smile. “you say that like it surprises you.”

“it does.”

you toss a gummy at her. she catches it. grins.

“you’re not what i expected,” she adds.

“you keep saying that.”

“because it keeps being true.”

at some point, your shoulders touch. you’re not sure when it started, but now you feel the heat of her next to you. her hand is right there in the space between your legs. almost close enough to brush. almost.

you steal a glance.

she’s looking at the sky now, her expression calm. but you can see the tension in her fingers. like she’s thinking about it too.

you break the silence.

“what happens if we do like each other?”

she exhales. “we don’t.”

you turn toward her. “you sure?”

“no,” she says. “but if we pretend we don’t, maybe it won’t hurt when we leave.”

you nod. slow. it makes sense. it also doesn’t.

you both go quiet again.

you stay like that for a while—shoulders barely touching, knees brushing, breaths syncing up like tides. the kind of closeness that doesn’t demand anything. the kind that says i see you. stay here anyway.

finally, she stands.

“come on,” she says, brushing sand off her legs again. “i’ll walk you back to your car.”

you follow her up the beach, shoes still in hand.

when you reach the lot, she hesitates beside your door.

you turn toward her, not sure if this is where you say goodbye or pretend like none of it mattered.

but then—

“can i see you again?” she asks, voice quiet.

you tilt your head. “i thought we weren’t calling this anything.”

“we’re not.” she looks away, like that makes it easier. “but i still wanna see you.”

you nod, slow. “me too.”

she leans in—not for a kiss, just close enough for her hand to brush your arm. “goodnight, not-a-date.”

you smirk. “goodnight, drink assassin.”

she walks away before you can say anything else, her hoodie pulled low and her hands in her pockets like she’s not the kind of person who just knocked the air out of your chest with a single look.

you get in your car.

sit in silence for a minute.

then, your phone buzzes.

paige:

i still don’t want anything serious.

you stare at it for a second.

then you type back.

you:

i know.

i still want to see you too.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ chapter 2 of just for the summer. how are we feeling??? there might be smut next chapter guys 😏😏

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @iwasbored-okay @kl0verk @bqringtears @agnesblight @scarlett177 @syraxsbigfanfr @youmeandjennessey @asapeveryday

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mandarinmoons · 1 month ago

Text

I'll be here, always

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gender neutral reader Summary: Anxious thoughts taking control of your mind again, Spencer reminds you that he is always there to calm your worries Words: 1389 A/N: This is a bit scary to post cause this is something that I myself struggle with from time to time and if you yourself have these thoughts then know that you're not alone <3

You sighed quietly as you watched Spencer work away at his desk, his eyes quickly scanning details of the paperwork as he worked to try and solve it. It was as if he had glued himself onto the chair as soon as he got home, barely taking any breaks to eat, use the bathroom or speak a single word to you.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

You sighed as you watched Spencer flip away at his case files, his eyes not looking up from them to meet your eyes. You don’t think you could’ve met them anyways, but a part of you was begging for him to acknowledge your existence for just once during the day. It was eating you away and with your anxiety acting up more than usual, it was only a matter of time until you were reduced to nothing but tears.

Spencer was not the same after coming home from prison. His demeanor was colder, he kept more to himself and didn’t smile as often. He had expressed himself that he didn’t like what prison had done to him, he missed the way he once was and sometimes would stay up until dawn mourning the person he used to be.

“If you weren’t around I think I would go insane.”

Spencer had confided in you one late night that you were one of the few constants in his life. You had known him for years, ever since he first joined The BAU to when he got arrested. You had seen him at his best and his worst, you took him as he was, as he were, and you weren’t going to leave him over a hard chapter in his life, especially if it had changed him.

Sometimes it was easier said than done. Spencer wasn’t the only who had issues and you were honest with him with the thoughts that consumed your head at times, how they would manifest and why. They weren’t something you were proud of, in fact you would feel guilty over them later on when you managed to get a hold of them. It seemed to be an endless cycle at times and sometimes you wondered if you would ever get better. Spencer changed that though.

He assured you countless times whenever you needed it, he would hold you until you were no longer shaking and would see you smile again, he would do anything for you and it made you stick to him like glue. That wasn’t always a good thing though considering your issues.

With having an anxious attachment, sometimes your worries would arise if Spencer took too long to answer a text or call or if his mood seemed unusual for a longer period of time. You tried your best not to get into your head about it, rationalize with yourself that he’s either busy or tired and needs some time for himself and nine times out of ten things would go back to the way they were soon enough.

This time it was different though. The time spent in prison had altered Spencer permanently and although you knew his love for you hadn’t diminished one bit, if not grown stronger, the way he would express it was different than before and it would take some time to get used to.

“He doesn’t love you anymore, he’s just not able to say it.”

Those kinds of thoughts were plaguing your mind and with the way Spencer was behaving, it was hard to listen to your logical side to try and calm yourself. Everything felt so different and it was hard not to expect that things would fall apart eventually.

You were brought back to reality when you felt tears stream down your face, the emotions being too overbearing and let go when you weren’t noticing. You couldn’t let Spencer see you this way so you brushed them away, cleared your throat and looked towards your boyfriend as you tried your best to make sure your voice didn’t crack.

“I’m feeling a bit tired, I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

Spencer only nodded and went back to skimming through his papers, feeling your heart sink again at the lack of his acknowledgement.

Walking to bed and lying down on the covers, you couldn’t help but notice how with every day that passed the sheets seemed colder. Maybe it was because Spencer’s scent had diminished by each day, making the overall feeling less comforting and warm.

You couldn’t help but have tears pouring from your eyes. It was exhausting having to keep it in and you couldn’t bear to do it anymore. Usually you would be right on track to run into Spencer’s arms to have him help you feel more grounded, but with his behaviour being so cold lately, you didn’t want to risk it when he wasn’t in the best mood or maybe even be scolded by him. Has it happened before? No, but you were too scared of those thoughts becoming true one day and with his demeanor being the way it was right now, the chances of it happening seemed higher than ever before.

After some time of silently letting the tears out, feeling exhausted by all of the emotions, you eventually did fall asleep. At least with sleeping you knew you would feel more calm and collected later, but slowly the cycle would start again at some point and you would have to go through the process all over again, something you weren’t sure how long you would be able to keep up.

Sensing that something was wrong, Spencer made his way to the bedroom and stood at the door for a moment, taking in your sleeping figure. Your back was turned to the door and your knees pressed to your chest in a fetal position, your body's way of showing you need protection and comfort, something Spencer knew he had lacked recently.

Feeling his heart ache, he made his way to the bed, laid down next to you and gently wrapped his arms around you, causing you to stir and open your eyes.

With Spencer’s thumbs caressing your arms, another flood of tears escaped your eyes and as you tried to hold back a sob, Spencer was quick to turn you around and bury your head in his chest, making it impossible to not let out your cries.

“It’s okay sweetheart.”

With each loving touch it was harder and harder not to cry. The one thing you needed for so long had finally been given to you and you didn’t know whether to be happy or sad. You did need what Spencer was giving to you, but had it been something forced out of him?

