#But like yeah shout out to my friend that was a supporter in this trying time 🙏 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berryispunk · 1 month ago

Text

Slow Motion

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: dual POV, slow burn, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, yearning, angst, all of it, longing, best friend! Frankie, feelings denial, soft! Frankie, everyone knows before they do, Santi and Benny are support actors in this, only allusions to smut with this one, the girlfriend is not the villain, idiots in love, kissing

summary: Best friends. Always there, never quite enough. He broke your heart without ever knowing he held it—until everything fell apart, and the only person he wanted was the one he pushed away.

word count: ~ 8k

read on ao3

You and Francisco Morales had been you and him for as long as anyone could remember. Not in the romantic, hand-holding, Sunday brunch kind of way—but in that soul-deep, private-joke, finish-each-other’s-sentences kind of way. Inseparable. A pair that moved through life side by side, facing every challenge together like you were built for it.

He was your person. You were his constant. You’d both sucked at love, made terrible choices, fallen for the wrong people, gotten burned, and picked each other up off the floor more times than you wanted to count. And somewhere along the way, you’d decided Frankie just needed a little push.

So you pushed.

Blind dates, setups, meet-cutes at your yoga class—you threw him at every semi-decent woman within a 15-mile radius like some emotionally-invested Cupid. And he let you, mostly because saying no meant watching that bright-eyed hope in you fade. And he couldn’t stomach that.

But tonight?

Tonight, you could tell, something had changed.

You pulled up to the curb outside the sad little Italian place you’d sent him to, elbow resting on the open window. “Hey, hot stuff. You survived?”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. He opened the door, flopped into the passenger seat like someone returning from battle, and just sat there, staring out at the glowing neon of the restaurant behind him.

You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “That bad?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept staring straight ahead, jaw tight.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Was it the weird laugh again? Or did she talk about astrology like it was a PhD?”

Frankie exhaled hard through his nose. “Can we not do this tonight?”

Your smile faltered. “I’m just asking, Frankie. You’re the one who said you wanted to meet someone.”

“No,” he snapped, turning toward you, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who decided I should meet someone.”

You blinked. “Okay... what’s your problem?”

“My problem is I’m exhausted,” he said, his voice heavy. “Tired of these setups. Tired of pretending. Tired of you pushing me into dates I never asked for.”

You sat up straighter, your frustration rising. “Excuse me? You agreed to them. I never forced you.”

“Yeah? Because every time I say no, you look at me like I’m broken. Like you’re trying to fix me.”

Your heart twisted, his words landing on your chest. “Maybe I am trying to fix you, Frankie,” you fired back. “You’ve been stuck for years—half-living, half-dating, half-everything. You don’t even try. I’m the only one who’s been in your corner this whole time, and you’re making me out to be the bad guy?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t!” you shouted, anger flooding through you like molton. “You’re mad at me for caring? For trying to help? What is this really about?”

Frankie didn’t respond, instead clenching his jaw and gripping his thighs like he was holding back something too big to say.

“Say something!” you demanded, your voice cracking with the weight of everything that had built up between you.

He finally turned to you, eyes blazing. “You want to help? Stop trying to build me a life with someone else when you don’t even know what the hell you’re taking from me.”

And then Silence. Thick, stunned silence.

You stared at him, your throat tight, heart pounding like it may jump out of your chest. “What does that mean?”

He shook his head, suddenly looking like he regretted everything. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, you don’t get to say something like that and then shut down,” you snapped, your voice trembling now. “Why are you acting like I’ve betrayed you? Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did,” he said, voice softer now, but still laced with fatigue. “And you don’t even see it.”

You looked at him—really looked—and felt something twist in your chest. A rift you couldn’t name but felt in every part of you, ugly and all consuming.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, more vulnerable than you meant to be.

Frankie stared at the windshield, his face tense. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. “You never do.”

You wanted to scream. Or cry. Or rewind everything to five minutes ago when it was still just you and him. But instead, you turned the key in the ignition and said nothing in return.

And for the first time since you’re hovering in each other’s orbit, the silence between you wasn’t comfortable.

It was unbearable.

Frankie didn’t sleep that night.

He sat on his couch in the dark, the TV on mute, some old movie flickering across the screen while the same sentence looped in his head: "You don’t even know what you’re taking from me."

God. He’d said it. Almost said everything. Too much—but not enough.

He dropped his head back against the couch, eyes stinging. The fight had cracked something wide open, and now he couldn’t shove it back inside. it broke free and was hovering just nearby like a giant shadow of something even bigger than both of you.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You never fought. Ever. You bickered, teased, got under each other’s skin, but you were a constant in each other’s lives. You knew when to push and when to pull back. You always knew.

Until now.

Now you were probably sitting in your apartment, running the argument over in your head the same way he was, wondering what the hell just happened—wondering why he was the one suddenly flipping the board when you’d only been trying to help.

He stood up and started pacing restlessly.

You didn’t deserve that. He’d lashed out like you’d hurt him on purpose, like it wasn’t killing you too, watching him drag himself through one failed connection after another. You were trying to give him something he couldn’t reach for. Because it wasn’t there.

Not in those other people. Only in you.

And he was such an ass to you, you. The only person in his life that kept up with all his bullshit and by some miracle didn’t leave.

Frankie grabbed his keys twice that night. Almost left. Almost showed up at your door to apologize, to explain—but what would he even say? “Hey, I’m sorry I lost it. Turns out I’m in love with you and watching you help me find someone else feels like dying."Yeah, No.

Instead, he stayed up until morning, slumped in his hoodie on the back steps of his building, smoking a cigarette he didn’t even want, tasting as bitter as the words he told you on his tongue and watched the sky change color. For the first time since you’d become friends, he didn’t know how to come back from this.

Didn’t know if there was a way back.

The night stretched on like an endless tournament—one exhausting round after another, only there was no prize at the end. Just pain. Like you were being tested for some higher purpose you couldn’t quite grasp, and you’d failed without knowing why.

He’d never been like this with you before. Sure, Frankie had a temper, always quick to boil over when something pissed him off—but never at you. Never like that. And now, all you were left with was confusion and this dull, aching hurt in your chest.

All you ever wanted was for him to be happy.

He deserved that. Deserved someone who saw past the sharp edges, the emotional clutter, the history he carried like a second skin. Because despite all of it—despite everything—Frankie Morales was one of the last real gentlemen. A dying breed. Being around him was like witnessing an extinction in slow motion, only you had front-row seats and the last perfect example sitting right there in front of you.

It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind—showing up to one of those dates and pretending to be his date instead. It had. More than once.

But every time, you chickened out. Too scared to ruin the one good thing in your life. The thing you’d somehow, miraculously, managed to hold onto.

The next morning, everything was too loud.

The clink of your coffee mug. The buzz of your phone. The way the silence in your apartment felt like it had grown teeth overnight.

You kept checking your messages like maybe he’d say something. A joke. A half-apology. Anything.

But nothing came.

Not even a stupid meme.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his name. The little photo you took of him months ago still sat there in the corner of the screen—Frankie in his kitchen, shirt inside out, pretending to argue with a toaster. You remember thinking, this is it. This is what home feels like.

And now it just felt like you’d been locked out and someone tossed the keys.

You typed a message.

“Hey. Are we okay?”

Deleted it.

Tried again.

“I didn’t mean to push. I just…”

Backspaced until the screen was empty again.

You tossed the phone onto the couch like it had personally offended you—then immediately picked it back up. Paced the apartment. Whispered test messages under your breath like they were spells you could get right if you just said them enough times.

But eventually, something clawed its way up from inside you. Something sharp and tired and aching.

And you stopped overthinking. Stopped editing. Stopped protecting both of you from the truth that was already out there, bleeding between the cracks. Lingering.

You sank onto the edge of your bed now, change of scenery, thumb trembling slightly as you typed:

“Frankie, I don’t know what happened to us last night. But I miss you.”

And this time, you hit send.

Then you sat there, phone in your lap, staring at the floor, leg nervously bouncing as you waited for a response.

You kept your phone on loud for days.

It never buzzed. Not once.

You told yourself it was fine. Frankie just needed time. You fought, and it hit hard—maybe harder than either of you expected. Maybe he was licking his wounds. Maybe he didn’t know what to say.

But Frankie always said something. Even when it was stupid. Even when it was sideways and barely made sense, he showed up. A meme, a photo, a “you good?” that carried the weight of a whole conversation.

But this time? Nothing.

And it didn’t just sting—it unraveled you.

The texts stopped. The late-night calls and with it the way you could feel him across town without a word. It was like he'd ghosted his own life, and you were collateral damage.

Until three weeks later, Santi said it like it wasn’t a big deal.

You were helping him stack chairs after a backyard cookout, trying to pretend you weren’t checking your phone every five seconds. And Santi, half-distracted, said:

“You heard Frankie’s seeing someone, right?”

You blinked. Thought maybe you misheard him over the wind chimes or the clatter of metal legs.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Santi shrugged. “Some girl he met at that dive bar on the 14th. It’s new, but… he seems into it.”

You laughed. But it came out too sharp. Too forced. “Since when does Frankie get into anything that quickly?”

Santi paused, squinting at you, like he suddenly realized you hadn’t known. That maybe he’d said too much.

“I just thought—he’s been MIA lately. Figured he told you.”

He hadn’t, not a single word.

And suddenly it all made sense. The silence. The distance. Why he never answered your message. Why it felt like you’d been cut out without ceremony, like a chapter he just skipped over.

It wasn’t like it was with you. You knew that. You felt that.

But it was something. Enough to pull him away. Enough to make him forget to look back.

And standing there with your hands clenched around a folding chair and your heart somewhere between your ribs and the dirt, you realized it: This was heartbreak.

Not the kind that happens when love ends— The kind that happens when it almost begins, and then doesn’t. Impending grief for a feeling, for a connection, for him.

You tried not to spiral after that.

Tried to be the cool, collected version of yourself—the one who let things roll off your back, who didn’t let silence crawl under your skin and nest there. But the truth was uglier than that. It curled up in your stomach, sick and sour, and stayed there. A constant pain you just learned to shoulder.

You stopped texting. Stopped staring at your screen like maybe it was broken.

He’d made his choice.

And you weren’t part of it.

Still, when the group chat lit up about drinks at the bar on Friday, you didn’t bail. Part of you wanted to—wanted to ghost the whole damn night and pretend you were busy or tired or just over it. But the other part, the louder one, needed to see. Needed proof that it wasn’t just in your head. That the silence hadn’t lied.

The bar was warm and loud and exactly the kind of place you used to end up in together, laughing over too many wings and trash-talking each other over darts. You walked in and found the usual suspects—Santi, Benny, Will—clustered near the back corner table.

And then you saw him.

Frankie.

He was already there. Drink in hand. Hair a little neater than usual, no cap whatsoever and a button-down that wasn’t flannel. Beside was a girl perched close. Too close.

You didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t beautiful in that cinematic way, but she had this softness about her—easy to look at, easy to fall into, maybe. Her hand brushed his arm when she laughed. And Frankie—

Frankie smiled.

Not the dumb, half-smirk he used to give you when he was being a pain in the ass. Not the tired, grateful grin that came with late-night takeout and long silences that didn’t need filling. No. This smile was different. Smaller, careful. Like he was holding something back, but offering it anyway.

And that’s when you knew.

He brought her.

To this.

To your table, your friends. The little circle that had always been you and him and everyone else orbiting around the mess you made of each other. You didn’t walk over right away. You hovered by the bar too long, pretending to wait for your drink, pretending your heart wasn’t jackhammering in your chest, pretending you hadn’t just been sucker punched without warning.

When you finally made your way over, Santi gave you a look—one part apology, two parts brace yourself—and pulled out a chair for you to sit.

Frankie’s eyes met yours for half a second. Not a word. Not a smile. Just a blink, a shift in his jaw almost unrecognizable, and then he turned back to her.

That was it.

No hey. No you good? No flicker of the person who used to make space for you without even thinking.

And you sat there, surrounded by laughter and the hum of conversation, with the hollow roar of grief in your ears. Because now you knew what it looked like—what it felt like—when someone moved on and left you behind. Frankie hadn’t just found someone new. He’d brought her into your world like you were never part of it.

And the worst part?

You couldn’t even blame him, because you were the one who told him to try. You were the one who pushed him. And now he was gone. Gone in the way that matters most—not out of your life, but out of reach.

You made it thirty-two minutes.

Thirty-two minutes of nodding along, sipping watered-down vodka, laughing too loud at things that weren’t funny, and pretending like your entire chest wasn’t about to collapse every time she touched him.

Every time he let her.

You didn’t even know her name until Will leaned over and said it like it was normal. Like it didn’t feel like a knife being twisted right under your ribs.

“Mira seems sweet, huh?”

You smiled. A tight, practiced thing. “Sure. Sweet.”

Mira.

The name tasted wrong in your mouth.

And maybe it would’ve stayed quiet—maybe you would’ve kept swallowing it all down like poison you could survive—if Mira hadn’t looked at Frankie, all wide-eyed and innocent, and asked, “How come you’ve never brought me here before?”

Before.

You heard it before he even answered. Before implied history. Ritual. Something that existed long before she did. Frankie paused, just a second. But it was enough.

“This used to be our spot,” he said, voice casual, not looking at you. Giving the words no meaning at all. “It’s been a while.”

Our.

As in you and him.

You swallowed hard and stood up too fast, chair scraping against the floor like a siren. “I need some air.”

Nobody stopped you. Not even him.

The night was warm and loud, headlights dragging down the street like slow thoughts. You didn’t make it to the curb before you heard footsteps behind you, you didn’t need to look to know it’s him.

Frankie.

“Hey,” he said. Not urgent, not guilty. “You good?”

You turned, eyes narrowed. “Do I look good?”

His jaw tightened. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say anything,” you snapped. “Anything real. Because for the past three weeks, you’ve been radio silent and now you show up with her—like I’m just some extra in your new life?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d take it like this.”

“Like what?” Your voice rose, sharp and brittle. “Like I’m hurt? Like maybe you bringing your rebound into our space like it means nothing would actually mean something to me?”

Frankie’s eyes flashed. “It’s not a rebound.”

“Oh, right. Of course not. It’s serious, huh? That’s why you brought her here—to mark your territory?”

“Stop,” he said. Quiet, but there was power in it. This voice meant no bullshit. “You don’t get to make this ugly.”

“You made it ugly the second you ghosted me.”

That shut him up.

You pushed forward, voice trembling. “You always text back. Always. Even when you’re drunk or pissed or halfway asleep. You always showed up. And now what? I’m just gone?”

Frankie’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t. Which pissed you off even more.

“You owe me, Frankie,” you said, stepping in close now, eyes wet but your voice firm. “You owe me honesty. Because I was there. Every time you fell apart, every time you doubted yourself, every time you needed someone—I was there. And the second you get a maybe-kind-of-working-something, I’m just background noise?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And it cracked something in both of you.

“I didn’t know how to face you,” he admitted, raw and low. “After what I said. After how I said it. I was pissed, and I took it out on you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“No,” you whispered,brows furrowed deep. “I didn’t.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and ugly.

Then you added, “And now you’ve got her. So I guess I was just... convenient enough”

His face twisted like you’d slapped him.

“You were never convenient,” he said, almost a whisper. “You were the constant.”

You stared at him, heart clawing at your ribs, and for one stupid second, you wanted to kiss him just to make it all go away.

But then Mira opened the bar door behind you and called out, “Hey, babe, everything okay?” her voice was so sickeningly sweet, it made your stomach turn. You didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. Frankie looked back once at her, then down at the ground like it was suddenly the only thing that made sense. He didn’t even look at you.

You stepped back, more stumbling than walking. Shaky steps, as unsafe as you felt.

“Yeah,” you said, voice steady now. Cold. “Everything’s crystal fucking clear.”

And then you walked away.

Frankie tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling, counted sheep. It wasn’t because of the heat or the creaking pipes in his apartment or Mira breathing soft and even beside him—but because your voice kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

“I was just… convenient enough.”

He’d heard a lot of things in his life. Screaming commanders. Crying civilians. Doors slamming, hearts breaking, all kinds of silence. The one that makes your ears ring and the one that makes your chest tight. But your voice cracking like that?

