#I saw one clip and he's DOING SOMETHING TO ME

[leo-in-the-pitt]

Turning Point

This is Chapter 5 of the Beginning to End series !

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Wife!Reader 

Summary: You and Jack are newlyweds who also just so happen to be expecting your first baby. These next 9 months will be the best and worst of your life whether you realize it or not.

Warnings: Established relationship, implied age gap, strong language, some fluff but also porn with plot, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, pregnancy, birth trauma

WC: 12.7k

First Night Back

Fortunately for you and Jack, Robby was able to get you a full week off before coming back to work after the wedding. The week was filled with you two sitting on the couch next to each other creating a registry for not only the baby but, for things to fill your home with eventually.

“You ready to go back tonight?”

“I wish I could stay home with you all the time but, yeah, I’m ready.”

The buzz of the ER returned like muscle memory.

You and Jack stood side by side in the locker room.  His hair was still damp from the quick shower he'd taken before you left the house. You could smell his shampoo in it. 

“Ready for the honeymoon shift?” Jack said, his voice dry but warm.

You snorted. “Nothing says romance like traumas and code blues.”

He leaned over and kissed your temple. “At least you’re here to make it tolerable.”

You walked out together, and the noise hit instantly—monitors beeping, a patient yelling from triage, an EMT calling out vitals mid-roll-in. It should’ve felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt weirdly familiar. 

“Well, well, well look who’s back.” Robby said from across the ER.

Dana held her arms out. “We’ve got a full board just for you two. Pedestrian versus car in Trauma 1. Sepsis in 3. Psych eval holding in 5 and refusing meds. And,” she added with a smirk, “some kid in curtain 8 swallowed a Lego.”

“So glad to be back here,” you muttered, walking away to find your first case back.

You and Jack split off instinctively, no need to even speak. You caught him glancing at you as he passed. A flicker of we’re okay. We’re doing this.

The night was filled with case after case, barely any time to talk to each other. Mostly just him asking if you were okay in passing. But you always made time to catch each other eyes from across the ER.

There was a lull around 2am when Jack came to find you. He looked over at you, and his expression softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked tonight. Or this week.

You sighed. “I’m pregnant, not broken. I’m fine.”

“Just making sure.”

You leaned your hip against the desk, pretending you didn’t notice the subtle way Jack’s eyes scanned you from head to toe—evaluating.

“Jack.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender but said, “I’m allowed to care.”

You softened. He wasn’t wrong. It was part love, part habit. The way you’d both learned to read each other in triage, in chaos, in the stillness between codes. Except now the stakes were higher. 

6:50 a.m. — Change of Shift

You were charting the last of your overnight notes when you heard them before you saw them.

Dana, breezing through the doors with a coffee in one hand and her ID badge already clipped on crooked. Robby beside her, muttering something. And Langdon, as always, trailing behind them.

“Look at you,” Dana said the moment she spotted you, dragging her chair backward across the floor to sit right beside you. “Pregnant and still functioning. Honestly, it’s inspiring. Or maybe terrifying.”

You didn’t look up. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had a nap and a bagel.”

“Fair,” Robby said, dropping his bag on the counter. “But before we begin, serious question: Are you going to have your baby in this hospital?”

“Well, our OB is upstairs so don’t think we have too much on a choice. But no, you guys are not allowed in the room. You can all wait in the waiting room.”

Groans came from all of them before Dana and Robby walked away. Landon staying behind.

Langdon leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing at your charting speed. “You’ve been up all night?”

“Sure have,” you said, popping the final signature on your trauma note.

“You should be home. Resting.”

Jack, walking past, paused just long enough to throw in, “She also threw a pen across the unit when her monitor froze, so…thriving.”

You shot him a glare, but your lips twitched. “It didn’t hit anyone.”

Langdon grunted. “I’ve seen less motivated attendings take two weeks off for a cold. And you’re still here?��

You shrugged. “Only sixteen weeks, not sixty. I can still do my job.”

“You look like something’s bothering you kid. You fuck up on your first night back already?”

“I’m offended that you would even think that but, no. Its about me and Jack.”

“It’s about your sex life isn’t it?”

“That obvious?”

“Somehow these conversations always turn into a sex talk regardless of how hard I try to say away from it and anyway you guys are married now and you’re carrying his child so even if I don’t want to think about it, obviously you guys are having sex.” Langdon blinked once.  “So go on.”

You exhaled, feeling immediately ridiculous but too far in to stop. “It’s just- we’ve been weird lately. Hesitant. Ever since I started showing. I mean of course we had sex on our wedding night and one other time last week but, it felt off in a way.”

Langdon nodded, letting you keep going.

“He’s being careful. Like, overly careful. Gentle in a way that makes me feel like I might shatter. And I know it’s coming from a good place. I just- I miss feeling like myself. Like us. There’s this invisible line we keep dancing around, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s scared of hurting me. Or the baby. Or both.”

Langdon leaned back in his chair. “Definitely both.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen it before, felt it before actually,” Langdon said. “New father, already in love with a kid he hasn’t met yet, suddenly sees his wife as precious cargo instead of a woman with her own needs and desires.”

“So what, I’m just a vessel now for this baby?”

“No,” he said, firmly. “You’re still you. But he’s navigating something new. He’s terrified. And you’ve always been the strong one, so his instinct is to protect what he doesn’t understand.”

You were quiet for a moment. “And how do I deal with that?”

“Talk to him,” Langdon said simply. “Tell him you’re not made of glass. That being close, being touched, being wanted—it still matters. Pregnancy doesn’t erase who you are in the relationship. It just shifts the balance. He needs permission to stop treating you like you’re breakable.”

You nodded slowly. “And if he still hesitates?”

Langdon gave you a look. “Then you remind him who the hell you are.”

You laughed, tension breaking just a bit. “You’re not the worst at this, you know.”

Langdon reached for his coffee. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Mel is really lucky to have you.”

He smiled gently. “Not as lucky as I am to have her.”

You stood. “Thank you.”

He looked up. “For what it’s worth, you two are solid. You’ll figure it out.”

You nodded again, already composing the conversation in your head. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about closeness. About not letting this new chapter turn into distance.

You grabbed your bag and stood slowly, a hand reflexively brushing your belly.

Jack appeared behind you, looping his fingers through yours. “Ready for our appointment?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Oh my god. I forgot about that.”

“That’s what you have me for.” He kissed your cheek.

As you walked out together, the ER faded behind you. There was no need to sneak out the back door to go upstairs to your OB. Basically the whole hospital knew you and Jack were expecting. News spread like wildfire once you told Dana, Mel, Robby and Langdon that they were allowed to tell whoever they wanted.

———————————————————————

16 Weeks - OB Appointment

The waiting room was quiet, bathed in that too-soft, too-warm light that always made you feel like you might accidentally fall asleep sitting up. 

You were still in your scrubs, badge clipped to your collar, shoes a little scuffed from twelve hours of trauma and chaos. 

Jack sat beside you, one leg bouncing restlessly. 

He nudged your knee. “You good?”

You nodded. “Just tired.”

“Want me to be quiet?”

You glanced at him. “You’re never quiet.”

Jack smirked but didn’t argue.

The nurse called your name, and you both stood. Jack’s hand instinctively found your back as you followed her down the hall. She didn’t comment on the way your steps slowed, or the way your eyes flicked toward the ultrasound machine.

“Hop up here,” she said gently. “The doctor will be in soon. We’ll take a listen first.”

You lay back, pulling up your scrub top just enough to expose the curve of your belly. The nurse squirted cold gel onto your skin and pressed the doppler into place.

It took a moment—one long, aching second—before you heard it, the whoosh-thump-whoosh-thump of a tiny, relentless heart.

Jack let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His hand found yours without needing to look.

“Strong,” the nurse said, smiling. “Mid-150s. Baby’s happy to be in there.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden sting in your eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the way Jack was staring at the monitor like it held every answer to every question you hadn’t asked.

Then the doctor came in. “Vitals are great, weight is on track, and baby is measuring right on schedule. Any new symptoms?”

You hesitated. “Some weird pulling when I twist or stretch. Sleeping’s harder.”

“That’s normal—your uterus is growing, everything's are adjusting. Stay hydrated, rest when you can, and if it gets sharp or constant, page me.”

You cleared your throat. “Can I ask something?”

Jack looked at you sharply.

The doctor nodded. “Of course.”

You didn’t look at Jack. “Is it safe, you know to- to keep being intimate?”

He almost choked letting out a cough.

 “Absolutely. Unless your having complications—which you’re not—sex is totally safe. The baby’s protected by the uterus and amniotic fluid. It’s normal for things to feel different, emotionally or physically, but there’s no medical reason to stop unless either of you wants to.”

He stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning. Jack’s hand tightened around yours again.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

The doctor smiled at you both. “Just listen to each other. This is new territory, but you’re a team. You’ll figure it out.”

When he stepped out, the room was quiet again, save for the faint echo of that tiny heartbeat still ringing in your ears.

He turned his head toward you. “Didn’t see that coming”

You shrugged, sheepish. “I wanted to hear it from someone that’s an expert in this field.”

He laughed. “I needed to hear it too.”

Later That Night — At Home

The house was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a lamp in the living room and the blue flicker of the TV. 

You came out of the bathroom in one of Jack’s old t-shirts and boxers, towel-drying your hair. He was on the couch, legs stretched out, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with the look of a man who hadn’t stopped thinking since that OB appointment.

You sat beside him, letting your weight lean into his. He immediately curled an arm around your shoulder.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You just breathed, syncing up with him again. 

Eventually, you murmured, “You were really quiet after I asked the doctor that question.”

Jack nodded. “Was just taking it all in I guess.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You’ve been scared around me. I guess I just thought our first week of together after the wedding would be us having sex everywhere and anywhere.”

“Yeah.” His voice was raw honesty. “You’ve been pushing through like nothing’s changed. But everything has. And I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”

You touched his chest, over his heart. “Don’t be fragile with me here.”

Jack looked at you then, fully, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “And I didn’t know how to get back without hurting you.”

You took his hand and brought it to your belly. “We’re right here. Still me. Still us.”

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, like he’d been waiting all day to just be this close.

“We can go at whatever pace you want.”

“Jack, I’m growing a child, there’s are so many hormones flowing through my veins and these hormones are telling me that you need to have sex with me as much as you possibly can.”

“Tell me if something’s too much,” he said softly. “If anything feels wrong. I just- I want you to feel good. Wanted. Safe.”

You smiled. “I already do.”

The kiss started soft but, deepened quickly. Not rushed. Just full of need that had gone unsaid for too long.

His hands found your hips like he remembered them. You pulled him closer, needing that weight, that warmth, that certainty that came only from this—from him.

You climbed on top of him without hesitation. Your legs wrapped around him, his thumbs rubbed small, knowing circles just above your waistband. His tongue finding your mouth, swirling around yours. You lifted yourself around him, resting your bodyweight onto his lap.

He let out a soft groan. You adjusted yourself and felt his excitement growing underneath you. 

His hands now inside your shirt around your waist. You reached down to the hem of his sweatpants. He adjusted himself off the couch slightly, just barely giving you enough space to slide your hand into his boxers. 

“Ah fuck.” 

You wrapped your hand around his already solid cock, your thumb rubbing past his tip, already slick with precum. 

“Excited already…daddy?” You whispered, lips curling into a smirk. 

He let out a breathy laugh, but there was a softness in it—like this moment meant something more than just release. “Why don’t you keep going and I’ll let you know.” 

His hands left your hips and went above his head as you put your hand onto his chest. You other hand began to pump up and down on him. Firm enough to make him squirm underneath you. 

He was breathing hard and fast. His eyes closed with his head up to the ceiling. You could feel the veins on his cock pulsating in the grasp of you hand. 

His hands left your hips and rested above his head, giving you control. You placed your free hand on his chest, steadying yourself as your grip on him tightened. You began to stroke—slow, firm, deliberate.

He was breathing harder now. His jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, every pulse syncing with his shaky breaths.

You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear. “Cum for me, Daddy.”

“Fu—fuck, babygirl.” His body tensed beneath you, arching as his orgasm hit. You felt him spill over your hand—hot, sticky, desperate.

You stroked him through it, coaxing every last drop out of him. And when you were done, your hand slid out and came to your mouth, licking him off your fingers one by one, eyes locked on his.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed, brushing your hair back, his hands settling around your neck. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Love how you taste in my mouth.” You grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch.

He put his hand on your thigh, stopping you from going any further. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Thought you needed a second before we do anything else.”

He nodded his head upwards. “Fuck that, get on top of me right now babygirl.”

He lifted up his hips up, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles before sitting back down on the couch. 

You stood up off the couch, putting yourself directly in front of him. “Take them off.”

You lowered his boxers on you, red lace panties underneath. 

“Those too.” His eyes were dark, voice deep.

Panties hit the floor with you stepping out of them. His shirt the only piece of clothing still on your body, barely covering your lower half. 

“Come up here.” He tapped his thighs with both hands. 

You straddled him again, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his legs. His hands gripped your waist under the shirt, tugging you closer. You framed his face with your hands and kissed him—hungry, messy, needing more.

He was hard again by the time your hips shifted just enough.

He grabbed himself with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance. He slid inside you in one long, perfect motion.

Your breath caught.

He filled you. Completely.

He pulled your body closer, lips crashing together. 

You rested for a moment, letting yourself adjust to his size inside of you. His hands moved to your lower back, holding you there, grounding both of you in the moment.

“God, baby,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You feel so fucking good.”

You breathed out shakily, forehead resting against his. “I needed this.”

“I know.” His thumbs followed the curve of your hips. “Me too.”

You rolled your hips—slow at first, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his eyes fluttered closed. The drag of him inside you was almost too much, but somehow not enough.

Your bodies moved together, falling into rhythm like muscle memory. 

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough and quiet.

And you listened.

He cupped your face with one hand, the other gripping your hip to guide your pace. There was nothing rushed about him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Carrying our baby. Still wanting me to fuck you.”

Your heart swelled, throat tightening. You bit your bottom lip as you rocked against him harder, chasing that edge—but not just for the release.

His hands slipped up your back, under your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His mouth found your chest, trailing kisses across your breasts, slow and open-mouthed, worshipful. You threaded your fingers through his silver curls, gasping when he sucked gently at your nipple.

“Jack—” His name broke in your throat.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing you again. “Let it go.”

You ground down harder, your body tightening, the heat building deep and fast now. He matched you thrust for thrust, his hips lifting up off the couch. 

“Cum for me,” he growled into your neck. “Let me feel you fall apart while I’m inside of you.”

Your climax hit fast and hard—hips bucking, breath caught, muscles clenching around him. You cried out his name as waves rolled through you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He wasn’t far behind. His grip on you tightened, and with a low, groan, he spilled into you, pulling you down to him, chest to chest, heart to heart.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just held each other. Just breathed.

You rested your head against his, bodies slick and tangled and trembling.

“Fuck I missed this,” you whispered. “I missed us.”

Jack kissed your forehead, lips lingering. “We’re still us. Just more now.” He looked down at your stomach. 

You smiled into his skin. “Yeah. More.”

His hands settled over your belly, still resting inside you.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again—slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say out loud.

———————————————————————

18 Weeks

“So, been meaning to ask you, you guys doing any better now?”

“Oh, Lang, trust me you don’t wanna know how much better we’re doing.”

“Yeah, I really, really could’ve gone my whole life without seeing the look of your face right now.”

“Whatever, guess your advice worked.”

He lifted his coffee cup up in a salute. “My advice always works. Anyway aren’t you guys supposed to go look at a house later?”

Langdon perked up. “House hunting again? I thought you guys were getting burned out.”

“We are. We’ve looked at, like, fifteen places and nothing feels right. So I’m not getting my hopes up.”

He shrugged, easy and steady. “You’ll find it. That ‘oh, this is ours’ feeling. It shows up when you least expect it.”

You gave a half-smile. “You get surprisingly sentimental when you’re over caffeinated.”

He grinned. “Kid, I get sentimental when I care. And you two? You’re the real deal. Don’t settle for a house that doesn’t feel like it knows your names already.”

After Shift

The sun was at its highest point when you pulled up in front of the house. 

