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cupidsworstcrime · 22 days ago

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70 Things I think about Boyfriend!Jason Todd

(f!reader)

i am so so so normal about him, I swear

1. He doesn’t bring work home

Jason has a strict no Red Hood talk in the apartment rule unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know when he’s been out rough- he limps a little, his knuckles are raw, but he’ll deflect with, “Guy at the bodega tried some shit.”

You don’t ask. He doesn’t offer. That’s the deal.

2. He’s pierced and quietly punk about it

Yeah, his ears are pierced. Probably has been since he was a teenager trying to look cool in Crime Alley. You caught him wearing your tiny silver studs one morning and when you asked about it, he grunted, “Didn’t want the holes to close.” But now? He steals them on purpose. Your favorite heart-shaped pair? Gone. He’s wearing them on patrol.

3. Jumpy as hell

You’ve learned to call his name gently if his back is to you. Sudden touches get a reaction- nothing violent, but fast. Too fast. His shoulders tense. His eyes flick to every exit like muscle memory. Sometimes he apologizes under his breath like he hates that part of himself. You just squeeze his hand and remind him he's safe here.

4. Lives on black coffee, toast, and junk unless you intervene

Left to his own devices, Jason will literally survive off diner coffee and cold toast- or worse an unholy amount of energy drinks. You started slipping protein bars and cut fruit into his bag like you were packing for a grumpy kid. He acts annoyed. He eats every bite.

5. He smells like leather, gunpowder.... and your shampoo

He started using your shampoo one day “by accident” and now he just does it on purpose. You don’t even complain because the mix of him and you is better than any perfume.

6. Stole your bracelet and won’t admit it

A dainty chain bracelet you lost months ago? It's looped around the base of one of his pistols now, dangling like a charm. When you spot it and raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs:

“Must’ve fallen into my bag.”

“You expect me to believe-”

“Guess you shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around, sweetheart.”

He’s never giving it back. That’s his lucky charm now.

7. Clings in his sleep

He’d never admit it, but he’s a stage-4 clinger. Arm around your waist, face tucked against your shoulder, legs tangled. If you get up to pee, he’ll grumble in his sleep and roll into the warm spot you left behind like a human furnace.

8. Won’t say “I need you,” but he shows it

He fixes your sink at 2 a.m. because it dripped once. He tracks your location “for safety” (but it makes him breathe easier). If you’re late texting back, he spirals internally but never shows it- just casually drops by, “coincidentally,” to check on you.

He won’t say “I need you.” But he shows it. Every damn day.

9. Sings along to old records while cleaning

You caught him once deep-cleaning his guns while singing quietly to a scratchy vinyl playing old blues rock. You didn’t say anything. Just listened. It felt like church.

10. Says “I’m not good at this” but is good at this

He thinks he’s bad at love. He thinks he’s bad at being normal. But he kisses your forehead when you’re sick, folds your laundry weird but tries, and reads the same book five times because it’s your favorite.

He’s good at love. In all the ways that matter.

11. “I love a man in leather” ruined him forever

It started as a joke- you said it with a wink, barely teasing. But Jason? He froze. Blinked. Filed it away. And then that night, lying in bed, stared at the ceiling thinking about all the tactical leather he already owned.

The next time he came home from patrol, he stood awkwardly in the doorway, helmet in hand.

“...Do you like it when I wear the jacket?”

You smirked. He blushed. And that was the beginning of the end.

12. He was pretty sure he was vanilla. He was wrong.

Jason always thought he was a “lights off, soft kisses” kind of guy. And he still is- but now there’s rope in his bedside drawer, wrist cuffs under the bed, and a vague working knowledge of Shibari. He’s not saying it’s all your fault.

But it is.

13. He only lets himself explore it with you

You’re the only one he trusts enough to see that side of him. He’s not used to feeling safe being vulnerable- even when he’s the one in control. But with you? He can breathe. He can ask. He can learn.

And when you look up at him with love and hunger in your eyes, he doesn’t feel like a monster- he feels wanted.

14. He absolutely panicked the first time he said “Good girl”

It slipped out. He didn’t plan it. He just said it in the heat of the moment and you moaned. Hard.

Jason’s brain blue-screened.

He froze for a solid three seconds and whispered, “...Did you like that?”

You nodded.

He never stopped saying it after that. Still says it like it’s sacred.

15. But outside the bedroom? He's still the shyest little freak about it

You: *teasing him at dinner with a wink*

Jason: *choking on his water and glaring at you like he’s been caught committing crimes*

You: “Baby, you literally tied me up last night.”

Jason: “Keep your voice down!”

16. Leather jacket is now permanently associated with you getting handsy

It’s your fault. Every time he wears the jacket, you get a look in your eye like you’re about to climb him like a tree.

Now he can’t put it on without a smug smirk and the quiet thought: She’s gonna pounce.

17. He’ll never go to a sex store in person, but he’s got a burner account online

Jason Todd has a burner account with expedited shipping and privacy wrapping because he’s too much of a shy little freak (to everyones suprise) to risk being seen browsing handcuffs in person.

You caught him once comparing reviews on two different floggers, reading so seriously you'd think it was a medical journal. He blushed hard when you snuck up behind him.

18. Aftercare king

No matter how dark or rough it gets, he’s the most tender man afterward. Holds you close. Kisses your shoulders. Runs you a bath and washes your hair like it’s a ritual.

“Did I go too far?”

“No, Jay. You were perfect.”

And he just melts, forehead against your shoulder, whispering: “Okay. Good.”

19. Still folds towels wrong. Still starts fake fights about it.

He'll tie you up with perfect knots but can't fold a towel for shit. You don't know how the two coexist. He’s a contradiction you’re obsessed with.

20. One time he called himself your “bad boy” and immediately cringed

He was trying to be flirty.

He meant it ironically.

He said, “You like your bad boy in leather, huh?” and then groaned halfway through it like he regretted every word.

You burst out laughing.

He kissed you to shut you up.

He's 'Bad Boy 🎀' in your phone now and he hates loves it.

21. He is so dramatic when he’s sick

This man has literally died. He’s been shot, stabbed, blown up.

But give him a head cold? And he is bedridden. Blanket burrito. Groaning like he’s on his deathbed. Whispering, “Tell Alfred… I fought bravely…” before blowing his nose with your nice hand towel.

22. “I’m fine.” - a blatant lie

He’ll cough so hard he bends over double, then straighten up like nothing happened.

“You need rest-”

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like a dying engine.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Yeah. And? That doesn’t mean he should be eating cereal for dinner and refusing to take cold meds.

23. He won’t admit it but he’s needy as hell

He doesn’t ask. Not directly. But his head ends up in your lap. He “accidentally” falls asleep curled against your side. He mumbles your name mid-fever dream, eyes fluttering open and searching for you.

You bring him soup, and he blinks at you like you’ve just saved his soul.

24. Absolutely pouts if you leave the room too long

He’ll be half-asleep, but the second you get up to do anything- laundry, pee, breathe -he’ll grunt, shift dramatically, and mumble,

“…Thought you left me to die.”

You roll your eyes. “I was gone for two minutes.”

“Could’ve been the end.”

15. He’s warm. Like a human furnace

Fevers don’t just make him sick- they make him clingy and overheat-y. He’ll wrap himself around you like a weighted blanket and then get mad when you complain about sweating.

“I’m literally melting, Jason.”

“I’m dying, but go off I guess.”

