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baby-yongbok · 7 months

Note

OK I saw an anon asking for another hyunjin fic bc of the vmas (tbfh same) and have an idea for another vmas hyunjin fic (if you’re up for it) hear me out:

apparently people were freaking out the other day bc there was this video going around of Sabrina carpenter waving at hyunjin when it turned OUT she was actually waving to Dixie damelio bc they’re friends…what if y/n saw that and thought she was waving at hyunjin too and got super jealous? I know I would even though I love Sabrina lol. so she starts giving hyunjin the cold shoulder and answering in one word responses etc and he’s confused so she says something like “why don’t you ask your new girlfriend” and he thinks it’s cute that she’s jealous and reveals Sabrina was waving to Dixie not him. And even if she did wave to him, he’s 10000% in love with you and absolutely does not want anyone else. Then after their performance and skz is backstage he pulls you into a closet/private room, locks the door and proves to you just how much he wants/worships you and no one else, in his sweaty state 😫 something like that? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about vmas hyunjin either and who can blame me

ps I’ve written to you before and idk if you take emojis for anons but if so can I be 🪽 anon? I love your writing sm and I know I’ll be back! I wanna be friends but I’m a lil shy lol… 🙂

I DID IT. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, DON'T HATE ME. 😭 Here you go, my love ❣️🪽

Let Me Show You

Hyunjin × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: Semi-public sex?, Cum tasting (That should be it ❣️)

✨️Masterlist✨️ ✨️My First VMA Fic✨️

Surely you were seeing things right? You had to be seeing things. Maybe it was the stage lights or the adrenaline from the boys' win getting to you but you swear that the very beautiful and very talented Sabrina Carpenter just tried to shoot her shot at your equally as beautiful and talented boyfriend. Maybe it was harmless, Sabrina is a K-pop fan so maybe she was just trying to grab his attention and give him a friendly thumbs up or something.

You check your phone while you make your way backstage to meet the boys, of course they’re trending on every app that you have but a particular twitter post catches your eye. You stop in the middle of the very busy backstage hallway as you read the video caption for the third time, ‘Are Sabrina Carpenter and Hyunjin flirting?!’. You click on the video quickly, bringing the phone closer to your face as if you could zoom in on the interaction. It’s right there, it’s in very poor quality but it’s there nonetheless. Hyunjin definitely gave Sabrina a look and according to the video he did it more than once. You can feel your stomach turn as an emotion runs over you but you can’t figure out if it’s anger or jealousy, maybe it’s both? You take a deep breath and start walking again, you stuff your phone into your purse and shake your head a bit to try and get your thoughts together. This is a big night for the boys and you don’t want to ruin it for them by having an attitude but you also don’t know how to deal with this cocktail of emotion bubbling in your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Baby, can you help me put this on?” Hyunjin holds his necklace out in your direction and you take it from him quietly. He furrows his brows a bit before turning around and allowing you to put the jewelry on him. He noticed your shift in attitude since they got their award but he thought that maybe you were just overwhelmed. He watched you as they got ready for their stage, you laughed with everyone and were talking to staff casually but when it came to him you were silent and short spoken. He instantly started replaying the last hour or so in his head. What could he have done to upset you?

“Thank you.” He turns to you and leans in to kiss your cheek but you pull back slightly, looking in the opposite direction. “Angel, is everything alright?”

“Yup.” Your eyes look everywhere but at him, even when he moves to your side to sit next to you.

“Are you sure? You’ve been quiet, did I do something to upset you?” He places his hand on your knee and you promptly cross your legs to get him to move his hand. You shrug your shoulders in response. Your gaze falls on Felix as he takes pictures of everyone in their finished looks. “Baby, come on.”

“Don’t you have someone else to talk to?” You huff, an over exaggerated sigh following your statement.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Hyunjins brows knit together as he racks his brain trying to understand what you’re referring to.

“Why don’t you ask Sabrina? You seem pretty interested in her.” You roll your eyes and Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at your sharp remark. Felix had shown him a couple of the trending tweets along with the video of Sabrina waving in his direction, they laughed about it and Hyunjin told the guys that she definitely wasn’t waving at him and if she was he didn’t even notice her.

“Ah, you saw that video?” You shift in your seat scoffing at his question. A small smile pulls at his lips as he watches you, you don’t get jealous often but gosh was it hot. Something about you giving him the cold shoulder turned Hyunjin on, maybe it was the way you rolled your eyes at him and how sassy you were everytime he tried to touch you. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it.

“Everyone saw the video, so yeah.” You bite back, glancing at him for only a second before looking back over towards the rest of the boys.

“Baby, she wasn’t waving at me and even if she was I didn’t notice her. I was looking at the Stays that were seated in that direction.” Your heart starts to hammer in your chest as his words sink in. You can feel a blush spreading over your cheeks and a tinge of embarrassment in your core. He had pointed out the row of Stays in that direction earlier in the night but in the heat of the moment you completely forgot about it.

“Why would I look at her when I have the most stunning woman in the world here with me tonight, hm?” He snakes his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. “Is my jealous girl blushing?”

You hide your face in his chest, trying to avoid his gaze. How embarrassing is this? Looks like you got jealous for nothing.

“Look at me, angel.” Hyunjin tries his best to gently pry you away from him but he’s interrupted by Chan calling everyone to get ready to go over to the stage. You look up, only because you know he has to go but his fingers catch your chin before you can look away again. Your shy gaze meets his and he smiles down at you, but it’s not a regular smile. It’s the type that he uses when he’s up to something. He plants a quick kiss on your lips before standing and holding his hand out to you.

“Come, you can watch on the backstage monitor.” You take his hand reluctantly, an apologetic smile on your face. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit.

“My possessive baby.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The boys absolutely killed their set but that was to be expected. You heard loud clapping and cheering as they made their way from the stage, a mixture of praises both towards the boys and the dancers. You join the busy crowd, clapping and looking through the sea of people for Hyunjin. Suddenly, you feel large hands on your waist and you turn around to see your boyfriend looking down at you with a grin. He’s sweaty and his breathing still hasn’t calmed down completely, He’s discarded the vest that he had on during the performance leaving him in only his black tank top. You open your mouth to congratulate him but he puts a finger over his lips, hushing you before taking your hand and pulling you with him. He makes his way in the opposite direction of the boys, towards the quieter part of the venue. You recognize the hallway from when the boys took pictures earlier, Hyunjin leads you into a small cut off hallway where some extra supplies seem to be stored. He closes the door behind you, placing a piece of paper over the latch so that you two don’t get locked in. He turns to you and you look up at him with confusion woven in your features.

“What are we doing here?” You look around thinking that maybe you missed something.

“You know that you mean the world to me, right?” Your heart starts hammering in your chest again, your grip on your clutch purse growing tighter as embarrassment washes over you again.

“I know, I’m sorry I should’ve asked you instead of drawing conclusions.”

“Don’t apologize, you were being protective of what’s yours.” Hyunjin takes a couple of steps towards you, one hand sliding into the pocket of his brown designer pants.

“You know that I’m yours, right?” Your mouth goes dry when you take in his deepened tone, what exactly did he bring you here to do? You press your thighs together, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Your black form fitting dress rides up a bit from movement. “Answer me, angel.”

“Yes, I know you’re mine.” You clear your throat, trying not to show how much his words are affecting you.

“I only want you, you’re the only woman I ever think about, the only woman I ever look at.” He steps closer, reaching up to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his hand. His fingers brush against your lips. “Do you believe me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to meet his. He smiles at you before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, melting into him. Your arms find a home around his neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue parts your lips, slipping into your mouth and stealing a taste of you. You moan into his mouth and he smiles against your lips. He pushes you back gently, prompting you to take a step back. He leads you backwards until your back hits the wall, you gasp, breaking the kiss and Hyunjin takes it as an opportunity to trail soft kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Hyunjin…we can’t do this here.” Your words are anything but convincing and you know for a fact that you don’t mean them. After the rush of jealousy that you felt earlier topped off with the breathtaking performance that he just put on with the boys’ you know that your body is more than ready for him.

“Let me show just how much I love you.” He plants a wet kiss right below your ear before whispering. “I want you to feel how much I want you, only you.”

Hyunjin presses himself against you and you moan at the feeling of his hard dick straining against his pants. “Only you do that to me.”

“Hyunjin.” His name leaves your lips in a breathy moan, you can’t think of anything else to possibly say. He’s completely fogged your mind.

He starts leaving sloppy open mouth kisses on your neck, rough yet slow actions of affection. His hands trace up your sides, lightly scratching at the fabric of your Versace cocktail dress, dragging the fabric up your soft skin and exposing your plush thighs.You trail your free hand down his arm, moving to palm him through his pants but one of his hands swiftly grabs your wrist, pinning your arm to the wall behind you.

“This is about you, baby. Only you.” He whispers against your skin before his lips make their way down to your chest, sucking and biting at your skin leaving red marks in his wake. His other hand grips at your waist, pulling you towards him and making you arch your back off of the wall.

“I’m all yours baby.” He slides down onto his knees. Sitting in front of you, his large hands trailing down the soft skin of your legs. He looks up at you, his sparkling eyes surrendering to you. “I would never worship another woman like this in my life.”