That was new, brutal.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The digital clock blinked 3:47 a.m in an alarming red light. Mira shifted behind him, half-asleep.

“You okay, babe?” she mumbled, barely conscious.

“Yeah,” he said. Automatically. Out of habit, out of guilt. “Just need some water.”

He got up, padded barefoot into the kitchen, and stood there in the dark, palms braced on the countertop like it was the only thing holding him up.

There was a photo stuck to the fridge—one you’d taken. Him and Santi arm-wrestling at your place, stupid grins on their faces, half a beer spilled in the corner of the frame. He remembered you laughing behind the camera, saying “Act natural, idiots.”

He hadn’t taken it down, he couldn’t.

He grabbed a glass but didn’t fill it. Just stood there, staring into vast nothingness, thinking of you. How you didn’t yell until the end. How you didn’t cry until he turned away. How you said “crystal fucking clear” like you meant it.

And for the first time, it hit him:

You weren’t mad because he was dating someone. You were mad because he’d shut you out. You were hurt because he made you feel replaceable.

But you weren’t. God, you weren’t, you never could be.

You were the one person who saw through all his bullshit and still stuck around. You were the reason he even considered fixing himself. Not for you—but because when you believed in him, he started thinking maybe he could believe in himself too.

He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand into his eye sockets like he could rub the image of you out of his head. Didn’t work. You were everywhere.

In the mug you left once and he never returned. In the hoodie Mira kept asking about—"Whose is this?" your scent still clinging to it. In the way he couldn’t laugh at dumb memes anymore without checking if you’d seen them too.

Frankie Morales was in a relationship, sure.

But he was in love with someone who wouldn’t even look at him now.

And he only had himself to blame.

The next morning, he made breakfast. French toast, Strawberries on the side, just how Mira liked them. He kissed her shoulder while she sipped her coffee and made her laugh hard enough to snort. He was attentive. Present. Trying his best to silence the ghost in the room that only he could feel.

And when she asked, softly, cautiously, “You okay? You’ve been a little... distant,”

He smiled and lied. “I’m good. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”

She lit up. Actually lit up. And the worst part? She bought it.

Hook, line, and sinker.

And Frankie hated himself for how easy the lie slipped out.

It was supposed to be game night. You showed up late on purpose—half hoping maybe he wouldn't be there, half terrified that he would. But the second you walked in and saw him sitting on the couch, hand resting on the back of her chair, like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Your heart dropped.

You tried not to stare. Tried not to see it. The way her laugh came easy. The way Frankie leaned in to say something just for her, close enough to catch the scent of her hair. How she reached for his knee when she laughed too hard at something Benny said. He’d never brought girls to this. Not game nights. Not Sunday barbecues. Not this space—the one sacred little pocket of your friendship he used to keep just for the people who knew him best.

For you.

Your chest tightened like someone was wringing out your lungs.

He glanced at you once, a flick of the eyes, and then quickly away like it burned. No smile. No wave. Just... nothing. Like he hadn’t spent the last few years orbiting your every step. Like you weren’t the one who held him through half of his worst nights. Like that fight didn’t leave a crater between you big enough to swallow this whole damn room.

Santi handed you a beer. You didn’t even remember asking for one.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah, fine.”

But your hand shook when you took a sip, and you hoped no one noticed.

Mira laughed again. Loud, beautiful, perfect. And Frankie ? He laughed with her. Not that half-hearted chuckle he used to do when dates didn’t land. This one was full. Real.

You excused yourself to the kitchen before you could break down in front of everyone.

You barely made it in there before the tears started.

Silent at first—just a sting in your eyes, a tightness in your throat. You braced your hands against the counter, trying to breathe through it, trying not to fall apart like some cliché in a movie. But it wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the kind of grief that comes when someone doesn’t die, they just stop being yours.

And then you heard footsteps.

Santi.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just came up beside you, leaned his hip against the counter, and cracked open a beer like he hadn’t just walked in on a silent breakdown.

Then, quietly, observed like he always was. “Yeah... I figured this would happen.”

Your lip trembled, and you shook your head, wiping under your eyes quickly like it might hide the mess.

“I’m fine,” you lied even if your voice betrayed you in its thinness.

“You’re not,” he said gently. “And it’s okay. You don’t have to be.”

That broke something. A small, shattering sound in your chest. You let out a breath that turned into a sob and folded into him before you could stop yourself. Santi pulled you in without hesitation. No questions. no pressure. Just arms that held tight and steady while your shoulders shook, his hand on the back of your head.

“I didn’t think he’d really...” you started, but the rest dissolved into his shirt.

Santi rubbed slow circles on your back. “I know. None of us did.”

You stayed like that for a moment, tucked against him, letting his steady presence fade out some of the noise when another voice cut through the quiet.

“Jesus,” Benny muttered from the doorway. “He’s a goddamn idiot.”

You laughed against Santi’s shoulder, the sound more broken than amused. “Don’t say that. She’s not the problem.”

“I’m not talking about her,” Benny said, stepping inside. “I’m talking about him. He’s sitting out there like you never existed. That’s not Frankie. Not the one I know at least.”

Santi nodded. “He’s... stuck. Pretending so hard he forgot he’s not that good at it.”

And they didn’t say it—no one said it—but you all knew exactly who Frankie used to be good at pretending with. You. He never had to.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, trying to pull yourself together. “I don’t want to ruin the night.”

“You’re not,” Santi said firmly.

“You showing up tonight?” Benny asked. “That made the night.”

You offered a shaky smile, grateful even if you couldn’t quite show it yet.

Out in the living room, you could still hear Mira’s laugh. Still hear Frankie’s voice, low and warm and not at all the boy who used to show up at your door at 2 a.m., asking if you had Pop-Tarts and time. And maybe everyone thought he’d moved on. Maybe he thought he had, too. But if he had even glanced toward the kitchen just once—he would’ve seen the other two important people in his life holding up the one person he’d forgotten how to hold.

Nobody prepares you for the call you get late at night when you were supposed to sleep, telling you that your dad is in the hospital because of a heart attack, his condition critical.

Frankie sat on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair, breathing like he’d forgotten how. Mira stirred beside him, mumbled something soft and half-asleep, but it barely registered. The words from the phone call were still ringing in his ears like a fire alarm.

Chest pain. Ambulance. Unresponsive for two minutes.

His first instinct wasn’t to shake Mira awake.It wasn’t to call his mom, or Benny, or even Santi. It was you.

His hand moved before his brain could stop it—phone unlocked, your name already pulled up in the recents even though it had been weeks. His thumb hovered over the call button like it had muscle memory. Because in every other version of this moment—in every other emergency, every broken-down car, every fight, every loss—it had always been you.

He didn’t call. Not right away. He just stared at your name, and the photo next to it—blurry, laughing, eyes shining from that road trip last year when the AC broke and you threatened to abandon him on the side of the highway.

And that’s when it hit him, hard, fast and cold:

This isn’t a best friend anymore. This is the first person I think of when my world ends.

His hand recoiled from the phone, like it bit him.

Mira was sitting up now, rubbing her eyes. “Frankie? What’s going on?”

“My dad,” he said, voice as hollow as he felt. “He’s in the hospital.”

She was by his side in a second, hands on his shoulders, asking the right things, offering to come with him. She said all the things a good girlfriend should say, but they didn’t land.

Because all he could think about was you. Not just because you would’ve been there in a heartbeat—but because you’d know what to say. Because you’d reach for his hand before he asked. Because you’d sit beside him in that sterile waiting room and not talk unless he needed you to. Because with you, he wouldn’t have to explain what this felt like. You just… would.

And that’s when it shifted. In a way that couldn’t be undone. It wasn’t about dating, or jealousy, or the fight, or Mira. It wasn’t even about the timing anymore.

It was about truth and for the first time in weeks, it crushed him.

The fluorescent lights in the waiting room buzzed low, mechanical. Too bright for a place this heavy with dread. Frankie sat hunched over in a plastic chair, elbows on his knees, staring at the tiled floor like it owed him something—answers, maybe. A break. Mira had gone to grab coffee, or air, or space. She hadn’t specified and he hadn’t asked.

And then he heard your voice.

Soft, tentative.

“Frankie?”

He didn’t look up at first. Thought maybe his brain had conjured you again—just like it had when he’d scrolled past your name in his phone and nearly called you on instinct, like some kind of survival response. But then you were closer and right in front of him.

There, not just an imagination. Real.

Hair in this messy bun you always did when you couldn’t be bothered to straighten it. Eyes wide and red-rimmed like you’d cried in the car before coming in. Like the thought of him hurting still cracked you open even if he hurt you first.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “Santi told me. I just— I needed to be here.”

His breath caught. Not because you were there. Not even because you showed up without needing to be asked. But because part of him had known you would. Even now. Even after everything.

“You didn’t have to come,” he muttered, but it came out hoarse. Hollow, useless.

“I know.” You sat down beside him anyway. Close, but not touching. “But I wanted to.”

Frankie didn’t know what to say. His hands shook. He dug his nails into his palms like that could stop the ache building under his ribs. But it was too much, everything was too much.

“I can’t lose him,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.

And that’s when you moved. No hesitation. Just reached for him, pulled him in like you’d done a hundred times before. Only this time it broke him.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he buried his face in your shoulder and for the first time since he got that call, Frankie cried. Not loud, not dramatic. Just silent, shaking tears against the only person who ever made him feel like he was allowed to fall apart.

You held him, steady and firm. Holding his broken pieces together like you always did. Your hand in his hair, your breath steady and close. No questions, no anger, no I-told-you-so.

Just you, the one constant that always has been there and it all made it worse. Because this wasn’t Mira. This wasn’t temporary comfort, this was home. And he’d spent weeks pretending it wasn’t.

You were still holding him when Mira walked back in. Frankie’s face hidden in your neck. His hands clutching the back of your sweatshirt like he’d sink without you. His entire body folded into yours in that desperate, wordless way that doesn’t look like friendship. It looks like gravity.

She stopped mid-step.

You didn’t see her at first. You just whispered, “I’m here, okay?” and brushed your fingers through his hair the way you always did when things got bad.

But Frankie did see her and lifted his head. Eyes glassy, face streaked with silent tears, breathing uneven. His gaze locked on Mira—and in that instant, everything in the room went still. Her expression didn’t crack. Not really,not yet. But her eyes said enough.

This wasn’t the grief of a girlfriend who’d been left out. It was the grief of a woman realizing she’d never been in.

“I brought you coffee,” she said, voice tight, like she was reading a script someone handed her last minute. Frankie stood up too fast. Swiped at his face like he could erase what she saw. “Mira, it’s not—”

She held up her hand. Calm, composed. Kind.

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “You don’t owe me a performance.”

You stepped back instinctively, putting space between you and Frankie like that might fix it. Like that might soften the blow. But Mira wasn’t stupid, she wasn’t cruel, either. She just nodded, a silent resignation and set the coffee on the table beside him, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“You should’ve called her first,” she said. “I think we both know that.”

Then she left.

No big scene. No yelling. Just the hollow echo of her footsteps down the hallway and the sound of a door swinging closed behind her. Frankie didn’t move.He just stood there, looking at the coffee, shoulders stiff like they were holding the rest of him. And you?

You didn’t say I told you so or she deserved more or what are you doing even if you had every right to. You just picked up the damn coffee, pressed it into his hands, and whispered, “Drink, you’re shaking.”

And he did, even in the wreckage, in the fallout of his silence, you stayed.

It was sometime after 2 a.m. when you finally convinced Frankie to sit down again.

The ICU floor had gone still, lights dimmed, nurses moving in hushed, practiced rhythm behind sliding glass. No updates. Just waiting. You were still there. So was Santi—sitting cross-legged on the floor with a vending machine coffee and a million-miles-away stare. Benny had shown up with tacos no one asked for, claiming ‘grief makes you hungry’ and refused to leave since.

Nobody asked questions. Not about Mira, not about crying. Not even about the way Frankie hadn’t let go of your hand since you laced your fingers through his hours ago.

Santi finally passed him a coffee. “Still hot. Miracle of science.”

Frankie took it with both hands. “Thanks.” His soft brown eyes full of sorrow.

Benny threw an arm around the back of the chair beside him, stretching like he owned the room. Typical. “Listen, Morales, I know it’s not a great time, but if your old man pulls through and you don’t tell him we all waited like a bunch of loyal golden retrievers, I’m gonna start charging emotional support fees.”

That pulled the smallest breath of a laugh out of Frankie, which was the point. You gave Benny a grateful look over Frankie’s shoulder. He winked and shoved a half-eaten taco into his mouth like it was his life’s mission.

Santi leaned forward, arms on his knees. “You good on food? Water? Want me to harass a nurse?”

Frankie shook his head, lips pressed tight. Then softer, “Thanks, man.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly against his. “This is what we do.”

Frankie didn’t answer. But his grip tightened. Because he felt it—the thing that held him upright. It wasn’t Mira. It wasn’t some illusion of romance or a picture-perfect fix.

It was this. You, Santi and Benny.

People who’d sit with him in fluorescent hallways all night long. Who didn’t flinch at his mess. Who knew him and stayed anyway. Chosen family. And for the first time since he got that call, Frankie felt the sharp edge of loneliness dull just enough to breathe.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until the nurse smiled.

“He’s stable,” she said gently, as if the words might shatter in the air. “It’ll be a long road, but he made it through the worst.”

Frankie didn’t react at first. He just sat there, staring at the tiles like he hadn’t heard her. Then something in his shoulders sagged. His whole body exhaled. Like the fear that had been coiled so tightly in him all night finally let go.

You touched his arm. Lightly. Carefully. “He’s okay,” you said. And the words felt like a blessing.

Santi clapped him on the back, eyes tired but warm. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Get some rest if you can.”

Benny stood, stretched like a lazy cat, then leaned down and pressed his knuckles into Frankie’s shoulder. “Try not to emotionally combust while we’re gone. I’ve bonded with your old man now—I’m personally invested.”

They left without needing to be told. That’s what family does.

The quiet that followed was heavy. It settled over the waiting room in soft waves—early sunlight through the blinds, the hum of machines, the lingering tension that hadn’t quite disappeared with the good news. Frankie hadn’t let go of your hand all night, it’s been sweaty and uncomfortable at times but you wouldn’t say anything. But suddenly he let loose and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes trained on the floor.

“You didn’t have to come.” You swallowed hard.

“Don’t say that.”

He didn’t look at you. “I called her first.”

Your heart twisted, but you kept your voice steady. “Of course you did.”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to call you.”

He said it like it was a confession. Like it cost him something to get it out.

“I started dialing,” he went on, “but I hung up. I told myself it wasn’t fair. That I couldn’t ask you to show up again—not after everything I’ve already taken.”

You stayed quiet, let him speak.

“I tried,” he said, voice breaking. “I tried so fucking hard to move on. To convince myself that Mira was good, that she made sense. That she could be the person I needed.”

He finally looked at you and it took all your air out of your lungs.

“And she’s not you, she’ll never be.”

The words slammed into you. Hard and simple and impossible to miss.

“I thought I could keep it buried. That if I never said it out loud, I could live with it. But when I got the call about my dad, when I thought I might lose him—I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. The only person I wanted was you.”

You couldn’t breathe for a second. Couldn’t think.

Frankie scrubbed a hand over his face, tears in his eyes he didn’t bother hiding anymore. “I don’t expect anything. I know I wrecked it. I just… I needed you to know. Because if I lost him and never told you the truth, I don’t think I could’ve carried that.”

You reached out before your brain caught up, threading your fingers through his again, lifting it up to your lips and kissed his knuckles.

He looked smaller like this. Not weak, just real. Raw. All things he never let anyone see except you. You didn’t say anything. Because some truths didn’t need answers right away—they just needed air. And this one, between you and him, was finally breathing.

It didn’t happen in a single moment. There was no dramatic speech, no fireworks. No declarations in the rain.

Just… quiet.

The kind that came with knowing someone inside and out. The kind that had always lived between you.

A few days after the hospital, you showed up at his door with two coffees and a bag of something warm, and he didn’t question it. Just stepped aside and let you in like you’d never left. You curled up on the couch, tucked your legs under you like you always did, and when your fingers brushed reaching for the remote, you didn’t move away. Neither did he.