26. Gets oddly philosophical when medicated

One dose of NyQuil and he’s pondering the meaning of mortality and if souls really go to heaven.

“You think if I died again, you’d still love me?”

“Jason. Baby. Please take a nap.”

27. Claims he doesn’t remember any of it once he’s better

You mention how cute he was? The way he asked for more soup with a soft “please” and big sleepy eyes?

“I don’t recall,” he says.

You show him a video? “Deep fake.”

Catches you giggling? “You’re making shit up. I’m a menace. I don’t cuddle.”

28. But secretly? He loves how you take care of him

He didn’t get this, growing up. No one ever rubbed circles on his back or checked his temperature with a kiss. He doesn’t know how to ask for it… but god, he soaks it up when you give it anyway.

It’s healing in more ways than one.

29. When you get sick later? He panics

Oh suddenly he’s a nurse. Full-time. Soup. Blankets. Calls in favors from actual doctors he knows.

“Baby, it’s just a sore throat-”

“No. No. I’ve seen this before. It starts with a sore throat. Next thing you know, you’re in a Lazarus Pit.”

30. One time he sneezed in his helmet and you never let him live it down

He didn’t take it off in time. It echoed. It was tragic.

You laughed so hard you cried.

He glared at you with the most long-suffering expression of his life and muttered,

“This is why I work alone.”

31. He warns you the first time things get serious

It’s not the mask that’s hard to take off. It’s the shirt.

The first time you're undressing each other, he pauses, hands shaking slightly as he pulls back.

“I should warn you,” he says.

And then quieter:

“It’s bad.”

32. He avoids mirrors when he’s shirtless

Not just because of the usual trauma- but because sometimes he catches his reflection and flinches. The Y-shaped autopsy scar down his chest is brutal. Surgical. Cold.

It reminds him of what he was: a body on a slab. A lost cause.

Not a man. Not a lover. Just evidence.

33. He expects you to look away

Even as he undresses, he’s already bracing for it- for the flicker in your eyes, the pity or horror or discomfort.

He stares at the wall. Waits for the silence. Waits for the shift in the way you breathe.

34. You don’t look away. Not even a little.

Your touch is reverent. Your lips follow the trail of old scars like a prayer.

“You’re beautiful,” you say.

Jason’s chest stutters, and he doesn’t believe you- not really -but he wants to.

God, he wants to.

35. He never turns the lights on during sex. Until you ask him to.

He’s okay in shadows. He’s safe in them.

But one night, you whisper, “Let me see you,” and something in him breaks open.

He lets the light touch all the places he hides.

And your hands never flinch.

36. His scars are sensitive

Especially the big ones. Sometimes they itch. Sometimes they burn.

But when your fingers trace them? It’s grounding. Calming. Makes him feel like maybe he can own this body again.

37. One time, you kissed his chest and he teared up

He didn’t mean to. It just happened.

You didn’t say anything- just held him while he breathed through it. And that silence? That softness? It meant more than any words could.

38. You bought him a new mirror one day. He stared at it for weeks before using it.

It was taller. Nicer. Framed in soft wood. When he finally stood in front of it with you, he didn’t look away.

You stood behind him, arms around his waist, and he whispered,

“…I don’t hate it as much. When you’re in the picture.”

39. He traces your body the same way now

All the places you’re soft, he worships. All the places you’ve ever been insecure- he sees none of it.

“Look at me,” he says.

“If you can love this,” he gestures to himself, “then you better let me love you.”

40. You never treat his scars like they make him broken

Because they don’t. They make him Jason. And you wouldn’t trade a single inch of him- not the roughness, not the past, not the damage.

Because under all of it, is a heart that still dares to love you back.

And that's more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.

41. Letting it slip about the Waynes

One day, while in the middle of an argument (as one does), Jason just blurted it out.

“Okay, fine, maybe I was adopted by the Waynes!”

You froze.

“Wait. Hold up—WHAT?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Wayne. Big surprise, right? Have fun with that one.”

"...BABY, FUCK YOU MEAN YOU'RE RELATED TO BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE?!?"

Jason just stares at you, clearly unprepared for this reaction.

“I-”

“JASON. WHAT. THE. FUCK.”

42. He immediately regrets saying it

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jason wants to claw them back. He’s not ready to unpack that- it’s a can of worms he’s been keeping sealed tight.

But then there’s you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, looking at him like he just dropped the biggest bombshell.

“Shut up, okay? Just—just don’t bring it up ever again.”

But he knows that’s never going to happen.

43. He insists on not using any of Bruce’s money

The second he found out about the inheritance, Jason made it clear:

“I’ll never touch any of that money. It’s not mine.”

Bruce offered him more than enough, but Jason’s pride wouldn’t let him. He’d rather suffer on his own than take a single dollar from the man who, in his mind, could never truly be family.

Yet, when you need something- he can’t help but slip you a debit card once in a while, eyes narrowing as if daring you to question it.

44. Off-brand snacks and drinks, forever

You’re sitting at home one night, you reach for some chips, and Jason’s hand slaps yours away.

“No. Not those.”

He reaches into the pantry and pulls out a bag of “Chipperoni Crunchies,” not the name-brand chips, but the generic stuff. The ones that come in weird, colorful bags with cartoon characters on them.

“They taste better.”

You give him a skeptical look.

He just shrugs.

“They do.”

It’s the same with his drinks. He’ll turn his nose up at anything with a fancy label on it and will only go for store-brand cola that comes in an off-color can.

“You can’t taste the difference,” he insists, as he sips from a glass bottle, wiping the rim like he's a secret connoisseur of trash beverages.

45. He keeps a stash of “guilty pleasures” in your kitchen

No one else is allowed to see the true extent of his obsession with cheap snacks. If Alfred found out, he'd be disappointed. So he keeps it secret.

When you’re not looking, he’ll stockpile all of his guilty pleasure foods in your kitchen: neon-colored candy, microwave pizza, and prepackaged cupcakes with sprinkles that stick to your teeth in the worst way.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he mutters, but you both know it’s inevitable.

He’s just Jason. No amount of money or Wayne prestige can make him stop being Jason.

46. The first time you tease him about it, he’s defensive

You laugh at the ridiculously large bag of "fake Cheetos" he’s just brought over.

“Don’t laugh,” he growls. “They’re better, okay?”

“Really? The fake version of Cheetos?”

“It’s called being resourceful,” he grumbles, crossing his arms like he’s trying to defend his honor.

It’s just a bag of chips, but the Wayne pride is stronger than he likes to admit.

47. He will never be caught at a five-star restaurant

You’ve tried. You’ve dragged him to fancy places, tried to get him to “treat himself” to something nice.

Jason? Never steps foot in a place like that unless it's on business- and even then, he’s glaring at the rich patrons like they're the real criminals.

His idea of a perfect date? Fast food, a cheap diner, or just takeout from his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place. That’s his comfort zone.

48. If you ever bought him something fancy, he’d get weird about it

You got him a really nice leather jacket once- smooth, premium quality, sleek black.

He took one look at it and immediately said, “You didn’t need to get me this, babe. I’m good with my old stuff.”

But when you weren’t looking, he stroked the soft leather and secretly loved it.

The jacket still sat in his closet, perfectly untouched- just waiting for a moment when he’d admit that maybe he deserves nice things. But he’s not there yet. Not really.

49. He low-key loves your "bougie" (normal) snacks, but won’t admit it

You try to introduce him to your more “refined” tastes. Maybe it’s a fancy cheese, or high-end chocolate, or a real coffee drink that’s not just “instant” powder.