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the outside of your thigh and making his way to the sensitive skin leading to your core. You spread your legs a bit to give him better access and he groans at the gesture. His hands snake up under your dress, he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of your thong and leads the garment down your legs. You step out of them, and Hyunjin wastes no time bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale.

“Fuck, I love the smell of you.” His words are breathy yet stable, he stuffs your thong into his pocket, a treasure for him to remember this moment by. He peers up into your attentive yet fucked out gaze, watching you as he sneaks the pad of his pointer finger up to caress your soaked folds. You jump at the contact, a deep moan leaving your throat, you hadn’t realized how much you needed his touch until now. You relax as he runs his finger up and down your heat, circling your clit and teasing your entrance a bit. Your hips buck against his hand, silently begging him to stretch you. Small whimpers fall from your parted lips as you keep your eyes on his.

“You sound so beautiful, angel. You’re so fucking perfect.” He pushes his finger into you slowly, curling it upward to caress your g-spot. You bring your hand up to your mouth in an attempt to drown out your moans. Hyunjin shakes his head, fucking his finger into you a bit faster. “Let them hear you, I don’t care who it is, Let them hear what I do to you.”

“Hyun- Fuck” He adds another finger, scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. “Oh my god, that's so good.”

“Only the best for you, this is only for you.” He leans up on his knees, sticking his tongue out and licking up the wetness dripping down your inner thigh. His tongue works its way over to your cunt, flicking your clit at a delicious pace that makes your back arch off of the wall further. He hums against you as you buck your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling as you beg him to keep going. He keeps up the pace, his tongue never stopping until you're finally pushed over the edge. You cry out in bliss as you cum hard, your body trembling with pleasure. He laps up every bit of your arousal that he can catch, leaving light kisses on your swollen clit as he allows you to come down from your high just a bit.

“You taste like heaven” Hyunjin groans as he pulls away from you, licking his lips to clean up the mess you made. Your mind is clouded with lust, the jealousy from earlier nearly forgotten. The only thing on your mind now is how badly you want the man in front of you. How badly you need him inside of you.

“I can feel like heaven for you too.”

“This is about you, angel.”

“Then fuck me, please. If this is about me then make me forget about that stupid tweet. You’d do anything to please me right?” Hyunjin, stands from his position in front of you. Your eyes stay locked on his dark ones as he towers over you.

“I’d do anything to please you.” His words are soft and strong, he leans into you, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, the gentle nature that Hyunjin held seconds ago melting away into a frenzied lust.

“You drive me insane.” He whispers against your lips and you moan into his mouth. Your hands run down his clothed chest, taking in his firm core and his shirt damp with sweat. You run your hand over his hard cock, palming and stroking him. A pornographic moan erupts from his throat, he breaks the kiss and his jaw hangs open in bliss. You look up at him, watching as he bites his lip with his eyes shut tight, concentrating on the way your fingers move against him.

“I want you to fuck me like she’s watching.” Hyunjin groans deeply, furrowing his brows at your words. “Show her that you’re taken.”

Your words flipped a switch in Hyunjins head, he grabs your hip, turning you around and swiftly pulling your dress up to expose your bare ass. He lands a firm smack on both of your ass cheeks, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“I’ll show her.” He presses his clothed bulge against you and you can feel him unbuttoning his pants with one hand. “I’ll show her who I belong to.”

He runs his hands over your bare skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. He leans in and whispers in your ear “I’ll let everyone know I’m yours.”

You gasp as you feel his cock part your dripping folds, stretching you out deliciously. He pushes in slowly, allowing you a bit of time to adjust to him. Your moans fill the air as he slides into you, once he bottoms out he leans forward, pressing you into the wall so that you’re flush against him.

“I’m yours” He moans as he starts to move, his hips pushing against yours in a rhythm that intensifies with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoes through the hallway but is easily drowned out by your shared moans. Your head falls back against Hyunjin’s chest giving him the perfect view of your fucked out expression. He leans down, leaving soft kisses on your forehead, a sweet contrast to the rough thrust of his hips.

“You’re mine.” Your words make Hyunjin’s hips stutter, pushing into you deeper, he bites his lip as he takes it all in. The way you’re clenching around him, your moans mixing with his, the way the head of his cock hits your sweet spot. It all drives him closer to the edge.

“You were right.” His thrusts become faster and harder and you squeeze around him as you draw closer to your release, meeting his rhythm with pleasure. “You do feel like heaven.”

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he comes undone, his moans mingle with yours as he fills you. The feeling of his hot release throws you over the edge, you fall apart seconds after him, his name falls from your lips like a chant as your pleasure washes over you. You both still, his dick stays deep inside of you as you both try to catch your breath.

“Thank you.” Hyunjin hums in response, soft pants falling from his lips.

“For what?”

“For showing me that you’re mine, this might’ve been the best type of reassurance ever.” You chuckle and he follows, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. But, please remember that I mean this, there’s never anyone on my mind but you. You’re all I think about.” His sweet words send a shiver down your spine and you can’t help but to clench around him.

“Oh fuck.” Hyunjin groans with a chuckle and you can’t help but to smile. “I need to pull out, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if you do that again.”

He slides out of you slowly, whines escape both of you from the sensitivity of the action. He tucks himself back into his pants and you turn around to face him, still leaning on the wall for support.

“How am I supposed to go back out there with your cum dripping out of me?” You look down at the mixed arousal running down your leg and Hyunjin smiles at you.

“Here.” You watch him as he kneels before you, dipping his tongue out and licking the stream of cum running down your leg. A groan falls from your lips as you watch him taste your mixed arousals. He trails his tongue up your leg, collecting all of the juices that drip from you until he reaches your swollen cunt. He runs his tongue over the sensitive flesh and you shiver in response, your head falling back against the wall and a moan escaping you.

“Baby, I’m so sensitive.” Hyunjin hums in response and the feeling of the sound vibrating through you makes you clench around nothing. He dips his tongue into your hole, lapping up most of your arousal and cleaning your cunt to perfection. Once he’s satisfied he pulls away and stands, wiping his chin clean and smiling at you. He gives you a moment to recover before taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Next time that you get jealous just remember that you and I are made for each other. We’re perfect together.” You smile up at him and he leans forward kissing you with wet lips. He parts your lips with his tongue and gently runs his over yours. The taste of your mixed arousals flood your mouth and you relish the flavor. He breaks the kiss just as you move to deepen it, a slight whine falling from your lips. He grins down at you before running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip

“See? Don’t we taste good together? I only want you to mix with me, no one else, okay?” You nod your head, a sweet fucked out smile pulling at your lips. “I love you, angel”

“I love you too, baby.”

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sc0tters · 7 months

Text

The Day It Went Down | Trevor Zegras

summary: you haven’t seen Trevor for weeks, so when he lands up at your door you can’t help it when you fall back into old ways.

part one of the babies and buddies series

warnings: sexual themes, fingering, p in v (unprotected), swearing.

word count: 1.66k

author notes: you guys have been waiting for this one but the Trevor and Hughes sister AU is officially here! I have been writing this piece for days late at night so a lot of it might not make sense but she’s here and she’s happy so we will accept here as it is.

To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door was an understatement.

It was a humid Californian afternoon and you had been sat on your floor getting ready for the a night out with friends when there was a knock at the door “Z?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened your door.

The boy took in your sight as you were currently sporting an orange dress that complimented your freshly painted nails “interesting look.” Trevor smiled motioning to the curling rollers that were still in your hair “may I?” He added as you nodded pushing your door open further to let him in.

Your living room hadn’t changed since the hockey player last saw it with everything including the pictures of your brothers and family scattered around your apartment. It reminded Trevor of just who you were “what do you want?” Your words weren’t meant to come out as harsh as they had done so “missed you.” Trevor’s confession came out soft and cute.

What one would have made you smile honestly made you want to pull your hair out “sure you aren’t meant to be saying that to Dixie?” Your arms crossed unintentionally pushing your breasts up “you jealous of her?” The hockey player smirked as he moved across the room to stand with you. The rumours of them had been coming thick and fast since April but now as you two were into June you figured that it only could have gotten more serious for the two of them.

Trevor let his hands run over the satin fabric of your dress as your hands reached up to pull the roller from your hair “why would I be jealous if you don’t want me?” You blinked raking your fingers through your hair “we were only just sleeping together after all.” Your words made him frown as it felt like a punch to the gut.

Twelve months ago you two ended up sharing a drunk night together after you were in the same bar that he was in celebrating a big win. You were stood at the bar waiting for a drink and that was truly all Trevor needed to come up and talk to you.

The boy sighed as he forced your face to look at his “we weren’t just sleeping together.” His finger brushed along your cheek “look I’ve got to leave in thirty minutes.” You sighed pushing away from him as you walked back to your room.

Trevor was hot on your tail as he grew alarmed “a date?” The words felt foreign as they danced on his tongue “what I do is none of your business now Trevor.” You laughed shaking your head.

It felt hypocritical coming from the boy “you think he could fuck you like I do?” Trevor walked up behind you letting his breath send shivers down your spine “he could fuck me even better.” You weren’t even going out with a guy but the boy clearly didn’t know that.