After that, it was movie nights again. Grocery runs together. Your hoodie hanging off the back of his kitchen chair. Your hair in his sink. He never asked you to stay, but you did.Until one day, you just… were. A part of his , his rhythm, his everything, like you always were, just without holding back now. Frankie wasn’t afraid to name it anymore.

No one asked questions. Not Benny, not Santi. Maybe because they’d all seen it before he had. Maybe because it was written all over both your faces the second the storm passed.

You were all at Benny’s one night—barbecue smoke thick in the air, beers half-drunk, someone playing music off an old speaker—and you were curled into his side like gravity had always meant for it. Your head on his shoulder, a small gesture but so monumental to him.

And Santi, mouth full of ribs, just grinned and muttered, “Finally.”

Frankie looked over at him. “What?”

“You two. Took you long enough. Benny and I had a whole betting pool.”

Benny snorted. “I lost, by the way. Thought it’d take ‘till Christmas.”

You laughed into his shoulder. Warm and soft and unmistakably you. Frankie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile pulling at his mouth. “Real supportive friends I’ve got.”

Benny raised his bottle. “We’re rooting for you, Morales. Doesn’t mean we can’t roast you while we do it.”

Later, after the sun dipped low and the night got quieter, you tugged him out onto Benny’s balcony. Just the two of you. The city stretched out in front of you, all hazy lights and faraway sounds. You leaned on the railing beside him, arms brushing against each other.

“I know you were a bit slow at times,” you said, eyes on the skyline. “But this… this was slow motion.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I had a lot of shit in my head, okay?”

“I know,” you said, voice softer now. “But I was right there.”

He turned to you. Took in your face, lit by the dim glow of porch light and stars above you. That expression he’d always known but only just let himself hold onto.

“You’ve always been there,” he echoed.

And then he kissed you.

Not like the end of something, not even like the start. His hands in your hair, your mouth meeting his like it already knew the shape of him. Slow, sure and welcoming.

The sun eased into the room slowly and quiet, like it knew better than to speak after the kind of night that changed everything.

You lay on your side, tangled in sheets that still smelled like him—like heat and skin and something you’d waited years to have. Frankie was asleep beside you, one arm stretched toward where your body had just been, hand curled loose on the pillow as if even in sleep he couldn’t let you go too far.

You reached for him instinctively, fingers brushing the curve of his shoulder, then trailing down his arm like you were retracing last night’s map.

It played like a movie behind your eyes. His hands, his mouth, the way he said your name like it broke something open inside him every time. The first kiss, not rushed but anchored, like he’d known exactly what he was doing—like he’d been dreaming about it and was just finally awake. Your lips tingled at the memory of where he’d kissed you. Where he lingered. Your skin still hummed in the places his hands had claimed, like he’d memorized you with his fingertips.

You pressed your fingers to your own mouth, not to stop a smile, but to feel him again. To remember how it felt when he whispered things you never thought you’d hear from him—need you, been dreaming about this, can’t believe it’s real.

Your breath caught. Not from lust, but from how right it all had felt.

The mattress dipped behind you and suddenly, there he was—still half-asleep, hair a disheveled mess, voice low and rough as he murmured, ‘Where’d you go?’ Only one eye open, just enough to peek at you.

You smiled, settling back into the warmth of him as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest like you belonged there.

“Was just thinking.”

Frankie pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, slow and warm and so him, it made your throat go tight.

“’Bout what?” he mumbled.

You smiled. “When it happened for me.”

He went still behind you. “What?”

“When I fell for you.”

His breath hitched, just slightly, and his hand tightened at your hip. “Yeah?” he whispered. “When was it?”

You let out a soft laugh. “That day you showed up at my apartment soaking wet ‘cause your car broke down and you needed to borrow a charger. You were dripping water on my rug and swearing in Spanish under your breath like the world personally offended you. I made you tea, remember?”

He groaned. “I do. I was a mess.”

“And I just… looked at you. And felt it.”

Frankie was quiet for a second, then leaned in, lips brushing the back of your neck. “You know when it happened for me?”

You turned your head slightly. “Tell me.”

“That night we crashed at my place after the bar. You passed out on the couch, and I tried to sleep. I thought I’d be fine, but I had one of the nightmares. Bad one.”

Your breath held in your chest.

“I woke up sweating, choking on my own damn breath, and before I could even sit up, you were there. Not scared, not freaked out. Just there. Sat beside me, hand on my back. Let me breathe. Didn’t say anything stupid. And most importantly you didn’t run.”

Your heart clenched.

“That was it,” he said quietly. “That’s when I knew.”

You turned in his arms, met his eyes, your hands cupping his face like he might disappear if you blinked too fast, thumbs stroking his cheekbones.

He looked at you with those warm, deep brown eyes—like melted earth after rain and it felt like he’d never seen anything more certain. More beautiful. The same way he looked at you that night on his couch, when you didn’t flinch at the worst parts of him. When you just held him, no questions asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like maybe love had already happened and neither of you had realized it yet.

And when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t wild or desperate—it was soft. Full of all the things neither of you had said for years. The things you didn’t need to say anymore.

Because you knew.

You both knew.

thank you so much for reading <3

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camille-aurelie-deveraux · 2 months ago

Note

Hey! Could I please request reader comforting Oscar after he spins out of the race. She is being a good girlfriend, and Oscar really needs it right now.

Thank you!

Comfort in your arms

The energy in Melbourne was electric. The first race of the 2025 Formula 1 season was always going to be exciting, but for Oscar, it was even more special. It was his home race—the one where he had grown up dreaming of one day competing in front of his family, friends, and thousands of Aussie fans. But more than anything, he was happy because Yn was here with him.

They had been together for years now, their relationship built on mutual support, understanding, and an unwavering love for one another. No matter what happened on track, Yn was always there for him, just like he was for her.

Now, as he sat in his race suit, exhausted and frustrated after a chaotic Australian Grand Prix, all he wanted was to see her.

Oscar had started the race strong, maintaining his position in the top three for most of it. The car felt good, and for a while, it seemed like a solid points finish was guaranteed. But then, disaster struck.

Lap 42. He had been pushing hard, trying to close the gap to the car in front when the rear of his car suddenly stepped out mid-corner.

“Ah, no—no, no, no!” he shouted into the radio as he spun off the track, grass spraying in all directions.

For a moment, his heart sank, thinking it was all over. But with quick reactions, he managed to get the car pointed in the right direction and rejoin the race. It wasn’t over, but he had lost precious positions.

By the time the checkered flag fell, he had salvaged a P9 finish. Points, but not the result he had been hoping for at home.

Now, walking back to his driver's room, he could feel the frustration settling deep in his chest.

Then he saw her.

Yn was already waiting for him inside, her arms crossed as she leaned against the small couch, watching him with concern. The moment Oscar stepped through the door, she moved toward him.

"Hey," she said softly. "Rough one?"

Oscar let out a breath and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Yeah. I really messed that up."

"You didn't mess up," she corrected, stepping closer. "You finished in the points after a spin. That’s still a solid drive."

He shook his head. "Not good enough. Not at my home race."

Yn sighed, reaching out to cup his face gently. "Stop that," she murmured, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "You drove an incredible race. One mistake doesn’t change that. You kept fighting, and that’s what matters."

Oscar leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I just—" He exhaled, shaking his head again. "I really wanted a good result today. For everyone here. For you."

She frowned at that. "You don’t owe me anything, Oscar. I’m proud of you no matter what."

His chest tightened at her words. She always knew exactly what to say.

Yn reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, slow and reassuring. Oscar immediately melted into it, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

She kissed him again, lingering, making sure he knew how much she meant every word she said. When she pulled back slightly, their faces remained close, breath mingling.

"You did amazing," she whispered.

Oscar swallowed hard, his hands tightening on her hips. "I needed that," he admitted, his voice raw.

"Good," she said with a small smile. "Because I plan to keep doing it until you believe me."

A small chuckle escaped him, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear. He leaned forward again, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You’re too good to me," he murmured.

Yn’s hands slid up to the back of his neck, playing with the damp curls there. "You make it easy."

Oscar sighed and pulled her even closer, pressing slow, lingering kisses along her jaw before trailing down to her neck. He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, his lips warm and soft against her.

Yn let out a soft hum of approval, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"I really needed this," he admitted between kisses.

"I know," she whispered.

He kissed her again, firmer this time, pouring every ounce of emotion into it. She responded immediately, her hands gripping his race suit. He didn’t want to let go—didn’t want to think about the race, the spin, or the points lost. Right now, all that mattered was her.

Yn pulled back slightly, tilting his chin up so he met her gaze. "You are incredible, Oscar. One spin doesn’t change that. And no matter what happens on track, I’ll always be here for you."

His heart clenched at her words.

"I love you," he said suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could even think about them.

Yn smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "I love you too," she whispered.

And just like that, everything felt a little bit lighter.

🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎 🏎

Hi readers! Please enjoy this little piece. I would be very happy if you would send me some requests. See ya till next time!

-Cami 🏎

#f1 x reader #Cami 🏎#formula 1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x female reader

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em-ontv · 8 months ago

Text

Hit and fall.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Summary: Stiles has been pining after you for years now, and this was his chance to woo you, at a lacrosse game, but nothing ever really goes his way, does it?

Content: no use of y/n, Stiles being clumsy and messing up, he's kind of down bad

Author's note: I cannot believe I haven't written anything for him yet, he's so UGH, the single best thing in the show. Not proof-read, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 786

Stiles had a problem. A big, heart-pounding, gut-wrenching problem. And that was you.

For years, he had harbored a crush on you, he sank so deep that it had basically become a third party in all of his conversations. He had known you since middle school, when you shared a science class together and he lent you a pen — only for you to reveal that you had your own pen all along.

"Just wanted to see if you were a good guy," you had said with a small smirk.

And that was it.

Stiles was hooked.

But tonight was different. Tonight was the night he was finally going to do something about it. Not some grand, fancy, caviar stuff, no. He had a simpler plan: impress you with his lacrosse skills at tonight's big game.

He had everything set up already, making sure to ask your friend to convince you to come since you didn't really go to any sports games. He figured if he showed you that he could be athletic and charming, maybe you'd finally see him as someone who's more than just the goofy guy from history class.

The problem though? Stiles wasn't exactly known for his athletic skills. Sure, he was on the lacrosse team, but, uh, he was mostly on the bench… yeah, it took some convincing for Coach Finstock to let him play tonight.

Still, Stiles was determined. He practiced, maybe not as much as he should have, but he practiced. And he had been psyching himself up all day, telling himself that tonight was the night he'd finally make his move.

You agreed to your friend's invitation to come to the game. All the stars are aligning, this was his shot.

And then he saw you.

You were in the stands, cheering with the rest of the students, an excited grin on your face. His heart leapt into his throat. His palms started to sweat. This wasn't good. He hadn't planned for this. He hadn't planned for you to be here — well, he had — but not for you to look so radiant and supportive and just so… you.

"Stiles. You okay, man?" Scott called from the field.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good!" Stiles called back, but he wasn't. Not even close. His mind was scrambling, a mess of everything that all led to one point: You were here. Watching him. Right Now.

The game started, and for the first few minutes, he managed to hold it together, he did pretty good, actually. But then he made the mistake of looking up at the stands again, and there you were, waving at him with that smile that made his insides twist up in knots, his legs felt like they were giving out right then and there.

And that's when things started to go very, very wrong.

He missed a pass. Then another. He tripped over his own stick, stumbled into Matt, and accidentally whacked Isaac in the shins with his lacrosse stick.

"Stilinski!" Coach Finstock bellowed from the sidelines. "Are you trying to lose us this game single-handedly?!"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles shouted back, trying to regain his focus. But it was useless. His nerves were twisted, his concentration shattered.

And then, just to add salt to the open wound, a well-aimed shot from the other team's captain hit him square in the chest.

Stiles went down like a sack of potatoes.

The world blurred around him, gasps and murmurs from the crowd filling his ears. But all that was on his mind was, Great. Just great. I'm finally gonna get her attention, and it's because I'm flat on my back like a total idiot.

When he finally managed to sit up, he saw you in the stands, your eyes filled with concern and shock. Perfect. Just perfect. He had managed to embarrass himself in front of you in the most spectacular way possible.

Stiles limped over to the bench at the sound of a whistle being blown, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest and the throbbing embarrassment in his soul, trying to grapple onto the last of his dignity while he sank down onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He could already hear the teasing he was going to get from Scott and the rest of the team. But the worst part? He had blown his chance with you.

As he sat there, wallowing in his misery, he finally peeked through his fingers to see you in the stands, laughing with your friend — were you laughing at him? Did you think he was an idiot now? Well, to be fair, the fall to the ground was a little ridiculous.

Great.

Just great.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brian imagine

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misshoneyimhome · 16 days ago

Note

Your last relic has given me many thoughts! One being a 3some of Willy and Knies. Knies thinks he knows everything there is about pleasing women and Willy shows him that he in fact knows nothing.

Oh absolutely, this combo is definitely one of my top favourites too! 🌺 And honestly, who better to guide the baby Leafs than our calm, collected, and ever-so-charming Swedish boyfriend?

Hopefully I captured even a hint of what you had in mind when it comes to William’s gentle yet confident teaching vibes 🙈

Tropes & warnings: Matthew Knies x reader x William Nylander, Friends to lovers, Smut 18+: Threesome (M/M/F), Oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), Vaginal sex (protected), DVP, Praise kink, soft dom vibes, Gentle guidance, reverence, aftercare

➼｡ﾟ

Bed Chem I William Nylander x reader x Matthew Knies ☆

The moment the final buzzer went off, the building erupted.

You weren’t on the ice, but somehow you felt it all the same—that pulse of adrenaline, the eruption of joy that cracked through the walls of Scotiabank Arena like a sonic boom. The Toronto Maple Leafs had clinched a playoff spot, and the city was electric. So were the players. So were you.

The locker room had been a mess of champagne sprays and booming music, post-game interviews overlapping with spontaneous shouts and camera flashes. But by the time you reached the dimly lit rooftop bar uptown, the energy had mellowed into something warmer. The buzz of victory still hung in the air, but it was laced now with alcohol, cigarette smoke from the balcony, and the sort of grins that came from knowing a season’s worth of grit had finally paid off.

You arrived with a couple of the WAGs, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to find you.

“There she is,” he said, looping an arm around your shoulders like it was second nature. “Thought you were gonna ghost us after the win.”

You gave him a look, amused. “You think I’d miss a party full of sweaty men and overpriced cocktails?”

“Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “But only because you’re smarter than all of us.”

He tugged you toward the bar, ordering you a drink before you could even ask. He remembered your go-to without question—of course he did. You’d been there through enough of his rough nights and quiet ones, holding space and talking him down when the city felt too big, too loud. He’d always said you made it easier.

Tonight, he was golden. Laughing freely, glow from the overhead string lights catching in his tousled curls. You stayed close, not because you felt like you had to—but because being near Matthew always felt like choosing warmth in a cold room.

“You sticking to your usual?” you asked, nodding to the beer in his hand.

He glanced down at the label and made a face. “I dunno, I might need to branch out. Try something more… mature.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, sipping your drink. “Like a whiskey sour?”

“Like a wine spritzer,” he deadpanned.

You choked on your drink mid-laugh, earning a proud smirk from him. That was how the night flowed—easy, playful. You’d drifted in and out of conversations with other guys, teammates leaning over to toast, make a joke, ask you how work was. But Matthew always came back, his hand at the small of your back, his laugh ready for your next sarcastic quip.

You weren’t blind to how the others saw it. You’d heard the chirps. The “When’s the wedding?” comments. The knowing glances. But it wasn’t like that. You were close—had been since the day he’d landed in Toronto, fresh-faced and already exhausted by the noise. You’d been his anchor.

Still, as you leaned against the bar beside him now, the air between you felt… warmer than usual. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the way his thumb absently brushed your wrist. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, you didn’t feel the need to pull away.

And that’s when Mitch, two beers deep and already in rare form, decided to start chirping.

“Mattie, be honest,” he called out across the lounge. “You bring your own PR girl out for moral support, or is this part of your new strategy?”

