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femd-archive · 6 months

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NEEDY

pairing: sadistic beauty — woo haesol x fem!reader

word counting: 1.7k

summary: you catch haesol masturbating to you

📎 side note: english is not my first lenguage, so sorry in advance for any grammar mistakes.

"I'm heading off" you announce in the doorstep as you put your shoes on. At the same time you're picking up your purse, Haesol comes from the kitchen, wearing his cute pink apron as he dries his hands off with a hand-towel.

"Good luck today, noona" he breaks in one of his sweet smiles, making your heart melt.

"You have a day off today?" you ask, stretching your arms to motion him to come closer. He gets comfortable in your arms as you squeeze him in a warm hug.

"Yeah, the professor called in sick so the class got suspended" he answers.

"Lucky boy" you mutter, tickling him so slightly in his tummy but he stills wiggles away while giggling. "I'm going now. I'll see you later" sharing a short kiss on the lips, you sadly let him go from your arms to walk to the door.

"See you later" he waves at you from the door, and it's not until he sees you get into the elevator that he returns back into your shared apartment.

In the next few hours, Haesol cleaned the apartment upside down; chopped some veggies to freeze them for future meals; water the little plants he buyed from the store down the street and he loved with all his heart; he readed some books that were required for his next proyect and did some exercises from those yoga videos he found on YouTube.

Finally done with all his tasks, he took a relaxing bath with all the products that you buyed for him on your work trips. He always insist to not buy anything for him, but you can't help but want to spoil your pretty boy.

After taking his time in the bathtub, he also took his time drying himself off. As he dryed the last droplets of his wet hair, with his free hand he started to open his drawers to find some clean clothes. His body freezes for a moment and his cheeks started to feel hot when he sees the sight of your red panties on top of all his other underewear.

Shaky hands stretch forward to grab the piece of clothing. Why was it there? Have you confused your drawers with his and you just throw it in there? That's pretty possible.

Curiosity wins over him. «What if they are dirty? I might need to put them in the next batch of dirty clothes» is what Haesol thinks, and there's only one way to really know if they are dirty or not. Trembling with excitment, he brings the panties up to his face and closer to his nose, taking a long sniff to them.

He took his conclusion right away: they were not dirty, but the specific fragance of your cloth softener makes his mind full of you and his body reacts right away, it always does when it comes to you.

As he closes his eyes and get lost in your scent, his free hand is already reaching for the bulge forming under his white towel, gropping it as he imagines it's your own hand. Soon enough, the towel falls to his feet, and his hard cock springs up, proudly standing.

Wrapping his hand around it, he starts with soft strokes along the shaft, more focused on sniffing away your panties.

"Ah...noona ~" he moans on the low, his hand taking speed on his dick as he really tries his best to think is you. In his already delusional state, he can swear he feels the warmth of your chest hitting his back as your own hands strokes his pathetic dick. "More...more, please!" he pleads in whispers, tears already forming in his eyes.

"You're already this hard for just smelling my panties? What a naughty girl" he hears you tease him in his ear, and he gasps. "Why don't you wear them? You'll look really pretty wearing them for me, won't you baby?"

"Yes...yes" he answers to nobody, regardless, he still follows your imaginary order.

With a few water droplets still falling from his back, he waste no more time and put your red panties on. They are tight around the waist and surely do not cover his whole dick, but still combines with his pale skin and slim figure.

"There you go, princess. Now, why don't you show noona how you play with your pussy yourself?"

Heasol's face feels even hotter than it already was, but who was he to deny you?

Taking the lube bottle that was in display on your night stand, he lies down on the bed and pushes the panties aside to display his already twitching hole. Squirting some of the lube on two of his fingers, he teases his hole a little bit to finally insert the two digits slowly inside him. Mouth agape, he throws his head back in pleasure as he starts softly thrusting his fingers in and out.

"Oh...fuck" he mumbles, bitting his bottom lip down as he starts to add speed on his fingers, his neglected dick twitching painfully on his tummy. "Ah ~ noona, please..." he cries, "fuck me, please. Noona...noona" he calls out for you as his mind start to feel fuzzy.

He was so gone that he didn't even hear you come back.

"I'm home ~" you announce, trying to sound as cheerful as you can after a long day in college.

As you take your shoes off in the entrance, you wait for your cute boyfriend to come skipping and jump into you as he showers your face with 'welcome home' kisses; but even after taking your coat off, he isn't there.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you start searching for him around the apartment. In a general view he wasn't at the kitchen nor outside in the balcony, sometimes he liked to keep company to his little plants after all; he also wasn't sleeping on the couch, wich you find good since you don't want him to hurt his neck; opening the bathroom door, you see that it's all foggy, so it's a sign that he took a bath no long ago.

Finally knowing where he was, you walk upstairs to search for him in your bedroom, and sure as hell he was in there.

The whole room was filled with his moans and whimpers, along with the squelching sounds of his long fingers fucking in him again and again and again. It was no rare sight to see him this ruined for you, but for him to get himself in that state? That sure is new.

"Haesol?" you call out to him, making him midly snap from his trance, but it only makes him whine and cry even more as he, with his two hands, spreads his cheeks to show his hole at your mercy.

"Please noona...come fuck my needy pussy" he cries out. And that was enough reason for you to move faster than ever in your life, fetching your strap on the way to bed.

"Fuck...are those my panties?" you finally took notice of that, and how good they looked on him. A simple whimper of him answered your question, and you didn't need anything more than that. "Such a needy girl, couldn't wait for unnie to come home?"

Haesol shakes his head no. "Needed you...needed you so bad unnie" he whines.

"I can see it...fuck, you're so wet for me already" finally securing your strap-on on your hipss, you take the dildo and slap it a little bit on your boyfriend's wet hole. "Want me in?"

"Yes! Please, please, please unnie...fuck me" he begs with his sweet broken voice. And you don't need any more motivation than that.

With a simple thrust, the whole toy inserted inside him so easily, making Haesol throw his head back once again, and you smile at his reactions. You feel yourself getting wet at the simple thought of being the one that makes him feel this good.

The bedroom fills once again with your boyfriend's moans and your breathy ones.

Heasol's hands come under your shirt and pull it up enough to make your tits visible, still with your bra on. He then removes the cups upwards, freeing them. His warm hands started massaging and playing with them as he starts pouting at you.

"Kiss...kiss" he started mumbling, teary eyes looking at your lips and then your eyes once again. And how can you deny such a puppy look.

Without reducing your speed, you bend down to capture your boyfriend's lips with yours, sharing a heated kiss where his moans melted in your tongue as he traps your body with his arms and legs.

"Cum...'lease...please let me cum" he begs between cries. "I've been good...I've been so good. Please...let me cum"

"I guess you've been. Cleaning the house down, being a good student and taking care of me like the cute housewife you are, aren't you?" you chuckle as you see him nod his head yes. "Then cum for me, baby"

He lets out a last cry, his grip on you getting weaker as he comes in white ropes, dirtying his naked chest and even getting some of it in his face. You help him ride his orgasm with softer thrusts, reducing the speed to none as you pepper his face with sweet kisses as he gasps for air.

"There you go, you did so good for me baby" you whisper sweet nothings in his ear, helping him calm down.

His limbs go numb, letting you go completely as he now lies on the bed, knocked out and soft snoring. You chuckle to yourself as you get out of bed to get wet wipes and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

You clean him up and dress him in fresh clothes to sleep comfortably. Once you tuck him in, you take a shower before getting back in bed with him, cuddling him closer to you.

"Silly boy, you never tell me how much you need me until I gotta see you all needy like this" you scold him slightly, though you know he might not hear you in his unconscious state.

Smiling at his sleeping figure, you leave a kiss on his forehead as you snuggle up to him to get some rest as well. You'll get to see his flustered face in the morning when you refresh his mind with all that you've done tonight.

#sadistic beauty #woo haesol #haesol x reader #dom!reader #dom reader #sub!character #sub character #sub!haesol #sub haesol #sub!sadistic beauty #sub sadistic beauty

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loveharlow · 2 months

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SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally.

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped.

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’.

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight.

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter.

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued.

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice.

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him.

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat.

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range.

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly.

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house.

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat.

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior.

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled.

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself.

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement.

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook.

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered.

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall.

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke.

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum.

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John.

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’.

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.”

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.”

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort.

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father.

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however.

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'.

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly.

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad.

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!”

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.”

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you.

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

“NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”.

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you.

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open.

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde.

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried.

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool.

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up.

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed.

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

Text

birds of prey (one shot)

2600 words, dark RAIDER!tommy x f!reader

Summary: Tommy recently joined the raiding group that killed everyone in your family. When the group comes back to claim the house for their own use, he finds you in the basement. A/N: This is a DIFFERENT READER, not joel's reader. I wanna introduce raider!Tommy before raider joel crosses paths with him (we're not there yet). THANK YOU @dark-scape for the group name, symbol, and soundboard. Also to @romanarose for requesting Tommy in raider!Joel. WARNINGS!!: I8+ mdni, extremely dubious consent unsafe P in V and oral M receiving, dirty talk, pet names, dark/toxic affection- do not be fooled, degradation. NO USE OF Y/N.

The raiders first came a week ago and killed everyone but you–they never found you in the basement. They took everything they could use, so you aren't sure why they're back, but in your gut you know it's them when you hear the tires on gravel. You make your way down to the basement again. The entry is through a closet floor and it looks like more of a crawl space until you climb down into it. You told everyone it’d be safest there, but they thought if they begged for their lives and let them take everything, the men might be reasonable.

The short, dirty window at the top of the wall is open and their voices make your stomach turn.

"Den's big enough, got a kitchen 'n all. Hell, wood's already chopped." They laugh and the door handle jiggles. "Locked?"

"What? Y'all lock it when ya left?"

"Didn't think so."

They bust down the door.

"So this is it," a new voice announces calmly. "The new nest."

Someone corrects him, "That's lame, man. You don't gotta call it that when he's not around."

"Takes this Birds of Prey shit too literally," another man agrees.

They start showing the new guy around.

One of the men asks, "think the big guy'll like it?"

After a moment of silence, someone says "let's talk about the big guy. " It sounds like they're planning a coup. They agree to find somewhere in the house to hide the loot and leave one man behind to guard it overnight. They break up to look for a hiding place.

—-

Inevitably, the door to your space opens. "Crawlspace," the new voice says. Then he steps down. It’s just him. He hunches over and walks until the ceiling is higher. You're huddled in the corner under a desk. He scuffs his boot on the ground and a huge layer of dust gets kicked up. He looks around for a minute and says "alright, alright," to himself. You can only see his boots. Your nose tickles from the dust and you're trying to stave off a sneeze. When his boots turn back toward the door, You're relieved. But you can't keep the tickle at bay. You squeak ever so quietly into your shoulder, then the boots turn in your direction.

Your heart goes to your throat as the man slowly crouches down. Mustache, long, dark hair, denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Heavily tattooed, though you can’t make anything out. He raises his eyebrows and his lips purse in bemusement. He clasps his large hands and says “Well hey there,” like he’s speaking to a child.

You’re silent.

“What are ya doin’ down here?”

“It’s my house,” you say.

He nods thoughtfully and his brows knit apologetically, but his voice doesn’t match. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says ominously. “My friends said it’s our house, now.” He frowns exaggeratedly.

Your eyes sting with the dusty air and you realize you’ve had your eyes wide and not blinked this entire time.

"MILLER WHERE THE HELL ARE YA," someone yells.

He sighs and stands up.

“Don’t tell them,” you beg.

“Why wouldn’t I,” he asks, still standing up, out of view.

“I’ll do anything,” you say.

“Anything,” he repeats, then sighs. “Wouldn’t’ve taken ya for that kinda girl. Looked like an angel to me.”

“MILLER!!!!”

“Please,” you beg.

“We’ll see,” he says curtly then turns around and leaves. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he announces he found a crawlspace that’ll work.

—----

They unload the stuff, then someone asks, “Who’s stayin’?”

“New guy,” someone says.

“Can ya handle it, Miller?” another voice asks. “Place like this might get spooky at night.”

The men chuckle.

“I’m good,” Miller says.

“That’s the spirit, Tommy boy.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

—

Tommy starts bringing crates down, and the men get ready to leave. They continue to talk amongst themselves upstairs on their way out. Tommy crouches down to look at you, a little closer this time, about two meters away. He smiles at you then sits on the floor with his hands behind him, not saying anything. As the men leave, you both overhear their crude banter. Tommy looks at the window as he listens.

"Think she's ready for more?"

"I call back door first." Your heart drops thinking about whoever’s waiting for them back where they came from.

"Shit, you can have it. D'ya see the lips on her?" There’s no way she’s willingly waiting for this disgusting group of men.

"I wanna see what Tommy boy can do to that pussy."

“Not tonight!” one says and they laugh.

"He doesn't have it in'm," another one says.

Tommy seems to bristle at this. Then he dons a subtle smirk, looks at you, and slowly sucks in air though his teeth like he's breaking some bad news. "'m afraid I do," he nods. "Just don’t like sharin’." He sighs. His nose twitches and you don’t like it. He’s pensive, like he has something to prove. He says, “Hope they don’t do ya like that once they find ya.”

You hug your knees and bury your head to cry. “What do you want,” you ask.

“Why don’t ya come on out for a start.”

You look at him. He’s not moving from his position. He nods toward the wall as though to give you permission to sit away from him. He watches you like a hawk as you slowly crawl, still sniffling, and you sit against the wall with your legs out.

“Good girl,” he says gently, then begins to get up. You flinch when he stands, but he takes the chair from the desk and turns it to face you. He sits in it, only about a meter away now. At this distance, you can see his freckles and the sparkle in his eyes and you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty good looking. You look at each other for a few seconds. Apparently he’s thinking the same thing. “Pretty, too. Aren’t ya, angel?”