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“That I’m not in control this.”

Spencer took your head into his hands as his eyes looked into yours, his thumbs brushing away the fallen tears and feeling his own eyes tear up seeing how red your eyes seemed. He hadn’t been there for you and it was eating him alive.

“Honey, listen to me. It is not your fault for feeling the way you do, it all leads back to the way you were raised as a child and you had no control over how your parents treated you. We all have our slip ups, but it does not mean that you’re not handling it well, because you are. It’s just a bump in the road and that does not mean you don’t have a handle on this or that it won’t get better. It does, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Not being able to get the words out, your lips pressed onto Spencer’s gently as a way of showing gratitude for his words. He always knew exactly what to say to help calm you and this time his words hit a bit deeper. It wasn’t your fault how you were treated but that didn’t mean that you weren’t worthy of love.

Your loud inner critic lost its power slowly as you and Spencer continued to hold each other and take in each other’s presence. Soon enough you both fell asleep while being in each other’s arms and slept soundly through the night, hearts beating in unison as well as smiles plastered on your tired faces.

You can find my masterlists here! Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

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bunlaozu · 1 month ago

Text

Missing you.

[Redacted] X Reader

type: fluff (this time)

word count: 1614 (not super long this time)

warnings: none! (also this time, more interesting stuffs in the future tho!)

hai this is gonna be basically my intro to tumblr! first post yayyy (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

i thought to myself hey, what is ren really like at home? and im sure my moots will know what i rly think of him but.. i thought it would be cute to write how i think he'd act a couple years post game, a small domestic moment i thought up for u (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

(also pls pls ignore my bad grammar and punctuation, this is very beta)

You and Redacted had been living together quite a while now, almost two years! Really it was just shy of perfect, something was always happening in your apartment with them, some project or puzzle or new game they'd decided you must play together. This weekend was particularly lazy, with nothing to do actively around the house having done all the chores alone for once.

See, Redacted, you'd discovered early into your relationship, was a nerd. He loved his computers and his small robots, he loved to build and tinker and usually left his office quite a mess. He'd found a part he needed for his latest project off some internet forum, something no longer produced, "rare", he'd said. The only downside is that the pickup was almost 4 hours inland, meaning he'd have to be gone almost the entire day.

Redacted had slid out of your bed much too early in the morning and bade you a kiss goodbye, whispering you softly back to sleep before you'd even really noticed. That meant you hadn't seen him properly since the night before, which.. was fine, and it was normal for partners to be busy. but you missed him anyways, terribly even, especially in his absence of usual texts he sent constantly when not home.

It was about 7pm now and the blood red sunset on the beach cast a glow into your home, spreading across the pristine white marble flooring almost like spilled juice. you stood in the kitchen having decided to cook for once, in Redacted's absence who usually always insisted to do this. You stood at the stove, stupid pun apron on and wooden spoon in hand making spam fried rice with a fruit tart dish in the oven. It wasn't much but it was something he loved and you hoped to surprise him with it when he got home tonight, god willing it be before midnight since the location app the two of you shared wasn't picking him up anymore.

You paused a moment to admire the shining gold band on your left hand, a pretty diamond nestled in ornate but simple patterns. Not that it could be seen but when Redacted had proposed to you just 6 months ago you'd discovered he'd had your rings engraved, just a simple “always” but it was perfect. The metal glinted in the light of the kitchen and it brought a soft smile to your face before eventually you needed to pay attention to the food on the stove again but with a warm feeling throughout.

You stood in the kitchen humming along to some new love song off the radio, tapping the end of the spoon against the counter before ultimately deciding to use it as a microphone because, why not? No one was home after all. The sounds of the stove vent running and the sizzling of the rice in the pan coupled with the music covered anything else, a small little bubble of life which a certain someone was hearing from the foyer as he snuck through the front door.

You didn't notice a thing, eyes closed having a playful moment to yourself until large warm arms wrapped around your waist and picked you up for a spin. you squealed in surprise and wiggled around in his arms gleefully, wanting to get a look at your lover after a whole day gone. "I'm home~ did'ya miss me?" his low warm voice hummed beside your ear, making you giggle in his hold and immediately reach to shut off the stove knowing he was too clingy to allow you to continue cooking.

"Yes i missed you!! Let me go!!" his arms loosened around you just enough for you to spin around, coming chest to delicate paper with him and gasping the moment you saw what he held close. Between the two of you was a beautiful bouquet of flowers, an entire spring mix of beautiful blues and whites and purples with his smiling hopeful face above the flowers. "What do y-" "I love them!!! They're so beautiful, did you know you're my favorite?" you burst out not even letting him ask, taking the bouquet gently from his hold before leaping into his arms and pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other with Redacted's hands running up and down your sides in warm paths till he seemingly had a new idea. He pressed you back and back and back, practically laying you down on the counter top while his kisses migrated across your face, over your hair, anywhere he could reach. his warm breath raised goosebumps across your skin and his smile pressed into your skin caused a new shiver, making you feel much too warm for an already toasty kitchen. "What are you.. a dog? All over me like a puppy.." you mumbled softly with a lovesick expression, hardly even an attempt at discouraging his overeager behavior.

"Missed you.. Can i not miss you? Missed you all day, missed you so much.." he rumbled softly against your skin where his mouth was pressed, hardly even kissing anymore so much as placing his mouth against your skin just to feel. He whispered the words reverently over and over, pressing the sentiment marrow deep to somewhere it would stick and take hold there, something that would grow. Redacted pressed his nose to your neck for a deep slow inhale, making you giggle at the sensation and finally decide to try and push him away while you squirmed in his arms. This only made things worse when he latched onto your waist tighter with a new determined look in his eyes not hiding the sparkle of mischief.

He left small breaths across your jaw and onto your face, pressing feather light kisses and making a point to be absolutely as close as possible. The cool brush from his nose only tickled worse but he refused to let up, leaving a delicate trail of breathy kisses all over your face and going as far to press his nose to yours, holding just like that for a moment. He slowly opened his mouth and bit on the tip of your nose, making you yelp in surprise and scrunch up with distaste. Redacted practically shook above you in a silent laughter, kissing the small nip better in a sincere apology with his soft eyelashes fluttering into a slightly remorseful smile.

"Redacted.. what is this? What are you even doing?" you said soft and endlessly fond, giving in and closing your eyes to his smirk pressed against your cheek, allowing him his fill of some much needed love. Once he started to nibble on your skin again you finally decided to gently put a hand over his mouth, snickering softly when he just started to gently nip and kiss at your fingers instead. You meant to push him away till his lips met the gold band on your finger, giving it a special devotion with your hand cradled between his own as if he held something to be worshipped. The sight was almost too much to bear, something fuzzy and warm tightening in your chest reminding you that you had this, he really was yours.

"Again, what'll i do with you??" you sighed with the fondest smile and a certain helplessness to your voice as he finally glanced up and your eyes met soft blue, a ghost of a hidden grin on his face, clearly very proud of himself. "Keep me?" he murmured in return, clearly gearing up to dive back in for more kisses which meant quickly squirming away off of the counter, wagging a finger in his direction.