Jack was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets, rocking on his heels. He gave a small wave when he saw you.

“This the one?” you asked as you stepped out, eyeing the house.

“Apparently,” he said, looking up at the place like it was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. “Our agent said it just came back on the market this week.“

The exterior was older—white paint a little faded, porch railing crooked. But the windows were big, the trees in the yard were bare, leaves on the ground, and there was a creak in the front step that made you smile for no reason.

The agent greeted you at the door and waved you in with a soft “Take your time. Take it all in.”

You stepped inside—and something shifted.

It wasn’t flashy. The floors were original hardwood, scuffed in all the places that said someone lived here for a long time.The kitchen was dated, but the sunlight poured in like the house knew how to catch it.

Jack walked a few paces ahead of you, quiet. Not cautious—just thoughtful.

You followed him through the living room, past a fireplace that would need work, and into a small room tucked in the back.

You looked around—window facing the yard, soft echo from your footsteps on the floor. Small. Safe.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the window and looked out into the overgrown backyard.

“I can see us here,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You stood next to him, shoulder against his. “Even with the popcorn ceilings?”

He smiled. “Especially with the popcorn ceilings. Definitely getting rid of those though.”

Jack followed close behind as you climbed the creaky stairs, your hand grazing the banister that could definitely use refinishing. 

At the top, the hallway narrowed. Three doors, slightly ajar.

You pushed open the first one. Small. Bright. The window faced east—you could already imagine morning light filling the crib, soft blankets folded over the chair you’d place in the corner.

Jack stepped beside you. “Definitely the nursery,” he said softly.

You moved to the second room. Bigger. The shape of a bed against the wall, dresser under the window, maybe a little chaos in the corners—Jack’s shoes, your half-read books.

“Our room,” you said.

He nodded, and then nudged the third door open with his foot. The last room.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped in. It was almost identical to the nursery—same creaky floorboard near the closet, same slanted ceiling that gave the space a little character. But this time, when you looked at it, you saw something different.

A twin bed. Toys on the floor. A sleepy toddler dragging a blanket behind them on a Sunday morning.

Jack moved behind you, his hands slipping onto your belly from behind, chin resting gently on your shoulder.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked quietly.

“I might be.”

“A second one?”

You turned your head toward him, half-smiling. “Too soon?”

Jack grinned. “Little bit. But not really.”

The baby kicked again—like he was chiming in.

You laughed. “You hear that? Your brother’s already opinionated.”

Jack kissed your shoulder, his voice warm against your skin. “Guess we’ll keep the extra room ready. Just in case.”

You both stood there a moment longer, wrapped in silence and the distant sounds of the old house settling around you.

———————————————————————

20 Weeks

Your next OB appointment. You didn’t remember this one either. Not that you needed to. Jack kept track of everything���dates, vitamins, test results. He was your living, breathing calendar.

This appointment you wanted go over your birth plan. 

“Of course. Let’s talk about what’s important to you. Any specific preferences? Vaginal delivery? Epidural? Who you want in the room?”

You looked at Jack first. He gave you the tiniest nod, that quiet go-ahead he always gave when the decision was yours, and he’d back you no matter what.

“I’d like to try for a vaginal delivery,” you said. “And I want an epidural, if I don’t need to feel all the pain, I don’t want to.”

The doctor made a note of it. “Totally fair. Birth doesn’t always go according to plan, but we’ll make sure you feel supported every step of the way.”

“And I’ll be there,” Jack added, like it wasn’t even a question. His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he said it. You reached for his hand without thinking, and he took yours immediately.

The OB smiled again. “Husband in the room. Got it. Anyone else?”

“No, just him. No matter how much anybody else wants to come in, I need them to stay in the waiting room, unless they need to drag jack out of the room for freaking out too much.”

“Which is a very real possibility.”

“Got it. Any thoughts on interventions? Vacuum, forceps, C-section if needed?”

You hesitated. That part scared you more than you liked to admit. But Jack squeezed your hand before you could answer.

“I’d like to avoid a C-section unless absolutely necessary,” you said. “Same with everything else, if possible of course. But do whatever you have to.”

“Completely reasonable. We’ll aim for low intervention, high support. I’ll note that flexibility is key. How long are you planning on staying at work?”

“As long as I can.”

You didn’t need to look at Jack to know that he was shaking his head.

“All up to you. If you want a note that you need to stop working let me know. It’s yours whenever you need.”

You exhaled slowly. It felt like you were drawing the map for a trip you couldn’t see yet but, at least now, the path had a shape.

The rest of the night was spent relaxing before your next shift. Going over your plan with Jack again. And getting some much needed sleep before work.

That night, between cases and chaos, you caught him just as he was sitting down to chart. 

“Hey, um—can I talk to you really quick?”

His head snapped toward you, brows pulling in. “Yeah. What happened?” His hand went straight to your belly.

You placed your hand gently over his. “The baby’s fine. Perfect, actually. I just...need to show you something.”

You held out your hand, fingers beckoning. Jack narrowed his eyes, voice softening. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

You smirked. “Don’t worry about it.”

You tugged him into the empty on call room, backing up until your spine met the wall.

His eyes darted around the space. “What are we doing in here?”

“Everything,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his scrubs and pulling him in close. “I need you right now, Jack.”

He hesitated only a beat, eyes going toward the door. Then he sighed, low and hungry.

“Well, if we’re doing this here...” His hand slipped away from your waist. “At least let me lock the god damn door first.”

The soft click of the lock was the only warning before you reached for your waistband, untying your scrub pants. Your top hiked up slightly, revealing the curve of your belly.

Jack’s eyes darkened as his hand found your stomach.

“God, you look so fucking good,” he murmured, voice rough. “Carrying my baby. Still this desperate for me to be inside of you.”

His hand moved lower, cupping you over your panties. “Fuck. You’re soaked already.”

“All for you,” you whispered.

His thumb pressed through the fabric, slow and deliberate.

“Ja-Jack,” you gasped, shifting your hips into his hand. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He slid your panties aside, two fingers running along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that sent electricity racing through your core. He dipped just enough to coat his fingers in you, but not enough to satisfy.

Then, finally, he pushed inside.

You bit down on your lip, head falling back against the wall.

His other hand came up fast, covering your mouth.

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear. “Quiet, babygirl. Don’t want anyone knowing how fucking filthy you get for me.”

Your hands searched behind you, gripping for anything to brace yourself. The angle. The pressure. The thickness of his fingers curling just right. 

Moans broke from your throat, muffled against his palm.

He moved faster, deeper. Fingers fucking you with practiced precision while his thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit.

Your body started to quake.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Falling apart on my fingers. My perfect girl. My perfect mommy.”

Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you—white-hot, unexpected, unstoppable.

You shook against him, clinging to his arm as your legs threatened to give out.

Jack held you upright, never letting go, fingers slowly easing out as he kissed your temple.

Still breathless, you whispered against his shoulder, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not a chance. You’re carrying my whole world in there.”

Jack pulled his fingers from you slowly, like he hated to let go.

You were still trembling, thighs pressed together, leaning against him for balance as he gently fixed your panties back into place.

“Fuck,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes glassy, breath still uneven. “Yeah, yeah Just don’t think I can walk back out there yet.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’re gonna have to. I’m not carrying you back to the nurse’s station with your legs like jelly and my cum on your thighs.”

You smacked his chest, trying not to laugh.

A sound. The unmistakable knock on the door.

Both of you froze.

Then came a voice—muffled but unmistakable.

“Hey, Abbott you in there? We got a GSW coming in 5!”

Dana.

Jack’s eyes went wide. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the nervous laugh bubbling up.

He mouthed fuck and motioned silently for you to stay put while he moved toward the door.

“Yeah, one second” he called, voice a little too casual.

In one smooth motion, he straightened his scrubs, cleared his throat, unlocked the door—and stepped out.

“Sorry,” he said to Dana, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s go?”

Dana blinked at him, skeptical. “You’re sweating. You okay?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah just- just wanted to grab a quick nap. You know how these rooms get, pretty stuffy in there.”

You could hear the forced calm in his voice, and it made your cheeks burn.

Dana glanced past him, trying to peer into the room. “You in there alone?”

Jack blocked the door slightly with his body. “Yup. Just me.”

A beat passed. Then she raised an eyebrow.

“You seen your wife?” Dana asked. “She just kinda disappeared. Gonna need her for this one too.”

“Bathroom, I think,” he said smoothly. “You know, gotta pee all the time when you’re pregnant.”

Dana made a face. “Ugh. Say no more.”

Jack waited until she turned down the hallway before he exhaled and slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind him again—quietly this time.

You were still against the wall, lips parted in disbelief. “Did we seriously just almost get caught by Dana?”

He grinned. “We absolutely got caught by Dana.”

You stared at him, then burst out laughing—quiet and breathless and wild.

“I can’t believe you just lied to her face like that.”

Jack leaned in, hands braced on either side of your head. “I’d do a hell of a lot more than lie to protect this.” His voice dropped low.

Your laughter faded into something softer. More vulnerable. You reached up and brushed a thumb along his jaw.

“Next time,” you whispered, “we pick a room that doesn’t echo.”

He kissed you, slow and lingering.

“I’m already looking forward to next time.”

“Oh, you’ll get a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

———————————————————————

22 Weeks

Just four weeks after looking at the house, you two were moving in. Everyone had been helping. Everyone.

People constantly at the apartment helping you pack things into boxes. Robby and Langdon going to the store with Jack to pick up all the furniture you wanting for the house. Dana, Collins, and Mel helping you find the perfect decor.

And now here you stood in the middle of your new living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes and the faint smell of old wood and fresh paint.

Jack was upstairs, wrestling a dresser up the narrow hallway, swearing under his breath in the gentlest way possible. You could hear the dull thud of a drawer sliding out, followed by the scrape of furniture against the banister.

Your hand rested on your belly. Twenty-two weeks. So close, yet so far.

You turned slowly in a circle, trying to decide which box to open first. The one labeled KITCHEN – FRAGILE stared back at you like a challenge. You ignored it and went for the one marked BOOKS – LIVING ROOM.

Jack thumped down the stairs a minute later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Okay,” he said, out of breath. “I don’t care what the listing said, that hallway is not ‘spacious.’”

You grinned. “You got it up there, though?”

“Barely. I think it’s staying with the house when we die.”

You sat on the arm of the couch, letting the stretch in your lower back ease out. “I was going to start on the books.”

Jack glanced at the box. “Start with the ones we never read but pretend we did. Those can go on the living room shelves.”

He crossed the room to you and crouched down, one hand brushing against your knee, the other settling on your belly. “How’s he doing?”

You shrugged. “Chattier than usual. I think he likes the noise.”

“Or he’s already judging our furniture arrangement.”

You looked around. The couch was at an awkward angle, the coffee table hadn’t made it in yet, and you still hadn’t decided if the painting from your old apartment belonged anywhere in this new place.

It was chaos, but it was yours.

Jack leaned his head against your leg. “We’re really doing this,” he said, quieter now. “This whole thing. House. Baby. All of it.”

You ran your fingers through his silver hair. “We are.”

You felt home.

——————————————————

24 Weeks 

Your belly had rounded out more noticeably now. Jack couldn’t keep his hands—or his eyes—off of. Even during the most chaotic shifts, he found a way to check in: a hand on your lower back, a squeeze to your palm during charting, the kind of quiet glances that spoke louder than words.

You were 24 weeks today, at work while he was at home. Hopefully putting together more furniture that had just come in.

He texted you during rounds. “24 weeks. Viable. Our little one could make it of their own now.”

That night, it stormed. The kind of downpour that made traffic impossible, left sirens echoing too often, and made everything feel a little more raw.

You came home late, soaked and silent. Too tired to cook. Too wired to sleep.

Jack was the one who finally said it, after hours of half-watching some muted show from the couch.

“Come here.”

You were already next to him, but he opened his arms like he meant it—like he needed more.

You crawled into his lap, careful of your belly. He cradled you against him, one hand on your thigh, the other curved protectively around your stomach.

“The baby kicked earlier today,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to wait until it was just us.”

His expression softened. He brought both hands to your belly now, thumbs brushing side to side like he was trying to feel her through will alone.

And then, like magic, another kick.

His face lit up like he’d been handed the universe.

You nodded, and he exhaled the kind of breath people only release when they’re holding too much love at once.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with something I haven’t even met.”

You leaned forward and kissed him—soft and slow.

Your hand slid under his shirt, fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His lips moved against yours like a promise.

He lifted your shirt carefully,, until your belly was exposed.

Then he sank to his knees in front of you on the couch, lips brushing against the stretch of skin just above your navel.

“Hi baby,” he whispered. “It’s Daddy. You keep growing strong in there, okay? I’ll take care of her out here.”

You blinked back sudden tears, heart too full, body aching with love and something deeper.

He looked up at you, reading your expression instantly.

“C’mere,” he said softly, rising to his feet. 

“Let me take care of you, too.”

———————————————————————

26 Weeks

The nursery didn’t look like much yet—just a pile of boxes, a folded-up rug, and the smell of fresh paint still lingering faintly in the air. You stood in the doorway with a mug of chamomile tea, watching Jack wrestle with the instructions for the crib.

You stepped inside, careful over the half-unrolled rug, and knelt beside him. “Want me to read while you build?”

“God, yes. I’ve been pretending this part makes sense for twenty minutes.”

You took the manual, flipping through to the page with the exploded diagram. “Step one says attach Panel A to Side B using bolt type—wait, why are there three types of bolts?”

Jack looked at you like he might cry. “They’re identical, I swear.”

You laughed, and he softened at the sound, reaching to squeeze your knee. “Don’t laugh at the father of your child in his hour of need.”

“I’m laughing with you.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Not yet.”

You handed him the correct bolts—probably—and settled beside him, your back leaning against the wall. 

You watched as he slowly pieced the frame together, getting into a rhythm. The room felt warm, despite the January air outside. You two had basically ignored the holidays with everything else going on.

The walls were pale blue now—soft and quiet.

Jack slid one of the sides into place, then sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Oh god, it’s done,” he declared.

“Certified by the ER doc?”

“I’ll get it notarized.”

You looked around. The rocking chair was still in the box. The mobile was still in the bag. There were folded baby clothes in a laundry basket in the hall, waiting for a dresser you hadn’t found yet.

But the crib was up.

Jack sat beside you, his shoulder against yours, both of you looking at it like it had just made something real that wasn’t quite real before.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, voice low.

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just hitting me a little.”

“What part?”

You took a breath, exhaled slowly. “That there’s going to be a baby sleeping in that crib soon.”

Jack looked over at you, and his expression softened into something you’d seen a thousand times but never got tired of. That quiet, steady awe he reserved just for you.

“Our baby,” Jack said. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You think we’ll be any good at this?”

“I think we’ll be tired. And messy. And figuring it out every day. But yeah.” He kissed the side of your head. “I think we’ll be pretty damn good.”

You closed your eyes for a second, letting the weight of the moment settle.

“You know,” Jack said, voice casual, “we still haven’t settled on a name.”

You smiled. “We’ve ruled out a lot, though.”

“That counts for something.”

Jack looked over at you. “Okay, so what do you like?”

You hesitated, watching the light from the window spill across the floor. “I keep thinking about names that sound solid. Not trendy. A name that would be good for when he’s an adult trying to get a job.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I still like Wesley for a boy.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. That one can stay on the list. Even though you heard it on TV somewhere and it has no meaning to us”

“It’ll have meaning once theyr'e here.” He turned his head toward you. 

“I think it kicked just now, maybe it is a boy after all,” you whispered, one hand on your belly.

Jack moved to kneel in front of you, resting his palm gently over yours.

“You like that one, huh?” he said to your stomach, smiling.

You both sat with it for a minute in silence. It was the kind that stretched and softened between people who knew how to share it.

“So Wesley for a first name or middle name?” Jack sat up, crossed his legs. “Do we honor someone? Or do we just pick something that sounds good?”

You shrugged. “We still have a couple weeks. I’m sure something will come to us by then.”

Jack looked up at you, eyes soft. You reached for his hand, and together, you sat there, naming the future, one piece at a time.