He leans back and his chest puffs out as he takes off his denim jacket. “Too hot for this,” he mutters and throws it onto the desk. His t-shirt lets you see how strong his chest and arms are as he settles back into the chair and manspreads with his hands on his thighs. One of his hands has a fresh tattoo of a talon on it. His jeans are ripped below the one knee. “So you’ll do anything, huh,” he says contemplatively. He smooths his hair and looks at the window, then around the room. “Guess I’ve got all night to find out what that means.”

You consider your options. If he really doesn’t like sharing, giving yourself to him is your best shot at staying secret from the other men.

“Can I have some water,” you ask.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, what else ya want? A cheeseburger?” He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and leaves. He doesn’t come back for hours.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s been the worst week of your life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to even care what he might do to you. You fall asleep.

—--------

You wake up to the sound of boots thudding down the stairs. It’s dark out now. “Got lost, sorry,” he booms. He’s carrying a short crate that has a lantern, a jug of water, a bottle of whiskey, and some jerky. He sets the crate down on the desk. He puts the water jug next to your feet, and he lingers. He squats down and caresses your cheek with his knuckle. You smell his sweat and you smell he’s been drinking. His lips part as he looks at you, and you try to ignore the sparkle in his eyes in the lamp light. He’s sweaty, and his masculine smell makes you tingle. He offers you some jerky with a little smile but you say, “no thank you.”

“Those manners,” he whispers with a smile. His mustache twitches charmingly. He takes off his boots and sits next to you on the wall and his large hand engulfs your thigh. He wets his lips and looks at you. “What are we gonna do?” he asks softly.

“Just tell me what you want,” you whine.

He shakes his head no. “I wanna know what you want.”

“I wanna live, I wanna not be gang banged, I want my family back, I want-” you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he gets up on his knees and forces you into a consoling embrace. You cry into his shirt and he says “Shhhhh, shhhhhh.” He pats your head. “You’re not gonna get gang banged if you’re mine, I promise.”

The most unsettling mix of relief and dread floods your upper body. Your lower body, meanwhile, is all warmth and tingling. Oh, god. He hugs you into his hair which smells like cigarettes, campfire, and something sour. “C’mere,” he says, and uses your hair to pull your head back slightly, gently. Enough to look at your face.

----

He dips his head, and at first all you can do is watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows. But then his face drifts toward yours, and you tense in anticipation. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are plush and gentle. Your lips remain firm and still until they don’t. When his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, they let him in. Your mouths are connected for a good thirty seconds before he breaks the kiss and looks at you. Then he wraps his hands around your back and lifts you up onto your knees so you’re both kneeling on the cold concrete as he licks into your mouth. He wraps his arms around you tight and attacks your mouth with his again, with more fervor this time, his suction making your lips tingle.

His cock hardens against you. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath against the side of your mouth. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, pressing his hardness into you. He sighs.

Then he lets go of your ass and his hands come between you. He urgently unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then pulls them down. You feel like there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, so you obediently take them off as he removes his own without taking his eyes off you. “Those too,” he nods at your panties. As you remove them, the damp cotton is cool against your inner thigh and you realize how wet you are. Warmth rushes to your face.

----

“C’mere, angel,” he whispers, and he sits down in his boxers. He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, hovering, at first. He reaches between your legs and groans as his fingers meet your wetness. He gazes at you with wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful girl.” He looks down and watches his hand as he slides his fingers through your folds, front and back. His strong chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He pulls you by the ass, grinding your crotch into the massive tent in his boxers and the contact makes you twitch. “Fuck,” he sighs when your loins are pressed up against each other. He makes space to get his cock out and you try not to stare. It’s thick. Suddenly, you’re salivating. You wet your lips and he notices.

“Lemme put it here, first,” he says softly and rubs your cunt. “Okay?” He nods for you as he positions you over his cock and notches himself for entry. He’s waiting for your go-ahead like it means something. You offer an almost imperceptible nod, then he pulls you down hard on his cock with a groan. You gasp as his girth parts your walls.

“Then—ohhh—then ya can suck it,” he says. He lifts his hips. “Maybe.” He moves you on his cock. “Shit this feels good.” He holds you close and wraps an arm around you. He moves his hips forward from the wall with a sharp thrust up into you. He gets enough space to lean back a little and pull you against his chest for leverage, with enough clearance to fuck up into you. “Yeah, ohh shit.” As your body adjusts to his girth, your eyes close in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp and deep. He’s strong, so strong the way he holds you. Tension knots in your gut as his girth fills you up over and over.

“Ride it, baby. C’mere.” He sits back down flatter against the wall again and manhandles you on his cock. “C’mon, baby.” You might as well get something out of it, so you move your hips and get close enough to him to grind your clit into his pelvis. “Aww, yeah,” he breathes, “Yeahh, like that.” He reaches for your head. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, then pulls your face into his again. His hips rock in rhythm with yours as he fills your mouth with his tongue.

You accidentally hum “Mmm” into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to say “oh you like it, huh,” pounding into you a little harder. “You like this big cock.” Each time he fills you, you’re less and less ready for this to end. “That’s good,” he rubs his nose against your temple. “gonna get a lot of it.” He holds the back of your head and reads your eyes in the dim lamp light then kisses you again. You break the kiss with a moan, feeling yourself on the edge.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Shit yeah,” He puts both his hands on your ass and moves you on his cock, determined to fill you with every smidgen of him.

You whimper at the stretch, the sheer fullness.

“You’re there,” he says. “C’mon, baby,” his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you, filling you like you thought you might never be filled, “C’mon, angel. C’mon.” The tension snaps and you groan as your cunt spasms around his cock. “Ohhh, yeahhh, yeahhh,” Tommy says, “shit, yeah.” Your body jerks into his. “Fuckin’ beautiful."

He slows you down and sucks in a deep breath as you keep spasming. “Shit,” he sighs. He stops moving and tries to compose himself. He’s trying not to come. He pulls you off before you’re finished coming. You look at him and he’s biting his lip, his eyes are smiling, his hand is wrapped around his cock. “Now suck it for me.” He reaches up and his huge hand engulfs the back of your head. “Now,” he says more urgently. He pulls down and you oblige, reeling in aftershocks and shame.

You take his tip in your mouth and his hips lift as you suck it. He forces your head down on his cock and you gag on it. “Ohh, shit.” He pulls your head down harder then explodes against the back of your throat with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. His hot spend paints the back of your throat. You swallow it then let him slide out of your mouth.

—--

Tommy catches his breath for a moment, then puts his dick away and gets up to put on his pants. It feels abrupt, but you’re not sure what you expected. Surely not pillow talk. He towers over you as he zips up. You look up at him and he tilts his head, looking at you affectionately. Then his face changes.

“Dumb slut.”

Your stomach drops as he walks away.

-------

--------

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for updates.

Joel and Tommy are not in touch. When they cross paths it will have been a long time since they saw each other.

This reader will be Tommy's and he'll gain some power in the group.

#dark!tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #raider!tommy miller #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fic #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!tommy

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a-distantdreamer · 8 months

Text

Only Us

daniel ricciardo x ofc

word count: 5222

thank you to the lovely @leclerc-stan for always being there and @strawberrysainz and @forteafy for convincing me to post this 🫶🏻 i haven’t posted any of my writing in a while but with some encouragement and support i have built up the courage again. i hope this is okay. 🤍

tw: nausea, vomiting, pregnancy tests

Sienna felt like shit.

Her hands trembled as she dragged her suitcase up the front path, trying to ignore the sweat beading on her hairline. As expected for the Australian summertime, it was as hot as hell, but she had been sweating and nauseous even in the depths of the air conditioned airport and the taxi.

Daniel had, of course, offered to come and collect her from the airport, but she refused, knowing that they were hosting his parents for lunch that afternoon. She wouldn’t deny Daniel the rare, quality time with his Mum and Dad for anything, no matter how much she wished he was there to give her a cuddle when she’d first got out of the airport.

As Sienna fished through her bag for her keys, her stomach knotted again, and she inhaled slowly through her nose, bracing the palm of her hand on the wood of the door. Mentally, she noted that there was a perfectly good hedge next to their front door that could be vomited into, if needed.

Eventually, the churning of her stomach eased a little, and Sienna managed to unlock the front door, pulling herself and her case into the entryway. She set her backpack and suitcase by the foot of the stairs before beginning the search through the house for her family.

Rounding the corner into the open-plan living space, she smiled at the sight of Daniel standing at the kitchen countertop, chopping salad and bopping along to the summery music of one of his many playlists. He was clad in a pair of navy shorts and a bright blue, noisily patterned shirt. His feet were bare. She was home.

Slowly, Sienna walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist. She felt him tense for a moment and giggled when he swore under his breath, before he looked down at her hands, which curled over his tummy.

“Well, hey there, cutie,” he murmured.

Sienna sighed contentedly, turning her head to rest her cheek between his shoulder blades as his voice settled over her like smooth caramel, “hi, baby.”

Daniel took hold of her hands to loosen her grip on him enough that he could turn to face her. She rested her hands on his hips, as his came up to cup her face. His stubble had grown a little since she had left, and one unruly curl of hair was hanging over his forehead. She reached up to smooth it back into place, with little effect.

“I fucking missed you,” he admitted, his gorgeous brown eyes scanning her face as he spoke.

Sienna nodded and leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him, “I missed you too.”

He smiled against her mouth until she lowered back to the flat of her feet. The motion alone made her head spin and she let out a groan, leaning forward to rest her head against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his large hands running up and down her spine.

She shrugged, “I’ve felt awful for the whole journey home.”

“In what way?” Daniel probed, his concern growing.

“Nauseous, dizzy, hot even in the air conditioning. I haven’t managed to eat anything today,” Sienna listed.

“Still?” Daniel queried in confusion, “you were feeling sick before you left for Sydney too.”

“Must’ve just been the start of it. The nausea feels the same,” Sienna admitted, “although I feel like I’m running more of a temperature now.”

Daniel shook his head and lifted his hand to press the back of it to her forehead, “you don’t feel warm, you’re just a little…damp. With the sweat, y’know?”

Sienna snorted out a laugh at his choice of words, “probably because it’s hot as hell here, as usual. Who’s bright idea was it again to move out to a farm in The-Arse-End-of-Perth, Australia, again?”

“Oh I do wonder,” Daniel teased in return.

They knew full well that both he and Sienna had painstakingly searched for a house just like the one they were standing in for years, and were equally enthusiastic when the farm had come on the market. The day they had moved into the house, 4 years into their relationship, had been one of the happiest of Sienna’s life so far. It was their home, and any time that they had spare from Daniel’s hectic racing calendar in the year since they’d bought it was spent there.

Sienna tilted her head back to peer up at his handsome face, her fingertips gripping at the silkiness of his shirt, “are your mum and dad here yet?”

Part of her hoped he’d say no, so that they could cuddle, and she could nap, even though she was desperate to see Grace and Joe again too. She adored Daniel’s family.

Daniel nodded, “they’re outside. But if you’re not feeling well enough to come out now, you can go lay down for a bit. They’ll understand.”

“No way,” Sienna shook her head, even though she was dying to crawl into her own bed and just sleep, “I want to see them.”

The Ricciardos were out on the patio, looking as put together and gorgeous as ever. Grace was holding a glass of red wine, watching Joe heating the grill with a beer in hand. Daniel came out, holding the large bowl of salad he’d prepared in one hand, and leading Sienna out with the other.

“There’s our girl!” Joe cheered at the sight of her, abandoning the grill to rush over as Daniel let go of her to put down the food.

Sienna never had to force a smile around Daniel’s family. They were always so incredibly welcoming to her.

“Hey, Joe,” she greeted, as he engulfed her in a tight hug. Grace had also made her way over in that time, greeting Sienna with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once Joe let go of her.

“How was your journey, darling?” Grace queried softly, cupping her cheek.

Sienna managed a weak smile, “it was a little rough. I don’t feel all that well.”

“Oh, sweetie, go and rest if you need to!” Grace exclaimed, her hands resting on Sienna’s shoulders, “don’t mind us one bit.”

Sienna shook her head, “I’ll be okay. I think I just need some food and fresh air. I haven’t managed to eat yet today either, so that probably explains it.”

Grace still looked uncertain, but let it go, taking her seat back at the table with Sienna beside her as Daniel went to assist Joe with the food again. Grace and Sienna chatted about her work trip to Sydney and other current affairs, occasionally looking up to laugh at the banter between Daniel and his dad over the barbecue, or the ridiculous way Daniel was shaking his hips to the music. They talked about her and Daniel’s plans for the rest of the summer break, including their upcoming trip to Southern Italy.

Throughout, Grace knew that Sienna still wasn’t herself. She was awfully pale, and Grace noticed how Sienna’s hands were trembling a little whenever she went to take a tentative sip of water. She also noticed how Daniel would glance back over at Sienna regularly to check on her, the small crease between his eyebrows showing concern.

In the distance beyond the patio, Sienna spotted their flock of sheep migrating over the red-dirt hills towards their pen. She made a mental note to go down and visit them first thing in the morning, along with her horses. She had missed them so much in the four days that she was away. Having enough space to own animals had always been a dream of hers, and she felt blessed that she and Daniel were in a position to do so.

Suddenly, a slight breeze blew across the patio, carrying the scent of the cooking meat on the barbecue across the table. Sienna’s nose scrunched as the rich scent of steak and seasoned chicken engulfed her, and her stomach lurched. She slapped her hand ove no r her mouth and pushed out from the table as bile rose in her throat.

Daniel could only watch in confusion as Sienna raced back inside the house. He quickly handed the spatula back over to his dad and took off his apron, not wanting to risk anything that was making Sienna feel more sick getting close to her.

“Poor thing,” he heard his mum saying sympathetically as he followed Sienna inside, “she really isn’t well at all.”