"No more of you! Our dinner will get cold and then what?" you scolded, picking up your discarded wooden spoon to wave in his face. Redacted immediately crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks out in a pout, giving a small kick to the floor with a socked foot like there was any dirt to nudge while glancing up at you to see if his little show was working. "But.. y’could always reheat it..." he said petulantly, reaching for you and not expecting you to dance away, a smile on your face.

He reached for you again with a bit more speed and then it quickly became a game of cat and mouse, doing your best to slip and dodge from his reach while he became continuously competitive. He chased after you out of the kitchen and in front of the couch, smiling so hard it hurt and having worked up a slight pant. when he lunged for you this time you let him catch you, falling back onto the couch with a loud oof and a series of wheezing laughs knocking the breath from you both.

you reached up a hand to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the gentle flush from the exertion and excitement. "Got it out of your system? Can we have dinner now?" you said wryly, looking up at him with your best unamused expression. He put on an overly dramatic thinking face and hummed softly, looking around as if this were the hardest thing in the world to decide. his hands ran warm up and down your sides, sliding slowly over the skin under your shirt taking deliberately long touches to burn the feeling of his rough fingers into your skin. Redacted made a sound of affirmation and looked down at you with a smile "Nope. Missed you.”

Needless to say, dinner did need to be reheated and the tart was a little bit too toasty to taste good.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #14dwy x reader

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kaiserin-erzsebet · 4 months ago

Text

I may have commented about this before (though I think not because I was worried it would come off as selfish complaining), but I think enough time has passed to say it:

My biggest frustration with the perception of Dracula Daily is that it was all memes and shipping. The physical book version did not help this by choosing a format that just put memes, short posts, and fanart next to the text.

I think quite a bit of the analysis and meta commentary was what made the experience enjoyable. People were engaging with the portrayal of women, of trauma, of disability etc in the book and grappling with the ways it is not what they expected. That part was really gratifying, especially when it extended to people reconsidering their preconceived notions of classic literature.

To me it was a book club for people who also analyze for fun.

I feel like much of that was lost in some of the presentations of the experience. Dracula Daily the book didn't include long analysis. Re:Dracula brought in outside academics for commentary.

And while I'm not saying anyone had to ask me or include my analysis (I don't even agree with all my analysis anymore), it has nagged at me for a while that from the outside looking in you might think it was all memes and no nuanced discussion. It just feels like it's missing something, you know?

#Dracula Daily

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russellbee · 4 months ago

Text

I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID (MV1)

max verstappen x driver!reader (team & gender are ambiguous) summary. you've never been good at talking to people. you can never form the right words, hold eye contact, or in worst cases, think before you speak. so truthfully, you're not really surprised when you end up confusing max with your spontaneous confession. unbeknownst to both of you, lando brings you back together. (writing, texts, + a bit of smau) (3.3k) warnings. for self-hate & mentions of hate comments, mentions of anxiety(!!!), everyone is confused and oblivious (except lando!), george and max rivalry is very present, mentions of alcohol & intoxication, use of y/n, reader has parents (and is close-ish with them), sorry if your name is spencer (the name is used for a friend), george doesn't have a gf(!!!), mentions of sex (but it’s really nothing), and cursing. andi's note!! inspired by my beautiful adhd brain 😍😍 (and my max obsession, ofc!) the title is from 'i might say something stupid' by charli xcx but the song doesn't have anything to do with the fic!

nav+masterlist

You've seen multiple media outlets say that your mouth is disconnected from your brain with the amount of (accidental) out of pocket things you've said. Your first post-race interview in F1 ended with you severely embarrassed because you tried to make a joke but the way you worded it made it sound rude. You had backtracked as soon as you realized how it came off (honestly, it took too long) but you still had the comments you'd seen online stuck in your head.

Every season in F1 you get increasingly more nervous to talk in interviews or to the other drivers; the comments and articles gnawing at your self esteem. But with Max it's always been different. He can laugh off an unintentional brash remark or just raise an eyebrow and in a snap you'll realize what went wrong. So, because of how easy it is to talk to Max you've become close.

You're in Abu Dhabi, the season's ended and George Russell is getting on your nerves. He's in your sight, talking to Lando and Alex; laughing. You don't dislike George, he's always been nice to you but your love for Max trumps your like for George. Love?

You're just a little tipsy. It's fine.

As long as George doesn't go near you maybe you won't open your mouth. It's always hard to stop talking the second you get alcohol in your system; not a single word is filtered, it all just comes out.

Someone is staring at you, it better not be George because he knows what you'd do for—

"Are you alright?" Max sits down next to you, gin & tonic in hand. He's so— warm. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his jeans. (It's not really warm enough for shorts but you couldn't remember the weather from last year, so you're stuck in a pair of shorts you brought to Qatar.)

"Huh?" What he said comes back to you and you stammer, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine just thinking. I guess."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, y'know." You really are thinking; thinking about how good his cologne smells and wondering if it clings to him night and day. Does he always smell this great? How have you never noticed this?

"What are you thinking— Do you ever feel like, really obsessed with someone? Like you see them and you want them. Bad." You cut through his question with your own (stupid) question. Neither of you are looking at each other. You're too focused on not looking at him, actually. Why do you always do this? Did you never learn how to talk to people?

You're so busy panicking that you don't notice your eyes are still on George, and Max has noticed; his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he been reading things wrong?

You're waiting at your gate when you get the text. You feel your phone buzz against your thigh and you hope, and hope that it's Max. You're terrified to message him first, worried he heard the meaning of your question and didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't said anything last night. Maybe he's finally sick of you. Can't even let him speak, or think before you talk with a single drop of alcohol in your system. You squeeze your eyes tight and will your brain to stop talking. Then, after a deep breath you open Whatsapp and see it's from Alex.

alex albon

did you tell max to apologise to george?

You blink. What? Never in your life would you think Max would apologize to George. You wouldn't tell him to either. What had gotten into him? Who would be able to change his mind like that?

alex albon

y/nnn

you have read receipts on ik you saw this

You sigh, trying to slow down your brain so you can make your thoughts coherent for Alex.

you

sorry i was thinking

didn't tell him to do that

idk why he would, it's not like him

alex albon

alright thanks 👍

i think we're all confused rn haha

Your boarding group is called and you feel a little bit of annoyance bubble in you. This is gonna be stuck in your mind for the entire flight.

the best rookies

lando

i think y/n likes george

or that's what max thinks at least

alex

and how did you come to this conclusion?

george

That makes no sense

Y/n and I don't talk that often

lando

i saw them together b4 y/n left

they were staring at us

prob george tho

considering everything

george

Many people stare at us, Lando

lando

you don't getttt it

max looked like

mad but confused?? he was very focused on you

and y/n looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them

v embarrassed yknow

alex

y/n probably just said smth wrong

can't really see them liking george

george

If anything, Y/n likes Max

lando

max doesn't care when they do that tho

ik y/n likes max thats like super obvious

ugh u guys dont get it at all 😒

You had practiced your speech for the awards, had repeated it over and over in your head. P3 in the championship, a first for you. Then you made a fool of yourself, stumbled over your words. People had laughed a bit, but in the back of your mind you acknowledge it had nothing to do with the jokes you attempted. At least you didn't have to take any more photos.