At first, Jason’s all about his junk food. But you catch him secretly swiping the expensive chocolate bar from the fridge.

“I hate these,” he says, but you catch the way his eyes flicker with a guilty pleasure.

“Then why do you keep eating them?”

“Shut up.”

50. He’s proud of his independence

He may hate the whole Wayne legacy, but he’s still proud of how he’s carved his own path. His tastes, his choices- even his snacks -are just another way of proving that he’s not defined by his 'family' name.

And somehow, that’s the part that makes him feel the most like himself. Not the Red Hood. Not “Wayne’s adopted son.” Just Jason Todd.

51. You call him “daddy” in front of someone- an accident to be fair

One morning, you’re in a rush to leave for work and casually call out, “Bye, daddy!” out of habit before heading out the door. You don’t even think twice about it.

But when you shut the door, you turn and see Damian sitting on the couch, looking at you like you’ve just committed the most cardinal sin.

Silence fills the room as you realize what you've done.

Jason, meanwhile, is trying not to laugh while Damian stares him down, and there's a whole "You told her to call you that?" conversation that never gets resolved. Damian just gives Jason the side-eye for the next few days.

52. The first time you meet his family- Oh boy…

When Jason finally takes you to meet his family, you almost choke at the sight of that massive, impressive mansion.

You’d been hearing about them for a while, but nothing could prepare you for the pure opulence of the place.

Jason, trying to play it cool, introduces you to his siblings. But deep down, you can see the unease in his eyes. He’s hoping his siblings don’t completely embarrass him in front of you.

Spoiler: they totally do.

53. Jason’s siblings stealing you away to tell you embarrassing stories

Once they know you’re there, his siblings (usually the most asshole-ish ones) quickly whisk you away to the kitchen or garden, telling you the most embarrassing Jason Todd fucked up stories.

One talks about the time he tried to sneak out as a kid and got stuck in a tree for an hour. Another shares the story of when he lost a bet to Damian and had to wear pink for a week and he cried.

By the end of it, you’re laughing so hard, you can’t tell if Jason’s going to explode or just sit there trying not to die of embarrassment.

54. Jason’s family finds out you’ve been living together for a year- a whole year?!

At a family dinner, you and Jason casually mention you’re planning on moving apartments soon.

That’s when his siblings drop the bombshell.

“Wait, you’ve been living together for a year and never told us?”

Jason looks at them like he’s been caught in a mildly embarrassing situation. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I owe you a rundown of my life.”

His family is way too interested now, and Jason tries to play it cool, but you both know it’s one of those awkward moments that will haunt him for years to come.

55. Jason’s protective side when it comes to his family and you

If his siblings start messing with you too much or saying anything too embarrassing, Jason’s response is instant.

“Knock it off. You wanna deal with me?”

He doesn’t threaten them, but the way he says it? Yeah, they take a step back.

And when it’s just the two of you later, he’s like, “If they ever make you uncomfortable, I swear, I’ll-”

You reassure him, but you appreciate how seriously he takes your comfort with his family.

56. Jason buys you a ridiculously expensive gift, but it’s low-key, and you’re both uncomfortable

One night, Jason comes home and hands you this insanely expensive necklace with a diamond 'J' charm—way out of your usual price range.

"What's this?" you ask, giving him a confused look.

“Just... because,” he says, scratching his head awkwardly. “I saw it and thought you’d look good wearing it.”

You’re immediately touched, but you can tell Jason’s acting a little weird about it. It's one of those moments where he wants to spoil you, but his pride gets in the way.

57. Jason finds it way too easy to spoil you now though

At first, he fought it. He thought, “Nah, I’m not the type to just throw money around.”

But now? Oh, now it’s second nature.

If you even hint at something you want, Jason’s on it like white on rice.

He knows the moment you mentioned a new phone, you’re gonna find it waiting for you at home. Because Jason was already ahead of the game.

58. His family doesn’t understand his quiet obsession with you

At some point, his siblings ask him directly, “So... when are you gonna admit you’re in love with her?”

Jason almost chokes on his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But everyone knows. His family can see how he softens around you, how he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

And Jason’s so not used to this, so he just acts all defensive about it, even though his family’s already figured it out.

59. Jason doesn’t actually talk about his family that much

It’s not that he’s embarrassed. It’s just that Jason doesn’t want you to see him through the lens of his family’s wealth and drama.

Sometimes he lets little things slip, but mostly, he keeps his family life under wraps.

He doesn’t need you to like them. He just wants you to like him, and to him, that’s what matters most.

60. Jason’s family low-key approves of you

Despite all the chaos, his family starts to realize that you’re a good match for Jason. You challenge him, make him laugh, and somehow manage to keep him grounded when his ego gets out of hand.

At the end of the day, they know he’s better with you.

That doesn’t stop them from occasionally teasing him, of course, but they can see what he sees in you.

61. Jason panics to pick the perfect ring

Jason spends days- days -agonizing over the perfect ring. It’s not that he doesn’t know what you’d like, it’s just that this is a huge decision. He doesn’t want to screw it up. So, of course, he recruits his sister for help, who takes you out on a ‘girls day’ to get your nails done and do some shopping. You have no idea why, but Jason’s silently breathing a sigh of relief the whole time as she helps pick out a ring that he’s sure will make you say yes.

62. Jason cries while talking to his brothers

Jason never thought he’d be talking about marriage to anyone- let alone his brothers. But here he is, pacing back and forth in front of them, confessing that he’s about to propose. And he's... crying. Not because he's weak, but because he's terrified. “I’m actually doing this,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m about to propose to the woman I love. Holy shit, I’m actually doing it.”

His brothers? They’re all smiles and a little bit of laughter, making fun of him, but deep down, they know this is a big step for him, and they support him.

63. Jason gets on one knee, and you don’t say anything

When he finally proposes, it’s simple. In the park where you had your first date. Jason goes down on one knee, holding the ring out in front of you, but you’re so quiet that for a second, he thinks you’re going to say no. Panic sets in, and then you start sobbing, whispering over and over, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jason’s heart nearly explodes, and he kisses you right there, the world disappearing around you both.

64. Hes... a dad?

A few months after the proposal, you show him the ultrasound picture, and Jason freezes, his eyes tracing the dates. He counts back, and a realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh fuck,” he mutters to himself, panic rising. “That was the night we-”

It takes him a minute, but he’s almost certain. That was the night you conceived. It’s terrifying, yet beautiful, but he’s more scared than he’s ever been. He wants to be a dad, but can he actually do it?

65. Jason moves the wedding date up

Jason may not be traditional, but once he found out about the baby, he made a decision. The wedding date was moving up. He wasn’t going to have his daughter born to parents who weren’t married, and damn it, he wasn’t waiting any longer. He wants to make sure that little girl has the kind of family he never had growing up.

66. The wedding is simple but perfect

The wedding is small and simple, just how Jason wanted it. His brothers are both his best men, and they give him so much shit about it, but Jason wouldn’t have it any other way. You agree to let his sister be your maid of honor, and though there are a few moments of tension, everything falls perfectly into place. Jason, in his suit, looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You both say your vows, and there’s no turning back now.

67. Jason holds his newborn and sobs

When you give birth to his daughter, he holds her in his arms for the first time, and Jason just breaks. He’s never been so overwhelmed in his life. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and when he presses her tiny body against his chest, he cries. Big, ugly, full of love tears. "I’m gonna protect you with everything I’ve got," he whispers. "I promise."