———————————————————————

28 Weeks

You hadn’t planned on finding out.

At first, it was just going to be a surprise. Something you’d discover together in the delivery room, sweaty and overwhelmed and crying. But over time, the not-knowing started to weigh heavier than expected.

Jack never pushed. But you caught him daydreaming from time to time, talking to your bump in quiet moments, cycling through baby names. Jack had a strong feeling you were carrying his son. Only talked about boy names.

So when your OB offered to write it down in a sealed envelope, you nodded without hesitating.

You didn’t want to open it. Until tonight.

“I want to know,” you said softly, sliding the envelope across the kitchen counter to Jack. “If you still do.”

He looked up from where he was getting dinner ready, eyes wide. 

“You sure?”

You nodded, pulse already racing.

He wiped his hands on a towel, drying them carefully before picking it up.

“You open it,” you said.

“No,” he said gently, “I want to see your face when you find out.”

Your chest tightened. Hands trembling just slightly, you broke the seal. You unfolded the single piece of paper.

And read the word.

BOY.

It didn’t hit you all at once.

Then Jack stepped around the counter, reading it over your shoulder.

And everything stopped.

He laughed—but it broke halfway through, a sound caught between disbelief and something close to a sob. He pressed his forehead to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and belly in one movement.

“A boy,” he whispered. “We’re having a son.”

You laughed too, and suddenly the tears came fast. 

Jack held your face in his hands. 

“A son,” he said again, voice. “I swear I’m going to love the hell out of this kid.”

You ran your hands through his hair, brushing it back from his face as his eyes stayed locked on your belly.

“I think he already knows,” you said.

Jack looked up at you, eyes glassy. “He’s going to know everything. Every day. How much we love him. How much he’s wanted.”

And for the first time in weeks, the future didn’t feel so far away.

———————————————————————

32 Weeks 

Your schedule had barely lined up with Jacks in the past couple weeks. But once it did, Jack had plans for you two. 

The night went on, chaos as usual. Until 4AM. 

He caught your eye in the hallway—just a glance, but you knew that look.

You had just sat down to eat a quick snack when he appeared behind you, voice low, warm against your ear.

“Follow me.”

You glanced around. “Jack—”

He turned, walking away like he hadn’t just whispered something that set your skin on fire.

You followed him anyway.

The on-call room door clicked shut behind you a moment later. The lights were off. Jack didn’t turn them on.

He just backed you against the wall with a hand on your belly and a kiss that made time stop.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured against your mouth. “You’re happy. Glowing. Carrying our son.”

His hands slipped under your scrubs.  One slid around to the small of your back, the other resting protectively over your bump.

“I love how you say our son,” you whispered, already breathless.

“Say it again?”

You smiled. “Our son.”

His hand dipped between your legs without hesitation, cupping the heat he knew was waiting for him.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “You’re always so ready for me.”

He lifted you onto the edge of the nightstand, working fast but careful. 

Your legs parted, scrubs halfway down, his mouth on your neck, hand moving between your thighs until your head hit the wall behind you.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “You know these walls are paper thin.”

“Then don’t make me moan,” you shot back, voice thick with want.

His grin was wicked. “No promises.”

He dropped to his knees and disappeared between your legs, and all you could do was bite your knuckle and hope the shift stayed quiet five more minutes.

Jack’s tongue dragged through your folds like he was memorizing you all over again.

Slow. Deep. Obsessive.

Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the cot so tightly your knuckles ached.

“Jack—” You breathed his name like a warning.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow.

His tongue circled your clit with precision while his fingers slipped inside you, curling up at just the right angle. 

It was too much yet somehow not nearly enough.

You came hard and fast, biting back a cry as your body arched.

He stayed with you the whole way, holding your hips, riding out every pulse of your orgasm like he wanted to feel it himself.

By the time you opened your eyes, he was already standing, undoing his scrub pants with one hand, eyes locked on you like he might not survive another second without being inside you.

“Turn around,” he said, voice rough and ragged.

You obeyed, turning to face the wall, breath still uneven.

He slid into you slowly, deep and the sound that came out of both of you was pure relief.

“God, you feel so fucking good around my cock babygirl.” he groaned.

Your forehead pressed to the wall, mouth open, body rocking back to meet his every thrust.

“Harder,” you whispered. “I can take it daddy.”

He gave you what you asked for. Each stroke slamming into that sweet spot inside you, his body hot and heavy behind yours, his rhythm fast and hungry.

“You’re mine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “My wife. The mother of my child. My whole fucking world.”

You pushed back into him harder, chasing that edge again.

“Then don’t stop,” you gasped. “Show me.”

And he did.

The pleasure built fast. Frantic and unstoppable. You reached between your legs, fingers circling your clit.

“Ja-Jack—”

“Fuck, I’m close.”

“I’m gonna—”

You came together, your body clenching around him, his hips jerking deep inside as he spilled into you.

The only sound in the room was your breathing, shaky and uneven.

He leaned over you, still buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“Get dressed before someone…

A knock at the door made you both freeze.

“Hey!” came Robby’s voice. “Tell me you’re not doing what I know you’re doing in there!”

Jack groaned and dropped his head into your shoulder, chuckling.

“One minute!,” he whispered. He pulled out of you slowly. “Worth it.”

Since this had become somewhat of a habit, Jack had towels ready to clean himself off of you.

You tried to walk out first. Tried to act like it was just another on-call nap.

But you didn’t even make it to the nurse’s station before the ambush.

Robby stood with a cup of coffee in hand, leaned against the counter with the same smug look he wore anytime he caught anyone doing something even almost against the rules.

“You two owe me new ears,” he said flatly. “And a therapy session.”

Dana, sitting beside him, didn’t look up from her chart. “At least pretend to be subtle next time. We have patients trying to survive, and you two are in there giving the walls a show.”

You felt Jack step up behind you, his hand finding your lower back as always.

“We were gone maybe twenty minutes,” he said.

Dana finally looked up. “You were gone forty-five minutes. And you walked out looking like you just finished a marathon.”

Jack grinned unapologetically. “Best forty-five minutes of my life.”

“Yeah, we all know that wasn’t the first time.” Said Robby while rolling his eyes.

Langdon appeared from around the corner, perfectly deadpan. “If HR asks, I didn’t hear a thing. But if I ever get stuck in that on-call room, I’ll just sleep outside instead.”

You groaned and buried your face in Jack’s shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you like a shield. “Hey, she needed a break. Doctor’s orders.”

Robby snorted. “Oh yeah? Was the baby involved in that medical necessity?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “He approved.”

That brought everything to a halt.

Dana’s eyes widened. “He?”

You blinked, cheeks warming. “Yeah. We decided to open the envelope.”

Langdon raised a brow. “So the orgasm was celebratory?”

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Can we please change the subject?”

Too late. Dana stood, walking around the counter to hug you with a wide grin.

“A boy,” she said warmly. “God help us all.”

Jack leaned in and kissed the side of your head, completely unbothered by the teasing. And for a moment—amid the chaos, sarcasm, and inappropriate comments, it felt like everything was exactly how it should be.

“Hey, you ready to head home?”

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Robby first. Should be quick.”

“Glad you’re finally taking your time away from here.”

You went to Robbys office where Collins was sitting inside talking to him.

“Hey, you mind if I steal your husband for a couple of minutes?”

“He’s all yours.” As she was walking past you, she put her hand on your growing stomach. “Hey there baby boy!”

You stepped inside and shut the door. “Ugh, this back pain is going to have me admitted soon enough.”

He nodded and gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. Talk to me kid. Whats going on?"

You lowered yourself into the chair slowly—thirty-two weeks in, and even basic everything came with sound effects now.

Robby leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “How you feeling?”

“Tired. Hungry. Nervous.”

He nodded. “So, business as usual.”

You cracked a smile. “I- I wanted to get started the paperwork for maternity leave.”

Robby didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at you. Not with surprise, he knew it was coming.

“When are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’ll think I want to work up to 36 or 37 weeks, depending on how I’m feeling. 

“Think that’s a good idea. How long do you want after?”

“Well I think that 12 weeks would be good enough but, Jack wants me to take 6 months.”

“If you take 3 months or 6 months, you’ll always have a place here.”

There was a quiet moment. He scratched something on a notepad, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You know it’s going to be weird here without you.”

“Don’t worry, you’d have to physically drag me out of here to keep me from coming back after.”

“I know.” He gave a faint smile. “Still going to be weird.”

You shrugged. “You’ll have Jack. He’ll keep you in line.”

Robby snorted. “Jack barely keeps Jack in line.”

“Yeah about Jack actually.” Your tone became more serious. “He’s just been so anxious recently, you know all the baby stuff and now the house and work. I- I need to know that if something goes wrong during delivery…if something happens to me…” You took a deep breath. “You’ll take care of Jack.”

Robby didn’t move. For a long second, he just stared at you. Then he leaned forward, slow and steady, until his arms rested on the desk in front of him. “You think he wouldn’t be taken care of?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not—he’d survive. Of course. But he’d fall apart first. And he wouldn't let anyone see it. Not even Dana. Not even Langdon. Not anybody. He’d keep working. He’d try to act like he was okay, and it would eat him alive.”

Robby sat back slowly, his face unreadable. Then he spoke, and his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “You think I haven’t already thought about that?”

You blinked.

“I’ve known Jack for too long,” he said. “Watched him lose patients. Watched him get in fights. Watched him fall in love with you so fast it scared the hell out of me.” He let out a dry breath. “I’ve already thought about what I’d do. I just hoped I’d never need to.”

“I know it’s unlikely,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “But things go wrong. Even when they’re not supposed to.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve been on both sides of the trauma bay. You know better than anyone.”

The room went quiet for a long time.

Then Robby leaned forward again, lacing his fingers on the desk.

“If something happens,” he said, “I’ll take care of him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t drown in it. I’ll bring him home. I’ll put food in his fridge and get him to shower and tell him he’s not okay, and that’s fine. I’ll do all of that. As many times as it takes.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging.

“But,” Robby added, “You don’t get to disappear on us. You hear me?”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

“I mean it. You’re allowed to be scared. But you don’t get to check out. Not if I’ve got a say in it.”

You nodded, brushing at the corner of your eye.

Robby stood and came around the desk. For a second, he just looked at you—like a brother would. Then he reached down and pulled you into a hug, careful of your belly but not at all careful with his heart.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

And for the first time in weeks, your breath felt like it reached all the way down into your chest again.

You let the silence settle for a beat, eyes drifting to the framed photo on Robby’s desk— a picture of Collins and their child at the beach, sand stuck to their legs, wide grins that didn’t care about sunscreen or the time.

He caught your gaze. “It changes everything you know. Having a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll be good at it, though. Both of you.”

You blinked a little too fast and looked down at your hands. “We’re trying to figure it out.”

“You don’t have to know everything yet. You just have to show up.” He paused, then added, “That kid’s already luckier than most.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded. Let the words sink in.

Robby cleared his throat and reached for a folder. “I’ll email you the HR packet. We’ll work out the schedule. You just tell me if anything changes, okay?”

You stood, placing a hand on your belly with a small smile. “Thanks, Robby.”

As you turned to leave, he added, “Hey.”

You looked back.

“If I hear even one more thing about you and Jack using that on-call room like a honeymoon suite, I’m locking it from the outside.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

And as you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, you felt a little lighter. 

One step closer to meeting your son.

———————————————————————

34 Weeks

Jack stood alone at the supply cart, restocking syringes with mechanical precision. The rhythm of it was almost meditative.

Robby found him there, hands in his jacket pockets, lingering like someone who had something to say and didn’t quite know how to start.

“Glad she took the night off.”

“Yeah she spent the whole day throwing up, almost had to bring her here as a patient. But she’s okay now, just needs to rest for a couple days.”

“You think she’ll make it to 36 weeks here?”

“For the baby’s sake, I hope not. But knowing her and her stubbornness, she will."

Robby leaned against the wall, silent for a moment. “She came to see me 2 weeks ago.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About the maternity leave?”

“Yeah,” Robby said. “But not just that.”

Jack set the last syringe into place and shut the drawer. “Okay?”

Robby watched him for a second. “She asked me to take care of you.”

Jack stilled.

“She said if something happens, during delivery, if so…meshing happens to her, she wants to make sure you’re not alone.”

The silence stretched between them.

Jack didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared at the closed drawer like it could explain something.

Robby stepped forward, lowering his voice. “She’s scared, Jack. Not of being a mom. Not even of labor, I don’t think. But of what it would do to you if something went wrong.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. He nodded once, like that was all he could allow himself.

“I told her I’d look out for you,” Robby said. “I told her I already planned to.”

Jack finally looked up. His eyes weren’t wet, but they were close. “She shouldn’t be thinking about that.”

“She’s a doctor. A damn good one. She knows the risks. Seen more than anyone should have to.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was rough, low. “I just- I don’t want her scared.”

“She’s not scared of dying,” Robby said gently. “She’s scared of leaving you. It’s not the same thing.”

Jack looked down again, rubbed a hand over his face. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly: “You’ll keep your word?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I will.”

Another pause.

“I can’t lose her Robby,” Jack whispered. “I won’t make it.”

Robby put a hand on his shoulder, solid and sure. “You’re not going to.”

Jack nodded, slow. Then rubbed both hands over his face again, this time with more force—like he could scrub the fear off.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Robby let his hand fall away. “Just- when she needs you to act calm, act calm. And when she needs you to panic a little? Panic with her.”

Jack cracked a faint smile. “You give this speech to every soon-to-be dad?”

“Only the ones who might implode if things go sideways.”

Jack smirked, barely, but it was there. “Fair enough.”

They stood there a minute longer both carrying more than they said.

And then, like always, they went back to work.

Except now he pulled every OB resident he trusted into side conversations. Asked about signs of hemorrhage. About shoulder dystocia. About NICU protocols and what really happens when things don’t go as planned.

He framed it like curiosity, like professional interest—but Dana knew, and Langdon knew, and Robby definitely knew.

———————————————————————

36 Weeks

You were exhausted. Sitting at home all day wore you out more than you ever thought it would.

The kind of exhausted that made you feel like everything in your body was weighing you down. 

Thirty-six weeks. You’d stopped counting days. But Jack still looked at you like you were the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

Which, at this moment, made you feel like you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You were lying on your side in bed, a hand resting protectively over your belly, when he came in from his morning shower. Damp hair. Bare chest. Sleepy smile.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to your bump. “Need anything?”

You looked up at him, slow and deliberate. “Yeah actually,” you said softly. “I need you.”

He crawled into bed beside you, careful as always, hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

“What kind of need are we talking here?”

You shifted, moved with deliberate slowness, until you were kneeling between his legs. Belly full and round between you. 

His eyes widened—concerned first, then darkening quickly as he realized where this was going.

“Babygirl, are you sure ? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you. But you’ve just been so tired lately.”

You looked up at him. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard. His cock was already twitching in his boxers, barely hidden. 

You pulled his waistband down, freeing him. 

Thick and heavy, already hard in your hand. You kissed his tip first, slow and soft, tasting his precum.

He groaned immediately, hips twitching. “Fuck.”

You took him into your mouth, just the head at first, letting your tongue swirl around.

His hand found your hair, gentle, never pushing, never rushing.

“You’re so good at this my dirty girl,” he murmured. “God, baby, you don’t have to…”

You went deeper, and he lost the rest of the sentence.

You worked him with your mouth, your hand wrapped around the base, moving in slow tandem with your tongue. He was unraveling beneath you, every sound he made proof of how much he needed this, needed you.

He brushed your hair back, groaning your name. “I’m close,” he warned. “You want me to?”

You pulled back just far enough to say, “In my mouth, Jack. I want all of it.”

That was all it took.

He came, hips bucking once, his hot release spilling onto your tongue. You kept going, gentle, milking him through it until he was panting, eyes glazed over like he’d just saw heaven.

When you finally sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he looked up at you like you’d just knocked the breath out of him.

“So me babygirl. Show me what I gave you.”

He sat up, looking directly into your eyes. You opened your mouth, his cum spilling out of the corners. With his thumb, he guided his seed back into your mouth until you sucked on his thumb. Getting every last drop of him. 

“Swallow me.” 

And you did. 