The door to the downstairs bathroom was flung wide open, and Sienna hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on before falling to her knees in front of the toilet. There was no relief that came with actually vomiting though, and now she had started she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop. Already, there was little more than stomach acid coming up, burning at her nose and throat and only making the nausea worse.

“Oh, Peach,” Daniel sighed, crouching down beside Sienna’s exhausted-looking form. He carded his fingers through her sweat-dampened hair, ensuring it was all pulled away from her face before he kissed the crown of her head.

“I’m here, baby,” he soothed as she continued to vomit.

One of her hands shakily reached for him to steady herself, her clammy palm gripping onto his thigh where his shorts had ridden up a little to expose the tanned and tattooed skin.

Sienna let out a tired little sigh once her stomach finally stopped heaving, and she turned her head to rest her rosy cheek on Daniel’s thigh. She felt completely drained, and didn’t even try to open her eyes.

“All done?” Daniel asked softly, not wanting to speak too loudly and make her feel worse.

Weakly, she nodded, and Daniel shifted her until they were both sitting on the floor. Sienna was cradled in his lap as he smoothed his hand over her hair.

After a few moments, Daniel spoke quietly, “I’m going to put you in bed for a little while. If you’re feeling better later, you can come sit out with me and mum and dad again, yeah?”

Sienna didn’t even have the energy to object or explain how embarrassed she felt about getting sick in front of Daniel’s parents, so instead she just nodded. Daniel gently slid Sienna off his lap and onto the floor, before getting to his feet and bending down to lift her. He hooked an arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, encouraging Sienna to curl into his chest.

“I’ve gotcha sweetheart,” he murmured when she let out a quiet groan of discomfort. Even the slight movement of him starting to walk up the stairs was making her feel sick again.

By the time Daniel had reached their bedroom, Sienna was fast asleep against his chest. He pulled back the covers with one hand and lay her down on the mattress gently. He made sure the air conditioning was set just as she liked it, that she had her childhood Snuggle Cat close by and a cold glass of water on the bedside table. He took a moment to perch on the mattress next to her, noting the tension in her forehead and the little crease of her skin between her brows, even in her sleep. Something was definitely off.

Of course they’d seen each other sick in the last 6 years, even suffering through a rough bout of Covid-19 during the pandemic. Daniel couldn’t remember ever seeing Sienna so unwell before. Usually she would still manage to soldier through any symptoms, and simply curl up on the sofa under a blanket to watch trashy TV, but this time, she seemed completely drained.

Daniel gently kissed between Sienna’s brows, before smoothing over the spot with his thumb, encouraging her to relax, shushing her softly. She let out a little groan, arching into his touch before she snuggled further into the pillows.

Joe and Grace had finished off cooking the meat and veggies on the barbecue by the time Daniel wandered back out onto the patio. They’d even set the outside table and brought out the side dishes from the kitchen.

“How’s our girl?” Joe asked, as Daniel raked a hand through his hair, sinking into a chair opposite his mum and dad.

“Uh, she’s sleeping,” he said, reaching for the bowl of salad, “she’s totally wiped.”

“I could tell something wasn’t right as soon as she got back,” Grace admitted, spooning a few baby potatoes onto her plate, “we can save her some of the plainer food in case she’s hungry later, Bub.”

Daniel nodded in agreement, “thanks mum. She’s not been feeling well for a while, even before she left for Sydney. It might just be a bit of a nasty virus or something.”

Grace set down the dish she was holding and stared at her son, “she left on Tuesday?”

Daniel, still not looking up from where he was loading food onto his plate, nodded again, “yeah, she was away for 4 days.”

“Might even be worth seeing the doctor if she’s still not feeling great after 4 days,” Joe suggested, pushing his chair out from the table, “I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one, Dan?”

Daniel shook his head, “nah, thanks. I’d better not in case Sienna needs me later.”

Joe nodded, grabbing his son’s shoulder on his way past him back into the house. Once Joe was fully out of earshot, Grace leant across the table towards Daniel.

“Danny…I think you need to go and buy a pregnancy test,” She said.

Daniel’s brow furrowed, “what? For Sienna?”

“No. For you,” Grace joked, before she shook her head, “obviously for Sienna.”

He felt his stomach clench a little at the suggestion, “you think…?”

“It all adds up, Bubs. I was so sick when I was pregnant with you that I was convinced I had stomach flu for two weeks. I was just like Sienna is now - couldn’t stand the smell of any food, I was vomiting, I had nausea and headaches,” Grace explained, ticking off the symptoms on her fingers.

Daniel let out a little laugh of disbelief, “holy shit.”

Grace shook her head quickly, seeing Daniel’s excitement at the prospect growing, “it might not be, but she’s got the symptoms. Might just be worth checking.”

“She should have had her period by now,” Daniel noted.

He couldn’t remember the last time Sienna had put sanitary products into their basket while shopping, curled up with a hot water bottle pressed to her belly or taken one of her ‘magical’ Epsom salt baths for her cramping.

It had been a while.

Grace nodded slowly, giving her son time to process his thoughts, “why don’t you run to the store now while she’s asleep? Your dad and I can stay here with her. I won’t say anything to Dad.”

Daniel’s eyes flitted to his mum, who gave him a reassuring smile. He nervously raked a hand through his hair, at which his mum leant forward, offering her hand to him across the table.

He took it and she gave it a squeeze.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dan. You don’t need to be scared,” she whispered.

Daniel stood, staring blankly at the shelves in the tiny convenience store. He didn’t think it was possible to have so many different variations of the same product. Surely they all just did the same thing, right?

He snapped a photo of the shelves and sent it to his mum, followed by one word. ‘Help.’

While he waited for her response, he started at one end of the small aisle, eyes scanning across the various boxes to see if any of the tests stood out to him. There were early result ones, ‘dip’ ones - whatever the fuck that meant - and a plethora of digital ones. They boasted the highest accuracy percentage, and Daniel trusted statistics, so he began picking a digital test from each brand off the shelf and dropping them into the basket at his feet.

His phone pinged, and Grace had replied; ‘digital is better. ClearBlue is what Mich used.’

Daniel nodded and slipped his phone back into his pocket, continuing his journey down the aisle. His mind kept drifting back to Sienna, who was laying in bed back at their house, unbelievably sick and potentially pregnant with their child. The thought of her carrying their baby was almost too exciting for Daniel to bear. He knew he had to get home to her quickly.

A dip in the mattress made Sienna stir from her deep sleep. She yawned and stretched, accidently shoving Snuggle Cat onto the floor before she opened her eyes.

Daniel was perched beside her, his large hand settled on the curve of her hip beneath the comforter, “hey, Peach. How are you feeling?”

Sienna smiled sleepily at the nickname, which made Daniel relax a little. She finally seemed a bit more like herself.

“Um, not as sick, I think?” Sienna answered tentatively, scrunching her nose as she gauged whether she was at an immediate risk of throwing up on Daniel. After a second, she decided that they’d be safe for the moment.

Daniel nodded, “good. That’s…good.”

Sienna then noticed the plastic grocery store bag in his lap, “what have you got, Dan?”

He looked down at his lap, and then back at her, “I went to the store while you were asleep. Mum suggested it.”

“Oh?” Sienna asked, rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist, not caring if she was smudging her already ruined mascara even more.

Daniel reached into the bag and pulled out one of the boxes, setting it on top of the quilt between them. It took Sienna a moment to register what she was looking at, but as soon as she did, she felt her mouth go dry.

“What-?”

“Mum said it might be worth taking a test,” Daniel said softly, hoping he hadn’t overstepped the mark, “that she was so sick when she was first pregnant with me, just like you have been, and I just thought-”

Sienna just blinked at him, her hand coming up to rest on her pale cheek, “I-I could be. I just don’t know.”

“You don’t have to,” Daniel insisted, reaching forward to take hold of her hand, “I know I’ve just sprung this on you which is pretty shitty of me considering how unwell you’re feeling. I’m sorry.”

Sienna shook her head, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, “do you want me to take one?”

Daniel didn’t really know how to answer. Of course he wanted to know if they were going to be parents, but for her, he’d wait to make sure she was comfortable. After all, she hadn’t had much time to process the idea.

“Only if you want to,” Daniel said softly.

Sienna took a shuddering breath, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” Daniel replied, “I’ll be here the whole time.

True to his word, Daniel accompanied Sienna to the bathroom, leaning back against the countertop as she peed on as many of the tests as she could manage. After each one, she’d pass them over to Daniel, who dutifully lay them out in a neat line across the counter.

“Jesus, Si, keep ‘em coming,” he teased, quite impressed by the amount of pee she was managing to produce.

“Shut up, Dan,” she grumbled, her cheeks flushing a bit at his words as she clicked the cap onto the 6th and final test and stretched her hand out towards him. He smiled at her and took it, turning his back only to allow her the privacy to clean up and flush.

“How long do we wait?” he asked, as Sienna perused one of the many test boxes stacked up on the countertop after washing her hands.

“They take around 2 minutes apparently,” She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.

Daniel was staring down at the line of tests intently, as if his gaze alone was enough to give them a result. She knew he was trying to stay composed for her, but she could spot his excitement a mile off. In that moment, she knew exactly what she wanted, and the real fear came from not being able to give Daniel that either.

“Danny,” she croaked, her eyes brimming with tears.

He turned to look at her and crossed the short distance to where she stood. As soon as he got to her, she crumbled, her arms wrapping around his neck and her face nuzzling into his shoulder to dampen his shirt.

“Hey,” he whispered, his hands running up and down her back, “it’s going to be okay, baby. Talk to me.”

She shook her head against him, and he gently squeezed her hips enough to hoist her up so she was sat on the counter. His hands cradled her face gently, those big brown eyes peering into hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

Sienna's eyes brimmed with tears again, “I love you.”

“What’s going on?” He probed, his thumbs stroking the fresh tears from her cheeks. The way she was trembling and crying was breaking his heart.

“I’m scared that you’ll be disappointed,” Sienna admitted, the words alone causing more tears to fall from her eyes.

“Disappointed?” Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed, “how could I be disappointed, sweetheart? If those tests are positive, I’ll be absolutely elated, and if they’re not, sure it’ll sting, but I know that one day when we do get a positive, it’ll be the best day of my life.”

Sienna felt her heart burst with love for the man standing in front of her, and she leant forward to allow their foreheads to meet. Daniel pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Do you want them to be positive?” he asked against her skin.

Sienna closed her eyes, and without a second thought, nodded emphatically, chewing at her bottom lip, “more than anything.”

Daniel let out a sigh, finally understanding why she was so anxious, “listen, if they aren’t positive, and you do have some shitty virus, then as soon as you’re feeling better, we’ll get on board the baby-making train.”

Sienna peered up at him, “really?”

“Really,” Daniel said decisively.

Suddenly she let out a giggle and rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe you just called it ‘the baby making train’.”

“Is that not what everyone calls it?” Daniel teased, laughing at his own joke as always. Sienna adored him for it.

“I don’t think so, honey,” she sniffled, bringing her arms to loop behind his neck so that she could run her fingertips through the soft curls on the back of his head.

“I think this might be the longest two minutes of my life,” Daniel admitted, turning his head to look at the row of tests again.

Just as he did, the first test began to beep quietly, the small light on the front flashing as if anyone who had taken one of those tests wouldn’t already be watching it like a hawk.

Sienna looked at him, letting a slow breath fall from between her lips. Daniel turned back to her and kissed her softly, silently reassuring as his hands gently took hold of her waist to ease her off the counter.

“I don’t know if I can look,” Sienna admitted quietly, her hands starting to tremble as the second timer beeped too.

Daniel’s hands ran up and down her ribs, “tell me what you want me to do.”

Sienna peered up at him, her vision blurring through her tears again as she saw the excited little smile playing on Daniel’s lips. She knew how much this moment meant to him, so she let him have it.

“Go look,” she urged.

Daniel kissed the top of her head before padding the short distance to the other side of the sink, where the tests were all lined up and waiting. For a moment, Daniel was frozen, his hands pressed to the counter on either side of the tests and his head bowed as he surveyed each of them carefully. It was the quietest Sienna had ever heard him be and the stillest she’d ever seen him.

After a few seconds of just listening to his steady breathing, Sienna mustered the courage to stand alongside him, staring at the side of his handsome face to try and gauge his reaction.

“Dan…what do they say?” Her voice was shaking, and she gripped onto the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline, too petrified to look down at the tests.

Daniel exhaled, turning round to face her, and it was then that she saw the tears on his cheeks. Only once he had her in his arms, did he nod, and let a beaming smile spread across his face. His hands came up to cradle her face, and he looked at her, grinning like a fool.

“Daniel…” Sienna warned shakily, as he continued to stay silent, “what-?”

“You’re pregnant.”

Immediately, Sienna buried her face into his chest and began to sob, as his hands wrapped around her tightly, one curling against the back of her head to hold her against him as she cried. He gently pulled back, pressing kisses all over her face even as she giggled and cried, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, leaning round Daniel enough to pick up the first test off the counter.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but she just needed to see it for herself. Sure enough, the little display screen showed a plus sign, followed by the word ‘pregnant’.

The next 5 tests each said the same.

Sienna clutched them all in her hands, Daniel laughing joyously at the sight of her holding them all with a look of pure amazement on her face.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, “Danny…”

“I know,” he laughed again, raking his fingers through his curls, “I can’t believe this.”

“Me neither,” Sienna admitted, setting the tests down on the counter gently, “we’re going to have a baby.”

Daniel laughed, more tears falling down his cheeks as he reached for her. She stepped into his grasp again, her arms resting easily around his waist as her chin dropped to settle on his sternum, allowing her to stare up at him.

“I love you,” she said softly, as his shoulders heaved with another sob.

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down enough to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

The pair stood like that for what felt like an eternity, sharing kisses and tears in each other’s arms. Suddenly, Daniel pushed away from her gently, enough to drop his gaze down between their bodies.