His hands pushed up your dress causing you to gasp “you sure about that baby?” The hockey player grunted running his finger along a high part of your thigh “if I felt your panties they wouldn’t be soaked?” He added watching as your head leaned back against his chest eyes rolling back into your head as your jaw went slack.

Your body melted at his touch “so dry,” the game you were playing was one that you were close to losing “tell me to stop and I will.” Trevor pulled your dress even higher revealing your black panties.

Instead of talking you remained silent letting out a little gasp as his fingers slipped under the fabric “please Z.” You begged finally giving the boy a green light to have his way with you.

The hockey player smirked moving his hand to cup your pussy “fucking hell baby.” Trevor groaned two fingers teasing your clit before he moved them down your slit to thrust them into your pussy.

Your soaked cunt wrapped around his fingers making you both feel hot “Trev.” You moaned as the hockey player used his other hand to wrap around your neck pushing your head up of that he could kiss your lips “I know baby, I know.” His lips were rough against yours as he let out a grunt squeezing his hand around your neck when your eyes locked onto his.

For someone who was getting ready for girls night you were surprisingly horny as you squeezed around the hockey players fingers “you enjoying this?” Trevor smirked watching your face contort in your mirror “huh baby?” He added as you remained quiet “don’t stop Z,” you begged bringing your hips to meet his fingers as he added his thumb focused his attention on your clit.

As you forced your ass against his cock he couldn’t help but grunt “I’m gonna come.” You announced forcing the movement of your hips to go quicker than before “not so fast baby.” Trevor clicked his tongue retracting his fingers from your panties “you thought it was going to be so easy to come when get dressed like this for someone else?” He laughed at the words as you spun around to finally face him.

Trevor looked down at you as he licked his lips like he had seen this as some kind of challenge “real fucking hypocritical of you.” You grumbled placing your hands on his chest as you pushed him back into your bed hit the back of his knees causing him to fall back bringing you with him “you think you. Can. Go. And. Fuck. Someone. Else. And. I. Can’t?” You kissed his lips between each word as your hands reached down to fiddle with the drawstring of the shorts.

The hockey player groaned watching your tongue dart out of your mouth as you focused on moving his cock out of his boxers “never fucked her.” Trevor confessed as your hand teased his cock rubbing up the skin “just you baby.” The boy felt his body shudder as you used his hardened head to tease your clit “I’m still on the pill.” You announced letting your cunt swallow his cock as you sank down on it.

Condoms were something you two had let leave your relationship months ago after you both realised that there was nothing hotter than you coming around his bare cock “shit baby.” Trevor grunted as he began to guide your hips letting you move.

It was hot as your hands went to his shoulder “you always feel so good.” The hockey player confessed as his forehead leaned against yours.

You didn’t want to admit it but you missed these intimate moments with anyone in general as you hadn’t slept with anyone since Trevor took a step back from his relationship with you “missed having me like this?” You smirked as you turned back to look at him.

The boy moaned as you clenched around his cock “thought about you all the time.” The hockey player mumbled as his fingers dug into your sides guiding your hips against his “what would Jack think about you saying that?” Your mention of your brother causing his one hand to brush at your clit “what would he think about you on top of me.” Trevor spat as he let his other hand reach out to slap your hand.

It was now clear that him letting you take control was now over as he had enough of your fun “pull that top off so I can see those pretty tits of yours.” He ordered making your cunt clench around his cock “shit Z,” you cried as you pulled the straps of your dress down bringing your bra with it “you’re so hot.” You added as he brought his lips down to your nipples letting his tongue swirl over the sensitive peaks.

Your fingers locked into his hair “don’t stop T,” your body began to shake “not so strong now are we?” Trevor smirked as you shook your head letting your hands cup his cheeks as you kissed him.

The sight of you two was almost amusing as you were both still fully clothed with your panties pulled to the side as you rode his cock “think you knew I was going to come back to you.” The hockey player confessed as his thumb that was once on your clit moved up to your stomach “feel me right here?” He added making you gasp as he pressed his hand against your skin forcing you to stare back at his eyes as their hardened gaze brought you closer to your high “so big.” You murmured letting your eyes screw shut.

You were still sensitive from the orgasm he never let you have “gonna come.” You cried out as you began letting your hips bounce as Trevor helped move them.

The sight of your breasts bouncing in his face made the boy groan as he let his head rest between them “so fucking beautiful,” Trevor mumbled as he looked up to watch you come.

You were scratching your fingers over his shirt as your body almost collapsed against him “you’re so good baby.” He cooed as his come shot into your cunt that practically soaked it in as your release mixed with his.

Trevor spun you over so that he was now on top of you as his cock slid out of your pussy “can’t have you wasting a drop of this.” The boy grumbled shaking his head as he used two fingers to bring his come back into your pussy.

Your body jumped as his fingers pushed back into you “what are you doing?” You asked blinking at him as he hovered over you “making up for lost time.” The hockey player explained letting his cock tease your clit again.

For now you were going to enjoy this, because it two weeks you were back at the lake house.

Where everything as you knew it would change, forever.

#zegras x pregnant hughes AU!#Trevor zegras smut #Trevor zegras imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut #nhl fic #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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desiderio-dixon · 2 months

Text

Busy

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Genre : fluff!!!!

Warnings : pregnancy, pet pregnancy, mention of dog being malnourished/neglected (surviving on their own for an undisclosed amount of time), established relationship, lmk if I missed anything!

Word count : 700ish

Summary : Life gets a whole lot busier with a newborn and a litter of puppies.

A/N : I may build on this little universe more in the future but I just had to get the initial idea down!

The day you found Dixie, you were already six months along. Waddling through the forest, trying to track down a wild horse some of the kids had seen. Instead, you found a beautiful border collie. She was skittish at first, tucking her head down and pushing her ears back when you extended a hand towards her. She appeared to have been on her own for a bit, though a ragged collar still hung proudly on her neck. Splotches of blood had matted into her fur, and she was a small bit underweight. You were deadset on taking her home.

After much patience, baby talking, and gentle steps forward, she trusted you enough to allow you to grab a hold of her collar. It'd be an uncomfortable walk home, pregnant and crouched over to keep a hand on her collar without affecting Dixie's comfort level, but it would be worth it.

Daryl was initially quite frustrated with you when you got home. If he had it his way, you'd never leave the walls of Alexandria. And now here you were, coming home all excited to tell him you'd risked your life for a dog.

He couldn't stay mad for long though, especially not when he'd already gathered up a dog of his own. Now you had two, a matching set.

Dog and Dixie were two peas in a pod, spending all their time playing and cuddling alongside one another.

You were only a few weeks further along than when you'd found Dixie, when Daryl called out from the garage. When you'd successfully waddled your way there, you were puzzled at the scene in front of you.

Dixie, on her side on the floor, and Daryl holding her leg up, staring at her swollen belly with an incredulous expression. "The hell? She pregnant?" He asked.

Just then, Dog trotted into the garage from behind you. When he spotted Dixie, he immediately went to her, sniffing her belly and whining at Daryl's hand. He nudged Daryl's hand away with his snout, placing his own head protectively over Dixie's stomach.

"Guess we forgot to get her spayed, huh?" You joked, rubbing your own distended belly. Daryl sighed, standing and walking to you, his boots making heavy thumps against the concrete. Reaching you, he placed his hands alongside yours, stroking the stretched skin gently.

He dropped his head onto your shoulder. "It's gon' get busy in here."

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

'Busy' wound up being an understatement. Dixie had her four babies just two weeks before you gave birth to your baby girl. Between the ever present whining of the puppies, and wailing of your baby, you were spread thin.

Daryl tried his best, cleaning all the puppies' constant accidents, and still changing diapers. He was tired. It was obvious in the way he dragged his feet, the way he rested his head on the back of the couch whenever he had a spare minute. Now, two months post-partum, things weren't too much easier.

You walk out to the living room, baby tucked cozily into your arm. Daryl sits on the floor next to the makeshift nest for Dixie and her pups. The puppies are a bit older now, rambunctious and playful, so they climb over each other to nibble on Daryl's outstretched hand.

He must hear you enter the room, because he pauses playtime to turn to you. "Ya alright?" You nod, gazing down at the sleeping baby in your arms. You tiptoe quietly over to him, setting yourself down gently so as to not wake the baby.

Dixie sleeps on her side, letting out soft snores. Tired mama, just like you. You use your free hand to run over her fur smoothly. Daryl places his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles.

The puppies bound their way to your lap, sniffing gently at the sleeping bundle in your arms. It's early morning, sun having barely risen. It casts an orange glow over the living room, allowing auburn tinges to peek through Daryl's hair. Gazing at him, you feel so lucky. Lucky to have such a great man to father your children, one who will always protect and never harm. A big, strong man who touches you with such gentle hands, and whispers loving words to your daughter.

Yes, it's busy. Sometimes you cry. But in this moment, the quiet business of dawn, you've never felt more grateful.

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd imagine

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dixieandherbabies · 8 months

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Dixie and her babies.

Carter is in the dining room basket this evening.