68. The Wayne family spoils her rotten

It’s not surprising that Jason’s daughter gets spoiled by the entire Wayne family. Every time they visit, she gets showered with gifts, new clothes, toys she doesn’t even know what to do with. Jason watches it all with a soft smile, knowing how much this little girl is going to be loved and protected. They can spoil her as much as they want, because she’s his little princess.

69. Jason being the ultimate girl dad

It’s her fourth birthday, and Jason’s letting his daughter paint his face with play makeup, sitting there patiently as she dabs the brush all over his face. It’s the kind of moment that makes Jason feel like the luckiest man alive. He’s so in love with her. No matter how messy or goofy things get, he wouldn’t change a thing. She’s his little girl, and he’ll cherish every second.

70. Jason Todd has never been happier

As chaotic and sometimes overwhelming as his life has been, nothing compares to this moment. Sitting on the couch with his daughter on his lap, his arms around you, Jason can’t help but think that this? This is happiness. The love he never knew he needed has found him, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like everything is right. He’s a husband, a father, and for the first time in his life...

He feels at home.

And that leather jacket you got him years ago? He's finally wearing it.

RAHHHHHHHH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x reader headcannons #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood headcanon

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rex-rambles · 2 months ago

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➤ YOU CAME? YOU CALLED | MAX VERSTAPPEN

summary: you don't mean to call Max when you get mugged on the streets of Monaco, but he shows up anyway

pairing: max verstappen x ex!reader

wc: 2.6 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending, discussions of break ups, mugging, minor bodily harm, and insecurities

➤ MASTERLIST

You hadn’t really meant to call Max. You’d memorized his number by now, typed it into your phone enough times, but you’d never meant to press call.

You’d never meant for him to pick up. “What’s wrong?” It wasn’t a surprise, that something terrible must have happened for you to call him.

It wasn’t like that, once. Once, you’d been madly in love and called every evening you could, spent every hour together, but love runs out eventually. That honeymoon feeling wears off, and you’re left fighting in the dull heat of Monaco’s late nights, storming off a yacht for the last time.

“It’s nothing,” You manage to say, hanging up, and letting your head drop into your hands. It was nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Being mugged at knife point wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to you, you weren’t even really hurt.

The paramedics insisted on bandaging up your hand, where the knife had managed to cut you, but it shouldn't have been anything major to Max. Before that doomed fight, he had been acting like every time you left the house you were heading into a war zone. Telling him you were mugged? At knife point? You would be proving him and his need to control you right, and even if you wanted him here, you'd never admit it.

“It’s nothing?” The paramedic asks, staring down at where you're perched on the sidewalk. “You need a ride home.”

“I’ll be fine.” But you don’t move, and the paramedic doesn’t believe you. “I called the wrong person.” You finally say, pretending to dial another number and pressing the phone to your ear, and you pretend to have a conversation with someone who cares about you and is worried the normal amount and rushing here as quick as they can.

The paramedics get a more important call, and you’re left on your own on the sidewalk, thinking of whether you should call a taxi, or just walk when the sound of a motor cuts through the night. It would be an ignorable noise, if you hadn’t known Max for so long.

It would be an ignorable noise, if you didn’t know the exact make and model of the car, and the man behind the wheel. At a speed you can’t fathom for Monaco’s tight streets, Max and his Valkyrie appears, and it isn't lost on you that Max came, in his fastest car, when you called.

You try not to let it jump-start all those feelings tucked away in your heart, watching the car come to a screeching halt in front of you. With little regard for anyone else out on the street, he parks in the middle of it and is at your side without caring to close the car door.

“I don’t care if it’s nothing,” he says, a soft anger in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” you don’t want to admit you were mugged, because then it’ll turn into a thing about strength, about you needing Max, and you’re not ready to admit that yet. “You came.”

“You called.” He says, coming to crouch before you. “You know I’ll always answer.”

His eyes drop to your hand, and he pauses, slowly raising it up into the streetlight. You know he can tell it’s fresh, and his eyes flick up to yours with a dark expression. “It’s nothing.”

“Stop lying to me, liefje.” The word slips out, you think, Max so used to saying it. It had only been a month without being called that, and you hate to say you missed it. “Nothing has to happen between us again, but you need to tell me the truth. What happened?”

Rather than answering, your eyes drift past him to his car, and you realize you'd never told him where you were. “How did you know where to find me?” You ask and Max sighs, slowly letting your hand rest on your leg as he debates his answer.

Knowing him, it was probably some hidden air tag or something on you, but if it had been in your purse, it was long gone from now. “You never unshared your location." He answers finally, and you spare a glance down at your phone on the sidewalk. It wasn't his fault, you suppose, that he wanted to know where you were at all times with the fame he was accustomed to. You just weren't used to being known like that, being controlled, even if it was for your safety. "Now, for the last time, what happened?”

“I was mugged.” You admit quietly, and Max’s head snaps up to look at you, shock plain on his features. "I don't sleep well alone, so I've been going for late night walks, and I know you're going to lecture me about not being safe, but I want to live my life, Max." The words just sort of tumble out, the whole reason you separated now hanging between the two of you. "I know you want to protect me, but it-"

“Are you hurt? Your hand?” Max cuts you off, and you raise it up to wiggle your fingers in an attempt to show you're fine, but the stretch makes you wince.

“I tried to grab it out of his hand, but he made off with my purse.” It had hurt like hell, but somehow, your pride hurt more.

You were tired of doing everything wrong, of being told where to go and when, or how to act. You just wanted to be alone with yourself for once, and you ended up on the other end of a knife. You didn't want to say Max was right, but maybe he was. “You tried…to grab it.”

“The knife, so he wouldn’t stab me.” Without much ceremony, Max reaches out and pulls you into his arms, hand coming up to cradle your head as he presses it into his shoulder.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispers into the top of your head, and tears spring up before you can help it.

You’d held it together this long, but it had been terrifying, and Max’s arms felt like a home you hadn’t realized you’d miss. He seems to sense your tears, gently rubbing circles into your back.

“And I am going to lecture you about walking alone at night,” he continues, making you scowl into his chest, “But it doesn’t have to be with me.”

“What?” You wrench back, staring up at him as if you didn’t hear that right.

He stares right back, watching the few stray tears run down your cheeks, and you realize, in that instant, what he's saying. "I want to keep you safe, but...you're not happy like that. If...if you need someone who doesn't smother you to be happy, then you should have that person, and take them on your stupid late night walks."

Were you smothered? It wasn't the wrong word, you suppose, but it wasn't like Max had meant it to be as painful as it was. He could have anything he wanted, anyone he wanted, but he was so protective of what he had, like he couldn't stand to lose it.

And yet, for you, for your happiness, he was willing to let you go again. The tears well up once more, for your hand, for the fear of being mugged, for Max, and confusion overrides the sympathy on his face.

"You...don't want that?" Max infers softly, and you shove against his chest to create some space between you as you try to figure out what to say.

That you still love him? That despite the smothering, he was the first person you knew to call, the first person you wanted to call, and he came, in his fastest car, to come get you?

That he was telling you to find another man to be happy with, to protect you, when you just wanted him? "Listen, you can't just go walking on your own, this is what happens!"

"I should be able to!" You snap, taking a heaving breath as you try to calm yourself. "I just-I should be able to do what I want, Max, with who I want. If I want to walk with you at night, it shouldn't be because I need some protector, but because I want you."

"Do you want me to walk with you at night?"