Lando finds you as you're about to leave, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and steadying your breathing. "You weren't that bad you know?" Lando teases and you let out a breathy laugh. "Fuck off." He laughs and you both start to leave the venue.

You make meaningless small talk. Lando is going to ski with friends and you'll be visiting a childhood friend, Spencer, in London. You're both anticipating a better season. The valets go to retrieve your cars, and you're both left standing on the sidewalk. It's a little humid, but not enough to make you want to blast the AC.

"Did you see George's post on Insta?" Lando asks after the silence has settled. Your face scrunches up, "Sorry?" You would've been fine to stay quiet until one of your cars arrived and you'd say goodbye. Lando had other plans, apparently.

"His post saying goodbye to Lewis. The last picture was nice, wasn't it?" You feel like there's something Lando's searching for but you can't put the pieces together. "I don't follow George on Insta. I— It's not like I don't like him, it's just. We're not really close?" Lando raises a brow, and it's not like when Max does it. It's something else, and you don't understand. You want to ask why, what he's thinking, but the valet parks your car in front of the sidewalk before you can.

Lando moves forward when the valet gets out, holding the driver's side door open for you. What is going on? You look at Lando, questions floating in your head and then hesitantly get into your car. "Have a nice off-season." Lando's grin is triumphant. Not like when he's at the top of a podium, something different and unfamiliar, yet kind.

"Yeah, thanks." Maybe you just don't know him well enough.

Lando double checks everything. He looks through his and George's mutuals and looks through the likes on George's end-of-season posts. He's never been more determined to prove Alex and George wrong. (And getting you and Max together, of course!)

Oscar looks at him weird 'cause he's grinning at his phone, then teases him, asks him if he's got a girlfriend. Lando laughs it off, because how is he supposed to say that he's investigating into some grid drama? That he's trying to understand what happened after Abu Dhabi, with you and Max? George has been ruled out as a player in this game, none of you are that close.

In London, you facetime your parents. They show you everything in their little villa that you rented out for them, the sandy beaches and the bright ocean. They tell you that they miss you and you repeat the sentiment. A part of you misses Max more, and you try to push that down.

Spencer orders pizza, and you both relax on the couch as you wait for it to arrive. They make a noise, a bit contemplative but unsurprised, and you look up from your own phone. Spencer's looking at you with a wolfish grin. "Oh, no."

"Have you seen this?" Their voice is teasing as they hand you their phone. It's opened to a post on the F1 Instagram account, the caption reads: Celebrating Max's 4th WDC with pictures of the best friendship on the grid 🏆. You gape slightly at the first picture; it's of you and Max in Zandvoort '23 on the podium. You both have bright smiles, your focus is on drenching Max with your champagne. He's laughing, accepting the spray. You don't bother to look at the rest, a sick feeling building in your stomach that you've begun to associate with Max. You know what it means, but you can't acknowledge it now. You haven't talked in over 2 weeks.

The pizza arrives and Spencer makes you pay. You can't get yourself to eat a lot, too stuck in your mind to acknowledge your hunger. When you lay in bed later that night, you feel sick. You know it's not the food, you know what it is. In the back of your mind you wonder if you'll ever be able to accept your feelings or if you'll just have to get over it.

lando norris has made a groupchat

monaco dinner 😁😁 (alex albon, george russell, max 🏆, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, you)

lando norris

alright everyone. need to know when you're all returning to monaco

"You're up to something," Oscar says from beside Lando. Lando raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. "Whatever do you mean, Osc?" His teammate rolls his eyes before scanning the table, landing at the empty seat next to George. Everyone is here, except you. Lando pretended he got a text from you saying that you'd be late, when in reality that's not the case. He told you the reservation was for twenty minutes later than he told everyone else. His plan needed to work and he didn't want you arriving earlier than intended.

"Y/n, someone who is always scared of coming late they come fifteen minutes early, isn't here. I'm assuming you have nothing to do with this?" Lando's grin grows wider. "Mate."

"Just wait."

You arrive at the restaurant 5 minutes early, since you had to walk and that led you to being noticed by some fans. When you go up to reception and say who you'll be sitting with, the host raises a brow before directing you to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Everyone is already there, drinks on the table. Worried, you look at your watch to see it isn't even the time Lando sent. You're early.

The only seat open is at the end of the table, to the right of George. It's also right across from Max. He looks surprised to see you, putting away his phone as you sit down. George says hi and asks you how your break has been so far. You make pleasant, friendly conversation with him. When Charles asks you a question you turn your attention to him, and notice that Max's mood has visibly soured. He must notice you looking, because he inserts himself into Alex and Carlos' conversation. You bite your cheek, trying not to seem annoyed or disappointed. You still haven't talked, and it's been seven weeks. He's liked your posts; the one from your trip to London, a set of gym photos your team took, and your photos from your other trip. No comments, just likes.

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the dinner, instead he watches you make conversation with your other drivers. You stumble over your words, make mistakes and try to laugh it off. It's nice to talk to them, it just requires more energy. With Max, you don't have to worry about your never-ending rambling or your stories that tend to not make sense. It's easy. You miss it.

Dinner ends, you all split the check and go your separate ways. After getting your card back you head to the bathroom, just standing in silence for a few seconds. You need a break, especially if you run into some fans on your way home. The more you talk and force your brain to try, the more exhausted you get. The easier it is to snap or say something completely wrong. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that.

You scrub your hands over your face, trying to wake yourself up. In your pocket your phone buzzes once. Then twice.

max 🏆

Are you still here?

I didn't see you leave.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you make yourself type slowly. Your hands are shaking. You need to get a grip.

you

yeah, haven't left yet

you're still here then?

max 🏆

Yep. Meet you at the entrance?

you

sure

As you leave the bathroom your brain has fired up again, what the fuck, repeating in your head consistently. Because, what the fuck? Why has Max all of a sudden decided to talk to you? What changed his mind?

He's standing in the waiting area, his plain white t-shirt covered by a jacket you recognize from the Alphatauri website. The corner of your lip twitches, as you fight back a smile. He's so predictable.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, like he was scared that you were lying. Like you'd hide in the bathroom till he left. Even though you're mad at him, you can't see yourself doing that, ever.

"Hi. Um, nice break so far? We haven't talked a lot," You let out an awkward laugh, cringing internally. Why did you bring that up? And in the first sentence too?

"I'm sorry about that, I've been busy," Max's smile is weak and your heart deflates a bit because you know when he's lying. He doesn't do it often, so it's easy to tell. "I meant to text you, really." But that isn't a lie. Huh. You stare at him for a second trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, didn't have time to get gas. I mean— I did, I just forgot because I've been doing other stuff." Max smiles and everything feels almost normal again. The seven weeks of silence still looms over the conversation, like it's preparing to end your friendship forever. "I'll drive you. You didn't move, right?" He has a smile on his face, the one when he's trying to be funny. You feel that sick feeling building, and your skin warms.