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kckt88 · 4 months

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I Just Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

Summary:

After the birth of their daughter Y/N worries about the changes to her body, so her husband Aemond takes it upon himself to show his wife just how much he loves her.

Contains a small flashback!!

Warning(s): Body Image Issues, Upset, Kissing, Spitting Lactation Kink, Smut – Oral Sex (F Receiving), P in V Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Different Positions, Language.

Word Count: 2639 - Some Fluff and SMUT!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

MODERN AU - AEMOND x Y/N

PART OF DON'T MESS WITH MY MIND - But can be read as a one-shot.

Inspired by the song: ELVIS - I JUST CAN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU.

Tag List: @immyowndefender, @zenka69, @iloveallmyboys, @summerposie, @namelesslosers, @dixie-elocin, @aemondsfavouritebastard, @toodlesxcuddles, @ammo23

As he entered the flat Aemond couldn’t help his sigh of contentment at the smell of talcum powder and baby shampoo lingered in the air.

After taking his shoes off and putting his car keys in the bowl, Aemond quickly tugged off his coat and ran a hand over his face, it was good to be home.

Walking over to the bookcase, Aemond picked up a photograph and smiled, it had been taken the day his precious daughter was born.

Aemond had no idea how much time had passed since Y/N was instructed to push, even as the labour tired her, she kept going. Her red face covered in sweat and tears.

Her nails dug into his skin as she pushed with all her might.

“That’s it, I can see the babes head”.

“You can do it my love. That’s it. Keep pushing” urged Aemond, grimacing slightly as Y/N squeezed his hand even tighter.

“Keep going. Your doing so well-“

"You’re doing it my love" exclaimed Aemond.

“The head’s out. Now just wait until the next contraction and push”

Even though she was exhausted, Y/N took a deep breath and gave one last push.

Then an ear-piercing cry shattered the silence of the room.

Aemond’s heart swooped at the sound, his lips parting in amazement as a squalling pink baby was placed on Y/N’s chest.

Y/N whimpered next to him, her eyes shining with relieved tears.

The baby was a girl.

“Mr Targaryen, would you like to cut the cord” asked the Midwife.

Aemond nodded eagerly as he wiped the tears from his cheeks, his hands shaking as he took the small medical scissors and cut where the Midwife pointed to.

“Aemond. Look, our girl” gasped Y/N.

“She’s perfect” whispered Aemond in awe.

His heart bursting with love at the sight of his newly born daughter in the arms of his wife.

“She looks like you” said Y/N happily.

The baby had a full head of dark blonde hair, never in his life had Aemond ever seen so much hair on a babe.

No wonder Y/N had suffered constantly with heartburn.

Suddenly a small cry broke Aemond out of his reverie and he went into the second bedroom that they’d converted into a nursery.

The light pink walls, adorned with butterfly wall decorations courtesy of his sister Helaena and pictures of various family members.

“Shhh my sweet girl, what’s wrong?” asked Aemond as he lifted his three month old daughter out of her cot.

“S-Sorry I was tidying the bedroom” urged Y/N as she entered the room.

“It’s ok, I just got here, I think she’s hungry-hey little miss, you won’t get any milk out of there” laughed Aemond as his daughter began rooting against his chest.

Y/N giggled sweet as she took their daughter and sat in the rocking chair by the window, Aemond watched silently as she undid her dressing gown and allowed their fussing daughter to latch onto her exposed breast.

“Is everything ok?” asked Y/N.

“Yeah, it’s fine, why wouldn’t it be” replied Aemond.

“You have that soppy look on your face”.

“Only because you’re so beautiful” said Aemond smiling.

“It’s only because I’m so in love”.

“No-no, it’s because I’m so in love with you” laughed Aemond.

“So, love has blinded you?” asked Y/N teasingly.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant” replied Aemond.

“But it’s probably true” smiled Y/N.

Aemond laughed again, and then furrowed his brow as his attention was caught on a pink bunny rabbit teddy.

This was new, he’d not seen it before.

“It was a gift” said Y/N as she rubbed their daughters back, trying to encourage her to burp.

“From whom? I thought my mother had sent some blankets she’d knitted”.

“She did, but it’s not from your mother. It’s from Aegon” replied Y/N.

At the mention of his brother’s name, Aemond’s head whipped round so fast, he almost gave himself whiplash.

“Please tell me he wasn’t in this flat, if he came anywhere near Mila I swear-“

“-Relax my love, the postman delivered it this morning” said Y/N.

“How do you know it was from Aegon?” asked Aemond as he took Mila from Y/N and laid her on the changing table.

“There was a note” said Y/N as she re-tied her dressing gown, watching as Aemond rolled up his sleeves, exposing the tattoo of Mila's footprint on his forearm.

“What did it say?” mused Aemond as he changed Mila’s nappy.

“That he was sorry for the way things had turned out, he said he missed you and he hopes to meet his niece one day”.

“Not a chance” quipped Aemond as he finished redressing Mila and then placed her in the cot. He took one of the blankets his mother had knitted at then covered their daughter with it, making sure she was safely tucked in before he turned on the dragon mobile.

As a soft melody began to fill the air, Y/N tugged Aemond out of the room leaving the door slightly ajar.

Aemond obediently followed his wife to their bedroom.

“What happened in here, looks like a hurricane has hit it” wondered Aemond as he noticed all the clothing strewn on the floor.

“W-Well, I-I Just-“ muttered Y/N shuffling her feet awkwardly on the carpeted floor.

“What’s the matter?” asked Aemond, noticing his wife’s shift in demeanour.

“I was trying on clothes and some of them don’t fit and-“ whimpered Y/N as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Hey” gasped Aemond as he walked over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her.

“I don’t look the same as I did before-how can you even stand to look at me”.

“Because I love you so much and you are the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever laid my eye on” said Aemond firmly.

“I-I’m not the same-my body it has changed” muttered Y/N.

“Your body grew and nourished our child; you are so beautiful my love” replied Aemond as he clasped Y/N’s face in his and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Aemond” gasped Y/N, her cheeks tinged pink.

“What will it take for you to believe me?” mused Aemond.

“I-I don’t know” whispered Y/N, her fingers fiddling with the cord of her dressing gown.

Aemond’s singular eye roved over Y’N’s breasts that were visible through the gap on her dressing gown and smirked as his cock began to grow hard in his trousers.

“Hm-I think I know how” growled Aemond as he reached forward a loosened the dressing gown cord, his mouth watering as it fell open to reveal his wife’s luscious body.

“Aemond” exclaimed Y/N as he slipped the silken material from her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

“I’m going to show you just how beautiful you truly are” said Aemond as he stepped back and began pulling at his own clothes and in no time at all he was completely naked, his cock now fully hard and leaking.

“Is such a thing possible?” asked Y.N.

“All things are possible little mouse” replied Aemond as he directed Y/N to sit on the bed.

“You are a goddess, now let me worship at your throne” said Aemond as he took hold of Y/N’s legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

“Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Y/N.

“Such a pretty pussy " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Y/N’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y/N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Y/N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y/N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y/N. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Y/N; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Y/N’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Y/N’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Daddy” whispered Y/N as she writhed against him.

Aemond looked at Y/N and smirked before he bent down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between his wife’s wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Y/N as she flung her arms over her face in embarrassment, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

“Do not feel embarrassed my love” whispered Aemond.

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suck his wife’s breasts.

“A-Aemond” gasped Y/N.

“Surely you would not deprive me wife. Your mother’s milk tastes delicious” muttered Aemond softly.

“I need you” exclaimed Y/N.

“-Just a second” muttered Aemond as he reached into the draw of the bedside table and pulled out a condom.

Placing the square packet in his mouth, Aemond ripped it open with his teeth and quickly rolled the condom down his cock.

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Y/N’s soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" shouted Y/N, her eyes popping open from her post-orgasm haze.

"You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Y/N, her tone bordering on desperate as she thrust her hips upward towards his.

Aemond chuckled and bit down lightly on a nipple, making Y/N moan and squirm.

He started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Y/N.

"Patience, little mouse. This is our first time since you birthed our daughter" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Y/N’s neck.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Y/N.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.

“Gods, Y/N" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me, filling me up. Give me what I need. Make me scream, make me come”.

Aemond knew exactly what Y/N was doing, but he couldn’t help himself.

Y/N wanted faster, and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.

Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging loudly against the wall.

Aemond lifted Y/N’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet pussy.

Y/N folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Y/N.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

Y/N always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Y/N’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Y/N, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside Y/N once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Y/N arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

“Fuck. Y/N-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of Y/N’s hair, twisting his fingers in the silky strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Y/N tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me daddy” pleaded Y/N her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Y/N.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Y/N breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Y/N on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Y/N as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Y/N’s hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Y/N dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Y/N as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

Y/N’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach, if her husbands face had been sculpted by the gods themselves, then his cock had been given to him by the devil.

It was sin incarnate and Y/N was ready to let it claim her fully, her husband had possessed every fibre of her being and she revelled in it.

“AEMOND” screamed Y/N her vision going white as she came around his cock.