You blink at him, tears slowing as you try to figure out what he's asking you. "Of course I do, Max." You answer softly. "I always did."

"Then why didn't you say something?" You'd tried. You kept asking to go out, and he'd tell you that it was too dangerous, and it would become an argument before you could even ask him to join you.

"I did, but you always made it about how I can't go out at night. And if it wasn't late night walks, it was just doing random errands on a day off, or going on a girl's trip, or wandering around all the places you were racing." You know he didn't mean to be controlling, but he was. The only way to get space was to walk away from him, and it hurt like hell. Max opens his mouth, and you quickly shush him to continue. "And before you go off on some tangent about how it's not safe, I get it. I mean, I got mugged tonight! But the potential of something bad happening doesn't mean to stop the good from happening, too."

Max's eyes drop from yours, turned to look down the street. In this light, it's hard to blame him for anything at all, but it wasn't fair. Not to you, and not to him.

"Max," You offer quietly, "Look at me."

"You scare me." Max says, voice barely audible in the night. Turned away, you almost pretend he didn't say it at all. "I've never felt this way before, about anyone. I'm terrified something is going to happen to you, and it's going to be all my fault."

"Love, that's not-"

"My first race, you got lost in the crowd. Someone could've...could've done terrible things to you. That time you got ambushed by paparazzi, you got lost in Montreal, I just...I've only ever wanted you to be safe and happy, but..." But you weren't happy like this, despite how safe you were.

And Max was finally realizing it. "But you let the safety part control our relationship. I promise you Max, nothing bad is going to happen to me because you weren't there."

"But it did tonight." You suck in a breath, coming to gently cradle Max's face in your hands, and forcing him to look back at you.

If it were anyone else this stubborn, you would give up this fight, but it's Max, whose life is fast-paced and hellish at the best of times. You hadn't realized how much of this was about him, and his abilities, and not you and your restrictions. You were still mad at him, justified for walking away, but the longer he was close to you, the more your resolve broke.

This wasn't supposed to end in heartbreak. This was supposed to be a bump in the road where Max realized he was being overbearing, but how can you truly be angry at anyone for caring?

He wanted you safe, but he needed to realize that the ways he was going about it weren't right. As he'd said, there's a difference between safe and smothered, and you had stepped away before it had gotten to that point.

And even now, having gone against him, and gotten hurt, it was alright in the end, and as stupid as it was to say, he needed to realize that. "And?"

Max blinks twice, as if trying to calculate how you came to that conclusion. "And what?"

"And I'm fine. I'm a bit banged up, and without a purse, but I'm alive, and I'm with you." Max opens his mouth to speak again, and of his own will, he shuts it promptly. You let out a sad laugh at his restraint, and he cracks the barest smile in response.

"Only you could turn a mugging into a good thing." Max leans forward, gently resting his forehead against yours, and it takes a fair amount of restraint to not kiss him. "I'm sorr-"

"You can't apologize for something you didn't cause." The last thing you need is for him to blame himself for you getting hurt because he wasn't there.

In this life, there are always going to be things out of your control, but it's up to you and Max to work together against them, rather than let that anxiety rule over everything.

"Then I'm sorry for you thinking you couldn't call me." Tears swim in his eyes, cracking open to look at you, and you move your head back to look at him properly.

"You know, I really didn't mean to call you at all, but it was just sort of instinctual." Max nods solemnly, like he's committed some great sin, and you gently run your thumb over his cheek. “It’s a good thing, I think.”

“You think?”

"If you think I'd never call you again because you care about me too much, you are sorely mistaken." You smile, and Max attempts the same. "I'm sorry for putting distance between us the way I did, but I think we needed it."

"Need is a strong word." Max mutters softly, endearing in the way he tries to frown and fails. "I just...I don’t know how to do this any other way." You expect another argument, but instead, Max hesitates. It's obvious he has something to say, but instead, he very gently pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead. "But if you'd let me...we can try?"

That's all you want. For him to hear you, to understand you, for him to just try. You know he won't suddenly be perfect overnight, and neither will you, but it's enough to just try.

His eyes flicker down your face, quickly returning to your eyes, and that same old guilt returns, and without much thought, you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips, and instantly, he's melting in your arms like that touch was all he needed, moving his hands to your hips to gently guide you towards him again. "I can do that," You whisper against his lips. "We're going to try, and you're going to try to understand that whatever happens, it's not your fault. Never was, and never will be."

"And you are going to try and not get lost as often, okay?" You press another quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

"Deal." You and Max just stare at each other, curled up on some sidewalk in Monaco, and you both realize the strangeness of it at the same time. "Take me home?" You ask softly, and without a word Max is up and on his feet, hand extended to help you up. There's a joke to be made here, about him being eager, but you save it for a night with a bit less emotion. He helps you into the Valkyrie and gets in the driver's seat, but he doesn't turn on the car, or plug himself in.

Rather, he turns to look at you, reaching over and taking your bandaged hand in his. "I love you." He says, unlike how he's ever said it before. It's not a statement, a confession, or some poetic thing, it's just the truth.

He says it, as if no matter what happened tonight, if you stormed away furious or made up, he'd say it all the same.

He says it with the understanding that you'd call, and he'd come find you, no matter what. And, gently squeezing his hand in yours, you know it's enough to make this work.

"I love you too."

a/n: i can't really explain where all this came from besides a good, sad playlist and a 2 hour road trip :) enjoy

#➤ rex works #➤ mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 angst #formula one x reader #f1 imagines #reader insert

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cherie-doll · 4 months ago

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I have this brainrot for a while now

Which cod man would be the most husband material, who waits for the shortest amount of time before getting married? And who would be the one who would be fine with not getting married at all? And where are the rest of them?

How many kids would they want if they want?

I don’t need sleep, i need answers!😭

sorry for the delay my wifi is so slow, we just got a new batch of snow down here and tbh it might be affecting my internet

✧ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᰍᩚ Price... he's PERFECT husband material. Cut from the finest cloth I'm SO normal about him. You've just observed his behavior closely and he doesn't do annoying things like leaving his clothes lying around on the floor or leaving unwashed dishes in the sink. He def want to get married, but doesn't wait too long nor asks you right away, he'd time it just right. As for kids? Maybe he could convince you to have one or two...

ᰍᩚ Ghost... he doesn't realize he can lowkey be a good husband. He thinks he's not willing to adapt to anyone, given how much stuff he's been through. A relationship isn't the worst thing he's had to go through, he's gone through worse, so why is he thinking about it so much? He doesn't want to enter a relationship with only half a heart, not mindlessly. But he knows his feelings towards you don't come from nothing. His feelings would have to be resolved before you even started dating, so that afterwards everything progresses pretty smoothly. And after marriage, kids? Maybe idk.

ᰍᩚ Soap... he probably had your entire life planned out before he confessed. He knew he loved you, was convinced he wanted to marry you and needed to have kids. So, he waited the least amount of time to marry you. There's lots of things he could improve on as a partner but the good thing is he's willing to make any and all of those changes for you. His respect will never run dry, he won't let desperation take ahold of him, always letting you know one way or another he still cares. It was up to you to decide how many kids you'd be okay with but if it were up to him... yk what better not go there.

ᰍᩚ Gaz... Perfect boyfriend AND husband material. He loves showing affection with the little things, a cup of coffee or tea and cuddling when you feel down or taking care of chores when you need a break. Simple things that he does on the daily that in the long run fortify your relationship. The amount of time he waits before asking you to marry him depends and it's all on how you want your relationship to progress. He's surefooted in his decisions so after the initial stages of the relationship when he's gotten to know you very well, your faults and what he loves about you, he just lets you know that if you want to take that step, he's more than ready to do so. He def wants kids, at least three.