“I do not deserve you,” he whispered.

You smiled, easing back beside him. “You really, really do.”

He pulled you close after that, one hand on your belly, the other tangled in your fingers.

“Just remind me to return the favor,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smirked. “You’ve got four weeks, daddy.”

And Jack? He looked ready to make every one of them count.

———————————————————————

37 Weeks

Jack didn’t make a big deal out of the due date. He didn’t talk about it much, didn’t circle it on a calendar or start any countdown. But you knew he was keeping track. He always kept track.

You started noticing the little things first. How your car’s gas tank was always full. How your overnight bag slowly filled itself, snacks, chargers, an extra hoodie he never wore but packed anyway because you liked it. 

He just did it. All of it without you ever saying anything.

Sometimes you’d catch him in the nursery at night. Not doing anything, just standing there. One hand on the crib rail, eyes tracing the space like he was rehearsing something he couldn’t quite say out loud.

He rewired the baby monitor so it reached farther. Tested it three times. Installed a soft nightlight in the hallway, not because you needed it, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of fumbling in the dark if something happened.

There was a checklist in his notebook. Not digital—written by hand. Folded neatly in half and kept in his back pocket when he came home from work.

Jack didn’t talk about fear. He didn’t talk about worst-case scenarios, or about what could go wrong. But when you reached for his hand at night, his fingers were already waiting.

One evening, you found him sitting on the floor beside the crib, tightening one of the screws even though it didn’t need it. You leaned against the doorframe and watched.

“You think he’ll like it?” you asked quietly.

Jack looked up at you. Nodded. “Yeah. I think he will.”

You didn’t say anything. You just put your hand over his.

———————————————————————

38 Weeks 

You were done waiting. Having your baby in April felt nice. 

Every step felt heavier. Every hour dragged. 

Thirty-eight weeks, swollen and aching, and somehow still wanting him inside you more than ever.

Jack had been hovering since you took the first test. 

You came into the bedroom after your shower, towel slung around your waist, damp hair curling at the edges. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hand resting instinctively over your firm your belly.

“Hey,” he said softly, already reading the look in your eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “But I need you to help me.”

He crossed the room quickly, crouching in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “I need you to fuck me again.”

He pulled back slightly, eyebrows raised, lips parting. “You serious?”

“I’ve read every myth and midwife blog I could find. Sex helps induce labor. And if this baby’s ready, I am, too.”

This wasn’t just sex. It was trust. It was the both of you saying: Let’s do this. Let’s meet our son.

He stood to meet you at the edge of the bed. 

You lay back on the bed, shifting carefully, hips wide to make space for everything you were carrying. He climbed over you like he’d done it a thousand times but, this was different.

His hands trailed down your sides, reverent. His eyes never left yours.

“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmured.

“Only thing that feels wrong is not having you inside of me fucking me into labor.”

That pulled a groan from his throat.

He knelt between your legs, guiding himself into you slowly, carefully. You were wetter than you’d expected. Desperate.

“God,” he whispered as he slid in. “You feel incredible.”

You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling full and stretched and grounded. 

Every movement was slow at first, deeper than fast.

Jack bent to kiss you, moaning into your mouth as your hips rolled up to meet him.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Better than good. Don’t stop, daddy.”

And he didn’t.

He moved like he was trying to memorize your body one last time before everything changed. His hands on your belly, his forehead pressed to yours, soft grunts against your skin.

Then suddenly—your body tightened.

Not in pleasure. But in pressure.

You gasped, hand flying to your stomach. 

“Jack—”

He stopped instantly. “What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No—no. I thi- I think that might have been a contraction.”

He blinked, his entire body going still. Still inside you. “Like a real one?”

Another one followed, sharper. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s definitely real.”

Jack pulled out gently, panic and awe crashing over his face. “Okay. Okay, baby—uh—do we call the OB? You want to go now?”

You grabbed his wrist, eyes locked on his. “Jack. Finish what you started.”

His mouth dropped open. “You still want..”

“I’m not in active labor yet. Might as well fuck me until I am.”

He laughed, full and loud, and kissed you hard.

“Well,” he muttered against your lips, guiding himself back in, “if my son wants to arrive in style.”

And with that, you rode wave after wave—of contractions, of pleasure, of something sacred and wild and absolutely yours.

By the time the next contraction hit, you were already moaning into his neck.

And your labor had officially begun.

———————————————————————

Jack’s hand never left yours during the car ride, one on the wheel with one hand, gripping yours with the other. The go-bag was already in the car with everything you could need while in the hospital. Plus more.

You were timing the contractions on your phone, trying to breathe through them, but they were coming faster now. Five minutes apart. Then four.

By the time he pulled into the hospital lot, you were doubled over in the passenger seat.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clenching his hand. “That one hurt.”

Jack threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing around to your door.

“Okay, let’s go. Slow and steady.”

You were halfway to the entrance when a voice called out—

“Hey, that looks like an ‘I just had sec and now I’m in labor’ face.” Robby. Of course.

Jack just flipped him off without breaking stride. “Call OB, she’s in labor. Now.”

Dana was at the triage desk when you walked in, her eyes wide.

“Whoa, whoa—are you…?”

“Yep,” you gasped. “Contractions. Thirty-eight weeks. We’re about to have a baby.”

She jumped up from her chair. “Got it. OB’s on call. We’ll page them. You need a wheelchair?”

“No,” you gritted out. “I can walk—”

Another contraction hit, and your knees buckled slightly. Jack caught you with both arms. 

“You’re not walking anywhere,” he muttered, already lowering you into a chair someone had wheeled over. “I’ve got you.”

The elevator ride was a blur. Someone shouted “incoming labor!” over the intercom, and by the time the doors opened on L&D, a nurse was already waiting with a gown and a monitor.

Dana, Robby, and Langdon had followed the chaos up as far as they could. The doors started to close again, but not before you looked back and saw them.

Robby grinning like a lunatic. Dana blinking hard like she might cry. Langdon sipping coffee and saying, “Don’t forget to breathe, Jack!”

Then the doors shut. Hours blurred. Morning into afternoon.

Contractions. Monitors. The deep, low sound of your own breath trying to ground you. Jack never left your side. Even after three coffees and a panic attack in the hallway.

“You’re doing amazing babygirl.” he whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“I better be,” you groaned. “You’re the reason this is happening.”

He laughed softly, kissed your forehead. “Best thing I���ve ever done.”

Then your OB walked in, checked your dilation, and said the words:

“It’s time to push.”

Jack froze. You squeezed his hand so tight he winced.

“Ready?” He asked.

Jack nodded for you both. “Yeah. We’re ready.”

Your legs were up in stirrups. The pressure was unbearable. But Jack was there, one hand gripping yours, the other bracing behind your head.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “So, so good. You’ve got this.”

Your OB sat between your legs, calm and steady.

“Okay, next contraction,” he said. “Push for me.”

You nodded, bracing yourself. Then it hit. Face twisting in pain.

Jack was right there, voice in your ear. “That’s it. Come on, babygirl. You’re almost there.”

Your OB’s voice cut through the haze. “He’s crowning! One more big push—just one more!”

Tears blurred your vision. You weren’t sure if they were from pain or adrenaline or love. 

Maybe all three.

“Come on, mama. Bring our boy home.”

And with one final, scream—you pushed.

And then,

A cry.

“Time of birth: 2:24 p.m.,” said the OB.

But you didn’t hear anything except the sound of your son’s first breath.

Jack choked out a sob beside you, hand covering his mouth as he stared.

“He’s here,” he whispered. “Oh my God. He’s here.”

They laid your son on your chest, slippery and warm, his fists clenched tight as he wailed against your heartbeat.

You looked down and lost yourself completely.

Tiny nose. Your dark hair. His father’s eyes.

He quieted the second you touched him. Jack leaned over you both, tears streaming freely now.

“Hi, baby boy,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m your dad.”

You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his face.

“We did it,” you breathed.

He kissed your lips, salty and trembling. “You did it,” he whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Alright, have to deliver the placenta on your next contraction.” 

You leaned your head over to the left, looking down at what was happening to the lower half of your body.

Your expression faltered. Your eyes rolled slightly.

Jack’s smile vanished. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping your face. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyelids heavy. Your sight of Jack directly in front of you becoming blurry.

“Alright we got some bleeding here.”

Blood. Everywhere. Jack could hear it pouring onto the floor below you.

“She's hemorrhaging!” a nurse shouted.

“You shouldn’t be in here Dr. Abbot!” Said your OB as a nurse pulled your son off of your chest.

“No, I’m not leaving her!”

“Someone go get Robby!” A nurse yelled from across the room.

“Jack..” You managed to get out in a whisper.

“I’m right here. I’m right here babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.”

“N-no, his name… Jack.” you breathed. “Your name. He should know who he comes from.”

Jack shook his head, blinking hard, lips trembling. “Don’t say it like it’s goodbye.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, your breath catching. “It’s for him. Just in case. I want him to carry you forever.”

Jack leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, tears slipping from his eyes and into your hair. “Okay,” he choked out. “Okay, we’ll name him Jack. Our boy. He’ll know.”

Your eyes fluttered, body growing heavier by the second. You exhaled, barely audible.

Jack kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips—desperate to keep you tethered. “I love you. Don’t let go. Please, baby, don’t—”

Your eyes shut.

The commotion around you barely audible as you slipped out of consciousness. “BP’s dropping—she’s crashing!” “Get her to ICU now. We need to intubate and stabilize.”

“No, no—” Jack stumbled forward, but Robby caught him, using all his strength to pull Jack out of the room and into the hallway.

Jack could barely breathe.

He didn’t even realize the team pushing your crying baby boy passed and down to the nursery. 

“Jack,” he said carefully. “Listen to me.”

Jack shook his head. “She was fine—she was fine a couple of minutes ago, Robby. What the fuck happened?”

“I know. But she’s not now. She’s in the best hands. Let them work.”

“I- I can’t do this without her, Robby. We’re supposed to be talking about the rest of our lives right now. I won’t make it through this alone. I need her.”

“You’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And with her. There’s a waiting room full out there just for you guys. You don’t need to do this by yourself now.”

He lowered himself to the cold, hallway floor. Arms went up, hands above his head, fingers intertwined in his hair.

“I can’t lose her Robby.” His voice broke as he looked up, tears pouring down his face, eyes already bloodshot. “This is all my fault.”

His entire world just changed in the blink of an eye. Because your family just began. But you weren’t there for it with him. 

———————————————————————

Wooo, my longest fanfic so far! Y’all I had to take so many breaks while writing this.  Also accidentally deleted the whole thing and almost threw my laptop across the room but, here it is! And there obviously has to be another part. 

Let me know what you guys think down below please ! :) 

[readreidsworld]

Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: It’s your very first Mother’s Day Bucky is determined to make sure you feel every bit of the love you deserve

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You woke to the quiet rustling of sheets and the smell of coffee drifting down the hallway.

The spot beside you was empty, but the warmth lingering there said he hadn’t been gone long. Your hand instinctively drifted to your stomach still getting used to its softer shape before your eyes fluttered open.

Then you saw it a single white tulip on your nightstand, next to a small card that read: “To the best mom I’ve ever known.” Inside was Bucky’s handwriting, a little crooked, a little rushed but unmistakably his.

“You gave our daughter the world the moment she opened her eyes. I’m just lucky I get to be in it with you.”

You were still reading it when the door creaked open and Bucky peeked in, holding a tray with your favorite breakfast a baby monitor clipped to his Henley.

“She’s still asleep,” he whispered, walking over. “Figured I had a window.”

You smiled, eyes glassy. “You wrote a card?”

“I did. Might’ve Googled ‘how to write a good Mother’s Day message,’ but I meant every word.” He set the tray down and sat beside you, one hand brushing your hair back, thumb grazing your cheek with the gentlest affection. “I know this year’s been a lot. Your body changed, your life changed, and you’ve handled every part of it like a damn superhero.”

You scoffed softly. “I’ve cried over spilled milk. Literally.”

“And I’ve watched you feed a baby on zero sleep while comforting me after nightmares,” he said quietly. “You’re more than a mom you’re her mom. Ours. That’s everything.”

You leaned into his touch, heart full in a way that had nothing to do with breakfast and everything to do with the man holding it.

“Bucky?” “Yeah?” “Thank you. For all of this. For making me feel seen.” He kissed your forehead, lingering there. “You’re not just seen. You’re celebrated. Today and every day.”

From the monitor, a soft fussing sound began. Bucky chuckled and stood. “Guess someone wants to wish you a happy Mother’s Day herself.”

You watched him disappear down the hall, returning a moment later with your daughter curled against his chest, her tiny hand grabbing onto his dog tags like they were hers now.

“She got you something too,” he said, gently handing her over. In her tiny hand was a string bracelet messy, knotted, but clearly handmade.

“I helped,” Bucky added sheepishly.

You held your daughter close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as tears finally spilled over.

Bucky sat beside you again, wrapping his arm around both of you. “Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart.” In that moment, with your family wrapped around you, you felt it the quiet, beautiful fullness of being loved.

[lacemadesoldier]

bucky and the bunny | bucky barnes smut

you’re the youngest avenger. a bratty girly girl with an obsession for pink and shopping. and bucky likes to tease you for it.

warnings ; smut minors dni, reader is afab, age gap, dom!bucky, degrading and praise p in v, oral (both receiving), bucky is called sir, slight enemies to lovers,

“thank you!” you smile all white teeth and pink gloss at the cab driver as he hands over your bags and you spin to make your way to the tower. you notice bucky approaching and wish in that moment it was anybody else.

you and bucky weren’t enemies but you weren’t friends either. you initially blamed it on the man’s reserved personality assuming he was quiet with everyone. the most he’d ever said to you were fleeting comments but he did often enjoy teasing you for your girly interests and you’d had a really nice day shopping with some old friends and you could really do without his criticism of your spending ruining it.

“what the hell is all this?” he asks as he sees you approaching the door to the tower and you shrug, hands filled with various shopping bags.

“stuff.” you say it like its obvious and his brows knit together before he scoffs, reaching for the door and allowing you to enter whilst he trails behind you.

his eyes follow your frame, curled hair teased up with a pink clip in the back. tiny baby pink dress that he was sure wouldn’t be legal back in his day and a white cardigan over top. not to mention the smell of your perfume that followed you and drifted right into his nostrils.

“what stuff?” his metal finger presses the elevator button and you roll your eyes, settling the bags at your heeled feet.

“clothes..makeup just stuff.” you follow it with a shrug again and he wants to keep pressing but instead grabs the bags for you and you follow him into the elevator. “thank you.”

as you hit the button he notices your short french nails and snorts. “you get told off for the claws?” his head nods in the direction. your eyes roll again and he finds amusement in it.

“how’d you know?” there’s a pout lingering on your lips at the idea everyone was talking about you behind your back. especially for something like that. you already felt way out of place-your pink clothes, curled hair and makeup applied to perfection before training sessions in a morning.

youd always loved the stereotypical girly things and you knew it wasn’t exactly the norm for an avenger but at the end of the day you were a girl in her early 20s and you were willing to help save the day when needed but you weren’t going to lose your own interests for it.

“yelena said you stole some of her skin with one during a spar last week.” his explanation does nothing to soothe your worry and a frown takes over your face as the doors close and you begin ascending.

“it was a total accident! was everyone mad at me?” your defence is sweet and he almost feels bad for mentioning it. he knew you were sensitive. which was surprising for how angry you could get sometimes. your reminded him of a bunny, huffing from your twitching nose and stamping your feet when you’re mad.

“no i noticed her hello kitty bandaid and asked about it.” it’s his turn to shrug and you nod, your hands clenching together awkwardly as you examine all the bags in his hands.

“i probably bought too much.” you murmur and his face twitches into a confused one.

“i saw you come in last week with double this.”

“yeah, exactly.” your eyes roll again and he tuts.

“you know doll, the shopping isn’t the problem.” he tells you and your eyes flit to him. “it’s your attitude.”

“excuse me?” the elevator dings and he walks out, you following close behind. he can almost imagine your angry expression as he listens to the bracelets on your wrist jingle as you storm after him.