"No, I should though. Apparently my neighbor almost set the complex on fire, and the one across from me she— she did something weird, I can't remember. But I know it caused a meeting for the building about some policy and everyone was really mad at her," You ramble, voice picking up as you get that giddy feeling, when you know you're really being listened to. Max leads you to his car and you get into the passenger seat. On the drive to your building, you finally remember the reason why your neighbor got in trouble.

"She got in trouble because she had sex on her balcony or something, and then someone saw and reported it. Holy shit, I can't believe I forgot that!" You laugh, face scrunching with your smile.

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes!" It feels really good to talk to Max again, to feel a true connection when you talk to him.

lando norris

hey mate

how's y/n?

max

Good?

Do you not have her number?

lando norris

no haha sorry

thought you guys were dating

things seemed off just wanted to make sure

max

Right.

We're fine

lando norris

but not dating? (max has reacted with 👍)

Everything has been good with Max. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you can talk to him again. You flew with him to Bahrain and now Australia. Media day is tomorrow, and Lando has texted you asking if you want to go explore, like neither of you have ever been to Melbourne. You say yes, anyway.

You're in the elevator going down to the lobby, when it stops at another floor. George is standing on the other side of the doors, and he smiles at you as he walks in. "Hanging out with Max?" He asks as the doors slide shut.

"No, Lando invited me out. He said he wanted to explore, which I don't really understand because he's been to Melbourne multiple times. Also, Oscar's his teammate so, I don't—," You stop yourself. "It'll probably be fun though, it's Lando."

"Lando invited you out?"

"Uh— Yeah? Why?"

"He invited me out as well, that's all." Oh.

Is he trying to set you and George up? The thought hits you like a truck and your nose scrunches up involuntarily. First, the questions about his Instagram and then making you sit next to him at dinner. You feel warm, anger building inside you. Is Lando oblivious?

↳ user since when are they friends????

↳ user you left out the part that lando was with them 💀

You and George walk back together, an awkward silence hanging over you. It was a fun day. You took pictures, ate good food. You had fun. It was just awkward because it seemed both you and George knew what Lando was trying to do.

You're waiting for the elevator when George turns toward you. You shift your eyes toward him, trying to make sense about what he's about to do. "Do you like me?"

Your eyes widen and for a moment all you can do is stare at George. "No, I— I don't know where Lando got the idea that I like you, but I don't." You're trying to be nice in case George does actually like you, but he lets out a breath of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Lando is..."

"He's Lando, I know." The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You both walk in and George hits the button for your floors. "You do like Max though, right?" Once again you find yourself speechless. George laughs, cheeks turning red.

"Sorry, it's— It's really obvious, I don't know how Lando missed it." You're burning with embarrassment when you look away from George and mutter, "It's not that obvious." He cracks up, and you feel yourself growing warmer.

Thankfully for you, George gets off soon enough and it's just you. When you step off the elevator, you notice someone leaning against the wall by your door, scrolling on their phone. They look up when you come to a stop. It's Max, in another plain t-shirt and skinny jeans. You may hate the skinny jeans but they really show off his thighs, so it's not that bad. "Hi."

Max walks over to you, stopping so there's only a few inches between you. You can smell his cologne, see how blue his eyes are, and how his hair is a little out of place. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before he can. "You look good, I mean—," You cut yourself off to prevent the inevitable ramble about how good he looks; your friends have heard it numerous times. Max blinks, the beginning of a smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you.

You make a little noise in surprise before you reciprocate, you reach for him blindly, grabbing onto his shoulder. It's easy kissing Max. You've been waiting for this, the soft press of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand against your face. The same sick feeling rests in your stomach, and you feel it; the way your heart speeds up when he's near and the hot flush that builds on your skin when he touches you. You never want it to end.

yourusername close friends story

[caption: @.maxverstappen1 🤍]

view replies

lando OMG DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN??

yourusername yes...? lando oh thank god my plan worked i was so close to locking you two in a closet yourusername HUH????

#russellbee; writing #russellbee; mv1 #russellbee; driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x driver!reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic

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captain-bubble-wrap · 3 months ago

Text

Warnings | none

Word count | 5.1k

Summary | 6 years is a long time to go without talking to someone after they hung up on you. What do you do when that person messages you out of the blue?

Tagged cuties | @quinnsbabygirl @quinnhughesandqenthusiast @ruinix

- - -

"You just don't understand it, Quinn!"

"I don't? Really? Maybe you don't understand how it works! You don't own me, you know."

"I'm not trying to, but you keep playing with me!"

You were pacing around your dorm room, phone against your ear, deep in an argument with Quinn. He was less than four months into his rookie NHL season and you were starting another year at Michigan. Things had been rough between the two of you since he had left, but now it was so much worse. Talking to him was impossible, or rather, getting him to talk to you was impossible. He rarely texted your first, and if he did, it was to tell you that he was going on the road and just wouldn't want to be on his phone.

Trying to be in his life as much as he'd let you, you tried to watch as many games as you could while balancing class and work. Tonight, Vancouver had lost to the Lightning 9-2 in Tampa and you had just called to be there for him, and it had been a fight since he answered.

"Playing with you?" He scoffed. "You don't let me breathe, Y|N! You don't trust me! I can't do this anymore. I'm over it!"

You rolled your eyes, mouth open to interject just as soon as he was done. "Why would I trust you? You keep me shut out all the time! You have no idea how shitty you are in a relationship, Quinn. Go run around with the rest of your little fan club. Find one of them to screw around with! Don't call me--"

"Hadn't planned on it," Quinn said, interrupting you before ending the call.

That had been almost six years ago.

Quinn was enjoying some time off, down in Florida, around the holidays, trying to get over a hand injury that had been plaguing him for some time. It was late in the evening when he found himself alone in the hot tub, making sure he didn't drop his phone in the steaming water while he scrolled through his Instagram. He had connected with a girl based in Vancouver a few weeks ago and was about to DM her when something else caught his eye. Someone he hadn't thought about in years; someone he hadn't realized he was even still following.

The two of you had met in college; Quinn having enrolled the year prior. You were on the university's Equestrian Team, but it had been your shared Literature class that had brought you two together. You knew nothing about hockey, but Quinn had been more than willing to explain it to you, when you learned he was a star on the team. Everything had been so fun when you were together. However, that fun soon ran out when he left the States for Vancouver. Twenty-five hundred miles apart had been the biggest strain on your relationship, but the time difference, the unknowing, and the mistrust on your part had been the final nails in the coffin.

You had been nineteen, and he was twenty. Neither of you had any business in a long-distance relationship, let alone any kind of relationship built on a fast-paced attraction and no emotional foundation. However, you had taken everything he had done personally, as he had been only the second guy you had ever dated. You just didn't know what you were doing. That was something that you had realized much later in life, and you'd be lying if you hadn't wanted to reconnect with him, if just to apologize, but too much had happened, and you felt it was too late. His posts on Instagram still dinged in on your phone and you would view them when you were curious enough, but often times you'd just clear the notifications. Those days, between the two of you, had been so long ago, and you feared he didn't remember you anyways except for maybe a black spot in his memory.