ᰍᩚ Roach... oh my sweet boy ToT. He's such boyfriend material and in time will no doubt grow into a loving husband. He very deeply cares about your connection and how deep it runs between you both. The topic of marriage comes up at a very proper time in your relationship, it's when all he can think of is holding your hand every day, how comforting your presence is to him and how this couldn't ever revert into something casual. Marriage is a definite yes for him. Kids are something he wouldn't think of right away. Maybe a few years down the lane, and maybe one.

ᰍᩚ Alejandro... you made him wish impossible things. How you've made him feel, the sensations not only running smoothly over his skin but finding a way to penetrate deeply, to make him desire nothing else but a life with you. Marriage was the ideal way to continue living in that daydream. How he wishes the days were endless, so he can rejoice for eternity with you. If this was what made him wish to be better, then he was surely husband material. In time, he'd want to start a family with you, to create life, to have little ones to take care of. Three or four kids would occupy his days.

ᰍᩚ Rudy... is THE blueprint for all husbands out there to follow. He's very patient, his voice soothes you, could lull you to sleep. Always listens to you even if you rant, if you point out a flaw of his he works to be better. Never pushed you into doing anything, even when he could already hear the wedding bells ringing, he wanted you to make this decision on your own. In the back of his mind, he most likely already had baby names planned and asked if you wanted kids. He def did and wanted three. He thought it was the perfect number.

ᰍᩚ Phillip Graves... husband material at its FINEST. He's not only charming and a gentleman as a boyfriend but also as a husband. He just couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger so he did want marriage very soon. There is no way he'd NOT want children, he's just as much father material as he is husband material. I've said it before but he was made to father children and I will die on that hill. He loves going everywhere with his son, showing him how to run a company and then he gentles when his daughter is born, doing everything she wants.

ᰍᩚ Makarov... husband material at the core. Deep on the inside he can be genuine and want to care for someone. He likes having someone to depend on him, under his care, leaning on him for that strange affection that isn't found anywhere else. It would be hard to refuse him with the amount of gifts he sends to sweeten you up and coax you to accept his proposal that came too soon for your liking. But look at it this way, he'll always provide everything you'll ever need and want and in exchange you only have to agree to marry him, live with him and... kids. Yes, he wants kids. A numerous family preferably.

ᰍᩚ Keegan... is quite levelheaded when it comes to relationships so he's fine with staying your boyfriend and living with you or becoming your husband when you marry. He could improve on becoming peak husband material but you're lucky if he picks up his clothes from the floor and places it in the laundry basket instead. He thinks having no kids is better until you get a scare thinking you might be with child and he gets excited until you call false alarm. He felt disappointment and then realized he did want kids after all. Would be fine with just one but wouldn't completely be against having another one later on.

ᰍᩚ König... it's not him you have to worry about when it comes to marriage. He's got to watch out for himself because YOU'RE going to wife him up, otherwise he'd never get around to asking you to marry him. Not that he wouldn't want to but he's thinking when would be the perfect moment to ask and he's always thinking, "I'm going to ask them next date", and another date comes and goes by and then another and another... He'd learn to be so loving with kids you just gotta convince him he CAN be a good father. I don't know how many he could handle though.

ᰍᩚ Horangi... he's fun but he's prob best as a boyfriend. Not that he could never be a husband because he can, but he'd be completely fine with not marrying. If you're expecting him to bring up the question and get down on his knee for you... then you're probably setting yourself up for disappointment. It'd take him a while and you'd have to hint at wanting marriage, because otherwise he wouldn't mind just moving in together. I know I used to say he'd want marriage quickly but idk man my perception of him changed. He might get baby fever (rare) and he might ask for ONE kid them, but don't think he's the type for them much.

ᰍᩚ Nikto... if he does open up to wanting a relationship you've got to work with him on the long run. He might be closed off to certain things simply because he might not see a point in progressing in that field, but once he sees that you respect him and don't force anything, he'd def want to marry you. I'm not exactly sure how long he'd wait before proposing to you, honestly it all depends but once he grows attached to a person he wouldn't want to be apart from them so I'm guessing he'd tie the knot pretty soon. The topic of kids is something he's very hesitant of, he rarely gets baby fever, like ever. It'd have to be a lot of convincing on your part. But he might be okay with one or two at most.

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wcnderlnds · 3 months ago

Text

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt?

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect.

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

#kwon ji yong #g dragon #g dragon x reader #kwon jiyong x reader #bigbang x reader #my fics

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tammyjackson50-blog · 30 days ago

Text

No so secret anymore || G.C

George x reader

<- 2/2

Summary: You and George have been dating for a few months, but you weren't as careful as you thought, and fans started to suspect, and your friends weren't helping either...

(There are a little steamy moments here and there. )

___________________________

George’s grin widened, clearly enjoying teasing you. He propped himself up on one elbow, glancing down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know” he started casually, as if it wasn’t the biggest bombshell he could drop, “I don’t really care if we share our relationship with the fans right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him in surprise. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like we’re doing anything crazy. I was thinking, maybe we should just post a photo dump of us, y’know, keep it chill. Like a little behind the scenes of us being a normal couple.

You sat up a little, your hesitation clear. “I don’t know, George... I mean, what if some of the fans hate me for it?” You laughed nervously.

He chuckled, his tone softening as he reached out to take your hand. “Trust me, love. If they’re real fans, they’re gonna be happy for us. Besides, there’s always gonna be a few people who don’t like something. But who cares?”

You hesitated for a moment, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "I guess you're right..."

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “And if anyone does get weird about it, we’ll just delete their comments or just ignore it”

You thought about it for a second. You had to admit, the idea of just sharing your relationship felt... nice, even if it meant dealing with a few haters. You looked at him, “Alright. Maybe a little photo dump wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

George grinned widely, leaning in for a quick kiss. “That’s my girl.” He pulled back, clearly proud of himself.

You laughed, feeling a bit more at ease now. “Okay, okay. But if anyone comes for me, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

You both flopped back onto the bed, now lying on your elbows next to each other.

George unlocked his phone, and you leaned over, curious about what photos he’d picked.

“Alright, love,” he said with a cheeky grin, scrolling through his gallery. “Let’s see your reaction to this one.”

He swiped to a picture, holding it out for you to see. It was a candid shot of you, clearly half-asleep, your hair a mess, and your eyes barely open. But what made your cheeks instantly flush was the fact that the angle caught you in just the right way your shirt had shifted, and your cleavage was visible.

You let out a small laugh, swatting the phone away. “Hey, come on! Can you pick a much uglier picture of me?"

George’s grin only grew wider. “Mate, you look hot, don’t even try to deny it.”

You turned to face him, pretending to be offended. “If you’re showing that, I’m showing something back.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Oh? I’m all for it.”

With a smirk, you grabbed your phone quickly and scrolled through your photos.

You found one, just the right amount of steamy, and turned the screen towards him. It was a picture you’d taken of him during one of your late night hangouts, he looks like he just woke up, his hair is messy, his shirt slightly pulled up, the light catching his body in a way that made him look...well, ridiculously good.

You leaned back, watching his reaction as he took in the photo. His eyes flickered with something more intense than amusement, and for a brief moment, his smile faltered.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “You know what? I think I’m getting a little too into this game.”