“do you want these in your bedroom or your dressing room?” completely ignoring you as you stop, hands crossing over your chest. “hm?”

he barely looks over his shoulder at you and youre tempted to stomp your foot and demand he explains what he means by ‘attitude’ but the irony isn’t lost on you so you storm over and take your bags from him.

“i think i can take them from here, thank you.” he chuckles at your emphasis on the last two words but you ignore it and disappear with the clacks of your heels into your dressing room with a mental huff.

—

after a few hours you emerge from your bedroom and make your way to the kitchen. bucky is already there nursing a glass of something.

“ah the princess is away from her tower.” he smiles at you from behind the breakfast bar and you hold back the urge to roll your eyes, taking a seat at it.

“sorry i like to have alone time.” you defend in a murmured whisper and before he can respond you’re asking “where is everyone?”

“out.” he runs a hand through his hair and you stare at him. he’s wearing his usual ‘off duty’ uniform of jeans and a black shirt that tugs at his biceps every time he moves them. you quickly look away and admire the view from the large window. it’s already dark. “are you here to make a tea?”

“uh yes.” you mutter out confused. sure it was routine for you to have one around this time but you didn’t know everyone knew about it. he spins on his heels grabbing the bag and dropping it into your rose patterned tea cup.

you watched his movements as he began boiling water before sipping from his own glass and looking over at you. “what?”

“do you think i’m weird?” you blurt out and he stares back at you confused. “i mean-like do you think i don’t fit in here?”your arms gesture around you and he chuckles.

“i think your pink sticks out like a sore thumb but everyone here really likes you.”

“is that why you don’t like me? you wish i wasn’t so pink?” your voice doesn’t sound sad as you ask him, genuinely curious and eyebrows furrowed together.

“what?” his eyes stare directly at you and you fight the urge to look away. you don’t want to back down from him. “i mean i don’t not like you?”

“cmon bucky.” you sigh and he keeps his gaze on you. “you’ve been weird with me since the day we met. im not even mad im just curious.”

your explanation causes his mind to whirl. was he weird with you? he knew he wasn’t exactly inviting you to be his best friend but he wasn’t to anybody else either. and you were over 100 years younger than him. and way too hot for your own good. or his own.

the minute he saw you he knew it’d be a slippery slope for him. your wide smile as you told him your name after he’d untied you and everyone had explained everything about ‘bob’ to him. there you were trying to to befriend him whilst the group was making up a plan. too sweet and too welcoming. he needed to keep to himself when it came to you.

“you don’t think it’d be weird if i tried to be your friend?” he asks and you suddenly feel under pressure, his gaze feeling heavy over you.

“no, we’re a team now.” you explain and he nods. “everyone else is fine with me. it’s just you with the problem.”

he rounds the breakfast bar and makes his way over to you. “i don’t have a problem doll.”

“you said my attitude was a problem.” you defend back and he laughs lowly.

“that’s your problem, not mine.” his voice is barely above a whisper and you feel your face heat up, trapped between him and the counter as you stand up.

“whatever bucky.” you murmur and he runs a hand along his jaw.

“you know when i was younger -“

“500 years ago?” you look up at him expectantly and he breathes a laugh in return.

“close.” you eye him for him to continue. “girls like you didn’t even exist.”

“what do you mean?” your eyes stare up at him and he smirks. his fingers find the hem of your way too short skirt and skim your upper thigh as he snorts a laugh at your shocked expression, dropping his hand back to his side.

“clothes were different.” he shrugs and you look down at your outfit.

“yeah it was illegal to show ankle back then, right?” you fire back and he smiles down at you.

“there’s that attitude again, bunny.” it sounds like a warning and you almost don’t register the new name he’s got for you.

“bunny?”

“hm?” he raises an eyebrow and look back at him questioning. “fits, don’t you think?”

“you’re being annoying.” you tell him, standing up to round him and finish your tea.

“i thought you wanted to be my friend?” he asks amusedly as he watches you.

“i don’t hear you calling anyone else bunny.” you stop spinning around to face him as he stands opposite you.

“no one else quite fits it like you.” he stands up from his seat at the same time the elevator dings and everyone walks in and steals your attention. you give him another look as he makes his way out of the room and he looks back, sending a wink your way and leaving you utterly confused.

—

the next morning as you got ready for training you couldn’t get your conversation with bucky out of your mind. or just bucky in general. something about him finally saying more than 5 words a day to you really introduced something you weren’t ready for. you wanted bucky barnes to bend you over your dresser and make fun of you for your stupid pink clothes and shopping habit. which was absolutely crazy and you needed to put that to rest.

you planned to speak to him before training started and arrived 10 minutes early,dressed in your pink sweats with a matching jacket. you made your way straight over to bucky who was leaning on the wall outside of the gym but as his eyes lifted and he saw you you felt another person approaching.

“you’re ditching me for bucky?” yelena asks and before you can disagree he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“she wanted someone who could actually challenge her.” he tells her and you wave him off. you go to open your mouth but he begins his way into the room. “cmon don’t wanna be late.” you huff and follow him inside muttering an apology to yelena.

“what the heck?” you ask bucky as the door clicks behind you and he pulls the hoodie from his body exposing the black compression shirt that lifted a little exposing a slither of his lower abs. god.

“what? you came over to me.” he brushes you off. “ready?”

“i just wanted to ask you something. i like pairing with yelena because she lets us talk and go slow-!” you’re cut off with a jab thrown to you that you just barely miss. “bucky!”

“what? i’m not yelena and you’re not gonna learn to defend yourself whilst gossiping about shoes and boys.”

“i don’t think she’s interested in my shoes and we don’t talk about boys.” you throw a jab at him as he sighs but he’s quick to grab onto your wrist with his mechanic hand cool on your skin.

he smirks at the your reaction. “well bunny, whatever she does is clearly not good enough.” your free hand punches against his stomach and you expect him to react but of course he takes it like it was nothing. still holding onto your hand he drags you closer. “try harder.” his breath is hot against your ear as he all but whispers the words. heat rises up your spine and you push him away from you without a second thought.

“did i bring my water in here?” you ask and he stares at you dumbfounded. his hands move to his hips and he looks around before shaking his head but you don’t hear anything he says because you’re too busy gawking at his broad chest and bulging biceps in his signature black shirts that you decide he must be purposely buying in a size too small to accentuate his muscles.

“hello?” his face is taken over by that smirk again and you wanna punch it off him as you realise he’d caught you staring at him. “you wanna keep staring or shall i teach you a few things?” you avoid the innuendo and mentally scald yourself.

“ya right old man. what are you teaching me?” he eyes you down, before shrugging.

“how about we start with manners?” he asks and before you reply you’ve kicked his legs from under him sending flat on his back on the mat. “or not.”

“are you impressed? i mean you should’ve seen it coming really but you didn-“ he grabbed a hold of your ankle using it to pull you down over him, straddling his chest.

you stare down at him, his hand holding your ankle by his head as you’re way too close to comfort to the man who before last night the most you’d ever spoken to one another was just polite small talk and here you were feeling your thighs want to close around his face as he smiled up at you triumphantly. “oh my god bucky!”

“what?” he laughs as you climb off of him, walking to the other end of the room. “what’s wrong now bunny?”

“i’m done for the day.” you sigh out and he shakes his head.

“no you’re not!” he jogs over to you, hand holding the door shut as you try to open it. “you have to do 45 minutes at least and you’re barely at 10!”

“you’ll have to fail me sir.” you push him aside and storm off. you weren’t exactly sure why you just overreacted like that.

you felt overwhelmed with bucky suddenly. like everything he did left you feeling dumbfounded and unable to say what you wanted to. which you weren’t even sure of anyways but you knew it went along the lines of leave me alone. or so you told yourself. that and apologise for being so weird last night.

-

a shower, some rollers and a music filled makeup and outfit session later you were applying your perfume when there was a knock at your dressing room door. you were sure everyone was out but apparently not.

“come in?” you placed the glass bottle down on your vanity and watched through the mirror as the man in black slowly walked into your very pink room. “try not to grimace.”

“i’ve never been in here before.” he admits as he shuts the door behind him and stands awkwardly by it. his eyes scan the fairy lights and racks of clothes, shelves of bags and shoes.” it’s very you.”

“i designed it myself.” you explain and spin around to look at him. now he was getting a good look at you, the new room long forgotten. you were wearing a pleated pink mini skirt and a lacy white top. your feet were bare with a gold initial anklet dangling and your french toes on full display which he oddly found himself enamoured with.

“did i upset you earlier?” he blurted out. not the way he planned but not as bad as it could have been either.

“no.” you shrugged and he continued to stare at you, waiting for more but it never came.

“you seemed annoyed.” he attempts to explain further but you just shrug again causing him to tut. “usually when you’re having a conversation you do more than shrug your shoulders.”

“usually when you’re an old man you keep your distance from the young girls in your work instead of barging into their dressing rooms.” you’re half teasing half serious. every minute you spend alone with him makes you want to pounce on him.

“hey i knocked and you told me to come in! and i was only coming to checking on you after you were weird this morning.”his voice is defensive and it makes you giggle and roll your eyes.

you spin around and make your way over to your shoes holding up a pair of pink sandals in one hand and white sling backs in the other. “which pair with this outfit?” you ask him and gesture down at yourself. he eyes you up and down then his eyes look between the two before focusing back on your bare feet for a second too long.

“where are you going?” he walks closer into you room, closer to you. sure it was another ‘off’ day for you but it didn’t mean you could just go out and about. you hadn’t even finished your training for the day yet.

“mind your business old man.” you shoo him as you make your way by him to check both shoes against your outfit in the full length mirror that his broad frame was blocking.

“manners.” his voice is warning and you feel that familiar hear between your thighs as your eyes look above you to meet his own in the mirror. “you’ve still got your training workout to complete from this morning.”

“i’m not doing it it’s my day off.” your voice is challenging as you continue your the contact with him. “i told you-fail me sir.”

at that he takes ahold of your arm, spinning you around and pulling you harshly against his hard body. “what’re you doin-“

“shut up.” he grits out. “such a fucking brat you know it’s your life you’re messing around with? up here playing fucking dress up when your life is at risk every mission?”

“i’m good at what i do buck-“

“yeah i’ve seen you out there, you are. but you’ve got an attitude problem, bunny.” his eyes bore into your eyes and your arm starts to ache from how hard he’s holding it but your thighs are involuntarily rubbing together as you listen to him scald you. and he clearly notices. “are you even listening or is that little brain of yours too occupied?”

you stare up at him with doe eyes as you speak. “sorry sir.” like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

he breathes a laugh through his nose at that. “finally some manners. huh. bun?” he lets go of your arm. letting you completely free from him bar the hand you’ve got fisted in his t shirt. you continued to stare up at him, clearly dumbfounded from just a little gentle guiding and his mind wanders to how he could get you to act with some real words of enforcement. but he knows he shouldn’t be thinking that and he quickly snaps out of, taking a step back.

“make sure you get your training done. yelena will do double with you tomorrow.” he explains before he turns to leave.

“i want you to do it with me again.” your voice is lower, there’s a whine to it, and he turns to face to see your cheeks pink and fingers twisted together nervously.

“i shouldn’t have done that today. i apologise. like you said an old man should keep his distance from his young coworkers.” he was trying really hard to ignore the way your thighs clenched as he called himself an old man.

“but i don’t want you to keep your distance!” your voice was more demanding now and he shook his head.

“where’s your manners bun?” he asks, chin tilted toward you and tone soft but there’s a pout on your face. like you were determined to have him give in.

“where’s yours? you act all weird to me then you compliment me and get all close then you need to keep your distance? that’s not fair!” you bite back childishly and he lifts a hand to your face, taking your cheek into his hand and you nearly nuzzle into it as you stare up at him with wide eyes. “i want you bucky.”

“you’re such a fucking brat.” his lips are against yours, hard. his mechanical hand grips the bare skin of your waist, leaving goosebumps on the hot skin and you moan against his lips. he pulls back with a pop and you admire his spit slick lips.

“you want this?” his voice is serious and stern and you nod but he shakes his head disapprovingly. “words bunny.”

“yes sir.” your words are followed with a giggle and he smirks down at you.

“you like calling me sir? what about it? it remind you how much older than you i am? you like that, huh?” his lips trace their way down your neck as his hands explore your ass under your skirt.

“that and you’re bossy.” your words are punctuated with a slap to your ass and you yelp and grab onto his biceps.

“not gonna tell you again about that attitude. you wear all this pink making everyone think you’re a good little girl but really you’re a bratty whore.” his words pour into you like lava. melting you down and down until you’re putty in his hands willing to do anything he wants.

“sorry sir.” your voice is sugary sweet and you follow it with a sweet kiss to his bearded jaw, a glittery lipgloss mark against it which makes you blush. “let me make it up to you?”

you push him backwards onto the antique chaise longue, and climb on top of him. your clothed heat settles above his stiffening cock and you reconnect your lips with his own. your hands roam under the black t shirt as you rock against him. his tongue pushes easily into your mouth and you let him rub it along yours.

bucky liked to kiss dirty you quickly found out. your spit swapping as his tongue traced your own before he sucked yours into his mouth and you let out a moan.

“such pretty fucking noises just from kissing bunny.” his lips move down your jaw as your hands trace his hard abs. you’re humping him now as he grips your hips, guiding you against him and you’re sure you’re leaving a wet patch on his jeans.

one of your hands makes its way lower to palm him through the jeans and he sucks in a breath at the feeling which makes you whine in response. “wanna suck it, please sir.” your forehead rests on his chest as you beg and he chuckles against your neck.

“go ahead princess.” the words spur you on and you peel yourself from on top of him to kneel between his legs. you make quick work to move to take his belt in your hands but he pushes you off.

“slow down bun.” he undoes the belt painfully slow and you almost feel drool pool in your mouth as you just watch as he stands above you and rids himself of his jeans and boxers. already hard cock slapping against his lower tummy. your hips move against nothing at the side of him, staring down at you with his messy hair falling in his face.

“please?” you barely get out above a whisper and he smiles down at you, taking some of your hair in his hand and nods.

“go ahead bunny. s’all yours.” that really egged you on and you carefully took it at the base as you guided it to your mouth. your tongue swirled on the tip and bucky threw his head back with a loud groan.

“fucking hell baby.” all the nicknames and the weight of him against your tongue was making your head spin as you kept your eyes on the man above you. you pushed him further into your mouth before you got as low as you could and prepared to pull off until he fisted your hair and shoved you further down. you felt your throat bulge as you choked around him but the sound of his moans above you made it worth it as you concentrated on breathing through your nose.

“good fucking girl that’s it.” he praises, his grip still tight in your hair as you begin to bob on and off his cock. you gag again around him and absentmindedly reach up to his mechanical hand, threading your fingers with his own for comfort and he coos at you. “such a sweet girl, just needed your -fuck- your mouth filling.”

you moan around him and he begins thrusting into your mouth now, flesh hand holding your head still as he abuses your throat. flows of your name and curses fall from his lips and your free hand makes its way to his balls giving them a gentle squeeze before he stills against your face, cumming down your throat then pulling your mouth off and on him as his orgasm washes completely over him. you come off of him with a pop sound and he watches as you swallow everything he had given you without him even having to tell you. “good girl.” you smile up at him and he uses the hand he was holding to pull you up.

“cmon.” he grabs his pants and leads you out of your pink room and down the hall to his own. your eyes wander around and its entirely black. so bucky you think.

“wanna fuck you in my bed princess, that okay?” he asks and you nod.

“don’t even need to ask sir, can have whatever you want from me.” you tell him and he stares into your eyes knowing there’s not a hint of a lie in that statement.

“take this off.” your hands pull eagerly at the black shirt and he reaches a hand behind him to pull it over his head. you don’t even try to hide your stare as you take him all in. completely bare in front of you and hes absolutely perfect. muscly and rock solid like he was carved out of stone.

you smile cheekily back at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, as you climb hands and knees on to his black bed sheets. you arch your back to him, letting him know you’re not wearing panties and he can’t believe his eyes.