Matthew didn’t flinch. “She’s just here to keep me humble.”

You rolled your eyes, but Mitch wasn’t done.

“No seriously—dude acts like he’s a girl whisperer just ‘cause he got a couple swipe rights after a hat trick.”

“That was one time,” Matthew muttered.

“I bet he still thinks making a girl laugh is enough to get her off,” Mitch added, practically giggling now.

You turned your head toward Matthew, sipping your drink with a smirk. “Is that true, Kniesy? Is that your big secret weapon?”

His eyes flicked to yours, somewhere between defensive and amused. “Maybe… you know, I’m very attentive.”

“Oh, so you’ve read a women’s magazine before.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning in, “I didn’t say Cosmo wasn’t a resource.”

Laughter broke across the group. Even you giggled—genuinely. He was good at that, at making you laugh without trying too hard.

And still, you felt it: a shift in the air. The faint buzz of someone watching.

You turned your head, casually scanning the room.

William stood near the windows. Alone.

A glass of something amber in his hand, one foot crossed over the other, posture relaxed—but his eyes were trained on you. He looked like something out of a noir film. Gold hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck, sharp jaw highlighted in low light, blue eyes unreadable but unwavering.

You hadn’t spoken much tonight. A few words in passing. A gentle squeeze of your elbow when you first arrived. But you knew that look. You’d felt it before.

William Nylander didn’t hover. He didn’t chase. But he watched—especially when it came to you. Not possessive. Not overt. Just… watchful. Like someone who kept the perimeter clear without ever needing to be asked.

You turned back to your drink before your thoughts could spiral.

“So,” Matthew said, leaning in with a grin. “Back me up here. You do think I’m a good listener, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re an excellent listener. When it comes to Spotify playlists and Uber Eats orders.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged, teasing. “Your success rate with women might have less to do with skill and more to do with… face symmetry.”

Matthew groaned. “Unbelievable.”

You leaned into his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for only him to hear. “You’re cute. You’ve got a good heart. But I don’t think you know quite as much as you think you do.”

He looked down at you, playful spark dimming just a bit into something more earnest. “So teach me.”

The words hung between you for a beat longer than they should have.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before William joined your side.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped in, sitting close enough that his arm brushed yours. He was still holding his drink, but his attention was fully on the two of you now. And Matthew—bless him—sat up straighter.

William’s voice was quiet but firm. “Some lessons take more than charm.”

Matthew blinked. “Wasn’t asking you, bro.”

“I know,” William replied, eyes still on you. “But maybe she should.”

Your pulse jumped.

The banter was still there. The teasing. But something else had slipped underneath it. Something sharper. He wasn’t just joking. And neither were you.

You swallowed, trying to mask the heat rising in your chest. The room had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way both of them were looking at you now—like you were something worth studying. Something worth sharing.

Somewhere deep in your gut, you felt it:

This night was far from over.

It was always like that with team nights out—one moment the room was buzzing, too full, too loud, everyone trying to shout over each other, and the next it was emptying out, drinks half-finished, jackets thrown over shoulders, plans whispered between teammates as they slipped out in pairs or small groups.

You hadn’t noticed how late it was until you checked your phone. Past one.

Someone had changed the playlist from classic bar bangers to something smoother, bass-heavy, the kind of rhythm you felt in your chest before you even recognised the song. The laughter had faded. The clinking glasses, too. And when you finally looked up from the low leather couch, it hit you—nearly everyone had left.

Nearly.

Matthew was still beside you, legs spread, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, leaning forward now like the weight of the day had finally hit him. He looked relaxed. Buzzed. Eyes soft and cheeks still faintly flushed.

William stood a few feet away, now with his drink abandoned on the edge of a side table. He was rolling the hem of his sleeve with slow, careful fingers, like he had nowhere else to be.

You wet your lips, heart skipping when the silence held. It wasn’t awkward. But it wasn’t casual either.

Matthew exhaled a short laugh. “Didn’t realise we were the stragglers.”

“Or the smart ones,” William offered, finally sitting down in the armchair across from you both.

You watched the way he lounged into it, like his body already knew how to own a space before his mind even tried. William was… intimidating in the quiet. Not because he was trying to be—but because there was something about his silence that felt like a secret.

Matthew gave a half-smile. “Guess that means we get the afterparty.”

You stretched your arms above your head and hummed. “Or we’re just too stubborn to go home.”

“Speak for yourself,” Matthew said. “I live for moments like this.”

“Like what?”

“This,” he gestured around. “End of the night. No pressure. Just… honesty.”

You looked at him sideways, surprised.

William tilted his head. “That usually comes after drink number six.”

“Exactly,” Matthew grinned. “We’ve reached that stage.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just let your gaze bounce between them. The air felt… different. Still warm, but thicker. Slower.

“So,” Matthew said, suddenly glancing at you, “what’s the most honest thing you’ve said to someone after midnight?”

You blinked. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I know. That’s why I asked it.”

You smiled. “I told someone I was in love with their dog once.”

Matthew snorted. “That tracks.”

You glanced at William. “Your turn.”

He looked at you, then at Matthew. “I told someone I didn’t want just sex.”

That pulled the air tight.

Matthew blinked. You stared.

“Well, damn,” Matthew said softly. “Didn’t expect you to go deep.”

William just shrugged. “Honesty, right?”

You looked at him a moment longer. The calm in his voice wasn’t forced. There was no bitterness. But something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

“What about you?” William asked, nodding at Matthew.

Matthew hesitated. Then smirked. “I once told a girl I could make her come just with my mouth.”

You burst out laughing. “No, you didn’t.”

He raised a hand in mock-defence. “Hey, she agreed with me.”

“Was she unconscious?”

William chuckled. “That’s the cockiest thing I’ve heard all week.”

Matthew grinned. “I’m just saying, I’m good at what I do.”

You gave him a look, playful but sharp. “You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who thought clitoral stimulation was a TikTok trend.”

Matthew feigned a gasp. “I did not!”

“You did,” William added, unbothered. “In the group chat. We all remember.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

You were laughing again, but something about the heat in your cheeks wasn’t just from amusement. It was Matthew’s eyes on you, bold and youthful, and William’s steadier gaze—quiet, unreadable, but somehow deeper. You felt the shift again. That edge between teasing and something else. Something closer to a line neither of you had acknowledged yet.

You stretched your legs out across Matthew’s lap without thinking. He rested his hands lightly on your shins, thumbs brushing over your skin. William’s eyes followed the movement, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” you said, tone light but voice quieter, “for a guy who claims to be so good with women, you never really struck me as someone who… understood them.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

You nodded. “You’re enthusiastic. And sweet. But I think you think enthusiasm can replace intuition.”

He looked genuinely intrigued. “So what, I need a mentor?”

“Maybe,” you teased. “Someone older. Wiser. More… Swedish.”

William didn’t even blink. “You offering your services?”

You paused. The words hung there.

Then you tilted your head. “Maybe I am.”

Matthew leaned back, mock serious. “Are we talking about, like… a coaching session?”

You smirked. “You couldn’t handle me, Kniesy.”

“Try me.”

William shifted in his seat, jaw flexing just slightly. “He might try, but he won’t finish.”

Your breath hitched.

Matthew grinned, playing it cool. “You think you’d do better?”

William’s gaze never left yours. “I know I would.”

That’s when it happened. That moment. The second when everything tipped sideways. Because you weren’t joking anymore. And neither were they.

And God help you, but the idea didn’t scare you. It thrilled you.

You took a breath, heart pounding. “We could always find out.” The words slipped out softer than you expected. Barely more than a whisper.

Matthew blinked. “Wait—are you… serious?”

You looked between them. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the tension that had been brewing for years. Your pulse was screaming, but your gut was calm. “I trust you both,” you said. “And I… want to feel good. I want to be with people who know me. Who care.”

William leaned forward slowly. “We’d never do anything you weren’t sure about.”

Matthew nodded, eyes wide but sincere. “We’d take care of you.”

You gave a slow, steady nod. “Then let’s go.”

No one moved for a moment. It was like the silence itself needed a second to process what had just happened.

Then William stood first, walking over to you and offering a hand. You took it without hesitation. Matthew followed close behind, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one shoulder.

And as you stepped into the cool spring air, sandwiched between two men who suddenly looked at you like you were a star they couldn’t stop orbiting, your chest tightened—not in fear, but in anticipation.

Because this wasn’t just a wild idea anymore.

This was happening.

And something told you… it would change everything.

William’s place was warm.

Not just physically, though the condo had that lived-in luxury—soft lighting, clean lines, the smell of cologne and something woodsy hanging faintly in the air. But the warmth came from something else. The quiet, steady kind. The way William held the door for you and Matthew. The way he let you walk in first like you belonged here.

You’d been in this place before—group hangs, pre-game meet-ups, the odd Sunday movie night when the guys needed normalcy. But never like this. Never with this undercurrent humming beneath your skin, this sense that every movement was leading somewhere.

“Can I get you guys anything?” William asked, already shrugging off his jacket.

You shook your head, still standing in the entryway, heartbeat too loud.

“No,” Matthew said softly. “I think we’re good.”

William looked over his shoulder at you, eyes darker now. “Then come here.”

You moved slowly, unsure but not nervous. Like stepping out onto a frozen lake—you could feel the tension beneath the surface, but something in you trusted it to hold.

Matthew trailed behind you, a step or two slower, his usual confidence muted now into something gentler. Watching you. Watching William.

You stood in the centre of the living room, just a breath apart, the three of you hovering like magnets waiting to be pulled together.

It was William who crossed the distance first.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“You sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His kiss was soft. Focused. Like he’d wanted to kiss you for a long, long time and was finally allowing himself the pleasure. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was knowing.

You leaned into it before you realised, one hand sliding up his chest, anchoring yourself to the steady beat of his heart.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to glance past you—to Matthew.

“Come here.”

Matthew obeyed. You felt his presence at your back, warm and close, as his hand found your waist and his lips grazed your neck.

“God,” he breathed. “This is… so much better than anything I ever imagined.”

You laughed softly, breath catching as he pressed a kiss behind your ear. “You imagined this?”

“I’m a guy,” he said. “We imagine everything.”

William chuckled low, one hand sliding along your arm. “Then stop imagining.”

And just like that, it began.

They moved with you, not at you—guiding you gently to the sofa, William sitting first and tugging you into his lap, your knees straddling him as Matthew settled beside you, hands brushing your thighs like a question.

You kissed William again, deeper now, more need curling beneath your skin. You felt Matthew’s lips at your shoulder, his hands climbing slowly up your torso, fingertips teasing beneath your blouse.

When he reached the first button, he paused.

“This okay?”

You nodded.

One by one, the buttons came undone. Then William’s hands joined his—warm palms sliding up your back as they helped you ease out of the fabric.

Every touch felt intentional. Every movement filled with quiet reverence.

“You’re beautiful,” Matthew whispered. “Like, unfairly.”

You turned your head and kissed him—Matthew—softly, testing the space between you, surprised by how natural it felt. How right. There was no hesitation, no awkward clash of lips. Just warmth. The heat of his breath mingling with yours as his mouth parted under the pressure, tasting of beer and something more.

Your fingers curled at his nape, drawing him in as you deepened it, emboldened by the low sound he made—half sigh, half groan. His hands stayed respectfully on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles just above the hem of your jeans, as though memorising the feel of your body, asking for permission with every pass of skin on skin.

Then you felt another pair of hands—steady, sure, achingly familiar.

William’s.

They skimmed low, trailing from your ribs to your hips, where they caught the waistband of your jeans and knickers. He moved with careful intention, tugging them downward in one smooth, patient motion. You rose slightly, shifting your weight just enough to let him help you out of them completely.

The moment you were bare, the air hit your skin—cool, sharp, electric.

And then William’s mouth followed.

He kissed your inner thigh first, just above the knee, a slow drag of lips and breath that made you twitch. Then higher. Then higher still. You felt the stubble on his jaw graze you gently, his nose nudge soft skin as he pressed closer. And finally, the warmth of his breath against your core.

You couldn’t help it—you gasped.

His hands came to rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing lines along their curve as he knelt between your legs. His eyes lifted to meet yours, sharp and dark and reverent, like he was about to say grace.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “About tasting you. About making you fall apart.”

And then his mouth was on you.

Firm. Intentional. Unhurried.

His tongue swept through your folds with maddening precision, teasing before pressing flat against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He moaned softly into you, and the vibration alone sent a bolt of heat through your spine.

Your back arched, hands scrambling for something to hold on to. One found his shoulder. The other slid into his hair—thick, soft, a little damp with sweat—and you tugged, instinctively, just enough to feel him groan in response. The sound went straight through you.

You could feel every detail. Every flick of his tongue. Every purposeful pause. Every moment he let his nose nudge against your thigh like he couldn’t get close enough. It was overwhelming. And still—somehow—exactly what you needed.

Beside you, Matthew hadn’t moved far. His breath was uneven now, chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a shift. He reached out with one hand, stroking the length of your arm with gentle reverence. His other hand cradled your jaw, grounding you in his presence as his lips found yours again—slow, coaxing kisses that gave you something to hold onto while William unraveled you below.

Your thighs began to shake. That pressure—low, hot, coiling—was building fast.

“W-Willy,” you gasped, hips tilting into his mouth.

And then he stopped.

Pulled back. Licked his lips.

You let out a sound—needy, wrecked, half-whimper.

He just smiled. “Your turn,” he told Matthew, his voice rough and knowing.

Matthew looked like he might combust on the spot.

“I—I don’t wanna ruin the fun,” he admitted, flushed to the ears, breath catching.

“You won’t,” William said calmly, standing to his full height. “Watch. Listen. Then try.”

You moved in your position, pulse still racing, as you lay back on the couch, legs open and draped across the cushions in invitation. Matthew moved between them, eyes wide, searching your face like you were sacred scripture.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this.”

He started slow. Tongue tentative. Hands a little unsure, but sweet. So sweet.

William crouched beside him, not touching either of you—just guiding. “Go slower. Focus on the top. Feel her breathing. Let that guide you.”

Matthew listened. Really listened.

He adjusted. Tilted his head. Flattened his tongue. One of his hands splayed against your lower stomach, the other steadied your thigh, and he moaned when he felt you twitch beneath him.

Your breath caught.

He was definitely a quick learner. Smart and curious. And when he found that rhythm—pressure and pace just right—you let your head fall back with a cry.

“Matt—oh my God—”

He kept going. Determined now and focused. He sucked your clit a few times, and just like that you came, hard and fast—hips bucking, hands fisting the cushions, voice echoing through the room as the coil inside you snapped and pleasure rushed over you in waves.

Matthew pulled back slowly, lips shiny, eyes wide with something like awe.

“Oh… yes,” he breathed, resting his head on your thigh like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “That was—holy shit.”

William chuckled softly from above you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you.”

You were still shaking, heart pounding, chest heaving.

And then they came back to you. William next to you on the couch, lifting you gently into his lap, kissing your temple. Matthew kneeling at your feet, stroking your calves as he gazed up at you with something between pride and disbelief.

And then, like they’d rehearsed it, they kissed you—one on the neck, one on your lips. Like you were sacred. Like you were theirs.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were.

“More?” William asked, his voice husky, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, breath shaky, body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Say it,” he whispered, his hand trailing down your side, anchoring you with every touch. “Tell us what you want.”

Your reply was a breath, a confession. “I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

The air shifted—like something ancient and silent had just been summoned. They helped you up, warm hands on your arms and hips as you left the sofa behind and padded down the hallway together. William guided you into his bedroom, dimly lit and clean, with soft sheets and the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air. You could hear Matthew behind you, the slight catch in his breath, the soft creak of the floorboard under his weight.

Your back met the edge of the bed, and you sank down gently as you watched them both undress completely.

William stood at the foot of it, eyes dark with restraint as he reached into the nightstand drawer. He slid a condom out of the box, tore it open with ease, and rolled it on with a practiced hand, his gaze never leaving you. Then he climbed onto the bed, shifting beside you and drawing you gently to your side, body curled around yours.

His hands were everywhere—stroking your spine in long, grounding sweeps, massaging your hips with reverence, touching you like he was reminding himself you were real. One of your legs lifted to hook over his hip, welcoming him in.