Your hockey-watching days had come to and end when your relationship had bit the bullet, but you had heard from mutual friends, who remembered Quinn and who were avid sports watchers, that he had made some significant strides in his career with the Canucks. You were happy for him, sure, but the constant reminder of you having been with him had hurt too much and you wondered if it would just be easier to unfollow him. However, you never did. It wasn't like he posted that often, anyways.

It was nearing eleven in the evening outside St. Augustine, Florida. You were getting buckets ready for the morning's feedings when you phone pinged. Anytime your phone went off that late you always made sure to check it. Your parents always told you that calls after hours were never good news. Though, when you turned on the screen, you weren't expecting to see that notification.

Who had sent you a message? Did that say Quinn Hughes had sent you a message? The message read almost like spam, but the account was verified. So, if it was really him, then why? You hadn't spoken since the breakup. In fact, the last message had been from 2019...

Quinn Hughes: Hey, Y|N. I don't know if you even want to hear from me. I thought I might see how you were doing. I hope you're well. It would be nice to hear from you. (11:11pm)

You were in shock. Quinn, after all of these years, had actually reached out? Again, you wondered, why? He had all of these years and now, of all times? You thought on it for a minute, and the only conclusion you could come to was that he was looking for someone else and noticed you were still on his list. There was no other reason for him to notice you. Sure, your Insta account was active, you had a decent following, but you weren't being sought after by any professional athletes, by any means.

Quinn, on the other hand, while he waited for you to reply, if even at all, decided to return to your photos, and pick up where he had left off. He saw your two new horses, your sponsorship with Nikovian, the purchase of the barn in St. Augustine, but what stopped him from scrolling was the gold medal you had won at the Paris Olympics last summer. He remembered going to a couple of your shows back in college, but had no idea what was going on other than you were jumping things against a stopwatch. He found himself smiling at your picture without meaning to. He was taken aback by how much had changed since the two of you had been together. He couldn't get over the massive advancements to both of your lives: he was the captain of the Canucks, and you were a gold medal Olympian.

Twenty minutes you'd leave Quinn on read before you managed to figure out what you wanted to say to him. There had been so much you had wanted to say in the past that no longer carried the same weight as it did now.

Y|N: Well, yours was definitely the last name I expected to see flash up in my notifications. (11:35pm)

Quinn Hughes: I wasn't expecting to see yours either. I figured you had blocked me. (11:36pm)

Y|N: No, I never thought about blocking you. Deleting you, sure, but even then, I didn't do it. (11:40pm)

Quinn Hughes: Well, that's good. :) (11:42pm)

What was he doing? How were you supposed to respond to what he was saying -- how he was coming off? You wanted to be bubbly and excited to talk to Quinn, but considering that the last time that you talked to him had been when he had hung up on you, it was still hard to completely let that bit go. He seemed different, however, and how would he not be? It had been years; both of you surely had changed in big ways since that argument. The thing was, was that he had hurt you -- hurt you deeper than anyone else ever had. Not to mention he had never apologized. You knew you weren't blameless either. You hadn't reached out to him at any point in time to make amends, but you never disagreed that you weren't stubborn.

Y|N: Sorry-- I really don't know what to say. (11:45pm)

Quinn Hughes: It's alright. Honestly, the fact that you replied at all means a lot. :) (11:46pm)

You weren't oblivious, you could tell how quickly he responded to you -- the eagerness. You wondered if he was laying in bed, just watching his phone for your reply, wondering if you were doing the same. There were still horse chores to be done but every time that Instagram notification went off, you checked your phone. You felt like that little nineteen-year-old again which scared you slightly.

Quinn Hughes: Hey, I just noticed the time, I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up. (11:48pm)

Y|N: Just getting feed buckets ready for the morning, you're fine. (11:55pm)

Quinn Hughes: You're still working? It's midnight! :0 (11:58pm)

Y|N: I have almost 20 horses boarded here, so it keeps me busy. I don't always work this late but my lessons ran long this afternoon. (12:01am)

You found yourself in the tack room, laying on your back on the leather sofa. There was no denying that you were tired, but Quinn had you curious -- too curious to just end the conversation and go to bed.

Quinn Hughes: Wow, 20!? That's incredible! Knowing you, I'm sure the place looks like a magazine. ;) (12:02am)

Y|N, Ha, you're not wrong. I'd say you're welcome to come visit, but Vancouver is a bit of a trip. (12:03am)

Deciding to take a risk with the open door invitation, you noticed how fast your heart had started to beat. The instant regret ramped up when the notification that Quinn was typing -- making you quickly turn off your phone's screen to avoid him getting the "read" alert as soon as it delivered.

Quinn Hughes: I'm actually not too far away. Spending a little more time down home while I deal with something. (12:03am)

Y|N: Are you alright? (12:04am)

You couldn't help yourself feeling some sort of way about him, or about asking if he was okay given how he had worded his last statement. Self-control was becoming a slippery slope.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, for the most part. Just a tendon issue. (12:05am)

Y|N: "Just" a tendon issue? (12:05am)

Quinn Hughes: Haha, fair point. I'm listed week-to-week at the moment. It's been bothering me for some time, but lately it's gotten worse. Just trying to give me some down time to get right before the 4 Nations in February. (12:07am)

Y|N: Hockey players with hand issues doesn't sound ideal! (12:08am)

Quinn Hughes: I would assume like a horse with a foot problem, lol. ;) What's the phrase you always said? (12:10am)

Y|N: No hoof, no horse? (12:10am)

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, lol. (12:10am)

You couldn't contain your smiles. How had him remembering the stupidest little thing bring a wave of emotion over you? Falling into a spiral of what-ifs, Quinn would double-text you which would snap you out of your delusional headspace.

Quinn Hughes: Would you really want to meet up? It's been a long time. Not sure if you were being serious or just said that to be nice. (12:18am)

It had now been over an hour since Quinn had messaged you for the first time in years, but it had felt like just ten minutes had passed -- somehow those six years felt like it had only been a week ago. The Quinn Hughes whirlwind was insane.

Y|N: Yeah, I meant what I said. If you want to come by, I'd love to show you around. (12:19am)

How long had it been since you used the word "love" and "you" in the same message sent to Quinn? It felt both foreign and familiar -- the warning lights were flashing behind your eyes, but the alarms were muted.

Quinn Hughes: Are you busy tomorrow? (12:21am)

Y|N: Tomorrow as in this morning, or actually tomorrow-tomorrow? (12:21am)

Quinn Hughes: Oh, lmao, right! ;) Tomorrow as in this morning. (12:22am)

Y|N: I'm always "busy" but I can make time for you. (12:23am)

Your throat tightened after hitting send on that message. You wanted to kick yourself in the ass for coming off like there wasn't any bad blood between you. Not that it was anything terrible, and you had grown since that moment, but that didn't mean you were still hopeful to talk to him about it -- clear the air.