“fucking hell bunny.” you were dripping down your thighs and he just couldn’t help but lean forward and shove his face into it. he moaned at the taste of you. so sweet. and the smell. he felt like he’d died and been given a chance at heaven.

your noises got louder and louder as he swiped his tongue between your folds before landing on your clit and circling it a few times. you were like putty in his hands, pushing yourself back against his mouth letting him have you like this. he was the luckiest bastard ever. he’d thought about this exact thing almost every-time he found himself fisting his cock in the shower after another torturous day of you prancing around the tower in your skimpy outfits.

“gonna cum!” you whined out, your hand reaching behind you to fist at his hair and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your heat before he pulled away. “bucky?!”

“you gotta earn it baby. that’s for your attitude and missing your training today.” he explains and manoeuvres you onto your back against the pillows. “need you to be a good girl for me so i can treat you like a spoiled little brat.”

his hands made quick work of ridding you of your clothes and he immediately grabbed onto your tits. his tongue finding its way to the left nipple. he circled it and you moaned out, arching against him already desperate for your relief.

“bucky please.” you star down at him. he has his lips puckered around your pebbled nipple and he smirks up at you. “need you please i’ll be so good i promise.”

“oh yeah?” he asks, moving his lips to the next nipples as his cock brushes at your entrance.

“fuck! yes please sir i need you so bad!” he grabs ahold of the base and presses the tip against your clit. he rubs circles against it and your manicured nails find their way to press deep moons into his shoulders as you moan out his name.

“that feel good bunny?” he asks in vain. it feels good to him never mind you who’s tense against him, moans falling from your lips as you fight the coil already building in your tummy.

“i’m so close sir.” you let him know and he near enough growls as he continues his circles on your clit, his tip leaky from his first orgasm. “please please!” your voice turns into a whine against his lips and your orgasm comes like a storm cloud over you. your eyes screw shut and it leaves you shaking as you pulse around nothing.

“such a good fucking girl. came from just my tip on your little clit. didn’t even finger you or nothing yet princess.” he pressed a comforting kiss to your head and you sigh with a smile in response, head still fuzzy. “you gonna give me another? let me fuck you in that little cunt?”

“yes please sir.” your voice is quiet and he smirks down at you. he guides his cock head to your entrance and thrust gently inside. you’re dripping wet and he’d warmed you up for him so there’s barely any resistance as you take him in greedily. “bucky!”

“so fucking good bunny, fucking perfect.” he grunts into your open mouth as you whimper at the stretch of him as he pushes in to the hilt “fits like a glove.” you almost laugh at that, such an old man thing to say.

“bucky!” it’s barely a babble and he nods down at you, pushing the stay hairs from your face.

“you okay bun? feeling good?” you nod and he wants to laugh at how fucking cute you look stuffed full of his cock with your mouth open in an ‘o’ and your eyes squeezed shut. “can you look at me?”

“so full!” your eyes glow up at him sweetly and he smiles,chest feeling hot.

“thereee she is.” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “you feel okay baby?” you were warm all over. like he’d taken over every part of your body and you trust him so deeply to do so.

“please move?” that was all he needed as he pulled out to slam back in again. you were gripping him like a vice and the room was filled with your whimpers and the wet sounds coming from where your bodies met. “feels soo good.”

“yeah? you like how i fuck you princess?” he asks and you just nod, already getting close and your brain turning dumb as he babies you. “next time gonna bend you over in one of the pieces of fabric you call a skirt. make sure you got no panties on and take you in the meeting room.” he’s grunting and each word he speaks brings you both closer to that point.

“can’t even tell you how many times i thought of that. thought of the poor excuse of a string you had on for underwear.” he groans again and you whine as you look down between you both. “yeah watch me fuck you princess.”

“i think of it too.. always watch your arms in your shirts.” your hands instinctively begin stroking his biceps and he chuckles at you.

“yeah? you like my arms bun?”

“mhm..so big. want them anywhere on me.” with that he pulls out and flips you onto your front. his mechanical arm grabs you around your neck, holding you to his back in a slight headlock as the other guides his back into you. you moan out his name and your head is thrown back onto his shoulder. the new angle let him get even deeper and you could already tell you weren’t gonna last much longer.

his flesh hand presses a finger to your clit circling and egging you on. your hands grip the arm holding you on and it just spurs you on even more as you grind down against his hand. that paired with the brutal way he was fucking has you right on that edge.

“bucky please need to cum.” you beg. “wanna come all over you please please let me?”

“go on bunny such a good girl you deserve it.” he lips press to the side of your face and with the softest action your spasming in his arms practically screaming his name. your walls pulse around him and feels his release right there and with a few more pumps he cums into you with a deep groan. he stills against your body, holding you tight against him before he lays you both down on his sheets.

your head is against his hard chest and your eyes flutter open to look up at him. “you okay?” he asks and you nod shyly, blushing as you stare up at him. “why’re you goin all shy on me now?” his hand strokes your cheek and you shrug.

“feel shy.” you tell him and he chuckles at you.

“you’re silly baby.” he gets up from the bed with a whine from you. “cmon let’s get you cleaned up.”

**

[sugardollcurse]

I love ur writing so bad😭😭😭 it’s the air in my lungs honestly. Anyways not really a very well written plan.. but like maybe something with a reader who has super long hair 🫶 think like almost Victorian style length. I think it’d be pretty cute !!

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓

꒰ pairing ꒱ paul mccartney x reader, john lennon x reader, george harrison x reader, ringo starr x reader

꒰ note ꒱ you sweet lil creature this is so lovely ♡ i think you’re onto something gorgeously romantic here....

꒰ JOHN ꒱

“Christ. It’s like… Rapunzel, but a little weirder. And I like it.”

Pretends to be nonchalant about it, but his hands will not stay away.

He’ll twirl the ends around his finger while you talk, watching them bounce back when he lets go.

The first time he saw it loose, after you’d taken it down from a braid, he went completely silent. For once.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, almost reverently, and then reached out slowly like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch it.

Becomes very possessive of it. If someone else compliments it, he leans in all smug and says, “Yeah, well, they don’t let just anyone braid it, y’know.”

Likes when you sit between his legs while he half-heartedly tries to brush it.

He pretends to mess it up on purpose just so you’ll stay there longer.

Sometimes talks to it like it’s its own being. “Oi, you’re hiding their face. I’m talkin’ to them, not you.”

Insists you let him tie little ribbons in it.

You look over your shoulder one day and he’s braided it into a very lopsided plait and added one of his guitar picks near the end.

But then he kisses the back of your head and murmurs, “You’ve got magic in there, don’t you?” and you forget all about it.

꒰ PAUL ꒱

“D’you know how lucky you are? You’ve got the kind of hair people write songs about.”

He’s obsessed.

Thinks it’s the most elegant, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Absolutely wants to photograph you with it flowing over your shoulders like silk.

Will sneak up behind you and gently lift a strand to kiss it, grinning when you shiver.

“It’s like… living art, love. Honest.”

Has 100% written lyrics inspired by it.

He’ll never admit it, but there’s one notebook with your name written at the top, and every metaphor is about you + your hair + how you make him feel like he’s caught in a daydream.

He helps you wash it, all careful hands and warm water, and whispers praises the whole time.

Loves to brush it out in the evening while you sit in front of him, sleepy and content. He hums as he does it.

“You’ve got me under a spell,” he says one night, fingers combing through gently. “All this hair and you still don’t see how magical you are.”

He means it with his whole heart.

꒰ GEORGE ꒱

“Don’t move. The light’s catchin’ your hair just right… it looks like fire.”

He’s completely enchanted.

Like stunned every time you enter a room.

You’ll turn your head and the whole sheet of your hair will follow and he’ll forget how to speak.

Sits beside you and watches you brush it like it’s a religious experience.

His eyes are huge and soft and adoring.

“Can I…?” he’ll ask shyly, reaching for the brush.

And then he’ll do it so gently you barely feel it, murmuring things like, “It’s so soft,” and “Feels like water when it moves.”

Likes to rest his head in your lap and bury his face in it, sighing like you’ve just saved his soul.

Genuinely gets worried if you ever mention wanting to cut it.

He’s supportive, of course, but he’ll blink rapidly and go, “Oh… really? You sure?”

Will absolutely play his guitar while you sit nearby and braid daisies into it.

Buys you nice clips and pins and insists “It just looked like something you’d wear.”

꒰ RINGO ꒱

“Y’don’t think it’ll get tangled in me drumsticks, do you?”

He’s in awe but also totally playful about it. Will tug very gently on a lock and go, “Hello? Is Rapunzel home?”

Likes to hide behind it and pretend it’s a curtain. “The theatre of dreams,” he announces dramatically, peeking through it with a grin.

Loves it when it’s wet and wavy and clinging to your shoulders.

“You look like a mermaid. Or a siren, maybe. Gonna steal me soul?”

He offers to braid it but has no idea how.

The result is a knotted mess of love and effort. “It’s modern art, alright?”

Sleeps with his head on your shoulder just so he can feel it against his face.

Will randomly start brushing it when you’re mid-sentence.

Doesn’t even ask.

He’s just like, “You were talkin’ about that book, right? Mm-hm. Keep goin’,” while gently detangling.

Likes leaving little kisses at the nape of your neck where it starts. Just because.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee

[grogwrites]

Drag - O.P. 81

Chapter 2: Guardian Angels

Navigation

Summary: Street Racer vs F1 Driver, a connection that’s undeniable, and the opportunity of a lifetime.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC (original character)

CW: swearing. Some possible racing inaccuracies.

Word Count: 2.5k

*DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

Oscar was known for working late. Mark usually called it ‘obsession’, but he liked to think of it as dedication to his craft. Still, being at the track at two in the morning was a bit too late, even for his standards. He couldn’t help it, though. He had a shot at something huge, and throwing it to waste was not something he was about to do. He couldn’t choke—not when he was this close to reaching everything he’s ever dreamed of acheiving. The championship title was so close, in fact, that he swore he could taste it.

The automatic lights in the McLaren trailer had long since turned off, but the dim glow of his computer screen remained on as he scrolled through footage from the first practice session tonight. He hadn’t even realized his coffee was gone until he reached over to pick it up, only to be greeted by the empty cup. He sighed quietly, finding it as a sign to step away for a quick break. As he stood from the small stool, the lights slowly flickered on. He liked when he could work in these conditions: quiet, unbothered. The only sound that echoed through the building were his shoes as he walked across the concrete floor.

That was, until, he heard a garage door open.

He stopped in his tracks before looking over his shoulder. The cars themselves were out of his viewpoint, but he could hear the voices that were entering the facility. As Oscar began to make his way towards the entrance, he was caught off guard by the sound of Lando laughing.

“You’re not a very chipper one, are you?” Lando asked. Their voices grew louder. Oscar took a few steps back, trying to stay out of sight.

“I’m not here to make friends,” a girl’s voice chimed in. Her tone was clipped and short. She had an American accent, so Oscar could only assume she was from around the area. Then again, he didn’t think his teammate knew anyone in Vegas.

“Right, right,” Lando replied sarcastically. He heard them stop walking. “You’re here to race.”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I am looking at the actual McLaren cars,” now a guy spoke up, laughing in excited disbelief. “Jo, this is insane! You’re going to be sitting in one of these!”

“Blake, just shut up,” the girl, Jo, muttered. “Just tell me how these things work.”

Oscar quietly moved forward, poking his head out slightly around the corner. There were four of them—Lando, Graeme Lowdon, and the two strangers. The girl’s hair was cut short: she had choppy layers that ended at her shoulders. Her dark hair was tucked, revealing piercings that dotted all along the edges of both ears. Her arms were folded across her chest, as she stared sourly at Lando. She was significantly shorter than the group—probably about the same height as Yuki, if he had to guess. His eyes lingered over to her friend, Blake, as he hurried around both cars, taking it all in. His hair was bleached and buzzed. He looked like a kid in a candy store.

“You’ll drive my teammates car,” Lando explained, handing her Oscar’s steering wheel. Oscar felt himself cringe as he did so. Who were these people? Most importantly, why was Graeme here with them?

“That is a lot of buttons,” Jo observed as she held it in her hands. “Your teammate is the next champion, I heard.” Her gaze met Lando’s as he rolled his eyes.

“Something like that,” he grumbled. “The poor sod is probably still here somewhere. He barely knows how to have fun.”

“God, same with Josie,” Blake laughed as he met up with them again. “She’s a stick in the mud half the time. You saw what it took to drag her here.”

Josie. The name suited her. It was edgy, much like she seemed to present herself to be.

Oscar watched as she studied his steering wheel in her hands. She was at least holding it delicately. Her fingers barely grasped the sides of it, like she was scared any ounce of pressure would cause it to shatter.

“You’ll need a race suit, too,” Lando announced. He began to walk towards Oscar, which caused the Australian to whip his head back around the corner. He stood there quietly, waiting for his teammate to see him. When Lando was close, Oscar reached out for his wrist and pulled him down the hallway, away from the group.

“What are you doing?” Oscar hissed as they moved towards his driver’s room. “Why did you bring Cadillac into our garage?”

“Holy shit, Osc,” Lando sighed, throwing his free hand over his chest. His breathing was slightly ragged, like the wind was knocked out of him. “You scared the hell out of me. I didn’t think you’d actually still be here.”

“Obviously I am,” he let go of Lando’s arm once they were far enough away. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have a championship to win. The points we get this weekend are going to determine if that title is ours or not—you know how important the Vegas Grand Prix is.”

“Relax, mate,” Lando waved him off. “She’s a racer. Graeme got permission from Andrea to be here. Max lost against her in a street race last night and was fuming today at the paddock. Cadillac caught wind of it and wanted to see how good she could be in an F1 car.”

“Jesus,” Oscar laughed in disbelief. “Street racing, Lando? I’d hardly call that enough experience to put her in my car. She doesn’t even know how to drive the damn thing.”

“Your car will be fine, loosen up,” Lando opened the door to Oscar’s room, and the two walked in. He closed it again, giving them more distance between the group. “She’s good, man. You don’t know what the people in this city say about her. She’s, like, a legend around here.”

“What could that possibly mean?” Oscar rolled his eyes as his teammate retreated to grab his race suit from his locker.

“Well, street racing is illegal,” Lando explained. “But there’s all these different leagues that operate on tournament-type schedules. It’s so intricate. They literally whisper about her. Even locals who don’t race talk about her like some kind of myth.”

“Oh, so you and Andrea let some criminals into our garage?”

“God, don’t be that way,” Lando groaned as he pulled Oscar’s race suit out. “It’s fine, Osc. They’re harmless. Besides, I want to see if she’s all people say she is.”

“And what do they say she is?” Oscar questioned. Lando held onto his race suit tightly as a smile crept up onto his lips.

“Unbelievable,” he responded, dragging the word out for dramatic effect. His tone was light, like he admired her despite not seeing her drive. Like she was a dream. “She’s undefeated. She’s even got a street name, dude. They call her Thunderbird.”

Oscar hesitated. Seeing Lando so bewitched by someone was an odd sight, to say the least.

“Well, keep me out of this tonight,” he finally said. “I want my hands kept clean of whatever happens. I was never here, got it?”

Lando mumbled in agreement that he wouldn’t get Oscar involved. As he watched his teammate leave his room, he felt his chest tighten. He’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t curious. It hardly sounded believable that a tiny thing like her could be a reigning champion. A city like Vegas had to be swarming with all kinds of talent—so what made her so special?

•

He shouldn’t have stayed, but he did. He turned on the bigger monitor, put on a headset, and watched the onboard camera. Truthfully, Oscar didn’t know why he stayed. His laptop was packed up, sitting beside his feet on the ground. He had his coat on, but he couldn’t step foot outside of the trailer. Not when a stranger was driving his car.

He anxiously bounced his knee, watching them line up at the start of the circuit. He felt like he could faint. Or puke. Whichever one came first, he’d accept. Graeme’s hand slowly extended out. He watched as Josie’s finger slipped, pressing the radio button.

“Dear God, please do not let me crash,” he heard her say, clearly talking to herself. Her voice shook with nerves, which only made Oscar feel even more uneasy.

His hand instinctively reached out to respond, when he stopped himself. What am I doing? He thought. He felt for her, though. Most people don’t step anywhere near an F1 car without years of experience and training.