He kissed your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, before positioning himself at your entrance.

And then—slowly, carefully—he pressed in.

The stretch made your eyes flutter shut. You gasped, body arching instinctively as the fullness hit, his body molding to yours in the most intimate way. The heat of his chest at your back. The sound of his breath at your ear. It was more than sex—it was surrender.

You opened your eyes—and there was Matthew.

Standing in front of you, one hand loosely gripping the base of his cock, the other resting against his stomach. He was flushed, eyes heavy, lips parted as he watched William sink into you.

You reached for him. “Come here.”

He did.

You took him in your hand first—slow, teasing strokes that made his hips twitch—before guiding him gently to your lips. You kissed the tip, then slid your mouth over him inch by inch, letting the moan in your throat reverberate around him.

William began to move behind you. Long, deep thrusts. Controlled. Reverent. His fingers tightened around your waist as he matched the rhythm of your mouth.

It was overwhelming—in the best possible way. The push and pull. The heat. The rhythm of William moving inside you, the weight of Matthew on your tongue, their soft groans and praises surrounding you like a lullaby spun from sin and safety.

You were the centre of gravity. And you wanted more.

You pulled off Matthew with a whimper, lips wet, hand still stroking him slowly. “I want to feel you too,” you whispered to him. “Please.”

They stilled.

William’s hand traced down your side, grounding you. Matthew looked at you like he was trying to memorise you.

A pause. Then William’s voice, low and careful: “You’re sure?”

You nodded. “Yes. I want this. I want both of you.”

William then gently pulled out before Matthew reached for a condom with shaking hands, tearing it open and rolling it on with quiet reverence. Then he lay back on the mattress, propped on pillows, arms open in invitation.

You climbed over him slowly, one knee on each side of his hips, gently and slowly guiding him to your entrance. You gasped as you eased down onto him—already sensitive, already aching—and he moaned beneath you, hands flying to your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You rode him slowly at first, trying to catch your breath. But then William was behind you again—steady, calm, the grounding presence he always was. He pressed soft kisses between your shoulder blades, hands sliding along your waist.

“Lean forward for me,” he murmured.

You obeyed, bracing your hands on either side of Matthew’s head. His arms cradled your back, keeping you steady as William positioned himself again.

You felt him—hot and hard—at your entrance. And then, with excruciating care, he pushed inside.

The stretch made you cry out. Your fingers curled into the sheets. Your body trembled with the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” William breathed into your shoulder. “Let me in. Let us take care of you.”

They held still for a long moment, letting you adjust. Letting your body catch up to the sensation of being filled completely.

Then—slowly—they began to move.

In sync.

One pushing while the other pulled. A rhythm of careful thrusts and reverent touches. Their hands roamed your body like you were art. Their lips brushed against your back, your shoulder, your neck. Matthew’s eyes locked with yours, wide and worshipful.

You’d never felt anything like it. Not even close.

The pleasure was molten. Liquid. Spreading through you like wildfire. Your moans turned to cries. Their names spilled from your lips like prayers.

You came first.

It hit like a wave—your body shuddering, your thighs quaking, your voice cracking as they held you between them, coaxing you through it.

Matthew followed next, gasping your name as he thrust deep one last time, head thrown back against the pillow.

William came last—always controlled, always composed—his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried himself fully, groaning into your skin as he let go.

And then…

Stillness.

Just the sound of breathing. The weight of their bodies. The lingering tremble in your limbs.

You collapsed between them, chest heaving, every nerve ending singing.

No one spoke. They didn’t have to.

It was quiet.

Not the kind of silence that begged to be filled—but the kind that settled in like a warm blanket, the kind that only followed something honest. Something real. Like your bodies had said more than words ever could, and now the quiet was just the breath between pages.

You lay between them. Skin still flushed, heartbeat finally slowing. Matthew beneath you, chest rising and falling, one hand still tracing lazy patterns up and down your back. William behind you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other splayed across your ribs like he never wanted to let go.

No one moved. Not really.

Matthew let out a low, exhausted chuckle.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

You smiled, face buried against his chest. “Can’t feel my brain.”

William kissed the top of your spine. “Can’t feel bad about that.”

You laughed softly—genuine, a little sleepy. Your muscles ached, but not in a way that hurt. More like the echo of something good. Something earned.

They stayed close, touching you gently like you might disappear if they let go for even a second.

You shifted slightly, limbs heavy, letting your cheek rest against Matthew’s chest. His skin was warm. His heartbeat steady.

“I still feel like I’m floating,” you murmured.

“Same,” he said, voice low, a little shy now. “That was…”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

William’s voice came from behind you, soft and steady. “You were perfect.”

You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“So were you.”

He smiled—slow, tired, full of something that made your heart clench.

“I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t just… let us have you. You trusted us. That matters.”

Matthew nodded. “It really does.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of those words sink in. Maybe it should’ve felt overwhelming. Maybe you should’ve been second-guessing everything. But all you felt was… full.

In every sense of the word.

“Alright,” William said, sitting up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You started to protest, but he was already easing you up, his hands gentle, movements unhurried. Matthew helped too, his touch soft, reverent, the teasing edge from earlier now replaced with something tender.

William disappeared into the ensuite, returning a moment later with a warm cloth and a bottle of water.

He crouched beside the bed, pressing the bottle into your hands. “Small sips.”

You obeyed.

Then he brushed a damp cloth between your thighs, movements careful, almost clinical—but still loving. Like he was honouring the body he’d just worshipped.

You touched his wrist lightly, silently thanking him.

When he finished, he climbed back into bed beside you. You reached for him without thinking. Matthew rolled over too, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“We should probably talk,” you whispered, unsure where the thought came from, but knowing it needed to be said.

“Eventually,” William said, already pulling the covers up over all three of you. “But not tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matthew echoed. “Let’s just… be.”

You sank into the sheets, wrapped in warmth and the scent of their skin.

The weight of the moment finally settled in your chest—not heavy, but real.

Because this wasn’t just some wild night. Not something you’d laugh about tomorrow and lock away in a mental file labelled “one-time mistakes.”

This was something else. Something that shifted tectonic plates you hadn’t realised were movable.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. You didn’t know what this meant for any of you.

But right now, in this bed, with two men who had just shown you more tenderness and reverence than you’d ever expected to receive in your entire life—right now, you weren’t afraid.

You were seen. Held. Wanted.

And when you finally drifted off, tangled between William’s quiet strength and Matthew’s golden warmth, the last thing you felt was a kiss on your forehead… and a voice, low and steady, murmuring into the dark:

“Sleep, baby. We’ve got you.”

#my asks #smut 18+#william nylander x reader x Matthew knies #william nylander imagine #matthew knies imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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katsu28 · 4 months ago

Text

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different.

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?”

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.”

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.”

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is.

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.”

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam.

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind.

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!”

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach.

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?”

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!”

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.”

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you.

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?”

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.”

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.”

“I think it’s plenty dry.”

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you.

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?”

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him.

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Right.

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?”

“Is the water nice?”

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots.

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.

“Jumping off the roof!”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?”

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip.

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.”

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought.

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.

“That was…exhilarating.”

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you.

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.”

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!”

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response.

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.”

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!”

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.”

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself.

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t.

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening.

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here?

The answer is a mystery even to you.

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now.

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.”

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—”

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?”

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?”

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.”

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary.

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.”

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.”

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you.

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.”

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.”

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.”

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?”

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.”

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since.

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.”

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?”

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.”

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“He thinks?”

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.”

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right.

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?”

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?”

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.”

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.”

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.”

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris imagine #summer's golden haze

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taurasiluvr · 11 months ago

Text

SEE YOUR MAN IS A MAN BUT HE AIN'T ME / SEE THAT * CAN'T BE WHAT HE CAN'T BE ── BUECKERS⁵

how you can help palestine part one part three

★ i got a couple requests for a prequel for my paige fic, so here it is!! ★ "queen u should do like a prequel to ur paige fic where u show what happened when the mc and bf was on break. ur writing is amazing btw 😘😘" /// "hey girlie, could u do a part two to the paige fic but like it’s sorta a prequel? like what happens when the reader and her bf were on a break. ur an amazing writer, thank u for ur service 🫡"

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. fingering, oral (r receiving), more cheating, mentions of alcohol, ugly ass bf (ewww)

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 4.7k

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

"that's what i fucking said!" you shouted into the phone, frustration evident in your voice.

you glanced at your nails, trying to keep your temper in check as your boyfriend's rant continued on the other end of the line. his shouting about god knows what was getting on your nerves, especially since you were at paige's place, getting ready for a party.

paige leaned against the doorframe, her eyes full of concern as she watched you. she could hear your boyfriend's muffled yelling from across the room and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

you sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. "look, i can't do this right now. i'm at p's right now, and we're about to head out. we'll talk later," you said, trying to end the call.

"don't hang up on me!" your boyfriend snapped, his voice loud enough that even paige could make out his words. she frowned, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you.

"my god, this shit is exhausting!" you said, exasperation coloring your tone. "we're on break, okay? this is the exact reason why we are on the break in the first place, i'm tired of you!"

paoge reached out and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. she mouthed, "hang up," and you nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for her support.

"bye, i'll talk to you later." you said firmly, ending the call despite your boyfriend's protests. you dropped your phone onto the bed and took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger bubbling inside you.

paige stepped closer, her hands gently cupping your face. "you okay?" she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

you nodded, though your frustration was still evident. "yeah, just... sick of his shit. he's always yelling about something."

paige's thumbs brushed lightly against your cheeks. "you don't have to put up with that, you know."

"i know," you sighed, leaning into her touch. "it's just... complicated."

paige gave you a small, understanding smile. "it doesn't have to be."

you looked at her, searching for comfort in her steady gaze. "let's just get ready for the party, needa forget about him for a while."

paige nodded, her smile widening. "sounds like a plan."

you both continued getting ready, the atmosphere lightening as paige started making jokes and playfully teasing you. she helped you pick out an outfit, her eyes lingering on you with a mix of admiration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"if he saw me wear this, i swear he'd lose his shit," you laughed as you eyed yourself through the reflection.

paige rolled her eyes. "you know this is a free country right? he's just an insecure fuck."

you laughed as you glanced at the blonde, you could see her gaze lingering on your ass for a little longer than a friend should have. you felt your cheeks heat up as you licked your lips, choosing to ignore it. paige had always admired you; she's never hid the fact she thought you were hot from you.

"you're just saying that 'cause you have better taste," you teased, adjusting the hem of your shirt.

Paige smirked, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "damn right i do. and you look amazing."

your blush deepened, but you tried to play it off with a laugh. "thanks, p. you always know how to make me feel good."

"that's what i'm here for," she replied with a wink.

the sound of your phone buzzing interrupted the moment. you glanced at the screen, seeing a long text from your boyfriend. you sighed, feeling the weight of his constant questioning pressing down on you.

"let me guess," paige said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "nother 'concerned' message from mr. clingy?"

"yep," you replied, tossing your phone onto the bed. "it's like he can't let me breathe."

paige grabbed your phone, skimming through the text before scoffing. her expression was amused as she met your gaze before you both burst out in laughter. "fuck," she just swiped the message from your notification center before glancing up at you.

as you finished getting ready, you could feel the excitement building. the prospect of a night out with paige and your girls was exactly what you needed to escape the stress and tension. paige handed you a pair of heels, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"these will complete the look," she said, helping you slip them on.

you stood up, wobbling slightly on the unfamiliar height. paige steadied you, her hands warm and reassuring on your waist. "careful there, cinderella."

you laughed, feeling a genuine happiness that had been missing for a while. "thanks, prince charming."

she chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "anytime, princess."

with one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and headed out the door, paige by your side. the drive to the party was filled with laughter and easy conversation, a stark contrast to the earlier argument with your boyfriend. by the time you arrived, you felt lighter, more carefree.

the party was in full swing when you walked in. music pulsed through the air, and people filled every corner of the house. paige stayed close to you, her presence a comforting anchor in the chaos. you spotted your girls in the crowd and waved, making your way over to them.

"finally!" aaliyah exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "we thought you were never gonna get here."

"sorry," you said with a laugh, returning the hug. "had some... complications."

nika raised an eyebrow, glancing at paige. "complications, huh? everything okay?"

"yeah," paige answered for you, her hand resting lightly on your back. "just some boyfriend drama. but we're here to have fun, right?"

"right!" aubrey agreed, handing you a drink. "let's forget about the drama and enjoy the night."

as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing more and more. paige stayed by your side, her playful banter and easy confidence helping you forget about your earlier argument. at one point, you caught her looking at you with a soft smile, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

"thanks for being here," you said quietly, leaning in so she could hear you over the music.

"always," paige replied, her eyes sparkling with sincerity.

you felt a rush of gratitude and something deeper, something that made your heartbeat a little faster. for the first time in a while, you felt truly happy, surrounded by friends and free from the weight of your boyfriend's constant demands.

as the party continued, someone suggested doing body shots. the idea was met with enthusiastic cheers, and before you knew it, you were being pulled towards the center of the room. paige's eyes lit up with excitement as she nudged you playfully.

"come on, it'll be fun!" she said, her grin infectious.

you laughed, feeling a mix of nervousness and thrill. "okay, okay! who's going first?"

aubrey handed you a shot glass filled with tequila and a slice of lime. "why don't you start, and paige can go next?"

you glanced at paige, who winked at you. "let's do it."

you lay down on the makeshift bar setup, feeling the cool surface against your back. the room erupted in cheers and whistles as Paige leaned over you, her eyes locked onto yours. she sprinkled salt on your stomach, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

"ready?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

"yeah," you replied quietly, your heart racing.

paige licked the salt off your skin, her tongue warm and soft against your flesh. she quickly took the shot, her eyes never leaving yours, and then bit into the lime that had been in your mouth.

"your turn, princess," paige said, her voice a little breathless as she helped you up.

you switched places, your hands trembling slightly as you poured the tequila and placed the lime slice in her mouth. paige lay back, her eyes watching you intently. you sprinkled the salt on her stomach, your fingers brushing against her skin, and felt the tension between you intensify.

"go for it," paige encouraged, her eyes dark with anticipation.

you leaned down, licking the salt from her skin, the taste mingling with the warmth of her body. you took the shot quickly, the burn of the alcohol mixing with the rush of adrenaline. as you bit into the lime, you looked into paige's eyes and saw the same heat and desire mirrored there.

the room around you seemed to fade away as you finished the shot, your focus entirely on paige. she sat up slowly, her face inches from yours, and you could feel her breath on your lips.

"that was hot," paige breathed out with a chuckle.

you licked your lips as her eyes kept glancing to your lips, a smirk evident on hers. the moment was charged with unspoken tension, the air thick with possibilities. for a second, you thought paige might lean in and kiss you, but the spell was broken by the sound of laughter and cheers from your friends.

"who's next?" aubrey called out, oblivious to the moment you and paige had just shared.

you stepped back, your heart still pounding, and forced a smile. "yeah, yeah."

paige's hands found your hips as she led you away from the crowd, her touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. she followed you, your mind racing and your body still tingling from the shared intimacy of the body shots. the party's noise and energy seemed to blur into the background as you both made your way to a quieter corner of the room.

"that was fun," paige said, her voice low as she glanced back at you.

you nodded, your breath catching in your throat. "yeah, it was."

paige's eyes softened, and she gave you a small, reassuring smile. "you okay?"

"yeah," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. "haven't done body shots in a while," you forced out a chuckle as paige kept her eyes glued on you.

paige chuckled, her thumb brushing against your side. "yeah well maybe we needa do more, huh?"

you laughed as you nodded, paige joining in a few moments after. the two of you stood there for a moment, the party continuing around you but feeling distant and detached.

the party continued and you found yourself drinking a little more than you should have. the buzz of alcohol dulled the edges of your anxiety, making everything feel softer and more manageable. paige stayed close by, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos of the party.

you felt lighter, freer, and more attuned to the warmth of the people around you. you stole glances at Paige, noticing the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed and how her smile seemed to light up the room.

someone suggested playing another round of truth or dare, and the group eagerly agreed. you and Paige found yourselves back in the circle, this time sitting even closer, your legs brushing against each other. the game began again, and the dares grew bolder and the truths more revealing – you didn't expect anything less of college aged people.

when it was your turn, you hesitated for a moment before choosing "dare." you were feeling bold, the alcohol giving you a boost of confidence.