Her husband threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“God. Y/N” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside the condom, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

“I love you little mouse, and you are beautiful never forget that” whispered Aemond as he slowly pulled his softened cock from his wife and disposed of the quite full condom in the bin.

“That was a lot of-“ muttered Y/N

“Well, we haven’t had sex since before Mila and I haven’t touched myself either” replied Aemond as he climbed back onto the bed and enveloped his wife in his arms.

“Oh” exclaimed Y/N.

“H-Have you touched yourself?” asked Aemond curiously.

“Once or twice, it’s those damn sweatpants that you insist on wearing-they fit your body perfectly and it was driving me insane, especially when you came back from the gym all sweaty-”

“Hm, you naughty little thing, I must insist that you show me” said Aemond.

“I will once I get the feeling back in my legs” laughed Y/N.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #hotd

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lesbiangummybearmafia · 22 days

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#dixie carter #appreciation post #for my baby love #simply adore her #exquisitely beautiful #gorgeous gorgeous woman #i love her so much #mine #my art #made by VE

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orphicdreamers-wp · 4 months

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3am Calls — Trevor Zegras

Summary: In which following your hurtful breakup, you find yourself calling Trevor with your unanswered questions.

Summary; Angst without happy ending, cheating(trevor), body insecurities, low self esteem, depression, Jamie Drysdale kind of being a douche, heartbreak, Mid/plus size reader, Dixie Damelio slander(sorry)

Pairing: Trevor Zegras & Reader

You’d met Trevor through his teammate Jamie, you’d gone to high school with him and had tutored him his sophomore year, which was your senior year. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated, until you moved to Anaheim. You had gone to Cornell Veterinary School and moved to Anaheim and opened a vet clinic. You were introduced to Trevor when Jamie brought Trevor’s dog, Louie in because he wasn’t eating and was vomiting blood. You had been administering medication when Trevor hurried in the room, “Jamie what the hell happened?” Jamie turner to his roommate , “Trevor this is Y/N the vet. Y/N this is Trevor, Louie’s his dog.”

You felt the wind leave your throat, “It seems he just had an allergic reaction to something he’s eaten. His breathing was a little shallow so I gave him some medication and I’m gonna prescribe some of it as I’m worried about his breathing.” Trevor’s eyes met you and a small smile on his face, “Thank you so much.” You smiled, “Just doing my job, hi baby.” You smiled lightly as Louie stirred on the table and rubbed his face against your hands. Trevor smiled at the scene in front of him, “I’m suprised, Lou doesn’t usually like new people.” Jamie grinned, “Oh she’s the master of animals loving her. She was my tutor in high school.” Trevor grinned widely as your cheeks flushed, “Maybe I should get your number in case something else happens to Louie.”

You grinned as you pulled out a business card from your scrub pocket, “Feel free to call me with any questions you may have.” You ran a hand through Louie’s fur, “I feel bad running out but I have twenty minutes for my lunch and I have to go all the way back to my place because I was in a rush this morning. It was great seeing you again Jamie, nice meeting you Trevor.” You hurried out of the exam room and had your vet tech go in and help them get the paperwork done.

You and Trevor quickly began dating after that. Your relationship was perfect, Trevor was kind, funny and attentive to you at all times. But you couldn’t help but find yourself wondering if you and Trevor were really meant to be. Trevor was a stereotypical attractive athlete who had women throwing themselves at him. You were a plus sized woman who had no interest in the spotlight. So when rumors of Trevor dating a effortlessly beautiful and thin social media influencer, it was no surprise you let it get the best of you.

Trevor had reassured you that he was not involved with the influencer, you didn’t believe him but that was expected when a photo of them standing next to each other in an amusement park. But that wasn’t even the worst of it, you’d had by far the worst day at work, you had to euthanize 3 dogs and 2 cats. All you wanted to do when you arrived to your shared apartment with Trevor was take a scorching shower and lay in bed. You opened the door to the apartment yawning as you slipped off your shoes and entered the living room. You dropped your tote bag on the coffee table as you made your way to the bathroom to start the shower.

You had started the water and made your way to the bedroom to grab clothes. You felt your throat tighten and your stomach churn as you pushed the door open. A small squeak came from beside the bed. You blinked rapidly as your eyes met a pair of bright brown doe eyes. You felt your voice come out as a whisper, “I can’t believe him.” You slammed your dresser drawer shut as you walked into the bathroom and shut off the water and made your way into the living room. Trevor was leaning against the counter sipping water as his sweatpants hung lowly on his hips, “Hi hon, I didn’t realize you were home yet.”

You bit your tongue, “I’m sure you didn’t. How was your day? Do anything fun?” Trevor felt a sense of panic in his chest, “Nope, just practice and grabbed drinks with the guys. How was work?” You picked up your tote bag and slipped on your shoes, “I’m out of here, I can’t do this anymore. I trusted you and you lied to me. You said there was nothing going on with her. I can’t do this Trev, I won’t.” Trevor felt his heart stop, “Baby, you can’t just give up on this. Please? Jamie said that I would be able to fix this, please.” You shook your head, “I don’t have to. You already did.” You walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind you.

You found yourself at your clinic, you didn’t have anywhere to go. You hadn’t really connected with any of the girlfriends of Trevor’s teammates. You knew Jamie would side with Trevor because they’d been friends for years especially when Trevor said Jamie had encouraged him. And your hectic work hours didn’t allow you to make friends easily. So you went to the one place that was truly yours, your work. You sat on the floor in your office staring at the wall.

Your phone was blowing up with texts from Trevor. You ignored them until the last one, ‘I’m sorry for this. I asked them not to post it.’ You furrowed an eyebrow as a new notification from Entertainment Weekly on Twitter. You clicked the notification and were met with an article saying that Trevor and Dixie Damelio confirmed their relationship. You felt bile form in your stomach as you locked your phone.

Six months had passed since then and you still found yourself staring intently at yourself whenever you walked past a mirror. You always found something wrong in the reflection, whether the shirt you wore was too tight on your breasts, the pants you wore were too tight on your legs, your thighs were too large, your arms jiggled as you walked, no matter what you found yourself picking yourself apart. Granted you did it occasionally while you were with Trevor and before you two started dating. But it was different after being cheated on.

Before you didn’t pay mind to the harsh comments people made as you walked past them on the street, or from behind you in a restaurant line. But now you found yourself shrinking smaller whenever a negative comment was made. That’s what led you to your current predicament. You were sitting on the floor of your new apartment’s bedroom. A full body length mirror in front of you. Your cheeks were stained with tears as you reached for your cell phone.

You knew you shouldn’t do it, he was happy, he’d moved on. You found yourself checking his girlfriends instagram account and overanalyzing your body compared to hers. You clicked his contact and let it ring. You took in a deep breath as his raspy voice filled your ears, “Y/N what’s up?” You sniffled as you realized that you had probably woken him, it was 3 in the morning. You shook your head, “Nothing, I shouldn’t have called. Forget it.”

Trevor’s voice filled your ears, “I can tell your crying. It’s not nothing if your crying. What’s wrong?” You sniffled, “I guess I was just trying to figure out what I did wrong. I mean why wasn’t I enough Trev?” Trevor felt his heart split wide open, “Baby you were enough. It was me who wasn’t.” You shook your head, “Don’t give me that bullshit Trev, what can I fix for the next person? I mean is it my body, I can change that. I just don’t want to ever feel like this again.” If Trevor thought his heart couldn’t break any further, your words made a fool of him.

“No, you were perfect. I was too immature for someone like you. Your the most perfect person I know, I wasn’t ready for someone to expect that of me. Especially you. I should have communicated with you but I was drunk and Jamie was encouraging me to flirt with Dixie, I was lonely, we’d been fighting and I shouldn’t have done it. It’s not you.” You shook your head as you sniffled, “I really loved you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I just I have to move on from that.” With that you hung up the phone.

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras angst #tz11 #anaheim ducks #jamie drysdale #veterinary #trevor zegras x plus size reader

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formulaforza · 1 year

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miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—01. all american girl —word count: 6.4k —warnings: none :) —a/n: this is queued so I'm sound asleep right now but trust when I wake... I will be throwing up about having posted this

It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and the kindergarteners at Robinson Elementary are getting picked up from the gymnasium and taken to their classroom to start their day. It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and their teacher, Chris Elliott, is running four minutes late to the first day of the U.S Grand Prix. Her fingers flatten down stray flyaways, working in tandem with the extra strength hairspray she found in the back of the Walgreens beauty aisle last night. Her makeup is strewn about in chaos atop the stark white marble countertops, a single folded piece of toilet paper in the trash can, remnants of her lipstick kissed onto the fibers.

She played it safe on the outfit today, still hasn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the dress code for this race is supposed to be. Her Dad has been no help–he can get away with wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up just about anywhere he goes. More is expected from her, though. Three days, three outfits, always walking the line between casual streetwear and Kentucky Derby without a fascinator. She settled for something painfully classic and American, figured a European sport would be eating up the concept of everything being bigger in Texas. Levi’s, a white tank top, and a beat up pair of cowboy boots should do a good enough job at letting anyone curious know she’s authentically American, without screaming out for attention. That’s the goal for the weekend; blend in and keep Dad company.