Graeme withdrew his hand, and they were off. Lando shot ahead of her, with the clear advantage of knowing how the car worked. Oscar stood, watching as Josie struggled getting the car up to speed. Without thinking twice, he pressed down on the radio button.

“Full throttle,” he instructed sharply. “You have to shoot it. Don’t choke.”

“Who is that?” Josie asked, unaware of where his voice came from, or that her finger was still on the ‘talk’ button. But Oscar didn’t respond. He just watched.

Josie took a deep breath, then did as he said. The car shot forward, and she laughed. Oscar felt himself smile as he watched her catch up to Lando. He had to admit, the way she handled the car was impressive for a total rookie.

“Okay, don’t overtake him from the inside of the corner,” Oscar quickly chimed in again. “You’ll want to do it from the outside. It’ll be easier.”

She approached the tail end of Lando’s car. He swerved the vehicle around a bit, making it impossible to find a good opening. Josie scoffed at the gesture, when her finger slid off the radio button. Oscar held his breath, watching her attempt to find the opportunity to get ahead. He couldn’t will himself to sit down again—not yet. Not until she won.

“The radio button is top left of the steering wheel,” Oscar found himself saying. “That’s how I can hear you.”

“Is this guy always so arrogant when he drives?” She spoke again. She was still struggling to find an opening, and was losing pace on him. Oscar ran through every strategy in his head that would be easy for her to digest. Unfortunately, he didn’t think there were any.

“He’s arrogant on and off the track,” he answered.

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” She asked. She applied more pressure to the throttle, regaining her momentum. Lando stopped swerving, clearly under the impression that he lost her.

“Now’s your chance,” Oscar said, ignoring her question. “There’s an opening to his right. You have to shoot it.”

Something in her shifted. Oscar could sense it. She didn’t think twice, and got right into the opening. He felt something swell in his chest. Pride? He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it made it impossible to fight the smile on his face.

“Oh my god!” She laughed over the radio. “I did it!”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quickly commented, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. “You have to stay ahead of him, now. That can be equally as difficult as overtaking. Keep your foot on the gas. How many more laps?”

“Two,” she answered quickly. “Are you going to keep ignoring my question?”

He hesitated. He wanted to tell her—hell, he even wanted to meet her now, seeing the amazing work they were doing. But he meant it when he told Lando that he couldn’t be roped into this mess. His focus was on the championship, not on some random street racer. He couldn’t let his guard down.

“Yes,” he stated. “I’m not anybody important, really.”

“You’re proving to be pretty important right now,” she quipped.

“Flattery won’t get me to answer your question,” he retorted. “I have too much on my plate to risk being here right now.”

“And you think I don’t?”

He deserved that. He didn’t think to imagine what kind of stress she was under. If their street racing league was as secret as Lando made it sound, then she had to be putting a lot of trust into them to not rat out their operation.

“Well, our paths likely won’t cross again after tonight,” he finally responded. She was down to one more lap. Lando was losing pace. He was choking. “Just think of me as your one-time guardian angel.”

“I stopped beliving in those a while ago,” she stated quietly. He almost missed her saying it. Oscar sat down again.

“Maybe it’s time to start believing again.”

•

Oscar lingered in his driver’s room, waiting for Lando to return his things. When he heard them return to the garage, he fought tooth and nail to not go out and introduce himself to Josie. He made sure to put everything back the way he found it—to leave without a trace. He thought that maybe, if Graeme wasn’t stupid, he’d talk to her about signing on for Cadillac. That may take a miracle, though. He poses the risk of losing potential sponsors if he hires a nobody. But Oscar saw the skill and ability she had—she was a fantastic racer. She belonged somewhere in motorsports, that was certain.

When his door opened, he stood. Lando walked in, his head bowed like a guilty dog.

“I can’t believe she won,” he muttered. Oscar wasn’t quite able to read what his teammate’s emotion was right now—anger? Embarassment? When he looked up, his eyes widened. “You’re still here?”

“I stayed in the room,” Oscar lied. “I was about to leave, but wanted to make sure I got my stuff back.”

“Bloody hell,” Lando scoffed. He handed the race suit, helmet, and steering wheel over to him. Oscar tentatively took them back. The race suit smelled strongly of perfume—roses and vanilla.

“She beat me,” Lando continued, sitting on the edge of the cot in the room. “Some stupid street racer. I’ve been doing this my entire life, and she just wins? Like it was nothing?”

Oscar didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to his locker to put his things away.

“Gareme loved her,” at this point, Lando was just rambling. Oscar let him talk, though. He found himself hesitating to put the race suit away. “He gave her his number. Told her to come to the race this weekend so they could ‘talk about her future’.”

That got him to turn around. Oscar was fighting the smile back, as he stared at his teammate.

“She’s getting signed?” He asked, keeping his tone as neutral as he possibly could.

“Fuck if I know,” Lando retorted, standing again. “But we’re screwed if she is. You should’ve seen her out there, Oscar.”

“Yeah,” he looked down at the suit in his hands. “It’s a shame I missed it.”

copy-write disclaimer: None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

Taglist:

@ezzi-ln4 @annaswrites00 @frankiejo04 @dreadity @whiteghostlyclouds @namelessmoons-corner @mashmashi @taetae-armyyyyy @chocolatemooncoffee @curlylando @cdej6 @evmp @stoop187

[jttw-m0nkehs1mp]

A stupid drabble that popped in my mind, thanks to two of my friends (Marc this is targeted to you, I hope to claim that og title /j)

LMK Camboy AU

Synopsis: You find their OnlyFans account

Warnings: 18+ Content Ahead, OOC characters (especially macaque) 💔 not good spelling and some grammar errors too, and spoilers, don't forget the spoilers and a bit of a rushed end oops

Characters: MK, Wukong, Macaque, Red Son

Note: Made for shits and giggles cause I like making my moots suffer

MK

Maybe he made a OF account to get some extra money, living such a rambunctious lifestyle can be quite expensive and his pay at Pigsy's Noodles can only do so much.

Mei suggested it to him as a joke, but after lots of consideration and an empty wallet, MK just decided 'Fuck it' and went for it.

It was awkward at first, like very, very awkward (he slipped on lube and nearly broke the camera, took a lot of convincing Pigsy all was alright too)

But then, to help him cope, he just.. zoned out and thought of you. Corny as hell, right? But that was almost the only thing that got him painfully hard, leaking at the tip and whimpering like some bitch.

How could he not? You're perfect. There were even times he had to keep himself from moaning your name out loud, but even with this caution, slip ups tend to happen.

So imagine his surprise when you walked in on him during a session..

"MK..?" Your voice snapped him from his lustful daze, his eyes widened like saucers once he saw you.

"Ah, wait- this isn't what it looks like!" He shook. Shit, shit, shit, you won't ever look at him again- fuck-

Tears of shame painted his red cheeks while he hurried to turn the camera off, he did not care for the questioning comments that flew through. The only thing he cared about was you, and how you saw him like this and how you would probably hate him and-

"I heard you calling my name.. I didn't know you liked me that way.."

"I am so, so sorry, please just- please don't hate me-" His voice warbled. Why wouldn't this damn thing turn off..!

"Hate you? MK, honey, no.." You walked up to him and cupped his face, and damn it, you looked so beautiful..

"Hmm? I see you have quite the decent following.. why don't we give them a show..?" You gently pushed him down against his messy bed.

He gulped.

Wukong

He is old. Like, really old, like damn bitch, when do u die, old.

And when you get to his age, you know a lot, and because of that, boredom strikes.

I think he made his account before he met MK, all for the shits and giggles and what could he possibly lose. He got way too into it due to loneliness tho.

But, once MK came into his life, he got to do something else apart from jerking it off in front of his loyal fans in front of the camera, or making his game. Hell, he even had less depressive breakdowns, aha

Then you came into his life. Kicked him off his feet like he was some rookie going in for his first fight. Like some bruise, you stayed behind and lingered.

At first, it started off innocent, like butterflies in spring. He couldn't get you off his mind.

Soon, these thoughts became more raunchier and dirtier. Whenever he ate a peach he wondered if you tasted just as addicting, if not more.

He started to film videos again, and soon, his popularity skyrocketed. Sure, he was kinda popular before, but many of his fans would agree that there was something more to his content now.

Imagine his shock when you came knocking on his door one day.

"Oh hey! What brings you here today?" His heart fluttered. Not even the excitement of battle from his younger days felt like this.

Wukong faltered, however, when you showed him an all too familiar clip that he made last night (you were haunting him especially when he recorded himself). Your one eyebrow was raised in suspicion.

"Is this you?"

Ah shit.

"Wha- what are you talking about..?" He chuckled awkwardly. "I uhh, I didn't know you liked that kinda stuff-" His gaze was everywhere but on you. Thankfully, he did not show much of his body, but it was clearly his voice that played on the speakers.

"Wukong, you are a terrible liar." Your words made him wince. But then you chuckled. "Who knew that my favorite content creator was you, the mighty Sun Wukong."

His mind rung.

Favorite..?

"Mind if I come inside?" You smirked up at him.

Oh damn.

Macaque

Okay, for starters, who knows how long this guy was dead for. I'd say he was resurrected quite recently, so imagine the culture shock the poor fella had.

Not only that, but he didn't even have a penny to his name. He had no way to earn an income either, like sure, his shadow theater bought at least something for him to use and to function around, but he kinda feels like someone who likes to be financially secure.

With this, and curiosity being his motive, he started to indulge in some.. shameful activities.

He knows he looks good, he knows what power he holds over most people, and damn it, he loves enforcing that strength. Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious.. oh he can go on and on, but one of his top qualities, if not the quality, is his voice. Most of the time he didn't reveal himself, just doing ASMR instead.

I'd say that in this scenario, you wouldn't find him out, but he would find you.

With such incredible hearing, and because of his damn near obvious infatuation curiosity, he held out an ear for you. Sure, you guys have made up and all, but he could never know if you might betray him one day. He just has to make sure yk. (This could either stem from deep trust issues or he is just lying to himself or even both)

So, imagine his surprise when he hears you go down to a veryyy recognizable audio.

You did not notice how the shadows in your room seemed to darken, your flustered mind elsewhere as an all too familiar voice purred in your ears.

You found this channel not too long ago on one desperate night. With all the battles you had to face, stress was an all time high and you needed relief. How joyous you felt, when you found some audio porn of a very talented voice actor. He quickly became your favorite due to how his voice sounded awfully similar to your shadow monkey crush.

A whimper escaped you when your hazy eyes dazed across the room before they hyper focused on something in the corner.

Someone was in your room.

You almost screamed before a hand covered your mouth. You could feel your EarPods get removed, the audio long forgotten. You were terrified for your life before the very same voice from earlier whispered soft words to you in a teasing tone.

"Didn't know you liked my content, dear~" Macaque's breath tickled your neck, a shiver danced along your spine. His tail curled around your wrist as he pressed his muscular body against yours.

"How lucky you must be to experience the real deal, yeah?"

Red Son

Now, I know what you are thinking. The proud Red Son, born from Lady Iron Fan and the Demon Bull King having an OnlyFans account?? Rumi wtf are you on-

HEAR ME OUT OKAY

Okay so, we know he is a silly lil fella with a pride that is quite high. It is because of that, that he has such a.. scandalous pass time.

Red Son is a inventor, he takes pride in his creations. Even so, not all of them are successful.

In the world of science and building, it takes trial and error to perfect something outright. Cause of that, Red Son always needs new things to help him out. Perhaps a different metal to improve his robots, and ohh those ultra rare minerals will work perfectly for his new death ray.

Such things are expensive, though.

B-but Rumi, he is rich-! SHHHH

This is where that pride comes in.

He wants to prove he is worthy to his parents and show them how capable he can be, that is why he decided to take matters into his own hands and get money himself.

However, it is practically impossible to find a nice job when you robbed them not too long ago either. And there are so many wimps around that can't handle his high quality spicy food.

Red Son learnt from past raids that there would always be a specific noodle boy that would thwart his plans on stealing things. Plus, their relationship improved a lot, and.. well, he supposed MK is a bit more acceptable now.

That, and also because he wanted to impress you. And what is more impressive than a clean record.

Driven by his pride, Red Son turned to other things to prove his worthiness. And also to burn his horny thoughts of you from his mind.

In all honesty Red Son had a very unexpected day. First, Noodle boy and his idiot lackeys invaded his home, then they asked about the Samadhi fire and then they wished to stay the night. It was safe to say he was tired and exasperated of their loudness and unending energy. There was a bright side to things though, he supposed, which was seeing more of you around.

Ugh, his parents made it seem so easy to woo the one you love when in truth, it was so much more difficult. Most of his conversations with you were failed flirt attempts

When it was time to ensure that everyone went to sleep, the idiots wanted warm milk to help them. Like kids. He huffed, but he could feel how his mood lightened when you offered to accompany him.

With the strange stares your friends gave you were ignored, you followed him to the kitchen. This was a prime time to impress you and hopefully capture your heart, but all of his words were awkward at best. It did not stop you from smiling like that, though. Oh, he was smitten.

"Ooh, what an interesting tattoo you have." Your voice echoed through his large kitchen while you pointed to his back. "Hm? Oh, yes, I got that when the Samadhi fire was removed from my vessel." He said and pulled his robe over his shoulders. It must have slipped down while he walked. How indecent. He blushed.

"You know, it kinda reminds me of this one content creator.." You trailed off, realization struck your face. He paused as well, milk bottle in hand. The both of you stared at one another in flustered silence.

Well fuck it, he supposed. If this truth was out, then maybe he should also be more truthfull about his feelings to you too.

It was safe to say the milk was long forgotten.

I hope you enjoyed this impromptu writing post, and I'll see you guys next time, bai bai

End note: For Redson's tattoo, I'd say it is more of a burn mark on his chest that vaguely resembles his family symbol. I didn't include it because I didn't want to lengthen his part and make the others too short lmao. (He is my favorite, but I want to treat all of these buggers equally)

If there are any problems/spelling mistakes or grammar errors that I have not noticed, PLEASE TELL ME WAAAA

Taglist:

@marcu-bug

@theidiotwitch

@rissiekind

suffer ha

[rottenherbs]

The Things We Dont Say

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader (setting: OftP) Summary: Amidst the chaos of Order of the Phoenix, Harry pushes away his girlfriend Y/N out of fear and grief, only to realize— thanks to Luna —that his silence is hurting the one person he loves most. W/C: 851 A/N: sweet small request! Thank you <3 [Masterlist] Much Love, Saige

It started in September.

Not with shouting or slammed doors, but with the absence of things.

Harry stopped waiting for you after class. He stopped brushing his hand against yours in the corridor. His letters, once so full of scribbled thoughts and awkward affection over the summer, were reduced to polite, clipped notes.

You knew he was hurting. Everyone did. You saw it in the way his shoulders curled inward like he was bracing for an attack no one else could see. In the deep shadows beneath his eyes. In how he flinched at the word “Voldemort.”

You didn’t blame him. Not at first.

But October came, and he snapped at you in front of the entire common room. You’d asked if he wanted to take a walk after dinner.

“I don’t have time for walks, Y/N. Do you think I’m just out here going on strolls while Voldemort is planning his next move?”

Silence fell over Gryffindor Tower. You stood frozen, your lips parted. He didn’t even wait for your response—just grabbed his bag and stormed off to the boys’ dormitory.

You stared at the dying fire, heart beating too loudly in your ears. No one said a word, but you knew they’d heard it. All of it.

———

By mid-November, you started sitting at the end of the table with Luna Lovegood.

She didn’t ask questions, not directly. She never did. But she had this way of knowing things, as if the air told her secrets the rest of you were too loud to hear.

“He’s not really angry with you, you know,” she said one morning, lazily stirring her porridge with a quill.

You blinked at her. “He has a strange way of showing it, then.”

Luna looked up from her bowl and tilted her head. “Angry people don’t usually say what they mean. They say what they think will make the world hurt as much as they do.”

You swallowed, the sting of unshed tears sitting heavy in your chest.

She smiled, dreamy but sincere. “You make him feel like a boy again. And he’s frightened of being one.”

———

Later that week, Harry found Luna waiting for him outside the Room of Requirement after a D.A. meeting.

He frowned. “You need something, Luna?”