“What are you doing?” Sienna laughed, as his hand came down to rest on her flat tummy.

He continued to stare at her body intently, brows furrowed, “just trying to imagine what it’ll be like when you can’t see your toes anymore.”

Sienna snorted and shook her head, “well for me, it’ll be ridiculously uncomfortable. For you, it’ll be like standing beside a beached whale.

Daniel shook his head adamantly, lifting his head again to look at her, “no way. You’re going to be the cutest pregnant woman of all time.”

“Oh really?” Sienna asked, as his hand stroked across her belly. He nodded and kissed her forehead in confirmation, completely overwhelmed at the thought of watching Sienna’s body change and grow over the coming months.

He couldn’t wait to experience it all with her: the scans, deciding on decoration for the nursery, helping her tie her laces when she couldn’t bend down anymore, feeling their baby kicking for the first time. It was all so exciting.

“Really,” Daniel affirmed, leaning his forehead against hers, “I think this is the happiest moment of my life.”

Sienna’s eyes watered at his words, “oh Dan…”

“I’ve always wanted this with you Si,” Daniel continued softly, “we’re going to have the cutest babies.”

Sienna sniffled and laughed, nodding, “we are.”

Daniel grinned, each of his pearly teeth on show as a hand drifted to stroke across her flat tummy, “do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I have no idea,” Sienna laughed, shaking her head, “what do you think? Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Daniel shrugged, “I mean my parents had one of each, your parents had one of each, you can’t get more statistically even than that right?”

“I guess so,” Sienna smiled, leaning forward to nudge the tip of her nose against his.

Daniel lifted his gaze to look at her, and she pressed her lips against his. They kissed for a moment, soft and sweet and gentle, before parting. Sienna whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Daniel murmured, pecking her lips twice more before his eyes lit up, “how do you feel about telling my parents they’re going to be grandparents again?”

Sienna giggled and nodded, as Daniel grabbed one of the many positive tests from the countertop, “let’s do it.”

Daniel grasped her hand, and gave her a little tug to follow him out of the bathroom. Sienna followed, one hand interlaced with his while the other grasped at his tattooed forearm. Just as he turned the corner and reached for their closed bedroom door, Sienna squeezed him, squeaking out an urgent, “wait.”

He stopped in his tracks as suddenly as she had, turning to eye her up questioningly, his eyebrow quirking worriedly, “you’re not gonna puke again are ya?”

Sienna bit her lip and shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again, “Danny, I…”

He let go of the handle and turned to face her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze, “yeah?”

“This is our last moment of only us knowing about the baby,” she whispered, tears threatening to fall more with every passing second.

The more she imagined the tiny little life growing inside her, the more her stomach churned with nerves and excitement.

Daniel nodded and took another step closer, “do you want to wait to tell them? We can wait if you’re not ready, although I’ll have to come up with something to tell Ma.”

“No,” Sienna insisted, shaking her head before giving him a shy smile, “I just want a minute longer to really remember this feeling, before it’s not only us anymore.

With that, she looked him up and down, taking in his luscious dark curls, his warm honey-toned gaze and gorgeous nose. She admired the way his boisterous party shirt hung off his frame and the glimpse of his thigh tattoo peeking from beneath the hem of his almost-too-short shorts.

When her eyes met his again, he was beaming from ear to ear, each of his pearly white teeth showing in the way that made her heart flutter unconditionally. She knew she’d remember him in that moment, and the way he looked at her knowing she was carrying their first child, for the rest of her life.

“I fucking love you,” she hiccuped, trying to compose herself, even as tears fell down her flushed cheeks.

Daniel snorted a laugh and pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers firmly, “I fucking love you too, darling.”

Sienna pecked his lips twice more, before pulling back to look at him, her gaze still soft and watery, “I think I’m ready.”

Daniel smirked and nodded, “then let’s do this.”

#daniel ricciardo #danny ric #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #Daniel Ricciardo fluff #my writing #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x ofc

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brnesblogposts · 2 months

Text

sunday morning

pairing: steven grant x reader summary: you and your boyfriend Steven spend a lazy Sunday morning together.

reblogs appreciated if you liked it :))

—

The sun slowly breaks through the gaps in the curtains as you start to stir. Drifting in and out of a state of sleep as your body adjusts to the light seeping through. Looking over to your right your curly haired boyfriend looks peaceful as gentle snores escape his lips. Steven’s sleeping disorder didn’t allow for proper respite, but when he did get into a deep state of solace you left him be.

You watched him for a few minutes as his chest rose and fell, his curls awry, your love for him was stronger than any emotion you’ve ever known. Gently removing his arm from your waist he stirred and your breath got caught in your throat as you thought you’d accidentally woken the peaceful man up. To your relief he repositions himself into more of a star fish shape. Gently getting out of bed you head to the bathroom to shower before you were to decide what you would both be having for breakfast.

Stepping out of the shower you put one of Steven’ shirts on and a comfy pair of joggers. Today was Sunday and these days were for you and your boyfriend to spend quality time together. Coming out of the bathroom, to your dismay you see Steven at the stove preparing some of his famous vegan pancakes. You’d wished he’d slept a bit longer. Trying your best not to startle him you approach him from behind and carefully wrap your arms around his waist.

“Morning” you say softly, taking in his warmth.

“Morning, love” he replies as his hands meet where yours lay on his stomach.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask as he flips a pancake over.

“Yeah, pretty good actually, one of the better nights for me” he says with a smile. Oh his smile, you adored how his lips curled up and his eyes lit up.

You press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m glad you slept well, you deserve to be able to rest peacefully.” you say as a tint of red creeps up his face. He pulls you into a hug, cutting it short..

“Oh bollocks this pancake is a bit burn’t.” he frowns a bit, but you quickly reassure him

“That’s okay I did distract you a bit. Don’t think we’ll miss one pancake, you make enough to feed a family!” he giggles at that.

“Always need to make sure I offer Gus some don’t I?” he turns to Gus swimming around in his tank.

“Speaking of, morning my little one finned wonder” he smiles. Oh he was the most adorable man in the world. You leave him to make the pancakes with no more distractions and set the table, syrup, chopped banana, vegan butter.. you weren’t a vegan before you met Steven, but at this point it was second nature.

You ate in silence, Steven’s pancakes piled with banana and a bit of syrup, he didn’t like too much or they’d go soggy.

“How are Marc and Jake?” you ask, you and his alters got a long well, Marc more so as Jake was the quiet type.

“No, yeah, they’re good, yeah. Marc bets he could make better pancakes than me, but I say that’s nonsense. Jake just nodded in approval to say he’s good, you know him.. not much of a conversationalist” he let out a little laugh at that. Once you’d both finished eating you cleared up while he showered and got dressed into a white t-shirt and fresh pajama bottoms.

“Darling” he calls out.

“Yeah?” you respond from your place at the sink.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks shyly, you’ve been together a few months and knew everything about him and his alters, Konshu and everything. yet he was still shy around you. It was cute.

“Yeah i’d love to! anything in mind?” He paused for a second, tapping his index finger on his chin while deep in thought.

“AVATAR!” he bursts out excitedly. You hadn’t actually seen avatar before you met Steven, as soon as he found out he was quick to invite you over for a movie date.

“Sounds great! Love that film.” you emphasised, Steven tended to worry that you agreed to do things with him out of pity, he was very insecure about himself despite you, Marc and Jake reassuring him that he was an amazing man. It didn’t matter what you were watching, reading or doing, if Steven was with you and enjoying himself that’s all that mattered. You loved every minute with him.

He flicked on avatar as you finished the dishes and headed to the couch, where he patted the spot next to him. You cuddled into his side as he layed a blanket over the both of you, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

“Thank you.” he says out of the blue, which causes you to look up at him.

“For what love?” you asked softly as not to make him feel bad or anything.

“For loving me, accepting me for everything that I am. The mess that I am. Staying up with me and reading to and with me, you know people at work are rude to me, Donna’s a right knobhead towards me. I used to let her get to me, everytime she mocked me or put me on inventory, but now? with you. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.. because I have the most amazing person who loves everything about me and that’s all that matters. I love you so much y/n.” he says with a softness in his features, you don’t say anything, you take him into the tightest hug which silently tells him what he already knows deep down. He strokes his hand through your hair as you embrace him.

“I love you, Steven.” you say as you sit back from the hug and look at him, taking his face into your hands. “Listening to you ramble about Egypt and Pharaoh’s, your work days and anything else. I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. You’re the funniest person i’ve ever met, the kindest, sweetest man who makes me feel like the only person in the world everyday. Donna doesn’t deserve you, the museum doesn’t deserve you. You’d be the BEST tour guide if they just let you. The way your face lights up when you talk about Egyptology, I can see the love for the topic in your eyes. There’s no one else more suited for the job than you.

Tears are welling up in his eyes and you wipe them away with your thumbs, landing a soft kiss on his nose. He really was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, intuitive and with a heart of gold. Steven would never hurt a fly, Marc and Jake are more of the fighter types, but Steven. He’s a lover, he wants to make people happy and to see them smile, that’s his gift. He saved your life that’s for sure, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been since meeting him.

Settling back into his chest you take his hand in yours and rub your thumb over his palm.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me” he says and with that he presses play. You squeeze his hand to silently tell him that you feel the same.

About halfway into the movie you felt his body relax, he was falling asleep. Good, you thought. He needs as much sleep as possible, you didn’t move, knowing if you did you’d disturb him, you watched the rest of the movie as he snored quietly from beneath you. Once the movie finished you switched the tv off, Steven started to wake up, causing you to sit up. He took your hand and took you to the bed, laying down he pulled you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist, an afternoon nap wasn’t a bad idea, it was Monday tomorrow, the beginning of another long tiring week, especially for Steven. you settled into him as his form engulfed you.

“You feel like home” is the last thing you hear before he drifts off, feeling safe enough to fall asleep knowing you’re right there with him. He hasn’t put his ankle restrains on this time, but he knows you’d notice if he got up. His words touch your heart, you’ve never been so in love.

“You are home” you respond, squeezing his arm that’s securely wrapped around you. With that, you both fall asleep. Feeling the safest you’ve ever felt, knowing you’ve found your other half in Steven.

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant fic #moon knight x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #oscar isaac #moon knight fanfic

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penaltyboxboxbox · 4 months

Note

any genderbend headcanons you would like to share 👀????

YEAH....YEAH I DO....theyre all pretty random and non specific but if you want to hear me ramble about my girl drivers here u go

Charles: she's a non conventional fashion girlie...........she likes to dress quite femininely and and gets a lot of fashion based brand deals so she is often pairing skirts and such with her sportswear and it sometimes looks a bit silly. a lot of her fits are like...is it a fit or is she just really pretty and wearing designer lol. the skirt i drew her in is what I THINK would be her version of the quali pants, it's this knit skirt from gucci 💁‍♂️

Carlos: she is like two steps away from being a high bun lesbian. still keeps her FEM VIBES mostly because of family pressure. but the second she gets put in a dress its all a little . hm. youre a masc arent you.

Pierre: happy to be the paddock baddie like....she embraces it fully. she got a boob job and doesnt care if people know. constantly hints at being bisexual on instagram but will never confirm.

Esteban: the girl who had the most major glow up............and who has also had a bob her whole gd life. literally lives in a lulu jacket and yoga pants like its her uniform. she and pierre had the most toxic codependent girl friendship of all time. she's soooo so so tall and always got mad growing up because none of the boys liked her cause she was taller than them and got teased about it....still tall as fuck

Lance: my tall and beautiful wife...every few months she chops her bangs too short and everyone cries until they grow out again. she hates having hair in her eyes.... hates dresses and heels since she always sits with her legs out...gotta be comfy duh..

Fernando: milflonso............she was an it girl in her youth and then got divorced and came out as a lesbian and became an irresistible masc

George: the preppiest girl you can imagine she will never cut her hair AND she will wear a skort. extreme complex about being a tall girl.

Lewis: ultimate fashionista like she gets it....changes her hair a lot more than boy lewis....extremely in denial lesbian who dates the gayest men imaginable

Yuki: shes a hey mamas lesbian. she flirts so hard with pierre from like eye level with her huge boobs. kind of a fuckboy she swears she'll treat you rightttt come on babyyyy

Daniel: used to be such a hotgirl such a coolgirl like in her younger days she had long long hair and dressed sexy and was all about pushing this like....im a hot girl but im also so cool and just like the boys 😜 (she was overcompensating for something) but after she leaves redbull she like cuts off all her hair and slowly starts mascing the fuck out as she gets older.....now shes just straight up soft butch and everyone knows she kisses girls

Max: grew up forced to have the worst bowlcut in the world and never got to be very girly or anything so when she grew up she finally let her hair grow long and never cuts it. has barely any personal style and still cannot walk in heels tho.

Checo: arguably the one who cleans up the best like shes the one with the makeover montage everyone is so used to seeing her in red bull gear and a ponytail every damn day the second she puts on an outfit everyones like HELLO?????

Valtteri: used to be permanently in the low pony tail and attempting to dress acceptably business casual woman enough for things but after she left merc just embraced being a butch. has the same mullet as guy val. hallelujah

Guanyu: suuuuuch a fashion girl and absolutely rules instagram and weibo..........always doing photoshoots and stuff. experiments with cute hairstyles a lot, but always keeps her bangs ☝️

Alex: used to be super plain like wore big hoodies and just left her hair long and straight and hanging there until one day she got the chop+undercut going on.......now shes well aware shes everyones ideal boyfriend if he were a girlfriend.

Logan: my florida girl......my natural blonde with her little ponytail.....when she was growing up her parents definitely put her shirts like this

Lando: she is a racing driver as much as she is an influencer.............people discourse about if shes fanservicing like every 2 seconds. girl gamer and proud.