You laughed, enjoying the playful teasing. “Yeah? Maybe I should just show you the one that I took when we were on a vacation last y-

“Oh, that’s a dangerous move, love.” George raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “You’re trying to make me lose my mind now.”

You both chuckled, but there was an undeniable shift in the energy. Something about these pictures, these little moments of teasing, made everything feel... charged?

George leaned in just slightly, his eyes flickering between your face and the phone still in your hand. The corner of his lips tugged up, but there was something behind his usual cocky grin something darker, something knowing.

"Alright, if we’re playing that game,” he murmured, swiping on his phone again, “let’s see how bold you really are.”

He turned the screen toward you, and your stomach did a little flip. It was a picture one you didn’t even realize he’d taken.

You, sprawled across his bed, barely covered by the sheets, one strap of your top slipped off your shoulder. The angle made it look more suggestive than it actually was, but it was still enough to make your breath hitch.

Your eyes snapped to him. “George—”

He bit his lip to hold back a laugh, clearly loving your reaction. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “It’s a great picture.”

You scoffed, grabbing his phone and flipping through his camera roll. “You’re actually insane. How many of these do you—”

And then you saw it. Another photo. This one? Much worse.

It wasn’t explicit, but it was borderline scandalous. You are on top of him, mid movement, your hand braced on his chest, his fingers gripping your waist. The lighting was dim, and it was slightly blurred like it was taken by accident, but the implication was there. Your mouth fell open.

“GEORGE!”

He was already laughing, head thrown back. "Nah, nah, that one’s art, babe"

You turned to him, half shocked, half amused. “You can not have this in your camera roll.”

He smirked, grabbing his phone before you could do any more damage. “Relax, it’s just for me.” His voice dropped just slightly at the end, a playful kind of teasing that sent a shiver up your spine.

You narrowed your eyes, deciding to push back. “Okay then” you said casually, grabbing your own phone. “If you get to play dirty, I have something for you too.”

George raised an eyebrow as you scrolled, finally stopping on a picture you knew would get to him. You turned the screen toward him, watching his face closely.

It was him,his head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth barely parting his lips against your neck.

His reaction was instant. His fingers twitched where they rested on your thigh, his playful smirk disappeared just a bit.

“Oh,” he said, his voice slightly lower than before. He blinked, looking from the picture to you. “Oh, you’re evil for that.”

You grinned. “What? It’s a great picture.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, nah, you’re trying to kill me.”

You leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to a whisper. “You started it.”

For a second, he just looked at you. Then, without warning, he moved, rolling over you, pressing you into the mattress with a teasing grin. His arms caged you in, his weight just barely hovering above you.

“You really wanna test me, love?” he murmured.

You laughed, not backing down. “Maybe.”

His eyes looked down to your lips for a moment before he kissed you, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. His hand trailed down your side, fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt.

Before you could even process it, he grabbed your legs and pulled you down the bed with him, making you let out a surprised gasp. He just grinned, acting like it was nothing, like he didn’t just drag you into him so effortlessly.

Now, with you lying down, he shifted, resting his head against your stomach while lazily scrolling through his phone. His other hand stayed on your hip, fingers tracing random patterns against your skin.

You played with his hair absentmindedly, twirling the strands between your fingers. “You comfortable there?” he hummed, still scrolling. “Mhm. Feels nice.”

He was acting so casual, but the way his thumb occasionally brushed over your skin, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly when you moved..yeah, nothing about this was innocent.

Then, as if proving your point, his hand started drifting lower.

“George,” you warned, voice light but laced with amusement.

He finally glanced up at you, all innocent. “Hmm?”

You gave him a look, and he just grinned, like he wasn’t up to anything at all. But then, before you could react, your phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

You sighed, reaching for it, but George didn’t stop what he was doing. If anything, he took it as a challenge.

You answered, trying to keep your voice steady, but as you spoke, George’s hands wandered higher, slowly tracing up your stomach until his fingers ghosted over your chest.

“Mhm,” you said into the phone, barely processing what the person was saying.

George, still acting like nothing was going on, tapped his fingers lightly against the fabric of your shirt before slipping his hand underneath, his touch warm against your skin. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that you were in the middle of a call.

You shot him a glare, mouthing " stop it "

He smirked, but his hands didn’t move away. If anything, he gave a slow, teasing squeeze, his eyes flicking up to yours like he was enjoying this way too much.

You ended the call as quickly as possible, dropping your phone onto the bed. “You’re so annoying,” you muttered.

George just grinned. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Before you could fire back, there was a knock on the door.

"Oi, George, you in there?”

It was Chris.

George immediately tried to sound normal, but it did not work. “Uh...yeah?”

There was a pause. Then, a knowing laugh from the other side of the door. “We’re heading out, mate. just letting you guys know.”

George exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, cool, have fun.”

You could hear the smirk in Chris’s voice. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“Bye, Chris.”

Footsteps faded down the hall.

He flopped onto his back with a groan. “I swear, it’s like they have a radar for ruining my fun.”

You laughed, rolling over to grab his phone. “C’mon,you love them. let’s continue with the phone dump "

George sighed dramatically but sat up, resting his chin on your shoulder as you scrolled. “Fine. But you have to pick at least one questionable photo of yourself.”

You ended up picking a mix of cute, funny, and actually decent pictures, nothing too questionable despite George’s protests. He still slipped in a few cheeky ones, but you let it slide.

As you hit "post" George wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He glanced at the screen, then at you, a smug smile on his lips. “There, now the world knows I’m completely obsessed with you.”