Dad, who is not-so patiently tapping his foot against the floor, watching pre-race coverage of the Dixie Vodka 400 on his iPhone 7, is a guest of honor for Ferrari this weekend. It was a classic Bill Elliott commitment, one he makes and then forgets about until he’s getting sent an email a month ago to remind him. One he makes when he forgets his son is racing the same weekend. That’s how Chris ended up here with him, instead of her Mom or instead of Chase or Chandler. They’re all in Florida for the Cup Series. Well–Chandler isn’t. Chandler’s at her hot-shot job in the big city living her life blissfully away from racing.

She can count on a single hand the amount of times her dad has missed a Cup Series race in the years since his retirement. Even if he’s moved on from driving the track, racing is in Elliott blood. It comes easier to them than breathing does. Chris won’t be the first to admit it, but she's the NASCAR nepotism equivalent of a Baldwin baby. She’s no Kennedy, the first-families of NASCAR are closer to the Petty’s and the Earnhardt’s, but, you ask a NASCAR fan about the Elliott Clan and you’re sure to get an earful. Champion, Hall-of-Fame inductee father, supergenius transmission and engine mechanic uncles, and a superstar fan-favorite older brother, the Elliott family racing history spans generations of fans.

Never the Danica Patrick-type, Chris has always preferred to watch the races rather than compete in them, but she still grew up at the track and was always up for a trip to visit her dad at the auto-shop.

“Mums,” her dad says, peeking his head around the corner into the hotel bathroom. It’s a stupid nickname, Mums, Chrysanthemum. She’d roll her eyes if it was anyone but Bill still calling her by it. “We gotta go, darlin’.” Chris nods at him in the mirror, flattens her hands along her thigh and tucks one final strand of her bang behind her ear, and then they’re finally leaving the hotel for the track.

It’s a strange kind of first for Chris, in that it’s not really a first at all. She’s been to COTA before, multiple times. Hell, she watched in the garage when Chase won the inaugural Cup Series race here in May last season. She’s even been to the U.S Grand Prix before, back when it was still in Indianapolis, when Chris was too young to remember if it was big or if she was just little. She’s used to the crowds, spends almost every weekend with upwards of fifty-thousand people, but this? This is the kind of crowd she can’t fathom being among, and it’s only Friday. If it takes them an hour and a half to get through traffic on a practice day, she can only imagine what the next two mornings have in store for her.

“No antics today,” Bill tells her in the car. “They’re not like us. Trust me, I know.”

Last time you went to one of these races, you were still a driver, she wants to tell him, but doesn’t. He doesn’t take well to the implication he’s an old man. Walking into the paddock with a yellow pass hung around her neck, FERRARI-GUEST-17 and a picture of the team logo popping up on the screens at the turnstiles, she’s beyond taken back by the pomp and circumstance of it all. She’s barely through the entrance and she’s already spotted half a dozen people who could buy her without it making a dent in their pockets. It’s nothing like walking around a NASCAR track. There isn’t a single Bud Light knight or backs sunburnt into American flags or t-shirts turned muscle tanks. It’s just… rich people. Lots and lots of rich people.

In the Paddock Club tent, Bill manages to find a couple of his old buddies. Guys he raced with back in the day who’ve turned up for whatever with whoever this weekend. It’s unsurprising, stock car racing is nowhere near as exclusive a club as Formula One. They aren’t any of the guys Chris remembers being a part of her childhood, none of them pseudo-uncles in the way some other drivers were. You’re all grown up, they tell her, note her height and her features and one of them even asks if she’s in college yet. She plays along, pretends she remembers them fondly and that they haven’t been on the recipient list for the annual Elliott family Christmas newsletter for the past thirty or so years. His buddies are much more comfortable talking about Chase, anyways, about his racing and his fiancee and his little boy than they’ve ever been talking about Chris or Chandler. The concept of a quote-en-quote girl dad wasn’t such a thing in the nineties.

Chris makes small talk with one of the wives. They can’t be that far apart in age, she’s definitely of a different generation than her husband. Gross. Chris lets the woman lead the conversation; she talks about the polka dots on her skirt and Chris’ cowboy boots that are, apparently, perfectly authentic.

They separate from the group of former NASCAR drivers and their child brides within the hour. Bill has to be in Ferrari hospitality by one o’clock for a special meeting. He’s still not sure what he did to get selected for this specific group of people who get to do a hot lap with one of the Ferrari drivers, but he isn’t about to ask any questions that might get him out of it. He sets off to hospitality and Chris sneaks out of the paddock and into the rest of the track.

There’s only so much to see inside the paddock. Hospitality after hospitality after hospitality, just in different colors with different modern structures with pictures of different cars. She wants to experience the event, not just the rich people who can pay their way into the upper echelon of the pinnacle of motorsport. If she’s going to be on her own for an hour and a half, she might as well be fully and truly on her own.

She ends up in the beer garden. More specifically, the bar tent. You can’t separate a NASCAR fan from the Natty Light. The pass around her neck gets her into the VIP area of the tent, which… feels like an antithesis of itself. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket when she’s waiting on her bottle from the bartender. It’s her dad.

Brad Pitt is here. Crazy.

She makes quick acquaintances with a couple who looks about her age. She compliments the girl’s denim jacket and then she’s in. The DJ is playing country music with a techno backtrack at the other side of the tent and they all three spend a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if they love or hate the set. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” the guy says.

“It’s definitely not the best, though,” Chris winces, spots a Ferrari pass hanging with the VIP one around the girlfriend’s neck. “Are you guys here with Ferrari?” She asks.

“Oh, “ she says, looks down at the pass and fiddles with it for a moment. “Yeah, Will’s a golfer and they invited him for a tour and to do this golf event with ESPN.”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Chris nods. “Have you guys ever been here, or is this your first time?”

“We’ve come every year for…” Will starts, looks to his girlfriend for the rest of his sentence.

“Four years,” she nods. “What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Chris explains, leaves out the technicalities because she barely cares about them, doesn’t expect a stranger to even half-care. “My dad’s here with Ferrari, and I’m here to babysit my dad.” She laughs.

The woman nods, makes a quiet ah sound. Will asks for clarification. “You guys lose each other, or something?”

Chris nods. “Or something.”

Charles sees her before he hears her. She appears in his peripheral on the top floor of Ferrari Hospitality, moving swiftly through the groups of strangers with a confidence that makes you think she owns the place. He half-prepares to excuse himself from his current conversation–not that he’s understanding more than forty-percent of the words coming out of this guy’s mouth–to take a photo with the short brunette bee-lining it over to him.

“Excu–”

“I think I saw Brad Pitt on my way here,” she says, and the man he’s been talking to for fifteen minutes laughs. Oh, he thinks, that’s mortifying. She’s not here to intrude on his conversation and ask for a picture. She’s here with this guy.

“This is my Chris,” Bill says.

“Hi,” Chris says. Chris. Chris. Chris is a woman. A woman extending her hand, thin and well manicured with a single ruby ring, for him to shake. “Chris.”

“Charles,” he says, hesitates. “You are not what I was expecting.”

There wasn’t much he understood from Bill Elliott during their hot lap, not that Bill didn’t talk. Charles just didn’t have the focusing capabilities to drive the car in an entertaining way while also deciphering the thick southern drawl of the man sat in the passenger seat. It was thick, heavy, and sounded like maybe he’d smoked a pack a day for a few years. That, or he was straight-up making up words in a bit that only he was in on. One thing he did understand, though, was the kids’ names. I have three, he’d said, Chandler, Chase, and Chris. He’d assumed all boys. Chandler, Chase, and Christopher. Christian. Cristiano. The last thing he was expecting was a beautiful girl with a firm handshake.

“You were expecting me?” She asks, and her voice is a million times easier to understand than her father’s.

“No, no. He just,” He gestures absently to Bill. Chris doesn’t break eye contact. She has wonderful eyes. “I thought Chandler, Chase, and Chris are three brothers.”

“Oh,” She laughs like it’s not even close to the first time she’s had to follow behind her dad and correct the miscommunication, and a piece of her bangs falls loose from its tucked position behind her ear. She fixes it without thought. “Well, you’re one for three.”

She asks Bill about the hot lap, asks if he had fun and he laughs. They’re very laugh-oriented people, he’s noticed. Laughy and almost intimidatingly good at holding eye contact. He’d always heard Americans had an issue with eye contact, and if that really is the case, these two practice their active-listening skills enough for the rest of the country. Their kindness is in their expressions, soft eyes and small smiles that keep you from feeling like an intrusion on the conversation. He notes all of his findings internally, categorizes them together as if he’s spent the last ten minutes looking at anyone but her.

She’s horrendously his type. It’s painfully apparent with every passing moment. The hair and the face and the build and the smile. Just, God.

“Why didn’t you do one?” He asks, “A lap?”

“The need-for-speed bug skipped the women in my family, unfortunately.” She tucks her hair again. He wonders if she’s growing it out or if she always keeps it at such a length that it’s just too short to stay where she wants it to.