"i dare you to go into the closet with p for seven minutes in heaven," they declared, their eyes dancing with excitement.

the room erupted in cheers and laughter, and you felt your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. you glanced at paige, who raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"well, shall we?" paige asked, extending a hand to help you up.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you took her hand. the group continued to cheer and tease as you and paige made your way to the closet. once inside, paige closed the door behind you, and the noise from the party was muffled, leaving you in a small, dimly lit space with her.

the air between you was charged with tension, and you could feel your pulse quicken. paige leaned against the door, her eyes locked onto yours.

"guess we have seven minutes," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. "yeah, seven minutes."

paige took a step closer, her gaze intense. "what do you want to do with those seven minutes?"

you laughed, shaking your head. "you're such a horny fuck, paige."

"me? never," she laughed but her eyes didn't leave your face. "you're just really hot, i mean... look at what you're wearin' princess, i can't help it."

it seemed the alcohol had also given paige a boost of confidence, making her bolder than usual. she took another step closer, her body inches from yours, the heat between you palpable.

"really gonna blame it on what i'm wearing?" you teased. "pretty sure you've been looking at me like this all night."

paige's smile turned mischievous. "maybe i have. what are you gonna do about it?"

your breath hitched at her words, the challenge in her eyes making your pulse race even faster. you felt a surge of bravery, fueled by the tension and the alcohol in your system. stepping closer, you reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, your fingers lingering on her cheek.

"i think i'll do this," you murmured, leaning in and closing the gap between you.

your lips met in a slow, deliberate kiss, the world outside the closet fading away. paige responded eagerly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body, the intensity of the moment consuming you both.

paige's hands roamed over your back, her touch sending shivers down your spine. you lost yourself in the sensation, your fingers tangling in her hair as you pressed your body against hers. the kiss became more urgent, a release of all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for what felt like forever.

breaking the kiss for a moment, paige's forehead rested against yours, her breath warm on your lips. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

"wonder how your little boyfriend would feel about this, huh, princess?" she teased as you rolled your eyes.

"shut up," you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

you captured her lips again, silencing her teasing with another passionate kiss. paige's hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressed together in the small closet.

the intensity between you was electric, each touch, each kiss fueling the fire that had been smoldering for so long. you could feel paige's heart beating against yours, the rhythm matching the wild pace of your own. her hands slid down to your hips, her fingers gripping you firmly, grounding you in the moment.

she pushed you against the table that was set behind you, a groan leaving her lips as she did so. the edge of the table pressed into your back, but the discomfort was overshadowed by the intensity of paige's kiss. her hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with a desperate need.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer, the heat between you building with each passing second. paige's hands roamed over your body, her touch both gentle and demanding. she trailed kisses down your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in her wake.

"paige," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers tangling in her hair.

she lifted her head, her eyes dark with desire as she looked at you. "wanted this for so long," she confessed, her voice husky and filled with longing.

"me too," you admitted, your heart racing. "i've tried to ignore it, but i can't anymore."

paige's lips curved into a small smile, her hands sliding under your shirt, her fingers brushing against your bare skin. "then don't," she murmured, her lips finding yours again in a searing kiss.

as the kiss intensified, paige's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. her eyes roamed over your exposed skin, her gaze filled with admiration and desire. she leaned in, pressing kisses along your collarbone, her hands exploring every inch of you.

you arched into her touch, your breath hitching as she trailed her fingers down your sides, leaving a path of tingling sensations. paige's lips found your ear, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

you laughed softly, your hands sliding down her back. "good," you replied, your voice laced with a mix of teasing and sincerity.

paige's hands moved to your waist, her fingers slipping under the waistband of your pants. "can i?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and hesitation.

you nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. "yes."

with a swift motion, paige unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down your legs. her hands caressed your thighs, her touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. she looked up at you, her eyes filled with an intense longing that mirrored your own.

"need you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

you cupped her face in your hands, pulling her in for another kiss. "'m yours," you replied, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation.

paige's eyes darkened with desire, her hands moving to your underwear, sliding them down with a slow, deliberate motion. she kissed her way down your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire as they moved lower and lower. the sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with anticipation.

she quickly straightened up, lifting you up into the table easily. her hands found your hips, and she pulled you forward, your bodies pressed together in a feverish embrace. you could feel the heat radiating from her as her lips traveled back up your body, tracing a path of desire that left you breathless.

when her mouth found yours again, the kiss was hungry and desperate, a reflection of the emotions that had been building between you for so long.

paige's hands roamed freely, exploring the contours of your body with a reverence that made you shiver. she took her time, savoring every moment, every reaction she elicited from you. her touch was both tender and commanding, a perfect balance that left you craving more.

as her hands moved to your breasts, you gasped, arching into her touch. paige's mouth followed the path of her hands, her lips and tongue teasing your sensitive skin. the combination of her touch and the cool air of the closet sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it hard to think about anything other than the woman in front of you.

"paige," you breathed out, your voice trembling with need. "please."

she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire. "tell me what you want, princess."

you bit your lip, trying to find the words. "i want you... no.. i need you to touch me."

paige's smile was both tender and wicked as she complied, her hands sliding down your body with a slow, deliberate motion. when her fingers finally found your wet pussy, you let out a soft moan, your head falling back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

she moved with a skilled precision, her fingers teasing and exploring, driving you to the edge with every touch. the sensations were almost too much to bear, your body trembling with the intensity of it all. paige's name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, a plea for more.

and she gave it to you, her movements becoming more insistent, her touch more demanding. the world outside the closet ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in this moment of raw, unrestrained passion. every caress, every kiss, every whispered word pushed you closer to the brink, until you were teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"fuck," you gasped, your hands gripping her shoulders as you felt yourself reaching the peak. "'m so close."

paige leaned down, ignoring your pleas and spread your legs further. her lips found your cunt, her tongue delving into it as she began to devour you like you were her last meal. your hand found her hair, your legs wrapped around her head as you cried out.

"fuckfuckfuck, please," your makeup was running at this point but you didn't care anymore, you just needed to cum.

as soon as her tongue became flicking your clit, the coil in your stomach snapped as you let out a sob of pure pleasure. "oh my god!"

when the waves of pleasure finally began to subside, you collapsed against her, your breath coming in ragged gasps. paige sat up as her arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breath.

for a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the world outside the closet a distant memory. then paige pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours with a mix of tenderness and concern.

"you okay?" she asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

you nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "more than okay. that was... amazing."

"aw, sweetheart. does he fuck you like that?" paige joked as you rolled your eyes. her finger swiped below your eyes, removing the mascara that was running down your face.

you playfully smacked paige's arm, trying to suppress the laughter that bubbled up. "shut up," you teased, feeling a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration from the intimacy you'd just shared.

paige chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "hey, just curious. gotta know how i compare," she said, her tone light.

you rolled your eyes again, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "you're impossible," you muttered, but your smile gave you away.

paige's finger gently swiped beneath your eyes, removing the smudged makeup. "there," she said softly, her touch lingering on your cheek. "all better."

the moment was tender, filled with unspoken words and shared emotions. paige's thumb brushed against your skin, her eyes locking onto yours. for a second, the world outside seemed to disappear again, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of newfound intimacy.

but the bubble burst as the closet door opened suddenly, and nika stood there, her expression with urgency. "guys, sorry to interrupt," she said, glancing between the two of you, "but your boyfriend just showed up."

your heart dropped at her words, the elation from moments before evaporating instantly. "what?" you exclaimed, stepping away from paige.

nika nodded, her brows furrowed with annoyance. "yeah, he's here, and he looks pissed. he was asking about you."

paige's expression darkened, her protective instincts kicking in. "great," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "just what we needed."

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "guess o have to go talk to him," you said reluctantly, the weight of reality crashing back down on you.

paige stepped closer, her hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you want me to come with you?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

you hesitated for a moment, then shook your head. "no, it's fine. i need to handle this on my own." You squeezed her hand back, grateful for her support. "but thank you."

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead. with a final look at Paige, you stepped out of the closet, nika leading the way to where your boyfriend was waiting.

he was standing in the living room, his face a storm of emotions. as soon as he saw you, his eyes narrowed, and he strode towards you. "where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger and frustration.

you squared your shoulders, trying to remain calm. "i've been at the party," you replied evenly. "what's your problem?"

"my problem?" he echoed, his voice rising. "you've been ignoring my calls and texts! and now i find out you've been hiding in a closet with paige?"

"first of all, it's a game!" you shot back, using the same tone he was. "ever heard of seven minutes in heaven?"

"that sure as hell was more than seven minutes, babe." his eyes flashed with anger and hurt, but he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself. "but you didn't answer my calls or texts. what's going on with us?"

you sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "i told you, we need space to figure things out. this break was supposed to help us do that."

he stared at you for a moment, then looked away, his jaw clenched. "i just... i don't want to lose you," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with desperation.

your heart ached at his words, the conflict within you growing. "don't want to lose you either," you admitted, your voice breaking slightly. "but we need to work on our issues. we can't keep having these fights all the time."

he nodded slowly, his expression softening. "okay, i get that. but seeing you with paige... it just messed with my head."

"nothing's happening with Paige," you lied, trying to reassure him and keep the peace. "it was just a game. you have to trust me."

he looked at you, searching your eyes for the truth. after a moment, he nodded again, though his expression was still troubled. "alright. i trust you. but we need to talk about this. really talk."

you nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt. "we will. but not here, not now. let's just try to enjoy the rest of the night, okay?"

He took a deep breath and then reached out to take your hand. "okay. but promise me we'll talk soon."

"promise," you said, squeezing his hand. "we'll figure this out."

with that, the tension between you seemed to ease slightly. you both turned and headed back into the house, the noise and energy of the party a stark contrast to the heavy conversation you had just had. as you reentered the party, you spotted paige watching you from across the room, her eyes filled with concern.

you gave her a small, reassuring nod, and she responded with a tentative smile. you knew this wasn't over, and there would be more conversations, more decisions to make. but for now, you were trying to hold on to the fragile peace you had managed to create.

throughout the rest of the night, your boyfriend stayed close by your side, his presence a constant reminder of the complexity of your feelings. paige didn't really give a fuck, she was still by your side, her hand always seemed to be on your shoulder or arm (she knew she'd get her ass beat if she touched your back or hips, where her hands usually would be).

when the time came to leave, your boyfriend offered to drive you home. as you said your goodbyes to your friends, paige pulled you aside for a moment.

"you okay?" she asked softly, her eyes filled with concern.

you nodded, though your heart felt heavy. you glanced behind you, looking at your boyfriend whose gaze was stuck on you and paige. "yeah, i'm okay. thanks for everything tonight."

paige gave you a small smile. "anytime, princess. just... take care of yourself, alright?"

"i will," you promised, giving her a hug. "we'll talk later."

paige's arms embraced you tightly, as she gave you a kiss on your head. she looked up to meet your boyfriend's eyes, giving him a smirk before she licked her lips, her eyes finding yours again.

"i love you," she muttered.

"i love you too, p." you managed a smile as you both leaned away.

paige looked up to see your now, seething boyfriend. she gave him a smile as she waved all in the mask of politeness. god, how she loved pushing his buttons.

your boyfriend's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he returned paige's wave with a curt nod. you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes, and you knew that once you were alone, there would be a lot to talk about.

"let's go," your boyfriend said tersely, his voice barely masking his anger.

"yeah," you replied, glancing one last time at paige. she gave you a reassuring nod, her eyes softening with concern.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

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insomniac4000 · 8 days ago

Text

Cold Brew and Hot Takes

An enemies to lovers WillNE fic. 3077 words.

The bell above the coffee shop door jingled, almost too cheerful for the energy that followed it. As usual, he walked in like he owned the place.

“Morning,” he said, dragging out the word in that deep Geordie accent that had somehow become synonymous with smugness to everyone behind the counter.

She didn’t look up. Not yet. She needed a second to prepare herself, and then;

“I’ll have an iced coffee,” WillNE announced, already taking out his card before she could even blink.

“No please? Shocking,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at the screen as she punched it in.

He heard it. He always did.

“I’d say sorry, but it wouldn’t be very me, would it?” he said, flashing a grin that made two of her colleagues giggle behind the pastry case. Traitors she thought as she tried to avoid eye contact with him at all costs and set about to make his drink.

Undeterred Will leaned casually against the counter, watching as she filled a cup with ice and coffee. “Y’know, if I weren’t loyal to this place, I’d start my own chain. Probably call it, like, Will’s Brews or something. I’d make a fortune. Could probably do it better.”

She shot him a look. “You said that yesterday.”

“I say a lot of things,” he shrugged. “Like how I could make a viral video out of just walking in here and annoying you.”

She handed over the iced coffee without a word, but with the kind of passive-aggressive smile that could kill a man if it came with a straw. He took the drink and sauntered to a corner table, pulling out a laptop covered in Quadrant and YouTube stickers. Always on brand. Always visible.

“Is that him again?” Lia whispered to her once he was out of earshot.

“Of course it is,” she muttered. “Mr. I-Invented-Caffeine. If he says ‘I could do it better’ one more time, I’m going to tip espresso over his MacBook.”

“Careful,” their manager joked. “He’s technically a loyal customer. Comes in almost every day.”

“Yeah, like a cocky ghost that just haunts me at this point.”

Despite herself, she glanced over. Will was already sipping the iced coffee like it had wronged him. He pulled a face.

“Needs more syrup!” he shouted across the room.

“Make your own!” she snapped, and heard Lia try (and fail) to suppress a laugh.

The weirdest part wasn’t how often he came in; it was how often he stayed.

Sometimes, Will would grab the iced coffee and vanish within minutes, probably off to shoot a video or go shout at someone on a podcast. Sometimes he came in with his friend “Jim” she had heard him be called but often he was alone. But more and more lately, he lingered. Laptop open, AirPods in, tapping away at some document or spreadsheet that screamed fake productivity.

And on those days, when the shop was slow, she ended up talking to her co-workers about things. Life. Her friends. Her ridiculous family. And sometimes… her ex.

“I just let it go on for too long,” she’d said one afternoon, while frothing milk. “He’d nitpick everything. Who I texted, what I wore, if I wanted to go out with friends. And the worst part is, I knew. I knew he was controlling. I just… I let it happen.”

Will didn’t look up from his laptop, but he had paused typing.

“And then one day, I just snapped. Threw his crap out, blocked his number. Never felt lighter.”

Lia had said something supportive, and they moved on. But Will didn’t type again for a good ten minutes after that, when she glanced over it his table was sitting there staring out the window while stirring his drink.

It was another Tuesday same as any other really, the group of old women had came in at opening for their tea and cake before their community centre exercise lesson, older kids had come in for their sugar syrup concoctions or hot chocolates and the commuter rush had them off their feet for a while but that was over now it was nine thirty.

Will walked in, sunglasses on indoors like the walking red flag she insisted he was. She braced herself.

“Iced coffee,” he said. “And tell Lia she still makes it better than you.”

“She’s off today,” she replied, already grinding beans. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Shame. Guess I’ll just power through.”

He stayed again that day. Stayed and listened to her talk to the manager about how she’d gone on a Hinge date that was “so catastrophically bad it almost made her miss her ex.”

“Not quite,” she’d added. “But close.”

It was a grey Thursday, drizzly and dull. Will was there typing something or pretending to, when the front door opened and he walked in.

Her stomach dropped.

Tall, broad, leather jacket. That same patronizing smirk that had made her skin crawl in the final months. Her ex. How did he even find out she was working here?

He looked around the shop until he spotted her, then strode up to the counter.

“Didn’t answer my texts,” he said. No hello no pleasantries.

Her spine straightened. “That’s because I blocked you.”

“Then unblock me. We need to talk.”

“I don’t think we do.”

He leaned closer, voice lower now, sharper. “Don’t be like this. You know this thing between us; it’s not over. You’re just in a phase.”

A phase. Like she was a teenage rebellion, like she didn’t know her own mind. She knew the signs now he was trying to get under her skin, trying to manipulate her.