Quinn Hughes: What time works for you? (12:23am)

Y|N: Whenever, really. I'll be here all day. (12:24am)

Quinn Hughes: Alright, well, I'll let you get your stuff done and I'll get with you in the morning for directions? :) (12:26am)

Y|N: Work for me~ (12:26am)

Quinn Hughes: Have a good night. :) It was nice to talk to you. (12:28am)

Y|N: You too, Quinn~ <3 (12:28)

By the end of the conversation, you felt like you were floating above the cushions of the sofa. Had you really made plans to see Quinn in the morning? For a fleeting second you wondered what the hell was wrong with you. You wondered what morning-you was going to think about your decision...

- - -

Sunrise had come too early. Your late-night chat with Quinn, and feed-prep had cut into your sleep, and you could feel the repercussions that morning. Regardless of how you felt, you had a job to do and a guest due in in a few hours. Hopefully that wouldn't turn into a mistake.

Just like he had said, Quinn texted you for the directions, at a much more reasonable time than he had yesterday.

Quinn Hughes: Morning. :) (8:04am)

Y|N: It's definitely morning, yep. (8:15am)

Quinn Hughes: Did I wake you up? (8:17am)

Y|N: No, I've been up since 5:30... (8:21am)

Quinn Hughes: I shouldn't have keep messaging you last night. I'm sorry. (8:23am)

"You'll apologize about that...really?" You thought to yourself.

Y|N: You're good. I could have just stopped messaging~ (8:24am)

Quinn Hughes: Fair point! (8:29am)

Y|N: Before I get too busy, here's the directions and the passcode for the gate. (8:31am)

Quinn Hughes: Gated, huh? LOL Thanks, I'll see you in a couple hours then. (8:36am)

Y|N: Be careful (8:39am)

Quinn Hughes: :) (8:40am)

- - -

Those two hours had come a lot quicker than you thought they would have. No sooner had you DM'd Quinn for the last time, your first lesson of the day arrived, and they were late. They were supposed to have been there at nine, but hadn't show up till closer to ten. Thankfully, it wouldn't affect your afternoon timeslots, but it was going to put you still teaching when Quinn arrived. Just one of those things that couldn't be avoided.

After imputing the code into the terminal, Quinn drove up the long, shaded lane until the property opened up to him. It was expansive, with numerous green pastures, white rolling fences, and several outlying buildings. Everything was perfectly manicured and matched from one side of the property to the other. Every building was the same shade of paint, the same style of doors, and even the landscaping. It was like a real-life drag-and-drop tool had been used. He had been right: it was straight out of a magazine.

Unsure of where to park --as he hadn't thought to ask about it-- Quinn pulled up to the house and got out. He was met with something that took him back several years: the sweet smell of fresh alfalfa, and the indescribable smell of horses. It was your place, for sure.

With hands in the pockets of his joggers, Quinn decided to wander towards the larger of the barns he could see on the property. Horses in the outside turnouts knickered and trotted up to meet him along the fences as he went past. They made him smile as he petted the noses of the ones who had been curious enough to see if he had any treats or not.

"Do you have a lesson?" Asked a little voice, pulling him from the moment with the animal. She couldn't have been much older than ten and looked at him with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips.

"I, uh...no, I don't," Quinn replied, not sure how to approach the situation, resigning his hands back to his pockets as the horse nudged his shoulder.

"Well, you shouldn't pet horses that aren't yours! You don't know how to do it right! You'll get bit!"

"Emily, that's rude. You need to apologize," said the girl's father, deeply embarrassed by his daughter's outburst. "I'm so sorry about that."

Quinn laughed softly, "It's alright. Hey, actually could you tell me where Y|N might be?"

The little girl continued to side-eye Quinn harshly. "Are you her boyfriend or something?"

"Emily," the father said, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes at his daughter's possessive attitude. "Drop it, please."

Smirking, Quinn looked down at the grass for a moment before returning them to her disapproving features, "I used to be."

"You better not have been mean to her. I'll beat you up! Miss Y|N is the best!" She balled her right hand into a tiny fist before her father took her by the arm.

"That's enough! You do not threaten anyone for any reason. Do you understand me?"

"But--"

"Do you-- understand me?"

She gave a silent nod, still eyeing Quinn suspiciously while her father confessed his deepest apologies to him, expressing that he wasn't sure what had gotten into his daughter.

"This is a first. Please, forgive us. Um, I'm sure Y|N is still in the upper arena. Just follow that path there, and you can't miss it. Again, I'm very sorry about all of this."

Quinn had to contain his want to laugh, as the father and daughter returned to their SUV, the child looking over her shoulder at Quinn one more time. If looks could have killed... With the vague directions, he followed the paved, concrete path to the east and towards a very large building. He had to decide which door to take, and hope it would be the right one and not one that would put him face to face with a twelve-hundred-pound animal that wasn't expecting him to be there. Thankfully, he had guessed the correct one, and it would open up into a posh viewing area behind glass with numerous matching leather armchairs. Quinn thought to himself about how grand this whole property was and that he wondered if he should have dressed a little nicer.

The other people in the seating area gave him similar looks like the little girl from earlier. He, however, found himself locked onto you as you rode around the arena with the girl involved in the lesson. You looked like you had in your Instagram photos, but nothing had prepared him for how you looked in person. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been next to you, but there you were. His smile deepened when you came closer to the glass, but you didn't notice him. Quinn assumed it had two-way effect which allowed parents to see their kids, but the rider or the horse would be none the wiser to the distractions on the other side.

"Do you need help with anything?" Questioned one of the women in the room once Quinn sat down. "You don't look like anyone we've seen here before. How did you get in?" Her tone was of fake interest and niceness as was her smile.

"Just waiting on Y|N," he said softly, returning his attention to you. "I have the code for the front gate." He would miss the woman looking down her nose at his two-day scruff, wild curls protruding from his hat, and the relaxed look of his clothes. He didn't fit the aesthetic of the holier-than-thou equestrian elite and he didn't care. He was there for you and that was it.

The woman and her friend would leave before the lesson had come to an end, finally letting Quinn breath a sigh of deep relief. It was like the whole room had warmed ten degrees and the air didn't feel as heavy.

Eventually both horses exited the arena, leaving Quinn unsure of what to do now. He grabbed his phone and shot you a DM, hoping you would be around your phone before too long.

Quinn Hughes: Hey, I'm here. I'm in some kind of sitting room in the arena. In case a certain blonde tells you I'm here, I'm not looking to rob the place. :( (11:04am)

It would be fifteen minutes before you saw his message.

"Oh shit!" You muttered to yourself, checking your phone after getting the lesson horse returned to its stall. Without replying, you'd rush off towards the large building, stopping to collect yourself before you opened the doors.

"Hey--," you said, seeing him turn to face you. "I'm sorry you had to wait on me."

He stood up, already with a smile on his full lips. You didn't really expect him to look a certain way; you hadn't stalked his account like he had yours. You just hadn't had the time that morning to prepare yourself, but you weren't disappointed. His style was a stark contrast against your polished riding clothes, but you didn't care. He looked so comfortable and you were jealous. There was nothing comfortable about English riding gear. Everything was tight against the skin, restrictive, and painfully hot in the Florida heat.