Oscar: she lives in gym clothes. nike pros or leggings every day with the most boring shirt. never does her hair or wears makeup

KMag: best mom everrrrrrr 🫶

Nico: she talks openly about how men are very intimidated by her. she is indeed kind of scary.

#ask #genderbend

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finntheehumaneater · 3 months

Text

(one day I’m) gonna cut it clear

have this sad stuff I wrote last night to try and cheer myself up :)

(Sorry for any mistakes this was copied and pasted from photos of notebook proper :/)

TW: mentions of past trauma and paternal abuse

The first time that Eddie had cut his hair short, he had been eight and messing around with his mom's fancy brass scissors—the ones where the blades were a beak She used him to cut string from her quilts, and to trim his uncle’s hair when the man wasn't out in his boat. Eddie had used them to chop his hair off, watching The long brown curls fall onto the rug that his dad had bought as a wedding present for his mom.

It was rough and scratchy. Probably cheap, too.

He sat there on his knees, one hand curled around the scissors, the other feeling through his choppy strands, staring down at the loose hair on the floor.

His dad had hit him for that, grabbing him by the arms and shoving him into his room with a sharp “the hell were you thinking, girl?” before he had locked the door.

Eddie had cried all afternoon, begging to no one, because he was sorry and he didn’t want his hair short anymore. Because he had cut it to stop people from calling it pretty but he knew they still would. Because he didn’t want to be trapped in the suffocating Georgia summer heat that was seeping in through the windows anymore.

When his mom had come home from Auntie Lacy's house—not his real aunt, but she got sad if Eddie didn't call her that, seeing as how she was close enough to family as is—he still remembered how broken she had sounded, finding Eddie laying on the wood floor in just his underwear, tucked away in a corner, panting.

She had drawn him a cold bath, hushing him softly when he complained about the cool water.

“My baby,” She had whispered, her accent seeping through her words. It wasn't like the southern one that she put on for his dad—some kind of Eastern European that he couldn't remember. She never talked about where she came from

"Your hair was so pretty.”

Eddie had turned to press his face into his mom’s palm, whimpering, “Don’t want it short anymore. M’sorry, mama, m’sorry.”

She had fixed his hair after that—made it look more even and neat. She had let him curl up in her lap afterwards, the bird scissors on the coffee table and the chopped strands gone from the rug. Her thin fingers pet through his hair—but there really wasn’t anything to pet through anymore, just gentle touches smoothed over his scalp, kisses pressed to the lop of his head where he could nearly feel her lips.

"It will grow back, iubirea mea," She assured him, rocking him in her arms as his fingers dug into the folds of her white dress. She smelled like cinnamon and sunscreen, and that incense that Auntie Lacy always burned. "It will grow back, Edith.”

"Eddie," He had whispered, his words unsure and choked as he closed his eyes and waited for her to hit him—to lock him back in his room with his bolted windows and stiff mattress.

But she just kissed his hair again, taking nis hand and rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

"Eddie," she agreed, holding him tighter when he sobbed and nodded, her fingers soft and warm against his. “My sweet Eddie. My baby."

The second time his hair was cut he was thirteen. He had cried the whole way to the shop, gripping at the hair that fell just past his shoulders, like if he held on tight enough, it wouldn't have to go away.

“Stop crying,” his dad had snapped, his hands tight on the wheel of his Chevy truck. "If you wanna be a boy so bad, then fuckin’ act like one. Gonna look like one soon, too.”

He pulled Eddie out of the car. “This’ll show you. I ain’t raise my girl to be no fuckin’ queer,” he spat. “That was all that bitch’s doin’, ain’t it? Good thing she’s gone.”

“Don’t talk about mom like that,” Eddie sobbed, barely forcing the words out before he had stumbled backwards, face stinging and red from where his dad had hit him.

“She ain’t your mama no more. Ain’t that right, girl? Now fuckin’ get in there and tell the lady you want it all gone, or I ain’t letting you out of your room for a week,” his dad threaten, grabbing the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “A fucking week, you hear?”

That was the day that Eddie had left with Wayne for Indiana. His dad—no, Al, he wasn’t Eddie’s fucking dad anymore—hadn’t cared that Eddie had left. He had probably told all of his drinking buddies that “the other bitch is finally dead,” just so no one who might miss him in the town would go looking and bring him back. It would have only been Auntie Lacy. He still missed her sometimes.

Wayne hadn’t minded that Eddie didn’t want to wear the dresses or the skirts that he had packed from Georgia—took to buying him jeans when he had the money for something extra.

He had saved up for two years, working extra shifts and on holidays, so that when Eddie turned sixteen he could take him to the doctors and get him the stuff that made his voice drop. Eddie didn’t remember what it was called—hadn’t been able to hear the doctor over the ringing in his years from how hard his jaw was clenched as he tried not to cry in front of her and Wayne.

“Gonna get you fixed,” Wayne had said on the ride back to the trailer, and Eddie had laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.

“M’not a dog, Wayne.”

He had let Wayne do the shots, since anytime he tried to do it himself, his hands would snake too much.

“Haven't even done it yet, boy," Wayne muttered, his face annoyed, but his tone soft and sympathetic. "Just breathe."

Eddie did, but he had still flinched away again, just one more time.

The third time it was cut would be soon, if Eddie could just force himself to fucking man up and do it. He had just driven back from the antique shop down the road, bought those scissors he had seen nestled in between the old watercolor tins full of white chalk sticks and the black and white photos of men in long coats and hats—women with their hair up in a portrait studio, loggers standing on the planks stuck into trees as they worked, children sat on stools and chairs with dead-eyes.

They were bird scissors, brassy-brown and shining, still sharp. Like his mom used to have.

He looked out at the trailers he drove past. Two mail boxes until home. His stuff was in the back of his van, all the important stuff anyway, packed away into three boxes. Three.

And then he was home, into the house and then to the bathroom. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. And maybe he was crying. He was so fucking sick of crying.

His arms ached as he stretched the scars to reach up and grab a strand of hair, cutting. It was only an inch or two off the bottom, on a piece that he could easily tuck away and hide, but he still broke down—dropping the scissors and sobbing into his hands as he sank to the bathroom tiles on the floor.

He didn't want to cut his hair, but he had to. And he didn't know why he had to, which made him cry harder—hysterical sobs and gasps that no one but the nearly-empty shampoo bottles strewn sideways on the drain on the shower floor could hear.

He sounded like he was dying.

Maybe he was.

He Knew what it felt like to die — to have the skin ripped away from his insides, his body bloody and aching.

This hurt worse

It hurt worse than the hell he had been through.

It hurt worse than hearing Steve cry and break over him in the hospital, when his body was too sore to move—to cradle him gently like his mom used to do, brush a hand over his hair and whisper gentle names in a language that he didn’t know—a quiet "just breathe, my baby. Lucrul meu dulce. You can be sad, but don't let it choke you. You can cry, but don't let it make you forget how to live. How to breathe. How to smile."

Eddie pulled himself up, dragging himself out of the bathroom and over to the phone on the wall in the kitchen.

He spun the rotary, hearing it whir and click after each number. A number he had whispered to himself night after night until he was sure he wouldn't forget it. But now his brain was fogged as his breath caught on a whimper, and he couldn't remember if it ended in a six or a nine.

Six. He spun to a six and watched it move back, the phone gripped in both hands as it rang.

“Hello?” And Eddie sobbed again at the sound of Steve's voice.

"Hey," he choked out, willing his voice to be level and his breathing to be calm, but to no avail.

‘Baby," Steve breathed, and god, Eddie didn't think it was ever possible for him to grow tired of hearing Steve call him that. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Eddie shook his head as an instinct, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw set, strained words coming out as he spoke again. "Need you to come over. Want to cut my hair.”

"Your hair?" Steve parroted back, his voice unbelievably soft, so soft that it made Eddie's chest ache a bit inside.

"Yeah."

Steve didn't ask why, even though he knew that Eddie's hair was important to him. He did offer to do it for Eddie—being the one out of the two of them who was more knowledgeable on the subject—but Eddie declined, saying that he needed to be the one to do it himself.

“I just need you to be here when I do it," Eddie whispered. He would have asked Wayne to sit with him, but Wayne was at work, and Eddie wasn't supposed to bother him unless it was an emergency.

He knew that Wayne would have come straight home if he had called to ask, though.

“I’ll leave now, alright?" Steve whispered. “Ten minutes, You go rest, get yourself a drink. Whatever you need to do baby, then I'll be there. Promise.”

“Okay" Eddie whispered, and even though Eddie wanted a reason to procrastinate this further, he hung up the phone, listening to the dial-tone sound off for a few minutes before shuffling over to the living room and pressing his face into a scratchy pillow.

He tried to calm his breathing while he waited for Steve.

Should I make a part two? Maybe?? If you guys want??

Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi

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marksmelodies · 6 months

Text

switching my positions for you

idol chenle x fem reader

genre: fluff, bit of angst, smut

warnings: suggestive, kissing, mentions of sex, acts of sex

minors dni

———————————————————————————————

you and chenle had the day off today, which was the first time in so long that you both had the same day off, all you wanted to do was spend time with him. you woke up this morning and he was gone, leaving a note on the kitchen counter stating he went to the gym,once he got home he washed up and hopped on a game with some friends. you never wanted to seem clingy.. you knew chenle hated it but the truth is you are clingy you just hide it from him.

you and your boyfriend have very different love languages, chenle shows his love through gift giving and acts of service, you on the other hand needed physical touch and quality time,you understood that chenle had been busy for months on end with all the comebacks he’s participated in this year, that’s why you never bothered him when he would come home from work or spend his day off engulfing himself in things he likes such as gaming and watching sports. you just wished that he spent a little more time with you

he sits in his gaming chair with his headset on in your shared room every so often yelling at his teammates through the mic,you roll your eyes in annoyance as you sit on the couch with daegal

“ your dad is mean huh, he’s ignoring us” you tell the dog

finding things to do around the house only takes so long.. you’re out of things to clean or chores to do ,you gently open the door to your room causing no reaction from chenle as his eyes are glued onto the screen ,you walk behind him massaging his shoulders as he slides one side of his headset off of his ear

“ hey baby” he says looking up at you as you kiss his lips

“ hi le” you comb the back his hair with your fingers for a few seconds before grabbing clean clothes, as you undress yourself to get into the shower

a few hours have passed, you decided to cook dinner tonight

you hear chenle say his goodbyes as he logs off and walks out to the kitchen making your heart skip a beat in excitement,he approaches you snaking his hands around your waist as you chop up vegetables

“ hey”

you take a second to respond back to him

“ hi” you turn around smiling up at him

“ need any help my love” he asked

“ nope i’m all good here”

“ alright i’m gonna go watch the warriors game, it starts in five minutes” he says quickly pecking your lips as he pats your ass walking back into the bedroom

once you finish making dinner you decide to let chenle know the food is ready,walking into your room chenles lays on the bed shirtless with grey shorts as his arms are behind his head, it took everything in you to keep calm

“ dinners ready if you want it” you tell him

“ i’m not hungry yet, just leave a bowl for me in the fridge please ”

you give him a tight lipped smile and nod before closing the door on your way out,eating alone was something you hated yet here you are at the kitchen table eating your boyfriend’s favorite dish without him,eventually you had enough making your way to the room laying on the bed with him,you waited to say anything until a commercial came on

“ baby” you whine at him

“ hm” he looks at you rubbing your thigh

“ i’ve missed you”

“ i’m right here” he chuckles

“ yeah i know” you sigh

“ but i still miss you even when you are here”

he looks at you with furrowed brows, scooting you closer to his chest as he lays your head on it

“ you know i love you right?” he looks down at you

“mhm” you smile at him

as the game came back on his attention averted back to the tv,you scoot your body up a little kissing his collar bone inching up to the side of his neck,chenle says nothing he simply cranks his neck to the side allowing better access to kiss him as he hold your waist ,you lay back down on his chest tracing the outline of his abs and messing with the waistband of his boxers

chenle knows what you want it’s not hard to read you, he knows you like the back of his hand,he doesn’t say anything though, if you want him so bad you can figure out a way to get him yourself,he just sits there trying his best to focus on the game

“ babe can you turn the lights off there’s a glare on the screen” he asks

the room is now dark apart for the glowing tv in front of you enhancing your mood ever so slightly,continuing tracing shapes on his skin as your hand moves farther and farther down his body reaching his clothed dick,you crawl to the side of him taking off his shorts along with his boxers,his hardend cock hits his stomach as you begin stroking it with your hand

looking up at chenle as his eyes are on the screen watching his game as you lick his tip before wrapping your mouth around him bobbing your head up and down as you massage his balls

“ fuck” chenle whispers grabbing onto your hair as his eyes stay glued to the tv,before chenle can reach his high he pulls you off of his cock

“sit on it” he demands

making sure he can still see the tv you hover over his dick, back facing him as you sink down all the way

“ stay still for second baby don’t move yet” moving one of his hands up and down your waist

“ gotta tell the guys how well you treat me, letting me watch my game as you fuck yourself on my cock” he laughs bringing both hands to your hips slowly moving you up and down, moans escaping your mouth and you slam yourself into him

“ shit baby you’re gonna make me cum fast if you keep doing that” chenle exclaims, you turn your body around facing him as he plays with your titties,kissing him all over his shoulders and neck leaving slight marks where no one else can see them but you, you feel yourself tighten around him as you reach your high

“chenle” you moan his name,chenle reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear “ i’m right here baby, you’re doing so good for me, taking me so well”

chenle pulls you off his member as he tells you to get on all fours facing the tv,ramming his dick back into with no warning causing you to scream as chenle bottoms out,leaving trails of kisses down your spine

“ fuck baby i’m gonna cum” he says pulling out flipping you around so he can finish on your tits,watching chenle above you jerking himself off to reach his high, finally he get closer as strings of cum shoot out onto your body

“ fuckkk” he groans as you watch his expression as he hits his climax

“ you’re so pretty when you cum lele” you lean up on your elbows kissing his lips as he milks the last of his cum out from his dick

“ i can definitely say the same about you pretty girl”

he gets a damp towel from the bathroom as he cleans the mess he made off your chest

“ let’s shower yeah?” he suggests

after you finish getting dressed you walk back into the bathroom where chenle stands in front of the mirror doing his skincare routine

“ babe can i talk to you” you hoist yourself up on the bathroom counter next to the sink

“ of course you can” he moves slightly so that he’s standing in between your legs as they gently swing back and forth

“ dont get mad though” you say looking up at him

“ just say it y/n you’re scaring me”

“ sometimes it hurts my feelings when you come home from a long day at work or have a day off and you spend it playing video games or watching basketball instead of spending time with me, i’m not saying you can’t do any of it at all, i- i just wish you’d spend a little extra time with me because you want to and not because i beg you for it” you look down at the floor. chenle lifts your chin so you’re looking back at him again, “ i’m sorry baby, i never realized that’s now you felt”

“ i don’t want to seem clingy, it’s just that i strive off your touch and spending time with you and you alone, i don’t get many chances to be with you all day everyday and i don’t want to take the days i do get with you for granted”

“ all you had to do was tell me my love, i would never get mad at you for communicating with me, i think sometimes you forget that even though we’ve been together for a long time this is my first relationship, i’m still learning. i’m sorry if i don’t pick up on hints that you drop, sometimes i can be an idiot” he chuckles

“ it’s okay lele, don’t apologize. i love you so much”

chenle places his hand on the side of your face and the other one on your waist as he kisses you passionately

“ i get off early tomorrow, how about i take you on a date hm?”