“Yes,” she said. “To speak with you.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “Can it wait?”

“No.”

She walked beside him as he headed down the corridor. He was silent, but she wasn’t fazed.

“You’ve been treating Y/N poorly.”

His steps slowed. “That’s none of your business.”

“She’s my friend,” Luna said simply. “And you’re hurting her.”

Harry stopped.

He turned to her, jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. None of you do. I’m not safe, Luna. People get hurt just by being around me.”

“She’s already hurting, Harry,” Luna replied, softer now. “But not because of danger. Because of you.”

Her voice wasn’t accusing—it was heartbreakingly calm. “You make her feel like she’s losing you. Not to Voldemort. To your silence. Your anger.”

Harry’s breath caught. His hands curled into fists. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Luna smiled faintly. “That’s the thing about love. Intent doesn’t always protect us.”

She left him there, her footsteps light, as though she had never said anything at all.

———

You were in the library the next evening when he found you.

You looked up as he slid into the chair beside you, your quill pausing mid-word. You studied him cautiously—his hair was messier than usual, his eyes heavy with something that looked like guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said before you could speak.

You blinked. “For what?”

Harry gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “How long do you have?”

You closed your book, folding your hands in your lap.

“I’ve been cruel to you,” he continued, voice low. “And not because I wanted to be. I’m scared. I keep thinking if I push everyone away, Voldemort can’t use them. Can’t use you.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak. He looked down at his hands.

“But I didn’t protect you. I just made you feel unwanted. Like you weren’t important. And that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

Your throat felt tight.

“Luna talked to me,” he added, glancing up at you. “She said I was making you feel like you were losing me.”

“You were,” you whispered.

He looked like he might break. “I’m still yours, if you want me.”

You reached across the table and took his hand. His fingers closed around yours like a drowning man finding a rope.

“I never stopped wanting you,” you said softly.

Harry leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. There were still things he couldn’t say. Still wounds that would take time to heal. But here, in the silence of the library, with the scent of old parchment and ink around you, he allowed himself to be held—not in arms, but in your unwavering presence.

And that was the first time in weeks that Harry Potter finally exhaled.

[raekensluver]

pls write kinda like an opposites attract established relationship thing with chrismd where the gf is a vlogger who is george clarke's bsf - something with the same vibe of 'so highschool' by taylor swift?

ohhhhhh i love this idea!!!!!

contains: fluff, established relationship

chris dixon x fem!reader

you’re sitting on the edge of chris’s bed, camera in hand, very aware that you’ve filmed a grand total of ten seconds all morning.

your audience asked for a “day in the life” vlog. so far, that includes one clip of you drinking tea in silence and another of chris missing his mouth with a grape. twice.

“you filming?” he calls from the kitchen, where he’s definitely pouring cereal into a bowl like he didn’t just finish a full breakfast twenty minutes ago.

you raise your voice just enough. “trying to.”

he appears in the doorway a second later, cereal in hand, leaning against the frame with the kind of practiced nonchalance that should annoy you more than it does. his hair’s a mess. his hoodie’s yours. and he’s already smirking like he knows how this’ll end.

“need content?” he asks, coming to sit beside you. “i can do a backflip or emotionally overshare- dealer’s choice.”

“just… be normal.”

he laughs. “see, now you’re asking the impossible.”

you shake your head, camera resting quietly in your lap. the light from the window hits his face in a way you’ll never capture properly- messy and real and golden.

he nudges your leg with his knee. “everything alright?”

you nod. “yeah. just tired. distracted.”

he doesn’t push, just shifts closer until his shoulder brushes yours. it’s nothing dramatic. he knows you don’t do dramatic. he gives you quiet, not silence- makes space without asking for any.

you let yourself lean into him. just a bit. his arm finds your waist instinctively.

“george still think i’m a menace?” he asks, voice softer now, more curious than anything.

you snort. “he knows you’re a menace.”

“right, but like… charming menace?”

you hum thoughtfully. “jury’s still out.”

he grins, pleased anyway. “he’s just jealous. he thinks no one’s good enough for you.”

“he’s not wrong.”

“well, lucky for him, i’m way above average.”

you laugh, and he softens at the sound. like he’s always listening for it.

and it’s funny, you think. your followers always assumed you’d date someone like george—quiet, steady, measured. someone calm.

and then there’s chris: full of energy, loud opinions, and a deep love for ridiculous hats. he is chaos wrapped in a smug hoodie. he makes no sense for you on paper.

but somehow, he fits. perfectly. like he saw through your shell the minute you met and decided he liked what he found inside.

he tugs lightly at your sleeve. “you know you’re kind of it for me, yeah?”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs, like he didn’t just emotionally dropkick you. “just saying. you’re it.”

your heart stutters. then steadies. “you’re not so bad yourself.”

“nope,” he says, already smug, “you definitely like me.”

you smile. “a bit.”

he lies back, tugging you down beside him, arm curled around your waist like it’s second nature. your camera sits forgotten on the floor, lens still rolling.

and maybe the vlog ends up being mostly useless. maybe george will tease you for it later- something about how you’re whipped and hiding it poorly.

but you don’t care.

you’re here, wrapped up in someone who sees you exactly as you are and somehow wants you more for it.

and it’s all kind of perfect.

[spoonfulofmilo]

Contestant Number 2's Introduction

updates will be tues, wed and thursday my time at 7pm aest!

love y'all

the bachelor masterlist is here

part 1 is here

---

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

The moment the next guy walked around the corner, Y/N could already feel the difference.

Less brooding intensity. More... golden retriever energy.

Kimi walked up like he was here to ruin his life. This guy? He looked like he was about to ask if he wanted to grab a smoothie and throw a frisbee.

He wore a cream-colored striped short-sleeve shirt, tucked into relaxed, high-waisted navy trousers. His hair was a little messy in a styled-on-purpose kind of way, and he had that clean, sun-kissed Florida glow that screamed I grew up near a beach. Blue eyes, boy-next-door smile. He looked like a day off.

“Hey! I’m Logan,” he said, offering a handshake.

Y/N leaned in for a hug instead. Their bodies pressed together just slightly longer than necessary. When they pulled back, Logan’s ears were a little pink.

"He's sweet," Y/N thought. "Not my usual type."

“So nice to meet you, Logan! I’m Y/N! Do you want to tell me about yourself?”

“Yeah, totally. I’m 23, I’m from Florida,  Fort Lauderdale, and I’m a DJ,” he said with a slightly nervous smile, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t used to talking about himself.

“Oh cool, I’m an F1 driver.”

Logan perked up. “Wait seriously? That’s awesome. I mean, I mostly follow Indy and NASCAR, but F1’s sick. You guys are going, like, what, 220 kilometres per hour? I can't even imagine.”

“Yeah, so, faster than your car. So what’s got you here? Love, or just the free food and fancy cocktails?”

Y/N smiled as Logan laughed, but tilted his head, waiting.

Logan glanced down, then back up, just slightly shy. “Honestly? I figured love’s always a risk, right? Might as well take a shot.”

Y/N blinked. “A shot on what?”

Logan looked right at him. “You, I guess.”

“Oh, I, um…”

There it was. A flicker of something real. Then Logan’s face flushed and he laughed it off.

Y/N laughed too, trying to catch his balance.

“Where, um, where or rather, what would you do for a first date with me?”

“I’d probably take you to a rave, teach you a little DJing if you’re up for it. But I get it if you’re not big on crowds. We could do something chill. Honestly, I’ve seen clips of you in clubs post-race, don’t think you’d hate it,” he grinned, a little smug, a little playful.

“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Ibiza,” Logan said immediately. “It’s got the beaches, the energy, the music. Reminds me of Miami a bit. I like that vibe. It’s kind of home, but with a Spanish twist.”

He turned to leave but paused, then reached into his pocket. “Oh, right, before I forget. I got you something.”

Y/N blinked as Logan handed over a small box.

“I know it’s kinda dumb,” Logan said, scratching his neck, “but I saw you still use wired headphones. These are noise-cancelling. Figured they might help when you’re traveling or trying to block out the chaos.”

“Oh, thanks so much!”

Y/N tried not to side-eye the cameras, knowing exactly what the producers were going to do with this.

Bachelor Y/N gets headphones from DJ contestant. Will sparks fly, or will he get noise-cancelled?

God. They were gonna milk this for weeks.

(cut to Y/N’s interview)

"Okay, okay. I know I said I wasn’t going to get distracted, but... he’s adorable. Logan’s got this kind of… what’s the word… golden retriever energy? Like, he’s sweet and bashful and clearly trying, but not in a forced way. And that little headphone gift? Are you kidding me? I wasn’t expecting to get emotional over headphones on night one. But he actually noticed something about me, like really noticed. That doesn’t happen a lot. Especially in this... circus. He’s not my usual type, and that’s what scares me a bit. But maybe that’s the point, right? Try something new. Let it surprise you."

(cut to Logan’s interview)

"I don’t really know what just happened. Like, I had a whole plan, I was gonna be chill, keep it casual, just vibe… and then I saw him. And I forgot all the words. He hugged me. And I think my heart just... short-circuited. He’s really cool. Like, really cool. And funny. And fast, apparently. 220 km an hour? That’s wild. I gave him some headphones. It felt dorky, but I thought maybe he’d appreciate something useful. And honestly, I just wanted to show him I was paying attention. I dunno, maybe that’s dumb. But yeah. I took a chance. On him. And I’d do it again."

taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @bangbangdevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx, @koalapastries, @saucy-apples, @milessunflowers, @dramaticpiratellamas, @bunnisgreen, @jamesiesposts, @tammyfortis, @sleutherclaw, @blazecosplay

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!!! ^^ I love the work you do for JJBA and really enjoy reading it!! Now for the request. How would the Jofoes react to a child!reader (platonic) they sorta took under their wing having a sorta of imprinting ability (copycat in other words). Like one day they catch the reader practicing outside trying to act cool like them and then all of a sudden a piece of the land is destroyed because they somehow used an ability similar to theirs. After the shock the reader is absolutely jolly and sees them watching them and is just, “Wooooah!! That was so cool!! Hey Dad, did you see that!? Did you see me!? Did you see what I did!?”

hii ^^ i'm so happy you enjoy reading my posts, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy <333

DIO

He watches from a balcony like a dramatic theater critic sipping wine- until the ground craters in slow motion with a golden glow.

“...ZAWARUDO- ?! Wait, no. Did you just... freeze time for half a second?”

You beam at him, dust all over your clothes, yelling, “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!”

DIO blinks, then gives the most delighted evil chuckle. “Splendid. My heir already shows promise.”

But then he gets possessive. “No one touches the child. This power is mine to nurture. Mine alone.”

Now you have a tutor. And an ego boost. He’s already planning your world domination arc.

Kars

You’re throwing rocks and mimicking his regal stance when one of the rocks suddenly splits mid-air into tiny shards.

Kars stops mid-thought and stares. You just mimicked the Pillar Men's body manipulation, specifically his arm blade.

You spin toward him, eyes sparkling. “DID YOU SEE THAT, DAD?!!”

He crosses his arms, trying to remain composed- but a proud grin slips out. “Yes. You are... adapting faster than expected.”

From then on, he watches your training like a proud bird mom.

Also, he starts getting way more careful around you because what if you go all Ultimate Life Form mode and grow gills at breakfast.

Yoshikage Kira

You’d been copying his quiet mannerisms, playing with your food and clipping your nails more often. Then you giggle, snap your fingers, and a rock explodes.

His soul leaves his body. “Wha- W-WHAT WAS THAT?”

You squeal, “I did the thing! I did the thing, Dad!! I made it go BOOM like you!!”

Kira freezes. 

He awkwardly kneels beside you. “Okay. Okay. First, we don’t use our powers around... pets. Or school. Or hands.”

You: “Okay! :D”

He: internally sweating bullets for the next 7 years.

Diavolo

A patch of reality skips forward, erasing a few seconds like King Crimson.

You: “WAAAAHOOO!!! I MADE TIME GO WHOOSH!! DAD LOOK I DID IT!!”

Diavolo SCREECHES internally. “HOW- HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT?!”

He immediately spirals into a paranoia loop. “Have I been around you too long? Is fate conspiring through you?”

But also... “Good. You’re strong. But you will never be allowed near my diary.”

You’re now on an extremely strict training schedule with Doppio acting as your babysitter.

Doppio

You copy his “talking on the phone” habit, but one day you accidentally get a vision of the future.

Doppio stares as you perfectly dodge a bird dropping.

You wave. “Didja see that, Dad! I saw that that bird was gonna poop and dodged it!!!”

He drops the imaginary phone. “Y-Y-You did amazing, sweetheart!!”

Then he sprints to call The Boss about it. “Boss!! Boss!! The kid has powers! What do we do!?”

You’re the only person Doppio ever fully encourages. He helps you practice, cheerleading while you do near-future telling.

Pucci

You’d been copying his calm monologues. One day, you mumble a random Bible verse and... gravity distorts. A tree bends sideways.

Pucci goes stone cold still.

You: “I DID SOMETHING COOL, DAD!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He walks slowly to you, kneels, places a hand on your head. “Yes, child. You are touched by heaven.”

Then he goes off to write a 10-page sermon about you. He sees this as fate.

You’re now his little holy prodigy. The church choir starts composing you-themed hymns.

Funny Valentine

You’d been mimicking his posture and patriot speeches. One day, you accidentally swap with your alternate self. You come back with different shoes.

Valentine stops mid-sentence. “...Did you just breach the dimensional veil.”

You: “Yeah!! I jumped and my shoes changed!! COOL, RIGHT DAD?!”

He nods solemnly. “You are the embodiment of American evolution.”

He immediately requests Secret Service supervision for you. You now have a full security detail and your own presidential-themed notebook.

Diego Brando

You copy his confident walk and British insults. Then you snort, stomp your foot- and the ground trembles.

You turn around, grinning. “DAD!! I DID THE DINO THING!!!”

Diego gapes. “How the hell did you do that?! You’re not even... you're not even a dinosaur!!”

But inside he’s SO proud. You get a tiny cowboy hat and he makes you pose next to his raptors.

“You’re my little Velocibaby,” he mutters proudly. Then warns you: “Don’t do that in public or you’ll end up in the newspapers for the wrong reasons.”

Tooru

You’re copying his lazy posture and listening to Elvis. Then you wave at your friend approaching you- and a random boulder flings itself into a ravine near them.

Tooru, sipping juice: “...Was that... Wonder of U?”

You: “I DID A FUNNY THING!! DAD!! I MADE THE UNIVERSE HATE MY FRIEND!!”

He chokes. “What….”

He’s both horrified and deeply impressed.

He now acts like it’s no big deal but is very much watching you all the time.

And if you ever start getting secretive or manipulative- He melts. “…Damn. You really are my kid.”

[seeingivy]

listen. this is my train car dilemma. ignore one piece and live a happy life OR watch it and become obsessed with this man

[royalarchivist]

Amouranth: ...What happened to the dumpy? Oh, I guess that was Carrera (Carre).

Amouranth: Ruben, why do you– why do you look like Shaggy mixed with Peter Pettigrew? What happened? [She keeps going back to the picture and staring at it with growing concern] This is a pass– this picture is a pass! Wtf...

Rubius only has 3 looks: magazine model, cosplayer, or gamer shrimp.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I really like how perspective can change everything cause like. I was thinking about the little book that Jackson Storm has and like. The book ends with the start of the first race he appears in in the movie, and from the perspective of the book to him going to that race and winning and then proceeding to win a lot more races as well is a really cool thing!! But the whole movie is from Lightning’s perspective(or at least is in everything surrounding him) and so it's like. A really upsetting thing that sort of ends in a bittersweet way.

[skeletalheartattack]

What are your OCs favourite toys? I love toys.

it took me a bit to think about, but i think my characters favourite toys would be like:

Boe: a wooden do-nothing machine

Budd: a stray old tin can

Ruce: just a tech deck

[prophetmotive]

how do i start setting firm boundaries with this kid in my club who keeps making unfunny jokes and taking over the whole meeting and pissing me the fuck off without like dragging down the vibes of the entire thing. because i did not manage it tonight, i got genuinely hostile and killed the vibes👍

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?