“Back off,” she said, louder than she meant to.

Customers were starting to look. Will had stood up.

“I don’t want to cause a scene,” her ex said, raising both hands in mock surrender. “I just think you’re making a mistake. We both know you can’t cope without me.”

“And I think you should leave,” she said, her voice shaking now, but not with fear. With anger.

“Or what?” he challenged.

Then Will was there. She hadn’t even seen him move. One second he was at the back, the next he was between her and the ex.

“She said to back off,” Will said, arms folded, voice calm but firm.

Her ex sized him up. “Who the hell are you?”

“Someone with ears. And zero tolerance for creeps who don’t understand boundaries.”

“Mate, this is none of your business—”

Will stepped forward. “It is when you walk in here and start harassing someone. She doesn’t owe you a conversation. She doesn’t owe you anything. You lost your chance. So maybe walk away before you embarrass yourself further.”

A tense pause.

Her ex scoffed, but the bravado cracked just slightly. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I was just trying to be civil.”

And then he left, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the bell clang.

Silence fell.

Will turned to her. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah. I… thanks.”

“No worries,” he said, scratching the back of his neck like it had just hit him that everyone was watching.

She blinked. “I mean it. That could’ve gone badly.”

“Well,” Will smirked, “what can I say? I might be a pain in the arse, but I don’t like bullies.”

She let out a small laugh, the tension finally beginning to melt from her shoulders.

“Maybe you’re not a complete egomaniac.”

“Careful,” he said, stepping back with a grin. “You say enough nice things, I might think we’re friends.”

She rolled her eyes, but something in her chest had shifted. For the first time, she wasn’t looking at WillNE and seeing arrogance or antics or an overconfident YouTuber with a caffeine problem.

She saw someone who’d actually heard her. Someone who’d stepped up.

And that was new.

It was later on in that day and the adrenaline had long worn off, replaced with a bone-deep tiredness as the sky outside slipped from grey to black. The afternoon rush had died down, and it was closing time, the bell dinged again

“Sorry we’re just about to clo…” she started but smiled a little on seeing Will.

“I know, I was just about to go home but wanted to check in and see how you were doing?”. That was how it started, we watched her clean initially as she tried to convince him she was fine Will then ended up drying mugs, of all things.

“Y’know,” he said, holding one up to the light like it was a precious artifact, “this is dangerously close to real work.”

She raised a brow, sweeping crumbs from the counter. “Didn’t think you were the type to help close up.”

“I’m not,” he admitted, “but figured since I stepped into someone else’s argument like some low-rent superhero, I might as well follow through.”

She gave him a smirk. “Low-rent’s accurate.”

He let out a laugh—loud, genuine, startled. It was the kind of laugh that made her feel slightly proud for pulling it out of him.

They cleaned in a quiet rhythm for a few minutes, the silence companionable for the first time.

Then, Will glanced over. “Can I ask you something, though? Not like... nosey. Proper question.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve been thinking about starting a coffee brand. Been talking with James, you know the massive tall guy I’m sometimes with about it for months. No name yet we’re currently in the research phase.”

She shook her head, amused. “So… what’s the plan? Just slap your face on a bag of beans and go?”

“That was option one, yeah,” he deadpanned. “It’s going to be iced coffee of course but more coffee shop standard but at home. I started thinking, I come in here nearly every day. I see people’s orders, see how they act. There’s patterns. And I thought… you probably know all that stuff better than I ever could. The psychology of coffee drinkers or whatever.”

She gave him a long, slightly surprised look.

“That’s… actually kind of thoughtful.”

He put a hand to his chest. “Please don’t ruin my reputation.”

She laughed. “Alright, well—okay. There are patterns. Not wanting to stereotype at all but some things are mostly true, younger people love their syrups and flavours. Out of the alternatives oat makes the best coffee. Tea people are tea people and can never be converted,”

Will cracked up again.

“And,” she continued, now warming to it, “Americano drinkers are either in finance, in therapy, or need to be. You can tell a lot from someone’s drink. Especially how they treat you while ordering it.”

Will looked oddly thoughtful. “That's… kinda brilliant.”

She shrugged, a little bashful. “It’s just stuff you notice when you make a thousand drinks a week.”

“No, seriously,” he said. “You talk about it like an actual craft. Like it’s not just... pouring things into cups.”

“Well,” she said, quieter now, “it’s kind of the only thing I had to rebuild with.”

He looked at her then—not with that cocky spark he usually had, but with genuine interest.

“I was doing art full-time,” she explained. “Illustration. Freelance gigs, murals. But my ex didn’t exactly encourage that. Said it wasn’t stable, and we couldn’t have two people with unstable careers. So I gave it up.”

Will was silent.

“And when I left him, I had nothing. No savings, no place to live. Started over. Took the first job I could get. It was this place.”

“Damn,” Will said softly. “That’s heavy.”

She gave a small smile. “It’s better now. Slowly getting back into it. Sketched a bit again last month. Felt like remembering a part of me I forgot.”

He paused. “Would you ever want to do something with it again? Like, fully?”

“God, yeah,” she admitted, laughing. “If I could afford it. If I had the time. If I had the confidence again.”

He nodded slowly, then, in a voice that surprised her with its seriousness: “What if you did something for me?”

She blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, setting a mug down carefully. “We need a logo, a website. Something bold and weird. But like… cool weird. Not too weird and off the wall.”

She snorted. “You’re terrible at selling yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m great at selling other people,” he said, grinning. “I’ll pay you properly, obviously. Could even plug your work in the promo. Get you commissions again.”

She was quiet for a long beat. “…That’s actually really kind of you.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “You’re talented. And you haven’t called me a ‘walking ego problem’ once tonight. Growth.”

She laughed, warm and surprised. “Give it time.”

The next morning, he came in like always.

But instead of barking “iced coffee” like it was a military command, he gave her a lopsided smile and said, “Morning. I’ll get the usual, please.”

She blinked.

“Wow. A please? Did you hit your head on the way in?”

“Shh,” Will whispered. “Don’t let the others know. They expect a certain level of cheek.”

She handed him the iced coffee. “You’re evolving. Like a caffeinated Pokémon.”

He chuckled, stepping aside. “Also, I’ve got a mood board I wanna show you. For the coffee packaging.”

Her eyes widened. “Already?”

“What can I say? I’m a man of impulsive brilliance.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.

Over the next few weeks, the vibe between them changed.

He’d bring her snacks sometimes. They’d swap memes and jokes and she made his drink. She started showing him sketches during her breaks, and he’d give brutally honest but helpful feedback. (“This one’s sick.” “That one looks great but not really what we’re looking for.”) She appreciated his honesty.

And one quiet afternoon, she caught herself watching him laugh with Lia and thought: Maybe he’s not so bad.

Maybe, in fact, he was something else entirely.

It had rained that morning London rain, soft and annoying and everywhere, the fine rain that soaked you through. She was wiping off the counter near the window when Will came in. Hood up, trainers soaked, coffee order already on his lips.

But instead of the usual cheeky grin, he looked… drained.

“Morning,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “Can I just… get something warm today?”

She blinked. “What, no iced coffee? Who are you and what’ve you done with my most irritating regular?”

That earned the faintest smirk. “I know. The drama.”

She started on a flat white. “You alright?”

He scratched the back of his neck, still dripping a bit. “Didn’t sleep.”

She paused, glanced at him. Something wasn’t right.

He slid onto the stool at the end of the counter as she passed him the coffee.

“I had this shoot last night,” he started, “for some mates content. Long, late, lots of lights, mates kept talking about how I’ve changed.”

She furrowed her brow. “What does that even mean?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. But it got in my head.”

A quiet settled between them, the usual noise of the shop feeling distant.

“I think,” he said slowly, fingers tracing the rim of the cup, “I’ve been a bit depressed lately, I was seeing this girl for five years we broke up, no big drama just grew apart and I think I isolated myself a little. My mates kept banging on about how I kept bringing the mood down all the time, I don’t think I realised just how sad and lonely I became.

She stayed silent. Let him talk.

“And lately… I dunno. I’ve been wondering if I actually like who I am off camera. Or if I’ve spent so long turning everything into a bit that I forgot how to just… exist. Be normal. Whatever that is. Maybe just a bit of an indentity crisis I guess, happens to content creators a lot.”

He laughed, bitterly. “Listen to me. Getting all weirdly philosophical in a coffee shop like some divorced poet.”

She gave him a soft look. “You’re not weird. You’re just being honest.”

“Dangerous game,” he muttered, looking out the rain-smeared window. “Especially in front of you. You used to want to poison my coffee.”

“Still do sometimes,” she teased, and he laughed, more genuinely this time.

“I think…” she said after a moment, “you’re allowed to outgrow who people think you are. Especially if that person was always performing for someone else’s expectations.”

He looked over at her, something softer in his eyes now. “That your therapist voice?”

“No,” she said, suddenly bashful. “That’s just… me. Trying to make sense of stuff too.”

They stayed there for a while.

Later that week, he came in after closing.

“Got you a thank-you gift,” he announced, holding up a bottle of wine and a bag of tortilla chips.

“Classy,” she said, amused.

“I contain multitudes,” he replied, grinning.

They sat on the counter, lights dimmed, wine in mismatched mugs. She kicked off her shoes. He shed his coat.

They talked. Really talked.

About pressure, about art, about how her ex once threw out a sketchbook because he said it was “a waste of energy.” Will swore under his breath and handed her the chips like they were a prize for surviving it.

About Will’s first viral video and how for years, he wondered if that version of him—the loud, sarcastic, shouty guy—was the only thing people wanted.

“You’re different when it’s just us,” she said, eyes on the way he swirled his wine without realizing.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Better or worse?”

“Real,” she said simply. “I like it.”

He looked at her then, eyes steady and searching.

“You know,” he murmured, “you’ve got this way of seeing straight through people. Kind of terrifying.”

“You hide it well. Most people don’t notice.”

“I do,” he said. Quiet. Almost reverent.

The silence bloomed between them again—but this time, it wasn’t awkward.

It was electric.

When he kissed her, it was hesitant at first. Like he was checking she wouldn’t flinch or bolt or make a joke. But she didn’t. She leaned in, let it happen. Let it deepen.

When they pulled away, neither of them said anything for a few seconds.

Then Will whispered, “You still gonna call me a walking ego tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Oh, absolutely. Maybe more now.”

He laughed and rested his forehead against hers.

Outside, the city moved. Inside, for once, they didn’t.

#willne #will lenny #willne x reader #will lenney

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starboye · 9 months ago

Text

pairing: vinnie hacker x male reader

request: vinnie hacker x femboy!reader, it’s readers bday and vinnie threw a costume party to celebrate him and they are having fun but after a while vinnie is sitting down and reader is sitting in his lap(he’s wearing a skirt and panties) and vinnie starts rubbing himself against readers ass and he tells reader to stand up for a sec and vinnie pulls his stuff out and pulls readers panty to the side and cockwarms him until vinnie gets tired and grabs him and brings him to the nearest room and fucks the shit out of him and makes him keep the skirt on and after they finish vinnie makes him sit on his face to clean his hole up and reader is just out of it

warnings: smut, cock warming, slight exhibition, ass eating, cum eating, cream pie, daddy kink, lil degradation

you were really happy when you found out vinnie was throwing a costume party for your birthday that you jumped in his arm and cheered loud enough to make him deaf, you obviously had to go out and pick out a slutty costume for your birthday and let's just say vinnie was surprised when you showed up to the party in it.

you walked through the door to blaring music and people drinking and dancing around and some telling you happy birthday, when you saw vinnie you ran into his arms hugging him "thanks for the party vinnie" you shouted over the music "anytime baby" vinnie says before taking in the sight of your outfit.

"and what exactly are you supposed to be" vinnie asks spinning you around "a slutty regina george, ya like it" you ask smiling widely "i love it" vinnie says before you drag him to the dance floor but not before grabbing a couple drink and downing a shot of whiskey, it burns your throat slightly.

you dance wildly as you sway your hips from side to side, infatuating vinnie with the way your ass wobbles with each step you take "ima go sit down im to tired for this" vinnie breathlessly says "no please stay with me" you pout pulling vinnie back into you "as much as i would love to my legs are getting weak but i'll be watching you" vinnie says giving you a kiss before walking over to one of the chairs near his friends and sitting down.

you continue to dance but now directing your dances to vinnie, him watching you through the sea of people, the way you feel your body up and down and sway your hips around for him as the provocative music blares, and in the dancing he catches a glimpse under your skirt to see you wearing nothing but some skimpy panties under it.

he readjusts his sitting position as a tent forms in his pants to your body, and after a while of you dancing you walk over to vinnie, obviously a little drunk and sit on his lap "how was your little dance party" vinnie asks wrapping his arm around your waist "tiring" you chuckle leaning back against his chest.

"hey quick question" vinnie asks "yeah" you reply "are you wearing panties under that skirt" vinnie whispers "yep" you smoothly say "and who were you planning on getting fucked by tonight" vinnie laughs "hopefully you" you smirk turning to kiss vinnie, leaving him wanting you even more now.

"that could be arranged" vinnie says rolling his dick against your ass making you jump a little "well then i hope it's fun when you do" you taunt making vinnie move to pin your legs open with his and run his hand along your thigh "what if i just do it right here" vinnie teases.

"fuck no" you sternly say "c'mon you wanna dress slutty you can take my cock in front of everyone it'll be a nice show" vinnie says vaguely kissing your neck "like c'mere" vinnie grunts lifting you up and pulling his pants down a little and pulling you panties to the side and lowering you on his dick.

"fuck" you lowly whimper holding onto vinnies thighs fr support "look here comes your friends" vinnies says setting his head on your shoulder and pointing to a couple of people heading your way "hey y/n" larray cheerily says approaching you.

"hey larray" you say trying to silence any moans that threaten to come out "i got you a gift" he says holding out a nicely wrapped present for you "t-thanks" you stammer feeling vinnie rut his hips up into you "well i'll talk to you later okay" larray says walking away.

"fuck you" you say hitting vinnies chest for almost getting you caught "please do" vinnie smirks leaning back into the chair "you're such a dick sometimes" you say bouncing up and down on vinnies dick but just enough to where no one suspects something "you better stop" vinnie sternly says.

"and what if i don't" you say confidently with a smug look and you bounce down on vinnie once more "fuck it" vinnies mutters before pulling you off his cock and tucking it back in his pants and dragging you through the halls to find a empty room, soon he finds and empty bedroom and brings you in, locking the door behind him.

you begin undressing "no no keep it on, i wanna fuck you like the slut you wanna dress like" vinnie says taking off his costume and putting you on the bed, face down but plump ass up "so fucking pretty" vinnie mutters feeling your ass as his member becomes harder, poking at your hole.

"please fuck me" you whine "of course" vinnie says spiting on his tip before pressing against your tight entrance with your panties pulled to the side and skirt up, he makes it fully in you and doesn't give you a single moment to get used to his size before he was thrusting into you quickly.

his hips were moving on their own as you sucked him in, his hips slamming into your ass "fuckkk you're so big vinnie" you moan longingly making vinnie twitch in you "yeah loves this ass so much" vinnie grunts holding your hips in place so you dont pull off his dick.

"m-more" you whimper matching his thrusts with you backing your ass onto his "you want me dick so bad huh" vinnie teases stopping his thrusts "no please keep fucking me" you beg "you can do it yourself " vinnies says smacking your ass and you reluctantly fuck yourself on his dick.

going back and forth as the room fills with your moans and vinnie cocky laughs "mhm such a good boy for daddy" vinnie groans feeling you suck him harder wanting his cum badly "you want me to fill this slutty hole up" vinnie asks bringing his hands back to your hips and resuming his thrusts.

"yes please" you moan feeling vinnies movement get harder and harder till it feels like he's bruising you walls "you feel so g-good hitting my walls vinnie" you loudly moan which is greatly covered by the music playing "yeah you feel so tight, want every drop of my cum" vinnie chuckles before throwing his head back.

he loudly grunts as he cums in you, his hips never stopping as he fucks his load deeper into you while you moan and cum yourself, your cum staining the bed, your spurts matching with his thrusts, vinnies basically fucking the cum out of you "yes daddy i love your dick so much" you whimper into the bed.