“ i would love that lele” chenle picks you up walking you out to the kitchen as he heats up his food you made for him

“ you made my favorite?” he asks shocked

“ of course i did, you mentioned how much you wanted it yesterday” he smiles at you kissing you repeatedly

“ i’m gonna marry you one day” he says

“ you better, i refuse to get married if it’s not with you”

he laughs putting his hands around your head

“ and why’s that?”

“ oh come on chenle you know why”

“ i just want to hear you say it” he taunts

“ because no one on this very earth could ever compare to you” you walking out of the kitchen knowing you just inflated his ego

“ and don’t you forget it mrs. zhong” chenle says slapping your ass on your way out ,rolling your eyes you try and hide the smile creeping onto your face.now laying in bed entangled in each others arms you look up at him

“ you better get me the most expensive ring” you joke

“ ugh i forgot you love me just for my money” he jokes back

“ oh yeah totally, sorry to break it to you but i would’ve ran for hills already if that’s what i was after, i don’t think i could’ve handled your loud ass mouth”

“ hey that was mean” he sulks

“ i’m joking”

“ no you’re not”

“ yeah no i’m not” you both burst out laughing as you lean in kissing his lips

“ but i love you and your loudness”

“ thanks babe i love you and your big ass head”

“ chenle baby you have no room to talk” you shove him slightly

“ come here” he pulls you closer tickling your sides as you squirm trying to get out of his reach

“ chenle stop i’m going to pee myself” you laugh he lets you go as you take your chances pulling him into you tickling him back

“ hey that’s not fair you tricked me” he laughs his adorable laugh that you love so much ,you both settle down, silence falls between you two as chenle traces his finger on the side of your cheek, you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep

“ ever since i was a kid, i was always busy with work, whether it was in china or abroad, i don’t remember the last time i could genuinely just be a kid, i had to grow up really fast at such a young age, but then i met you, we were just two stupid teenagers at the time but i fell so in love with you. you made me feel like a kid again, so carefree, i didn’t have to have a certain image around you, i could truly just be myself, i’m so lucky that i get to have the relationship i always wished for with the only girl i ever wanted” chenle kisses your head

“ i’m so lucky to have you too chenle, all i ever want to do in this lifetime is make you happy” chenle cuddles up to you laying his head on your chest and you lightly scratch his back

“ in cant wait to spend the rest of my life with you and get you pregnant and have a bunch of mini y/n running around, i cant wait to build a family with you.”

“ i cant wait either chenle i wouldn’t want a family with anyone else, but you do know our kids are going to be carbon copies of you, your genes are too strong” you laugh kissing him

“ i know sweetheart i just said it to make you feel better”

“ i’m happy we’ll have little chenles all over the place, they’ll be so cute, hopefully they don’t come with your stubbornness”

“ hm i don’t about that but i know we will make cute ass babies”

“ one day lele one day”

“ yeah, i gotta put a ring on it first” he says as you look up at him

“ you’ve been talking an awfully lot about marriage lately, you sure you’re not hinting something?” you say

“ i dunno maybe” he smiles kissing your nose

“ don’t play like that chenle” you yawn as you turn around and chenle does the same

“ goodnight my love”

“ goodnight sweet boy”

—————————————————————————

i LOVE writing for chenle so much!! thank you for reading <3

#nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct dream smut #nct #nct scenarios #chenle x reader #chenle angst #chenle x you #chenle

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waklman · 11 months

Text

Fake it

Chapter Four: Waste My Time

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of drugs, talks of binge eating, one instance of masturbation, mentions of vomit, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 7.7k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

previous chapter | next chapter | fake it masterlist

If Jake had known prior to his shower—where he planned to attend to his morning problem—that his best friend would be on the forefront of his mind, he would've truly chopped his dick off with the kitchen knife you stowed in the bathroom cabinet.

You had been convinced it would come in handy, in case an intruder conveniently found either of you mid-shower. And maybe it was a good idea to leave it there after all, because he might actually make use of it.

Raking a hand through his wet hair, Jake tosses his head back, allowing the cold water to run down his face. But it doesn’t do much to get his mind off the issue at hand. There is no way he’s about to rub one out—not when your face is currently being screened behind his closed lids.

“This can’t be real,” he groans in disbelief, dragging a hand down his face, his heavy head dropping forward with it.

Warily, Jake opens his eyes to the water running down his toned stomach, practically guiding him to look at the veins lining his thighs, and the untimely hard on he’s sporting between them. And though, he's staring straight down at a very clear problem, he feels the weight of his other predicament wash down on him instead.

His ex-girlfriend was far gone by the time he reached you last night—yet Jake still went ahead and kissed you, for longer than he anticipated too. Simply because he just wanted to. And if he was being honest with himself, this hadn’t exactly been the first time he’s wanted to either.

But in his defense, it had been years since he sensed that bleary feeling in his chest, the one that gave him the uncontrollable urge to just lean in and kiss you—and who would’ve known it would spawn again?

Actually, Jake should’ve known.

Like clockwork, that urge flares up when his mind is mostly cluttered—when every part of him is riddled by heartbreak. And Jake knew you’d always be there whenever he was on the chopping block, and it’d be wrong if he went looking for affection from you everytime he was. Because that's weird. You were his best friend—not some fling he could swap spit with each time got out of a failed relationship.

So instead, he learned to wean himself off the compulsion by simply touching you.

Whether it was pinching the back of your sweater when the elevator rattled, holding onto some part of you to make sure you didn’t linger far, or coaxing you to sleep by gliding a hand along your spine.

Jake just needed to feel you.

Strangely, it was enough to tame that bizarre feeling that struck him once in a while. But despite his best efforts, he didn’t stick to his usual methods last night. Kendall's disparaging remarks must’ve really got to him. And there you were when it finally spilled over, standing there like your sixteen year old self did once before, waiting for him.

Making the choice to just let it go, Jake assures himself that he was just confused, again. All thanks to a girl in a skirt so short it could pass as a belt—and Jake pitifully notched onto that tiny belt of hers.

With that matter put to rest, he swallows thickly—returning back to his original point of concern. His frustration seems to have gone straight to his dick today. By no means, was waking up hard, unusual for him, but it’s particularly more difficult to ignore this morning.

Now, he’s left staring down at his, not exactly little, problem. But the longer Jake stares—the more the self-restraining thoughts trickle out his ears, joining the stream of water running down his body, and mazing through the patterns of the rubber bath mat underneath him.

“Fuck it,” he whispers to himself, roughly spitting into his palm.

This is so wrong—but this is so—the only time he’s doing this. The blond had only joked about wringing one out while you were still home, but now he’s seriously following through.

“Ah shit,” he hisses, rubbing the wad of saliva over his tip, brows pinched in concentration.

Bringing a rough palm down his aching length, Jake’s breathing labors as he starts to work himself in already desperate strokes. Maybe it’s because your strawberry body wash is sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The muscles rippled on his wet back contract from the movement. Maybe it’s because your pink toothbrush is sitting next to his by the sink.

Gritting his teeth, Jake puts more focus on getting this over with, coiling his calloused hand even tighter around himself. Maybe it’s because his ex is making it hard for him to understand anything.

With the repetitive graze over a sensitive vein, Jake’s eyes snap shut, breath hitching in his throat—concentrating on that sensation. Maybe Jake likes kissing you more than he thought he would.

The sound of low grunts and heavy panting permeates the bathroom, overpowering the echoing of water droplets panging against the shower floor and trickling down the drain. And just as he’s nearing his edge, overworking his forearm in quick motions—there’s an urgent knock at the door, followed by your muffled voice. “Jake? I really need to pee. I can’t hold it in…And you’ve been there for so long.”

The end of your plea comes off as a whine, forcing him to immediately rip his hand off.

Jake’s eyes flutter open to blink hastily, lungs burning as they expand, forcing himself to overcome his haze as quickly as possible. God, he hopes you didn't hear a single second of that.

“Shit, um. Sorry, Princess,” he rasps, clearing his throat immediately after.

“Doors unlocked, you can come in,” he establishes, hitting his flushed chest with a fisted hand to clear his throat again. It takes him a second, but he finally pulls himself together.

With a soft click of the doorknob, Jake assumes you’ve scuffled inside. A faint clattering by the toilet can be heard before you desperately yell out, “Cover your ears!”

“...Hurry! I’m—I might piss on myself,” you squeak, curling your toes against the tiles.

The warning directed towards the shower curtain is useless, because Jake's already cupping both hands over his burning ears. “They’re covered,” He spurts out a short laugh, turning his head, shouting the confirmation back at you.

The automatic response had been programmed into him from the countless times your bladder coincided with his showers—mostly during the trips your families took together.

Maintaining the nostalgic positioning of his hands, Jake recalls the one time you slipped off the porcelain toilet at his beach house and refused to let him jump out the shower to check on you. At one point during that incident, you had thrown a roll of toilet paper at his pruney fingers when you spotted them curling around the shower screen to pull it back.

Jake’s ear nearly fell off at the reprimanding he received from his mother, following that—when he decided to joke about massaging your sore butt during dinner.

With uncanny timing, Jake’s hands fall from the side of his head as your bold thumbs-up breaches past the shower curtain, coming into view in front of him, signaling that you’re done.

He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, staring at your tiny hand that’s lined directly in front of his lower region.

“Hey now. You sure you wanna be stickin’ a hand in here baby?” He taunts, with a teasing head tilt—even when you’re unable to see him.

Baby. Your hand. In the shower. Where he’s naked.

At that, you immediately withdraw the arm you stuck in there. Then, your small voice bleeds past the small crack of the curtain. “..I don’t want to know what you meant by that.”

“Step inside if you do, though,” he shamelessly offers, stretching his jaw to control his amusement, but the playful lilt in his voice gives it away.

“I..I am not doing that!”

Before Jake can add on to your fluster, you’re trotting off.

With your faded footsteps nearing the door, you make your exit back to your bedroom with a huff and a whispered complaint under your breath. Jake laughs at that, tipping his head back into the water as more memories come flooding in.

You really haven’t changed from the time you clumsily tumbled off the rim of his toilet seat.

Considering the fact that the only people you ever spoke to on campus were either frat affiliates, or freshmen who occasionally needed directions—you never really caught the chance to make friends with other girls at school. It wasn’t intentional, of course. You had just grown so attached to Jake, that you found it difficult to harbor that kind of friendship with anyone else.

However, that disconnect from girls your age didn’t mean you were that different from them. You had an idea of what any other girl would do if they were in your situation. It would only make sense that they’d do a healthy amount of snooping on Kendall’s social media—and all her friends’—and perhaps her parents’ too. For research purposes, obviously.

But, maybe that was not the best way to start off your day.

After an alarming amount of online stalking, you’re quickly swept up by a sudden frenzy. Because how was it physically possible for someone to shine through their pictures? She quite literally radiated in every single post you zoomed in and out of. And the flood of comments you scrolled through made sure to remind her too.

There was no point in denying that she won the genetic lottery either. And apparently you weren’t one of the lucky winners. Because, if you were, then maybe clothes wouldn’t sit on you like it was your enemy—either strangling or suffocating you. There was sadly no inbetween, really. But, it looked like she got along swimmingly with her clothes.

Was building an alliance with your own outfits, something you had to work on now?

At that revelation, you clumsily dart towards your closet, nearly tripping over the blanket still clung to your legs. And it must’ve taken a whole twenty minutes of you combing through overworn shorts and a thick stack of failed crochet hats, to successfully track down an old denim skirt you bought over a year ago.

Batting off unvoiced doubts, you squeeze your legs into the stiff material and hastily throw on the oversized sweater Jake bought you—praying it would hide the fact that the skirt was two sizes too small. The light layer of makeup you quickly apply next isn’t your best attempt, but it’s enough to make you look alive.

You realize that it seemed a touch ridiculous to be suddenly concerned about how you looked, but given that you were playing as Jake’s new girlfriend—the stress was very much warranted. His ex’s instagram was a testament that if she were to sport a potato sack, she’d still outshine you by miles—many miles actually, probably enough miles to wrap around the entire earth twice. It’s only natural that you would make an effort to appear somewhat decent in comparison.