“We could go slow,” he offers and she chuckles, closing her eyes long enough to roll them without him actually seeing them roll.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He’s never been good at flirting, always found it off-putting in the beginning, trying to walk the line between what one person finds fun and another person finds horribly uncomfortable. Once the dust settles, he can manage, but making those first few moves? He might as well be a deer in headlights. Semi-truck headlights.

“I don’t know,” she says, drags out the vowel sounds and he’s oblivious to whether or not she can tell he’s only making this offer as a chance to spend more time with her. He’ll get an earful for it, no doubt, but if she agrees it’ll be worth it. Bill chimes in, eggs her on with a guilt trip. You should do it, don’t be a party-pooper. Charles wonders if Bill can tell he’s flirting with his daughter. Probably not, he’d bet. “Okay,” she says, and his stomach does a celebratory flip. Before he can say anything more, Mia is pulling him off somewhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming, but he fills her in on the walk.

“Domani c'è un'aggiunta al programma dei giri veloci.” There’s an addition to the hot laps schedule tomorrow, he says. Mia glares at him and he pretends not to notice, flashes her a toothy-grin as an unapologetic apology.

When she’d agreed to do a hot lap with the gorgeous racing driver standing a foot away from her, she assumed it would be forgotten the moment he stepped away from the conversation. She never would have agreed to it if she actually thought it was going to happen. Chris was sorely mistaken though, when later that afternoon, a man dressed head-to-toe in Ferrari red finds her to gather her information. 1:10, he tells her through a thick Italian accent, be in hospitality at 1:10.

It was wonderful, really. Perfect, fantastic, great, legendary. This is an amazing opportunity. She isn’t going to regret agreeing to this, no chance. Even for the queen of optimism, this one is hard to put a positive spin on.

There is no underestimating just how much Chris hates going fast. She’s never liked it, spent the majority of her childhood getting carsick in a vehicle maxing out at forty miles an hour. Her sister and brother used to think she was faking it just so she could always ride shotgun. She’s not even allowed to drive the car if she’s with her dad or her brother because they can’t bear it. To her, a speed limit is just that, a limit. To everyone else, it’s a minimum.

Her only hope is that she doesn’t vomit all over an expensive supercar at 1:10 tomorrow afternoon, or worse–the cute guy driving the car.

In the meantime, she can distract herself with the Green Day performance and remind herself that only so much can happen in five minutes. Anyone can survive five minutes.

– – –

They eat the continental breakfast at the hotel the next morning. Bill has pancakes and Chris has cereal because, as she’ll tell anyone, there’s just something about cereal from a plastic container. She’s also three coffees ahead of where she was this time the day before, all of her nerves personifying themselves as desperation for caffeine. She’s responding to a work email on her phone while Bill has a call with Chase.

Somewhere on a race track in Florida, Chase is calling between practice and qualifying sessions. They talk every day during a race weekend–Bill and Chase–and it’s almost never about racing. Her dad might drop an occasional that’s not what I would’ve done or a well, that looked like fun, but that’s usually the end of race-talk. They used to fight like cats and dogs about driving when Chase was younger, so much so that Chris’ mom banned them from talking about racing inside the house for three straight years. The who of them are better now, now that Bill’s been able to let Chase find his own way and go through his own racing journey.

“Your sister is doing a Hot Lap today,” Bill says, and Chris can hear Chase’s laughter from the muffled speaker.

Bill and Chris are driven to the track on Saturday because traffic is so bad. It’s hot and windy and Chris has her window rolled down the entire drive, her fingers dancing through the dry air. She’s always loved the heat, the sun shining down on her skin, kissing her in a million different places all at the same time. She loves the heat, and the heat loves her.

The morning flies by. They start the day with a tour of the Ferrari garage, where they’re introduced, or re-introduced, to their drivers. They end up with a couple other very important people hunched over Charles’ car while he explains how much pressure needs to be applied to the brake pedal for the car to actually brake. Bill eats the semantics up, cars and their mechanics run thick in his blood, braided deeply into his DNA. Chris, however, has always enjoyed the more delicate things in life; the pink hair bows and the dollar store makeup kits and spinning herself dizzy in a flowy summer dress. She never spent exorbitant amounts of time at Dad’s engine shop or Grandpa’s Ford Dealership, it just wasn’t in her lane of interests. She sips another coffee–her fifth of the day–and listens attentively to Charles talk, bites her smile at his wild gesticulations. He’d make a good kindergarten teacher, she thinks, with his huge personality.

When the whole tour group is being shuffled out of the garage to be replaced by a new set of prying eyes, Charles makes a passing comment. See you later for the world’s slowest hot lap, he remarked, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as he moved past her.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d convinced herself that it wouldn’t actually be him she would be doing the lap with. It was qualifying day, after all. Surely, he had about a million and one better things to be doing than driving a random girl around a track a few times. She figured it would be a driver, but not one of the drivers.

After lunch, she makes her way back to Ferrari hospitality, to where she was told to be waiting at 1:10. She’s the only person who looks like they’re here on instruction. Nobody else is nervously picking at their cuticles or vibrating in place as a reaction to their seven coffees that morning.

She spent the night before grilling her dad about his experience, forcing him to give her a moment-by-moment breakdown of everything he remembered happening, from the safety briefing to the conversation afterwards. But, when it came time for Chris to actually do hers, there was no safety briefing warning her about the million different ways she could die. Instead, the same man who’d tracked her down the day before escorted her from the top floor of hospitality to the bottom, out the back into what she can best compare to an alleyway, and then to a red supercharged Ferrari.

Charles is there, talking to what appears to be a personal photographer and another man dressed in Ferrari garb. She re-introduces herself for a third time in twenty four hours. “I know your name, Chris,” Charles says, smiles and shakes her hand anyway. She doesn’t like the way her brain reacts to him saying her name like it belongs on his lips.

“Duh,” she laughs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Right,” she nods. “Yeah, sorry.” Charles laughs out a sigh, cocks his head and smiles. Chris bites her tongue not to apologize again. It’s a reflex. She puffs out her laugh and shrugs.

If she manages to make it out of these couple laps with her life and the contents of her stomach still intact, she’s sure to still look like a clown–a fact she realizes as she pulls the tight helmet over her head. She’s worn racing helmets a handful of times, but it’s not muscle memory to her in the way it is to him. It takes her a minute to tighten the chin strap just right and despite his genuine offer to help her, Chris turns him down and blindly works her fingers under her neck until it’s just right.

“Why don’t you get a fun Hot Laps helmet?” She asks while she fights with the strap.

Charles knocks on the side of his helmet with his knuckle. “Custom fit. Safety reasons.”

Chris knows, she was just messing with him. She nods like she never could’ve guessed that was the reason. “My safety doesn’t matter?” She comments, pulls the strap tight for the final time.

“You think I’m going to crash?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I would never crash with Chris Elliott in the car.” There he goes again, saying her name all annoyingly French and nice and easy.

“Whatever,” she says, turns away so he can’t see her squished cheeks flush pink against the polyester. He opens the passenger side door for her, knocks his knuckle on her helmet this time, and horribly mocks both her words and accent before shutting the door behind her.

Chris has her seatbelt buckled before he can get around the front of the car and into his seat. Her leg bounces anxiously against the floor mat. Charles starts the car and moves to shift into drive, but stops short. “Are you scared?” he asks, and in a moment of vulnerable honesty, she nods. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified, and despite his brief attempt to reassure her that it’s going to be fun, her leg is still bouncing when they peel off from the group already awaiting his return.

A hot lap, she’d come to learn in the last day or so, would be more accurately referred to as hot laps–plural, multiple, several. Three, to be exact. One out lap, one push lap, and one cool down lap. Three laps. Hot laps. They should really start referring to it as a plural.

The best thing she can compare it to is a roller coaster. The turns share the feeling you get at the tipping point, right before your body thinks you’re free falling. Her stomach is left behind three turns back and it never really catches up to the car once they start. The straights are like that first hill, fast and crazy in a way that pulls from her lips screams she hears before she consciously chooses to release. It’s like a roller coaster, if the person sitting next to you is completely unaffected by the ride and spends the entire time trying to carry out a conversation with you between your screams and their giggles. It’s like a roller coaster, if the cart never leaves the ground.

On the cool down lap, when they’re going at a speed that allows Chris to pick up her soul when they drive through turn four, he asks her if she’s single. It comes at her from left field.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, takes a hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes!”

“Oh,” she says softly. If he notices the surprise in her tone, he doesn’t mention it. “I am.”

“Can I get your number?” She swears that his fingers are shakier than before as they hover over the paddle shift. They were sure-footed just minutes earlier, she’s sure of it. She’s sure of it, but there’s no way it’s a genuine observation. There’s no way she’s making him nervous.

She laughs, because what on God’s green Earth is a European Formula One driver going to do with a small town American girl’s phone number?

“I’m not abandoning my dad for a hookup,” she says, and he rolls his eyes, repeats the question. “Why do you want it?”

“Because, Chris Elliott,” she wants to scrape the way he says her name out of his voice box and pin it in a scrapbook. It’s like a tick, the way it burrows into her skin. Nobody should be allowed to make her name sound like that. “You are a very beautiful girl, and when a guy sees a beautiful girl, they act like an idiot and ask for her number.”