"such a good boy for me" vinnie says falling onto the bed and you next to him, he lays there for a while before an idea comes into his head "c'mere" vinnies says lifting you up and putting you over his face, your legs straddled on both sides of his face.

"what're you doing" you ask before moaning and gripping the head board as vinnies tongue prods at your hole eating you out with expertise "fuck" you whimper out as vinnies eats the cum out of you "you and i taste so good" vinnies says muffled, after vinnies finishes cleaning you out.

you fall down next to him "best birthday gift ever" vinnie questions "best birthday gift ever" you say in agreement

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x male reader #x male reader #gay smut #x male smut #x male y/n #x male #bottom male reader #male reader #gay #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vincent hacker

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fictioonbanger · 2 years ago

Text

race car driver eren<3!

warnings?; smut obvi, hint of jealousy.

speedracer!eren; who loves driving you around in his all black srt hellcat, has a personal “y/n’s seat” tag in pink glitter on the bottom side of the passenger seat. “baby you didn’t..” you looked back at eren who stood behind you with a huge smirk on his face staring down at you, waiting for your reaction. he was so proud in himself he knew you’d love it. you were hugging him tightly placing soft wet kisses onto his neck. “you like it pretty? got it in pink for ya..” he groaned from under his deep voice as you kissed his chin and adams apple. feeling the vibration of his voice he spoke on your lips as you smirked to look up at him. “mm it’s beautiful my love, i love it.“ you couldn’t help but feel so giddy at erens actions he loved you.. he loved you as much as he did his precious car.

speedracer!eren; who got in trouble with you for driving so fast after his racing match taking you both home, still pumped up on adrenaline. “eren you hit this corner hard so god help me.” you said sternly looking at him, you hated when he drove fast. eren would think your being over dramatic everytime you told him to slow down. to him he doesn’t think he’s going fast.. but i mean obviously is. “mm yeah beautiful.” he’d hum and stare at your pouted glossed lips giving them a long warm peck as he leaned over the arm rest to your seat. “no, im serious ren, ‘hate that shit.” you didn’t react to his kiss and still kept stern. “aight yea baby i heard you..’m sorry y’know i don’t mean to.” he placed another kiss on your pouted lips that you eventually gave into. you hated when he raced also, i mean at a point it was too much and everytime you’d watch and support him from the side line your stomach would bubble and ache. every hard turn he took, the tumbling of the other cars on the side of him from getting hit by another, the anticipation waiting to see your husband cross the finish line and seeing the green flag wave so highly. the relief and squeal you would let out seeing him catch first place.

speedracer!eren; who proposed to you after he won his first game 4 years ago, you’d been dating him before his racing career. supporting him all the way with every decision he made, being by his side in moments of need.. vice versa. you’re his high school sweetheart, you’re his day one. eren loved showing you off, letting everyone know you’re his, will forever be and only. he took you to car shows that everyone expected you to be at, having you in the car of course as he showed out to everyone. driving circles with his driver friends who were right behind him shouting from their cars to the other people in the circle crowd. you deep down had a little hatred for the shows, you hadn’t honestly realized how many women loved your man. screaming his name from the crowd, trying to walk up towards him for a autograph, batting their lashes at him to get his attention at his conferences. eren tried to act like he didn’t notice, he did, but he didn’t notice your attitude towards it.

speedracer!eren; “don’t act like you didn’t notice how close she was trying to get to you, not to mention she SAT her hand on your shoulder while laughing.” you huffed out to eren after the dinner with some friends and employees at the racing center while he was driving home. all he could do was chuckle, that’s all he ever did when you complained. you hated it , it was like eren never took you seriously. after your words you sat quiet in the car as he drove, nothing but the sound of the car revving. “why you bein so quiet?” eren turned his head towards you eyebrows furrowed scanning your every move as you sat there with crossed arms, looking out the window, your signature move. eren didn’t answer you for a reason, he didn’t understand why you were jealous. he never paid attention to anyone else, especially any other woman. why should you feel like someone could ever take your spot? he knew what you were feeling and your feelings were oh so understandable. he just couldn’t have you thinking like that, he sighed and drove the whole way silent. you’d occasionally glance at him gripping the wheel and starring ahead of him not saying a word.

speedracer!eren; who finally got you both home, opening the car door for you and walking behind you silently into your shared home. you sighed and rolled your eyes at his silence and dropped your purse onto the counter walking towards your shared room. you were stopped and taken aback a bit by the force that slightly shoved you into the wall. eren had you put between both him and the cold wall behind you looking down at your eyes. his green orbs piercing into your own, like he was scanning your face all over again for the first time. “r-ren? what’re you doing?!” you said in a confused and honestly irritated tone looking back up at him waiting for a answer. he didn’t reply just tilting his head and raising his eyebrow at the way you spoke to him. he didn’t like when you were mad at him, especially for something he didn’t do. it wasn’t intentional of letting the woman touch and flirt with him. he just ignored it and didn’t care like the usual, his attention was fully forged on you the entire time anyway. “who you talking to like that?” he was searching for a answer out of you. the scowl look on your face and you hurriedly crossing your arms made eren roll his eyes. he knew you were upset about the situation but what could he do? “you! ren! now move please..i need to get in the showe-“ eren scoffed hearing you speak, and grabbed your wrist before turning towards the room. you were so confused of the sudden movements but followed behind.

speedracer!eren; who fucked you all night, having you recite how much you meant to him. “you’re daddies only girl right? nobody could replace you y/n.” he mumbled the last words while looking down at where you two were connected. the white ring forming from the last orgasm you had and his pre cum mixing, he was groaning from the sight and landed a hard smack to your ass to wake you up from your last orgasm. you were face into the pillow and yelped from the contact letting out a accidental moan at the stinging feeling. “stay up f’ me pretty..need you awake baby, wanna hear you repeat it.” eren spoke softly sliding in and out of you effortlessly. hitting your soft spongy spot over and over making a whimper leave your lips with every thrust into you. “mm yeah i’m daddies only g-girl! fuck!” your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you spoke and moaned your words. eren smirked hearing your words and decided to stop finally teasing and get you your last nut. thrusting faster, gripping tighter on your waist slamming you back onto his dick, and fucking into you. eren was a groaning mess and his thrust started to recklessly come on as he was finna nut. “cum with me pretty please baby, just wanna make you feel g-good..fuck.” eren plead out a breathy moan as he tilted his head, thrust sputtering as hot stream’s of cum swarmed your tummy. you came on his dick, gripping onto the sheets below you, eyes shutting tightly as you continued to still throw back on him to finish your nut. eren was gripping your waist tightly, biting his bottom lip and whimpering as he continued to release into your tight cunt. snapping his hips into you more as he drained himself into you. you were gripping him, literally milking his dick. eren sat with a half open mouth as he finished and groaned. setting his forehead on your shoulder from behind you, panting and rubbing up your back with a warm hand. he placed soft kisses onto the crook of your neck and back. “stop thinking you got competition with these bitches y/n, they could never be you baby. let alone breathe the same air as you my love..” eren mumbled into your shoulder as you both came down from your high. you were tired and fucked out but you listened to every word he spoke. you shouldn’t be jealous, eren was wrapped around your finger as you were of him.

#black reader #black y/n #eren x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #eren smut #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren headcanons #eren yeager

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evilminji · 2 years ago

Text

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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aliorsboxostuff · 7 days ago

Note

Hey, you said requests were open for Robert Reynolds from Thunderbolts.

Could you write an x male reader, with reader being a friend of Bucky (that has powers maybe) and Bucky calls him for the Sentry mission and reader unexpectedly bonds with Bob ? Maybe reader has anger issues and so he understands self-control issues ?

Please and thank you 🙏

HELLLOOOOO thank you for the request!!!! Please mind me and my very rough writing, this is my first fic after closing requests in a WHILE regardless, I hope you enjoy this fanfic tho!!! I tried to work with the idea you gave me so i hope it suffices! Also please note I've seen the movie ONCE and I've forgotten a lot of the actual lines they said! My apologies if I've made those mistakes!

Control amidst Chaos

Tags: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x Mutant!Male!Reader, No use of YN, The Thunderbolts* spoilers, Yelena Belova, John Walker, James Bucky Barnes, Red Guardian, Ava Starr, Childhood trauma, void area, Unstable Backgrounds, Blooming relationship, Hurt Comfort, Fluff, BOB SUPPORT GROUP!

The last thing you've heard from Bucky was that he's running for Congress. What you didn't expect was that being a congress member also includes fighting against an unstable man with unstable powers in the job description.

—

“Where? The old Avengers tower?” Yoi shouted across the room, phone on speaker. The knives slide easily into their pockets as you pull on your gloves.

“Yeah, I'm bringing my own group with me-”

“Group? Since when did you get so friendly, huh Barnes?” The phone speaker crackles, which indicates a scoff from Bucky, no doubt.

“Look, just get there quick, alright? and bring your gear, you'll need it.” A beep ends the call just as you adjusted the final strap on your armour. While you haven't fought a real danger in a while now, it doesn't mean you haven't forgotten just how powerful you can be.

Bucky doesn't usually contact you, especially about a mission. You've been keeping tabs on him, and he mostly checks in just to hear how you are, asking about your health. Now that Bucky has asked for your help, in such an urgent matter as well, a bile of anxiety rises inside you.

You sped off in your truck down the highway, hoping to make it to the tower in time before anything goes awry.

—

A bitter chill wraps down your spine. You force your eyes to snap open, breathing in lungfuls as you take in your surroundings. There, you stand, inside a room, a familiar place, though it doesn't bring back fond memories. The bright blue wallpaper and children's toys strewn about, the image depicts of childlike wonder and happiness, though it contrasts with what’s happening just across the room.

Your heart drops as you glance down, a younger, much younger you, sitting in the middle of the room, a toy train in hand. It’s blocky, mostly made out of wood, if you could recall. He’s oblivious to the noise outside of his safety bubble. Your brow furrows, trying to process the situation, before the voice outside the room becomes clearer. The shouting, heightened tone, and quick replies. It was your parents fighting.

The realization hits you like a freight train. It was the day your mutation manifested. It was a sunny afternoon at the park, if you recall. You were in the sandbox, just meters away from your father, when another child came over to where you sat. The kid took the shovel you were using to build a castle, before knocking the structure down, sending blocks of sand to break apart. There was a snap inside you, something broke loose and washed over your young mind. It wasn't like you could've controlled it, the surge of power crashes down amidst a wave and before you could process anything, the same kid was sent flying, particles of sand cover his torso and legs, as if he was pulled.

The next memory was just you sitting in your room, toy train in hand, blissfully unaware of the argument happening outside. So it seems.

The truth is, you were aware of the fight. Aware of the damage you did to that kid. Even when you were such a young child, you knew that what you did was wrong, was bad enough to cause your parents to fight. But you also knew, you somehow had to keep a mask up, to make them feel like you were still their innocent angel.

You blink repeatedly, looking around the now suffocating room, looking for a door, a latch, anything as a way out. You turn to see a full-length mirror across the room, tilting your head. Within it, sits a silver-haired woman, Yelena, comforting what must be Bob, who caused this whole nightmare. You take steps to approach the mirror, the tips of your fingers touch the cold glass, before it ripples like water in a pond.

Reassessing the image within the mirror, you take a staggering breath, once, twice, before running shoulder-first into the glass. It shatters, the glass breaking shrieks into your ears, before you slowly open your eyes to two concerned voices calling your name.

“Hey wha- are you okay?” Yelena’s voice brings you to a clearer vision. You open your eyes to her and Bob’s concern above you.

“Ugh…” You bring yourself to sit up, rubbing your shoulder. “Never been better,” You sigh, rolling your arm a bit to ease the pain. You turn your head to face Bob, his brows furrowed as he checks your body. His gaze slowly meets yours, eyes wide in a slight surprise, before he clears his throat.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“Been through worse. Bob, right? Sentry?” Your voice softens when Bob turns his head away at the mention of Sentry. From his body language, there must be a rift between Bob and his Sentry identity. Judging from the damage he caused throughout New York, you can connect the two dots to make a cohesive line.

“Right sorry- I should be asking if you’re okay,”

“Out there, that… Version of you, that's not you, is it?” He takes a staggering inhale at your question, before his grip on his thigh tightens. He blinks before slowly nodding, his head turns to a foggy window on the other side of the loft, or so it seems.

“It um… it always comes out, whenever Sentry is present.” Bob inhales as he shakes his head. “It’s- it’s not something I can control. Before I went to Val and her program, before this, i’d-”

“I’d have good days, and bad day. Like- bad bad days. Where I wouldn't remember anything. Next thing know I'm just… I don't know. I don't- I can't control him,” He blinks, his blue eyes shaking as he takes a sharp inhale. You shift closer to him, a cautious hand on his arm, rubbing slightly.

“It's okay, hey, I get it,” Your eyes meet his, a meek smile to try and comfort him. “I do. It.. sucks, when you cant control these things. When you lose control,”

“I’m… My mutation- powers, they come from my emotions, they come from my depression, my happiness. But dangerously, it comes from my rage, too. It took me years to control mine, to keep myself in line, Bob, I get it,” You take a breath, rubbing at his arm softly, he blinks, eyes wide.

“And you can control yours, you know you can. We can all control the demons inside of us, or compromise, at least,”

“You think I… You really think so?” He blinked, a wavering smile making its way to his lips.

“We can do this together, Bob. You and us,” Yelena nods, her hands engulfing his. The man looks between the two of you, a slow build of trust before he nods, reassured with a steady confidence within him. You smile, before the room quivers from a strong tremor, the furniture flying in every direction.

You and Yelena instinctively try to cover Bob’s frame, though it's apparent he can hold his own when a chair flies his way and he only ducks to cover his head. The pieces break apart, the chair bursts into splinters.

“You okay?!” You grip Bob’s upper arm, steadying the man. He nods, Yelena immediately holding his other hand.

“You got this Bob! I know you can do it!”

—

The smoke clears, darkness receding quickly as the midday sun takes over. Debris and flipped cars litter the street as you cough, slowly pulling yourself up. You quickly look for the team, for Yelena or Bucky or B- Bob!

You hurried to haul the man by his arm, brushing off the dust from his clothes. He shakes his head, his curls swinging from the rough movement.

“Hey! We did it, Bob, we’re okay!”

“We what? What did we do?” He blinks, slowly looking around at the mess. “Whoah.. What a day huh,”

You squint slightly at Bob's lopsided smile before scoffing and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, pulling you to the side. “Yeah bud, what a day,”

The others slowly gather themselves, pulling each other up. Bucky stands beside Yelena as she assesses the street. You spot Ghost, Walker and Alexei gathering their weapons from the debris, brushing clouds of dust off of them. You all gather together, relief washes over each other as the head count comes out complete. You want to let out a laugh before you spot the familiar, annoying blonde-brunette woman just in the distance, seemingly shouting into her phone. The group turns to the source of the voice, Yelena stalks her, leading the group.

She frantically retreats behind a car, then under a bus, before the group sets off into a run, you sticking close to Bob. Bucky runs in front of you and when he pulls past the bus, you are caught off guard with flashing lights and the loud commotion of reporters and their questions.

Val stands behind a podium with mics pointed at her, you and the group now stand in a line, bewildered at the situation. She suddenly announces that you all are a group, the New Avengers, and she cheers. The crowd erupts, claps and shouts questions, a barrage of camera flashes in front of them. Yelena takes a step towards the woman and whispers something you can't pick out, though judging from her look, it's most likely a threat.

You glance towards Bob, standing idly beside you, a cloud of anxiety over him as he looks at the crowd. You sigh, wrapping a hand around his wrist. He widens his eyes, glancing at the contact, before meeting your eyes.

“Whatever she has in store, we’ll do it together, okay?” You grin, tilting your head.

Bob sighs, the cloud of worry melting from his eyes. He sighs, then nods softly.

To be invited into The New Avengers was the last thing you expected as a graduate of Xavier's Institute, as a nobody mutant, no less. But if it means gaining a new family, and a new friend, then it might just be worth it.

You have to thank Bucky after all of this mess is sorted.

Requests for Bob are open! Reblogs appreciated <3

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