Mentally running through your plans for today, you unintentionally wander into the kitchen and start an attack on a tub of icecream—without even realizing it. It’s only when you’re half way through the container—that Jake finally steps into the kitchen, hair slightly damp from his lack of towel drying, a pair of gray sweats sitting loose around his waist, and another variant of his black hoodies clung on his upper half.

“Oh, there you are.” He cranes his neck to see what you’re so focused on.

Jake feels a slight sense of disappointment creep in when you don’t give him a single sign of acknowledgment. Even with the lame attempt to louden his footsteps, you’re still quietly standing by the counter, back turned to him.

Coming to a halt behind you, he briefly gives the back of your head an unimpressed look, before casually resting a palm onto the table top in front of you.

The ends of his hoodie drawstrings start to dangle over the top of your head when you unconsciously lean back into him. Jake hums contently, steadying his feet so you could comfortably lay your weight onto his chest. The disappointment from before lifts, slightly.

“Thought you were gonna join me in there. You coulda’ scrubbed my back or something,” he playfully laments. All you do is wriggle against him, silently making yourself comfortable.

Out of nowhere, Jake feels the steady pace of his heartbeat begin to pick up, though, he’s not sure if it’s from the horrifying remembrance of being interrupted a little bit ago, or because it feels kind of nice to have you on him like this.

Again, with no answer from you, he looks down past his nose, eyes landing directly onto the silver spoon that’s sticking out your mouth. Jake only squints when he’s met with his own wacky reflection at the end of the utensil.

“Okay then,” he says to himself, tracing his gaze down the shiny metal. Reaching the end of the spoon, he catches the blank stare you’re giving that tub of ice cream under those curled lashes of yours. Jake bites the inside of his cheek at the observation.

He’s not even sure what to make of your sudden change in behavior. Not long ago, you were cutely pawing at the bathroom door, and now you’re all dolled up underneath him, raw dogging a container of ice cream.

Gently, he pinches the end of the cold handle between two fingers, slowly pulling it from your lips. All you can do is blink dumbly at the large hand that breaks your vision, letting him take it from you. Your eyes scrunch when the sunlight trickling through the kitchen bounces off the bowl of the spoon, momentarily blinding you.

“You gonna let me have a taste?” He genuinely asks, dipping his head down to whisper the question in your ear. He does it softly enough so it doesn’t startle you.

You blink a few more times before rushing to nod your head.

Permission granted, Jake dunks it back into the tub to get himself a generous scoop, pressing the spoonful of vanilla flat against his tongue, licking it clean above you. “You left some of your lipgloss on here,” he lamely shares, while eating off the sticky residue. It should gross him out, but it’s just you, so really, he couldn’t care less.

Setting the empty spoon down against the counter with a soft clatter, Jake hands end up on the front of your pants, again—for probably the third time this week. The soothing action is happening more frequently than it ever should, but you haven’t chewed him out on it—yet. And it’s not his fault he needs to wean himself off.

“What’s with the makeup? Thought you were just hittin’ up the grocery store today.”

All you do is give him a small shrug, he takes it as an answer for now.

There were times when Jake stumbled on his older sisters prancing around the house at random hours of the night, faces full of makeup. Out of curiosity, he’d asked them why they decided to start their enrollment in clown school—and he’d get the same response—an eye roll and annoyed exclamation of Girls just like doing their makeup randomly Jacob! You don’t get it!

And for someone who was considered ‘a green flag’ on paper for having two sisters, Jake didn’t reap the benefits at all. Unfortunately, he was largely unaware of the things a guy should know if he grew up around girls.

Discreetly pulling you in closer, he inhales through his nose. The taut muscles on his back relax once the scent of your strawberry body wash reaches him. “Why do you randomly do your makeup?”

You stare at the shine of the melting desert in front of you, mildly confused by his abrupt question.

Sure, Jake had pestered you with random questions about girls, given that you were one. But they always followed the lines of—Does this text mean she’s mad at me? or Why the fuck does she need me to pick out a nail color every two weeks? And get mad at me when I say blue? Never has he asked dumb questions in regards to you—but it’s not like he needed to anyway.

“Oh, um. I don’t know,” you bite your glossy lip, contemplatively. It takes you several seconds to come up with a better explanation than Oh, um. I don't know. Because that’s stupid, you sound stupid.

“It just…feels good to do it, like—a confidence booster of sorts,” you finally surmise, partially honest with him.

“Feels good, huh.” Jake repeats, trailing off as he absently runs his thumb around the rim of your metal button.

While you weren’t aware of his large hands flirting with the entryway of your skirt before, you’re pretty much noticing it now.

No matter how much you try to downplay the habit, it undeniably made you slightly nervous—okay, it actually made you very nervous. Because what if he accidentally pulled down your zipper—or worse—what if he saw the stupid day of the week underwear that you still wear.

You’re not sure if you could ever live that down if he does.

“I–um. Yeah, feels good,” you incoherently mumble, hands pathetically slick in sweat at your sides.

He hardly gets a chance to register the mental turmoil going on under him as his brows suddenly furrow. The subtle engravings on the button of your shorts feel different, unfamiliar even.

WIth that, he stills. And without so much of a warning, Jake drags one hand around to the small of your back, pressing his palm flat against the bunched up fabric of your sweater, dragging it upward to check what shorts you decided to wear. You stagger forward, forced to crash your sweaty hands down onto the counter as he pushes you off him.

This whole time, you were wearing a skirt.

And it’s not like Jake Seresin was opposed to the idea of girls wearing something too tight for comfort, but the dark washed band is curling into your flesh. Jake was opposed to that.

You gulp, the skin of your cheeks growing hot. Jake practically has you bent over, butt pointing up into the air. Warily, you attempt to continue the conversation as if he wasn’t checking out your skirt, in the worst way possible. “You could’ve, um, I dunno, just asked me what I’m weari–”

“This shit is digging into you, Princess,” he cuts you off firmly, flipping you around with that hand.

Jake silently watches you, waiting for an explanation once he has you facing him. It’s quiet as you dodge his eyes. Of course, he thinks it looks weird on you.

Eventually, you choose to look down at his front hoodie pocket like a scolded child. “I just…had too much to eat. Dairy makes me bloated,” you meekly supply, worming your hands into the empty pouch. Nervously, you begin to pick at the tiny tufts of cotton glued to the inner lining of his pocket.

Ignoring the new feeling stirring in his stomach, Jake intently dips his middle and pointer finger into the front of your skirt, trying to get an estimate on how tight it was. They’re already losing circulation between the pudge of your tummy and the band.

“What?” Jake scoffs incredulously, eyes rolling up and down your figure.

“You don’t eat too much. Don’t even try that with me,” he sternly cements, disapproving of your excuse. “This shit is just—not your size.”

Using the two fingers hooked into your skirt, he tugs you forward in demonstration, causing you to let out a startled yelp. Seeing how the movement easily sends you launching forward, Jake sighs and retracts that hand from your waistband, holding you still by the hip instead.

Moving to grab your face with his other hand, he forces you to look up at him—and your stomach bubbles, maybe because of the ice-cream.

“I’m not gonna tell you what and what not to wear outside, ’cause my mom would fucking kill me,” he clarifies. “But, really?” Jake’s voice drops to a softer tone, considering that you look somewhat embarrassed, and not in the way he liked.

You nod once in his hand, “I like it,” you manage to argue, cheeks squished by his fingers. If you like it, Jake can’t seem to hate it. But what Jake hates—is that he knows you’re about to head out, by yourself.

“Okay.” His eyes flick down to your new choice of apparel. “Let me come with you today, Fuck Bradley,” he proposes, dismissing his upcoming plans with the brunette this afternoon.

If you wanted to play dress up around him, that’s fine, but if you were going to walk around the supermarket aisles, without him trailing behind you, looking like this? He would rather go through his frat hazing twice over just so he could tag along. Your parents would kill him if he didn’t make up some excuse to watch over you.

Somewhat bothered by your bare thighs brushing against his knees, Jake drops both hands down to pull at the sides of your skirt, but the stubborn fabric doesn’t budge. Again, he yanks it to no avail. Jake blows air through his nose, because he just needs your upper thigh to be covered at least. That’s what your mom would want, for him to look after you and all.

“Jake,” you warn, bringing his attention back to your face. “We never end up buying what we need ‘cause you play around too much,” you put forth, glaring at him.

Jake gives your skirt one final jerk before giving up, weaving his fingers into the belt loops instead. However, under the weight of his hands, the band glides from your waist down to your hips. It covers more of your legs now.

“I’ll behave,” he confirms, looking down at you. The specks of seriousness in his eyes says he will. But his inability to leave you alone for more than five minutes says, he won’t.

“You never behave,” you tiredly argue, cracking your knuckles in his front pocket, accidentally pulling him closer by doing so.

Jake cocks his head. “So? That’s what makes us work. You do all the important crap,” he points out, forgoing his seriousness from a second ago. “While I keep things fun. Don’t start pretending you don’t like it.”

You look off to the side with a sigh.

“I actually don’t like it,” you start, matter of factly. “And you’re not coming,” you finally conclude, brushing off the sudden memory of him keeping things fun last night.

Rationally, you should be relieved that he remembers kissing you, it was clear in the way he wouldn’t stop teasing you about it during the entirety of the walk home. But all it does is fill you with unease.

“My girl’s playin’ hard to get. That’s fine, I can handle you,” he continues, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. Yeah, he’s definitely not getting the permission to accompany you if he’s being so coy, this early on in the day.

Rolling your eyes, you pivot your head to look at him again, only to realize that it’s a mistake to do so. Because you instinctively cower—when was he standing this close to you? And when did he slip his fingers through your skirt’s belt loops?

Jake’s eyes dart across your features, taking in your nervous falter. “What? You like when I call you that?” His grin only stretches wider.

You hate that you’re still not used to his new pet names.

“What? No—no, I don’t.” You hurriedly defend yourself.

You also hate that you can’t handle talking about said pet names without sputtering like an idiot.

The moment you fill your cheeks with air, Jake takes it as a sign to not test his luck with you. Keeping quiet, he intently watches you let out that breath while you start to digress.

“You can join me next time, ‘cause it’s rude if you cancel on Bradley, I’ll just…come over after I’m done.” Reminded that Bradley kind of smiled at you last night, you assume he wouldn’t mind if you invited yourself over. He’s oddly let you through the door before, anyway.

As you finish speaking, you gently nudge at Jake using the hands you still have resting in his pocket. The thick fabric, combined with his body heat, has been keeping your fingers so warm—that you almost forget the way the cold tub of vanilla felt between your hands from before.

Weirdly, Jake doesn’t say anything.

Instead, there’s something unfamiliar that flits in his eyes, the dumb grin he’s wearing quickly fades and all he does is stare at you, like he’s unsure about something. Jake Seresin, unsure of himself, in what world?

“Promise me you’ll actually be there. Need to hear you say it,” he gently demands—suddenly.

Jake trusts you to stick to your word, but there’s some part of him that needs to know that he’ll see you again during the day. And he wasn’t going to hang out in Bradley’s room all afternoon, and have it possibly stretch into the evening—if you’re not going to show up at some point.

You pause, lips parted, searching for any signs of his impending teasing. Because where did that come from? The last time he was this deliberate in what he said, he had asked you to be his girlfriend.

You wonder how your sixteen year old self would react—she’d probably put on some Coldplay song and grab a nearby pillow to cry into it, if she knew he didn’t mean it in the way you wanted him to. And for some reason, you feel a twinge of her hurt flicker through your chest, when you think about it.

Above you, Jake remains still, letting you curiously scan his face. A thick lump forms in your throat when you come to the realization that he’s being serious.

You swallow, giving him all your sincerity. “I promise.”

That unfamiliar look flashes in his eyes again when you assure him, and you instantly look down once you notice it. “Now can you, just—let me leave. We have no milk left and you can’t have your cereal dry,” you fumble, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness.

Jake clears his throat. “Okay, yeah. I can…do that,” he starts, slowly.

Letting his concern for your outfit drop, Jake moves off you so you can go. The weird tension in the air wrapping around you two, simply dilutes with that.

Jake feels more confused when he watches you fetch your keys. He’d only wanted confirmation that you were seeing him later, thinking it would calm his protectiveness over you. But, it didn’t do jack shit, really. You didn’t get dressed up for no reason, nor did you wear things like that when you did.

The realization that he should’ve tried to probe more, crosses his mind when he hears you go through the front door. In the midst of his silent brooding, Jake eventually decides not to fault himself for it—because when has he ever had to pry an explanation out of you? You always told him everything.

But as he comes to that conclusion, Jake fails to notice what you quickly pop in your mouth when you scurry out. Maybe it was because you couldn’t stop thinking of your younger self—but you reached for that reflective baggie you stole from last night’s snack table. It should do the trick to soothe that growing ache in your chest.

“Motherfuck–” Bradley bites his lip in focus, capping off his insult. “Takin’ off half my health. Get your ass back here,” he harshly narrates under his breath. Leaning closer to his computer screen, he expertly moves his fingers against the lit up keyboard in precision with his mouse.

Jake came over a few hours ago, and what started as a conversation between two friends—turned into Jake leaning back against Bradley’s headboard while the brunette busied himself with rounds of Fortnite.

“I’m telling you, she wore that shit on purpose.” Jake huffs, retelling his encounter with his ex. Truthfully, Bradley’s baffled that Jake was able to stretch out the topic for this long.

Hour five into the rant, you had tiredly strolled in the room after being let in the house by Bob. There was hardly any greeting before you immediately dove for the mattress. In a matter of seconds, you were curled around Jake’s leg like it was some life line, left cheek squished against his thigh and an arm thrown across his knee.

Neither of them said anything about your peculiar arrival, but it wasn’t like they caught the chance to, because you had already dozed off.