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, shakes her head and looks out the window like it might ground her, or like it might reveal that she really is in some fever dream state and none of this is real. She’s not even in Texas, maybe. That’s how insane this whole conversation is to her.

“Too cheesy?” He asks, grimaces. She shakes her head, holds her hand out for his phone.

“Just cheesy enough.”

When they get back to where they started, someone asks Chris if she’d had a good time. She nods, flattens down the static-electricity charged flyaways on her head and tells them yes, even if she’ll be just a little bit nauseous for the rest of the day. It’s not a lie, either, she did have fun. She was scared out of her mind, but in a way that makes her happy she did it.

They pose for a photo together in front of the car, the picture snapped by the only guy with a camera around his neck, the only one besides Chris not covered head to toe in Ferrari branding. When they pose, Charles’ arm wraps around her lower back and, almost like he remembers himself in the middle of the action, his hand doesn’t close around her side. Instead, it hovers just beyond her body, open and stiff and flat. How gentlemanly. “Good luck tomorrow,” she says.

He nods his thanks, “I hope I see you around this weekend,” he adds, and then they go their separate ways. Good thing, too, because she’s still blushing over it when she gets back to her dad in the Champion’s club. Bill is too distracted by the live feed on Chase’s qualifying laps on his tiny phone screen to notice Chris’ presence, much less the coloring of her cheeks. He qualifies third and they celebrate quietly with drinks from the bar and FP3 on the big screens.

They stumble into more NASCAR old-timers while in the Champion’s Club and Chris spends the time fifth-wheeling their conversations about Chase and watching the second half of qualifying on one of the TVs.

She doesn’t really understand the format of the weekend. In theory, she understands the basics, didn’t have to read Formula One for Dummies on the plane ride over, but the intricacies of it are beyond her. In NASCAR, drivers are split into two groups and then are only given, at max, two laps to set their qualifying times. It varies depending on the track that weekend, but it always hits some of the same points. From what she can gather from the low-volume televisions mounted on every surface around her, F1 is definitely different.

They head back to the hotel directly after qualifying to ‘beat the traffic’ which is code for Chris is still nauseous and they’re both feeling a little too heat exhausted. They stop for dinner on the way back, at a barbeque place right by their hotel. Bill orders the chopped brisket with potato salad and Chris gets the pulled pork sandwich with a tomato zucchini salad.

Chris has been really busy with work, with settling into the new routine with her new group of students, and Bill wants to hear all about it. She always struggles in September and October, feels inadequate every time the other teachers find their footing with their new class weeks before she does. It’s the first time alotta ‘em have been in a school, Bill reminds her and she shrugs it off, tries to find something more upbeat to talk about.

Chris and Bill have really gotten close over the past couple years. Growing up, she and her sister Chandler were massive daddy’s girls, had him wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they came into the world. But, when Chase started to really take racing seriously, the girls lost a lot of their dad to their brother and spent the majority, if not all, of their time with their Mom. As a teenager, Chris did what all sixteen year old girls do and rebelled against any and every rule in the book. While Chandler was touring colleges and getting 1550s on her SAT and singing in the church choir, Chris had other plans. Whether it was stubbornly refusing to clean her half of the shared room with her big sister, ratting Chase out for coming home at 2am drunk, or sneaking out of the second-story window to go out with her all-too-old boyfriend, she tested all of the waters. It wasn’t until college, until she moved away to Athens and was out of the house for the first time in her life that she realized just how important family was to her. She’s been attempting to make up for lost time since.

That night when she plugs her phone into the charger and shuts it off for the night, she realizes she’d been half expecting a late night text from Charles. It didn’t come, and disappointed isn’t the right word for the tiny little pit in her stomach because she wasn’t really expecting anything to come from typing her number into his contacts. It’s not disappointment, it’s something closer to acceptance or rejection, maybe. It’s not like he would’ve been searching out anything but a hookup, anyways, and Chris made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t into that idea.

She would never hear from him again, and that’s how it should be. The whole interaction turning into anything but a story she can tell in a couple months when she’s drunk would be entirely too complicated of an outcome.

She doesn’t let herself think about it any longer, leaves her phone face down on the side table and tucks herself into bed.

– – –

Traffic on race day is true-crime inducing. They’re driven, again, escorted and still spend an hour and a half in the backseat of an SUV. Bill and Chris watch from the VIP stands and Chris has never seen anything like this, especially not at COTA. Even Talladega and Daytona barely hold a candle to this spectacle.

If she has one critique, it’s that F1 should really hire some B-List at best celebrity to scream drivers, start your engines! At the start of the race like they do in NASCAR. It would really add some flare, she thinks.

She and Bill share Chris’ airpods, one in each of their ears listening to the NASCAR broadcast. Charles starts twelfth, for whatever reason. She can’t be bothered to look into it, knows it’ll probably be a penalty she doesn’t understand and she’ll be tumbling down a rabbit hole before she knows what’s happened to her.

While it’s not Chase’s best race–he finishes fourteenth with a single sigh from Bill–Charles puts on a show, fights his tires all the way up into third.

They watch the podium celebrations on the TV screens and nobody looks happy to be up there. They look miserable, almost, and she understands it to an extent. It’s hard to have energy after a race, she’s witnessed it first hand more times than she can count. It’s hard, especially at the end of the season. Burn-out is real, but still. They look bored. She didn’t know spraying champagne could look so tired.

Bill grumpily flies them home to Georgia late Sunday night. He’d wanted to wait until Monday morning, after all the billionaires and their super-jets take off right after the race, but Chris refused to miss another day of work this early in the school year, not when she was already going to be missing time in December for her brother’s wedding.

Bill’s been flying planes since before any of his kids were born. His most recent purchase is a Cessna Conquest II that he uses to fly the family around for short distances. In another gene that skipped the females in the family, Chandler, Chris, and their mom all prefer to be passengers. Chase, however, followed in Dad’s footsteps once more in becoming an avid aviation fan.

By the time they take off, any thought Chris had of getting a text from Charles has faded far into obscurity. He’d probably gotten dozens of numbers from girls this weekend. He was probably at a club somewhere right now still pulling women. Women more his type, probably. He seems like he’d be more into the refined type, the girls without the ‘cheap’ accents who were all worldly and spoke seventeen languages fluently and had long legs that carried them down runways across Europe every other weekend.

Little southern girls get texts from little southern boys, that’s how it goes. That's how it’s always gone, and Chris is beyond naive to think anything different for even a moment.

She grades papers on the flight home. Purple pen, because she thinks that color is fun and red is too cruel to grade with. Puffy stickers for everyone, even the kids who aren’t anywhere near the right track because she doesn’t want anyone to feel less than just because they struggle a bit more. Chris has always been a firm believer that the student is never the problem. If someone isn’t learning what she’s teaching, she needs to adjust the way she teaches it to cater to their learning style.

It’s her job to teach them, not their job to learn.

Joris has been laughing at Charles from the hotel room armchair for fifteen minutes now, beyond entertained by his best friend’s restless pacing, providing absolutely zero aid to his current predicament. This act has been going on for some time now. Charles, pacing for five minutes before pulling out his phone and typing up an opening message to Chris. Each time, he starts to read it out to Joris and then stops himself short, deletes it, and paces for five more minutes.

Hey, Chris. This is Ch–no, that’s stupid.

Sorry it took me a minute to text–absolutely not.

What’s up? It’s Charles, how–someone should just stop him from speaking to women all together.

There’s half a dozen renditions before Joris breaks. “Mate? What is your problem?” He finally asks. “It’s just a girl.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, “I know.”

“Then why can’t you send her a text?”

“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence.

It’s no help that he doesn’t know American texting culture, unfamiliar with how long he’s supposed to wait to send a message or what he’s supposed to say in the opening text.

“Here,” Joris says, holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ve got the perfect text.”

“Don’t send it,” Charles warns, but passes the phone to his friend.

“I… won’t,” Joris says slowly, struggling to multi-task. He doesn’t type for more than a few seconds and then hands the phone back to Charles, with the message already sent. Charles’ look of sheer panic is met with a smile and a chef’s kiss from Joris.

She turns her phone off while Bill is shutting the plane engine down in the hangar. Because of his love of aviation, Bill had bought some land out in the woods a couple decades ago and turned it into the family’s private airstrip for their planes. Elliott Field, they coined it, stored all their extra vehicles out on the property. She slips it into her back pocket as her and Bill disembark and lock up the place, and the entire time she can feel it vibrating, the notifications from the hour and a half flight catching up now that she’s on the ground again.

It’s not until she’s in her car that she checks them, pulls her phone out to plug it into the aux and play some music for the drive back to her house. Right at the top of the dozens of notifications is a message from an unknown number with an unfamiliar area code.

[one unread message] the notification reads. She unlocks her phone to check the message.

She closes the messages app on her phone and opens up Spotify, shuffles her favorite playlist. She doesn’t reply to his text, doesn’t know if she wants to or even what she might say back. She’s sleepy, more than ready for bed after a long weekend in the sun, excited to be back with her students bright and early tomorrow morning.

The text from the cute race car driver can wait for another day. An issue for tomorrow, maybe.

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