"It's alright, I knew you were busy. You look--," he stumbled over his words. "It's great to see you."

Unable to keep yourself from smiling, you returned the warm greeting, "It's been a minute."

- - -

"Do you still have Tater?" Quinn asked as the two of you walked slowly through the stable.

You hadn't expected him to remember, "Oh! Tater Tot? Yeah, I still have him! I think he's turned out right now. C'mon, let's see if he's out here."

Leading Quinn through one of the side doors, he'd linger behind you for a moment before returning to your side. He couldn't help admiring the view, but didn't want to come off like a creep. It was hard for him to come to terms that all of this was actually happening.

"I'm shocked you remember Tater," you added, leaning against the white fence rails after whistling for the horse's attention. It wouldn't take long for the bay horse to come trotting from the back corner of the turnout.

Quinn laughed softly to himself, "Hard to forget being bitten."

"Oh, pfft, he got more of your hoodie than actually of you! I told you not to put those treats in your pocket."

"I didn't want to hold them, though," he smirked, reliving the full memory in vivid detail. "Think he'll remember me?"

"They don't forget, just hold out your hand."

Quinn gave you a look of disapproval before it melted to a shit-eating grin, "I'm dealing with enough hand issues at the moment."

"He's not going to bite you!"

Tater stopped just short of you, obviously looking for a reward for having been pulled away from his grazing. He towered over the both of you, and Quinn seemed reluctant to approach given his past with the animal.

"You said that the first time, too!"

Looking over, you'd laugh, because Quinn looked like a little kid scared to get any closer for fear of being eaten. You'd back off the rails and take him by the arm. The eye contact between the both of you, following the physical contact, left you both blushing. Quinn would extend his arm out on his own, but your hand wouldn't drop away from his body till the horse moved forward. You should have been enjoying the sweet moment, but all you were doing was internally chiding yourself for having been so upfront and touchy. He didn't seem bothered by anything, but you were for the both of you.

Once the horse was dissatisfied that he wasn't getting anything extra, he turned away and left Quinn and yourself alone in the awkwardness.

"See, I told you that you'd fine," you forced yourself to say, watching Tater walk away instead of making eye contact with Quinn for the time being.

He chuckled, putting his hands back in his pockets, "How long do you have until your next lesson?"

You'd have to look at your phone for the time. How had nearly two hours gone by already? "Oh shoot, um-- looks like I have a half-an-hour."

"That flew, huh?"

"Yeah..."

Quinn paused for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say, "Well, thanks for letting me come by. It was great to see you, Y|N."

"Are you leaving?" You were shocked to hear him saying his goodbyes so soon. "Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No, no! I just thought you'd want me out of your hair so you could get to work."

You looked away, feeling torn between two options, "You're welcome to hang around, Quinn, unless you have other places to be."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be in your way."

Shaking your head, you'd reassure him that you didn't mind if he hung around. He was welcome to stay out in the barn, the house, or just wander the grounds. He seemed happy to be told that he didn't need to turn around and head back to the lake house so quickly. Honestly, you didn't want to him leave so soon either -- not since this was the first time you had seen him in nearly six years. However, you couldn't let yourself be too excited. You still needed to talk to him.

- - -

The rest of the day seemed to fly by. Your afternoon lessons had been on time and went off without a hitch, and after the way the morning had gone, you were thankful. Quinn, funny enough, had spent the majority of your teaching time in your living room, asleep on the couch. You were so envious of the fact that he got a nap, considering it had been his late-night messages that had kept you from getting much sleep at all. Again, five a.m. had come quickly for you. Regardless, you knew you'd feel better with him driving home if he was rested.

Your two stable hands were helping you with feedings, when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Quinn Hughes: Do you need help with anything? I feel weird just...hanging out in your house. (4:43pm)

Y|N: We're just finishing up, you're good, but thanks. Help yourself to whatever. I shouldn't be too long. (4:45pm)

Quinn Hughes: Are you sure? (4:46pm)

Y|N: Just don't drink all of my cherry wine in the fridge! LOL (4:50pm)

Quinn Hughes: Dammit! I'll just sit here then (4:51pm)

Y|N: If you're that desperate, you can come feed your buddy Tater. (4:55pm)

Quinn Hughes: I'm good! Like I said, I've already got one bad hand! (4:55pm)

Y|N: Suit yourself! ;) (5:01pm)

Another half hour would pass before you finally dragged yourself back to the house. Quinn was still where you had left him: on the sofa, but now the television was on, and tuned to the NHLN channel. (Go figure.) You thought to yourself.

"All done?" He asked as you planted yourself on the bench by the front door. It felt so good to sit down on something other than a saddle, because your back was killing you. The sigh that escaped your lips non-verbally expressed how tired you were; even a blind man could sense it, despite your head falling back against the wall.

"Finally," you breathed out.

Quinn frowned though you wouldn't see it. It pained him to see you so exhausted just sitting there. "Are all of your days like this?"

You'd pull yourself off the wall to finally look at him as you struggled to remove your riding boots. "Pretty much. Normally, I have a little more sleep."

It wasn't your intention to punch him in the gut like you did, but he remembered the early morning conversation that had kept you from your bed. "That's my fault, sorry."

"Oh, you're fine! It happens! I told you I could have just stopped replying."

"Yeah, but--"

Your second boot would hit the floor with a thud, almost interrupting him. You could tell your feet were going to swell... "Maybe I'll sleep in in the morning, ha!"

Quinn didn't know how to respond to your sarcasm and opted to just remain quiet.

"Don't feel bad about it, honest. It happens."

"I feel like I should get out of here so you can get an early night. Maybe we could get lunch tomorrow or something?"

You glazed over his wishes of leaving early to focus on his want to come back tomorrow. "You want to drive back down tomorrow?"

He looked like a deer-in-the-headlights, "I invited myself over again, didn't I?"

"No, it wasn't that! I'm just-- shocked, that you'd want...to make the drive again."

"It's just a couple hours."

"One way," you stressed.

"It's no big deal."

His smile took your breath away, prompting your heart to run away with your words, "Why don't you just stay if you're planning to come out tomorrow, too? If-- you want that is." You prayed he didn't see your blushing cheeks through the Golden Hour sun streaming through the living room's large windows.

"Oh, I couldn't--"

"There are plenty of rooms. It's not like you'd be putting me out. But, you do what you want." You dragged yourself to your feet and shuffled past him through the living room. The words you had picked made you feel like you were trying to gaslight him into saying. Best to physically leave that conversation for a glass of wine in the kitchen. However, you wouldn't be alone for long.

Leaning against the doorframe, Quinn had followed behind you. "You're sure?"

"I'd feel bad if you fell asleep driving..."

Thankfully his nervous laughter broke whatever tension was starting to form, "Yeah, I don't want that. Thanks."

"No problem," you replied, your back to him as you grabbed a glass. "Are you as hungry as I am?"

"Starving!"

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction

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