“Okay? The hell you want me to say to that.” Bradley grumbles, eyes still trained on his monitor. For the first time in his life, Bradley finds himself jealous of you. If he had to cuddle with Jake in his sleep to get a ticket out of this, then so be it.

Before Jake can say anything, Bradley is rapidly clicking his mouse and jerks it across his mouse pad in zig zags. “No, no. Fuck—Shit. Oh fuck you.”

The gruff shout at his computer causes you to stir a bit.

“You died?” Jake stupidly asks, cupping a hand over your ear, muffling the noise.

Slowly, Bradley swivels his chair to face him. “No. My character just got shot in the face.”

“Right.” Jake doesn’t care. “Anyway, you should’ve seen the skirt she was wearing,” he pauses to re-evaluate his next words. “Actually, don’t even start to imagine it.”

“Just know it was bad,” he says flatly, hoping Bradley gets the point.

Entirely unimpressed by his friend’s idiocracy, Bradley’s eyes dart between the skirt you're wearing and the idiot playing with the shell of your ear. Maybe if he aimed it correctly, he could chuck his wireless mouse at Jake’s thick forehead without it landing on you.

“Same skirt that your little girlfriend has on right now?” Bradley presses, lazily raising an eyebrow.

Jake’s eyes snaps to your outfit and he roughly grabs a blanket to cover you entirely.

“What is she, Goldilocks? Passing out on someone’s bed after going out on her own. Should’ve gone with her, dumbass,” Bradley insults.

Jake gives him an incredulous look.

“Bro, I fucking tried but you know how girls are.” If anyone should understand, it’s Bradley—the guy who had a hoard of sisters himself. He of all people, should know that talking to girls was like trying to communicate with a mob that was already angry at you. You say one thing wrong, and you’re getting chased by pitchforks and torches.

“Look at that. Another girlfriend who’s tryna’ escape you,” Bradley swipes a tongue over his growing smirk, amusing no one but himself.

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny. ‘Cause I don’t.”

“Thanks.” Bradley says offhandedly, in his usual uninterested tone.

“That wasn’t—okay,” Jake bites his tongue, not wanting to spark an argument that might wake you.

“Why are you so hung up on this chick anyway? What do you even like about her?” Bradley suddenly presses, trying to gain knowledge on why his friend is so infatuated.

In the years he’s known Jake, yeah, he’s been a serial dater, but he never went back to the same girl—over and over again. And he never employed you to help him do it either. Bradley never got the impression that Jake would do that in the first place.

“I like everything about her,” Jake finally punches in his answer, focusing on the way you’re clinging to his leg.

It’s a simple question, one he should know how to answer. But his attention drops to you when he racks his brain for a valid reason—as if you were going to wake up and give him the response he was looking for.

“She made me feel good. I don’t fucking know dude. I just liked her more than I liked anyone else.”

Bradley inwardly winces at that.

Jake slowly turns his head to his friend who’s leaning back into his chair, and dismissively shrugs. “Everyone said we were good together and I just thought so too.”

Despite his attention to the conversation, Jake has a far off look in his eye—his brain is wandering off somewhere.

Bradley shakes his head, in disagreement. Clearly, his strategy of getting Jake to catch you with someone else at the party failed, so maybe he has to switch gears. “Dude, just because some fucking randoms said so, doesn't mean—”

“...Gummybear.”

Both of them put the conversation on pause, snapping their necks in your direction. Another minute of quiet passes until you mumble the phrase again, paired with a groan this time.

Jake shifts around, no longer slouching against the headboard. The duo watches closely when you sleepily untangle yourself from him and sit up for yourself.

Scrubbing your eyes, you distribute a guilty look between Bradley and Jake through blurry vision because you feel your mouth slowly being filled with the pre-vomit drool.

You’re one second away from showing them both your lackluster breakfast and cannabis laced gummies you had the bright idea of eating.

Perhaps, it wasn’t the best course of action to have one—or two, but you thought they were supposed to make you feel calm—because isn’t that why people buy them? How were you supposed to know that having more than one would make you feel so sick?

“I don’t, um, feel too good.” Your throat bobs and you slap a hand over your mouth.

Jake lunges forward, shoving away the pillows blocking you from him. He visually pales when bend over against him, aggressively gagging into your palm, unable to swallow back the burning acid rising into your throat and spilling onto your tongue.

With you on the brink of vomiting in his lap, Jake keeps his eyes on you as he hurries Bradley to find something for you to dump your guts into.

“I said I can’t fucking find it!” Bradley’s already shot out his chair, rapidly throwing dirty laundry over his shoulder once he’s bent over in the spot where his trash bin should be.

From the way he launched himself out of his seat, the gaming chair is flung halfway across the room. And with the sound of your retching and Jake’s useless instructions, Bradley picks up the pace and hastily reaches into piles of junk in hopes that he’d unearth the tiny bucket.

“Aim on the damn floor if I don’t find this thing,” he grits, sweating as he continues to dig through his pigsty.

And aim at his floor, you did.

“I threw up all over his room.” You mumble into Jake’s hoodie, punishing yourself over the turn of events.

Since bringing you home, Jake’s been actively trying to get your mind off what happened. But all you’ve done is guiltily fixate on the fact that you barfed like a sick puppy, leaving a plop of mush right onto a Victoria Secret bra sitting in Bradley’s room.

What if the girl who owned it came looking for it—just to find a fat stain sunken into the cup? Bradley would probably have to tell her that his idiot friend hurled on it because she didn’t know her tolerance was incredulously low. And you’d probably won't stop thinking about it for the rest of your life.

“Who cares? You gave Bradshaw a reason to clean. Now turn around and tell me what you want,” Jake prompts you, looking ahead at the open snack pantry in front of him.

The high clearly kicked in while you were in the snack aisle, because why else would there be five party sized bags of chips staring back at him.

Jake narrows his eyes, straining to make out the flavor you bought. The dim lighting makes it nearly impossible to read the big lettering written across the shiny plastic. But then again, he hadn’t bothered to turn on the main lights, choosing to depend on the trim of fairy lights lined throughout the apartment. It was safe to assume that you preferred those, so he stuck to that.

Rather than complying, you wrap your arms tighter around Jake’s torso, shaking your head in refusal against his chest. “Don’t want anything.”

Redirecting his attention to the top of your head, he hugs you back with one arm. “C’mon sick puppy, take a look.”

The last time you writhed in guilt like this, you had swung Jake over the head with your neon pink hydro-flask at his beach house—when he was the one who purposely scared you. Though, he took it as a win, considering that you cradled his head all night, giving him an excuse to sleep in the same room as you. Back then, it came at a perfect time since his fling that summer recently ended in disaster.

“I’ll just throw up again if I eat anything,” you quietly whine, replaying the defeated sigh Bradley heaved when he stared at the pathetic beige goo sinking into the lace of the bra.

Using the arm he has around you, Jake gives you a squeeze. “No? Don’t even want some gummies?”

When he’s met with silence, Jake lowers his head to kiss the top of yours, but the gesture goes unnoticed by you. For a second, he thinks you managed to fall asleep standing up. “Done talkin’ to me Goldilocks?”

Jake’s voice pulls you out of your deep analysis of the way Bradley sighed in disappointment. But, with the reminder that you had also shamelessly napped in his bed—brought on by your desperation to sleep off the high, you fist the back of Jake’s hoodie in both hands and bite down on your lip to hold back a screech of embarrassment.

“Won’t you look at that, the little lady didn’t like my joke,” he lightly teases, glad that your useless talent of falling asleep anywhere didn’t spur into action.

Detecting the spike of heat from your flushed face against his stomach, Jake refrains from making any more jokes and lifts you slightly, positioning the bottom of your feet over the surface of his own.

Once he drops you to stand on his sock-clad feet, Jake begins to carefully advance into the bathroom, unbothered by the pressure of your heels on his toes as he walks.

“If you want nothin’, we’re hanging out where we did this morning.”

In one swift movement, he both peels you off his front and moves you off his feet. Letting him guide you to sit at the edge of the tub, you attentively look on while he crouches in front of you, face perfectly leveled with yours—despite the raised height provided by the bathtub. Did he place you here because you fell off the toilet that one time?

“Why did you randomly take those? Mickey puts a shit-load in there,” he questions, referring to the gummy bears that eventually led you into buying a life time supply of Jake’s favorite chips, Smoked Barbeque.

If it wasn’t for the soft yellow string of lights you taped around the bathroom door frame, you would’ve missed the puzzled look he’s wearing. The light pinch of his brows and the concern tightening his jaw makes you feel guilty for the second time tonight.

Instinctively, his hands reach towards your waist, thumbs coming close to meeting at the center as his palms settle on your sides. A shiver runs down his spine when he comes to notice how you fit in his hands—but he pushes the new sensation aside.

“I’ve been doing a lot of random things today,” you broadcast, unsure of the rationale behind wearing makeup for a mundane outing—and unsure as to why you were compelled to level with a girl who could clearly look down at you from where she is.

“Yeah, you have, haven’t you?” Jake says softly, watching your eyes flick down towards his hoodie. It’s an exact replica of the one keeping warm from the night before—and the same one he gave you for the sole purpose of announcing that you were his.

“Oh. I forgot to give your sweater back to you last night. I’ll wash it and—”

“Keep it, we didn’t break up yet,” he cuts you off, the unfamiliar look from this morning passing through his eyes, again.

Oblivious to it, you simply nod at him, bringing your parted lips to a slow close.

Then, it goes quiet as you two take the time to recollect your thoughts.

After several minutes you both meet back in a silent agreement that you’re ready to continue the conversation. Jake nods his head at you, encouraging you to speak first.

“I ate it because this didn’t feel good,” you suddenly confess, lips bunching to the side of your mouth. Knowing what you meant, his attention drops to that skirt he caught you in this morning. An unsettling feeling swirls in his stomach, it looks even tighter on you now.

Jake liked to think he knew how to read you.

Whenever his ears picked up on your nervous laugh, he knew to stalk over to see which one of his nosey aunts were pressing you about having a boyfriend. Whenever you nervously dug the toe of your sneakers into the floor, he knew to start comparing shoe sizes with you as a distraction. But when he finds you in something you don’t usually wear, Jake doesn’t know what to do.

He wonders if you felt like you needed this stuff to feel pretty. And he also wonders why he’s so unaware of it until now, if you had.

“Think I threw up because it’s so tight. Maybe Mickey’s gummies aren’t so bad,” you attempt to joke with a light laugh, wanting to ease the tension off his face.

In front of you, Jake’s stare is still unwavering towards the engravings of that button. In a way, this is kind of disorienting for him, what you’re wearing is so familiar to him. Yet, seeing it on you is unfamiliar if anything. Because this isn’t you, it’s the girl he was just arguing with last night.

The only reason he even started this whole thing with you, besides Kendall’s unexplainable jealousy towards your friendship, was because you were different to her in every way. So, if you were going to change that about yourself, Jake didn’t like it—because it was unfamiliar to him. For his whole life, he kept tabs on little things about you that no one else bothered to learn. It doesn't sit right with him, that you’re keeping things from him now.

“I…don’t like this,” he delivers carefully, enunciating each word to you purposefully, leaving no doubt in your mind that he says it to be mean. And like always, what he really wants to say translates to you—I don’t like the way it makes you feel either.

“...Can we take it off then?” you insert with the same careful delivery.

He draws in a deep breath, and you mimic the action unknowingly.

Then, with a flick of his thumb, Jake unfastens the button of your skirt, dislodging it from the denim slit that kept it tightly wrapped around your waist. When you go to lift your butt, he pulls the tiny scrap of fabric down your legs. His eyes trail it, keeping his attention off your underwear. In his peripheral, he spots your half-full bottle of strawberry bottle wash.

With you moving to sit back down on the cold ledge, he’s briefly greeted with a pink cursive lettering. Tuesday.

Surprisingly, it’s not awkward to be sitting in nothing but the poorly constructed sweater he said looked good on you and a pair of your day of the week underwear. Maybe you were being dramatic, thinking that you would die if he saw it. Because this isn’t so different from the days you spent walking around in your bathing suits, in the lifetime full of summers you spent together.

“You never needed that,” he shrugs, relief settling in his chest now that it’s off of you.

“I never needed it,” you repeat back.

While your entire lives were filled with inside jokes and probably too much bickering—there were small lapses in time where that all drops. You’re not sure when it had even started, but for as long as you could remember, whenever either of you voiced something worthy of importance your counterpart naturally echoed it back. I was a dick. You were a dick. Jake, not right now. Okay, not right now. You never needed that. I never needed it. It was something your friendship naturally adopted.

And like all other friendships, you two also knew how to shimmy your way out of a vulnerable moment like that, without making things weird.

Jake leans into you a bit, suppressing a cheeky grin. “It says Tuesday, today is a Saturday,” he whispers.

Shoving him back with one hand, you break out into a smile. “You read my underwear!”

“It read itself to me,” he finally grins, prompting you to smack your palm over his eyes in embarrassment.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” You chant between your laughter. “I’m never wearing these again.”

“No? Not even for me?” Jake starts to wrap his fingers around your wrist. It’s not too firm, but it’s enough to lower your hand from his eyes. Your laughter begins to die down at how gently he handles you.

Another silence settles in the bathroom again when he leisurely traces a path from your wrist up to your palm, entwining his fingers through yours. Then, he drops your connected hands between the small gap between you two.

But as quickly as he holds your hand, he lets go of it. And strangely, that tinge of your sixteen year old hurt sweeps through your heart when you lose that warmth against your palm.

Jake suddenly clears his throat. “I should uh, leave. You know, so you can shower.”

Pushing down the confusing swirl of emotion in your chest, you nod.

This time, Jake’s the one to walk out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with your best friend at the forefront of your mind.

note: im so sorry for taking forever to update! so please enjoy this accidentally long chapter as an apology! as always, reblogs & thoughts are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading! & gently ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes for now

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