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Think they’ll survive the heartbreak?”

~~~~~~

Hope that you enjoyed it even though it turned out a bit longer than i expected, I didn't know how to end it🙃

Feel free to leave any requests:)

#George clarkey #George clarke #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #george clarke imagine #george x reader #george clarkey x y/n #fanfiction #arthur hill #chrismd

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sovasleepy · 10 months ago

Text

jealousy (valorant x reader)

[ chamber, gekko, sova, omen x gn!reader ] — in which valorant men get a little jealous

tw: jealous and a little overprotectiveness but they’re (mostly) healthy about it. a little cursing for some flavor. random guy flirts with you in chamber's but hes not creepy about it. different guy is also creepy in omen's but its not talked about in detail. chamber makes a sexual joke in his.

CHAMBER ━━━

hot take: he’s so protective at all times idc idc

but he hides it so so well

he’s absolutely enamored by you, there’s no denying that. that’s only half the reason why he tries to show you off so much though

the other reason is because that means he is showing you off as his. he’s staking his claim on you in his own odd little way, but it works and neither of you mind it too much

━━━━━━

“are you sure this shirt doesn’t make me look weird?” you asked, tugging at the material.

as much as you loved it, you couldn’t quite tell me if it was ‘you.’ you stepped out of the changing room of the store you were in and into the hallway, where chamber sat patiently waiting. he loved a fashion show if it was yours, after all.

he pretended to inspect it thoroughly, leaning forward in his chair and narrowing his eyes.

before he could answer, however, a different voice sounded out. it came from the door next to yours, where a different man had walked into the hallway to look at his own clothes.

“it looks good,” he spoke, smirk creeping its way onto his face. “but i imagine you’d look good in anything, huh?”

both you and chamber sat still and quiet for a few beats, as if registering what had just happened. the line was well delivered, but seriously? could he not tell that you were with chamber?

“well,” chamber spoke loudly. “they do look good in anything. and in nothing. we could see how you look when the shirt is on our bedroom floor, how’s that, ma cheri?”

you attempted to ignore the warmth that rose in your face, but failed. again, you were stunned. the opposing man blanched and retreated back to his changing room, where he quickly shut the door.

“come now, love. i think a thousand dollars in one shopping trip is enough, no? or should we stop by one more store?” chamber was overly loud once again.

and lying through his teeth, as well — you’d come to retrieve a single shirt for an event. that said, you couldn’t help but laugh as the occupant of changing room next to yours fumbled over himself, apparently knocked something down, and released a string of curses.

he didn’t have to know chamber was lying, and you didn’t have to know chamber was lying because he knew he’d earn a laugh from you.

GEKKO ━━━

gekko has like. a normal amount of jealousy?

he’ll bite back the small senses of it whenever you’re giving another guy a little more attention that he would like you to

or he’ll politely explain to you that he doesn’t really like you doing something because of how it makes him feel and you’ll talk it through

not because he doesn’t trust you, he just needs that extra little reassurance

if you’re willing to give up doing something to give him that peace of mind? all the better. if not? he can work on it, no questions asked.

overall 10/10 v good communication skills i love him

━━━━━━

you could tell that gekko was uneasy. from the way his nails picked at his fingers and the constant bouncing of his knee, to the avoidance of eye contact and the way his speech was quiet and mumbled, gekko’s demeanor screamed something was wrong.

you watched him carefully as you sat back down at the table. again, his eyes didn’t move from the place they were locked onto.

a few moments passed as you thought of what could have been wrong. the two of you were at some company party, with loud music coming through the speakers and an unholy amount of people piled into the room. everyone was dressed formally in either dresses or suits, their makeup done perfectly and not a hair out of place.

maybe that’s what was wrong. perhaps the music was too loud or his suit was too tight.

“mateo?” you had to yell over the music, despite wanting your voice to be soft as you spoke to him.

he finally looked up to you, soft eyes scanning your face. he didn’t speak, but he hummed to acknowledge you audibly.

“is everything alright? you seem a little off.”

the question seemed to stun him for a few moments as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked back down to the table. after a deep breath, he finally answered. “i just felt a little… i dunno. saying i was jealous feels a little funny, but there was this guy earlier you were talking to? he was kinda tall, darker hair. and uh- anyway, you went to grab a drink and he seemed to be really funny i guess. you didn’t stop laughing the entire time you were talking and before you left he kissed your cheek.”

you thought about it for a second, trying to recall the interaction, before you let out something like a laugh.

“he’s from mexico, he told me it was a common thing there? i dunno. i’ve known him since i joined the protocol.” you said, smiling at him. “it’s nothing, but if you don’t like it i’ll tell him next time. i highly doubt there’s gonna be any hard feelings about it on his end. is that alright?”

he nodded, sending you a soft smile. his face had relaxed significantly in the past few minutes. "thank you, amor."

SOVA ━━━

he rarely gets jealous,, he thinks

he has a hard time exactly placing the emotion, and it’s mostly shrouded in protectiveness more than anything

he loves you, he knows you love him, and there is not a doubt that trickles into his mind

…..for the most part, anyway

there is the occasional time when that warmth spreads in his chest and the overwhelming urge to take you under his wing spawns, only to realize you aren’t in any danger

so why does he feel the need to protect you?

━━━━━━

sova had never had any ill-will toward phoenix. the two of them weren't particularly close, but they had worked and lived together for long enough that they were closer than one might expect.

maybe thats why sova agreed to play games with he and a few others the other night. they played stupid ice-breaker games, despite mostly having known each other for years. a few embarrassing stories of his friends' youth were shared, including the time jett ate brownies without knowing weed was baked in, and the time raze got caught sneaking out in her teens.

at some point, sova was asked who he had feelings for. it was the late hours of the night, and you had long since passed out on the couch next to him. he'll never figure out how you slept through the laughing and talking, but you did. without saying a word, sova had smiled softly and nodded over to you.

there were a few gasps, and then there was the laughing and cheering of a few others. phoenix held out his hand, to which jett passed him twenty bucks with a disgrunted face. evidently, they had had a bet about his feelings.

little did he know that telling them--phoenix, in particular--about his feelings toward you would go on to be one of the worst decisions he could have made.

ever since that night, phoenix had made it his goal to flirt with you as much as he possibly could when sova was around. he would send the russian a wink and a smile after every interaction with you, driving the stake deeper. though you thought he was just being friendly and joking around, the interactions never failed to spark a sick feeling in his gut.

and currently, he was almost at his limit.

he was normally fairly calm, but his patience with phoenix had been run thin over the past few weeks and the interaction between you two was getting a little too close for his comfort. not that he had some sort of claim over you; you weren't dating, so why did he have this feeling?

"could you hand me my water?" you asked from your spot on the couch. you gestured to the bottle of water placed in front of phoenix, who was sitting beside you.

he watched as phoenix took your hand and brought it gently up to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "anything for you, my love." his voice was dripping with sultry as he spoke.

in a few quick steps, sova got up and grabbed the bottle before phoenix could. he stepped around the coffee table and handed you the bottle, sending a glare over to phoenix when he stepped away. the other man raised his hands in mock defense and leaned back into the couch. with a sly smile, he positioned his arm around the back of the couch and pulled you into his side. you laughed, but didn't push away.

"ok, fine." sova finally spoke. he had been glaring daggers at you and phoenix for the better part of two hours, and you couldn't figure out why. "what the hell is it for, phoenix? why are you doing this?"

you leaned up from where you were leaned against the man in question. "doing what?"

phoenix smiled impossibly wider and leaned forward. "yeah, doing what?"

sova grumbled. he huffed and took a moment to collect himself. "leave, y/n." he looked at you and his eyes softened. "please."

despite the look he sent you, you weren't leaving. you crossed your arms in defiance and glared. phoenix's hand came up to rub your back.

"that!" sova finally spoke again. this wasn't how he wanted to confess to you, but so be it. "i told you weeks ago that i had feelings for y/n and you have since made it your life's mission to flirt with them. you don't have the same feelings for them, so why? what do you gain?"

phoenix, painfully calmly, got up and walked to the other side of the room. "for one, you finally confessed. don't have to deal with your 'longing gazes' anymore. secondly, jett now owes me twenty more bucks."

OMEN ━━━

omen would like to pride himself in the fact that he was rarely jealous.

insecure? sure. a little self-depreciating? of course.

but jealous just wasn’t him. as much as he was dissatisfied with himself, he had full trust in you.

however, that didn’t stop the rare inkling of a feeling that you truly would be better off with someone else, especially when they flirt, and even more so when you don’t notice

━━━━━━

one more time. that was all it was going to take.

just one more time for that guy to slide his hand up your arm, one more stupid joke to roll off of his tongue, one more laugh from you. omen knew he didn't exactly initiate physical touch all that often, but that doesn't mean he dislikes it. he would kill right now to have that be him, for you to be so close to him, for you to be laughing at his every word like you were laughing at that guy's.

he had told you that he would come with you to grab some supplies. a kingdom worker had been at the facility at the time, however, and the two of you seemed to be getting along perfectly well. to hell with the company you had asked from omen, he supposes.

and of course there it was again, his arm coming up to rest gently on your back as he guided you down another hallway. omen was a few steps behind the two of you, not that either one of you seemed to be paying him any mind.

fine. he could go back to his room.

his disappeared into a cloud of smoke, materializing again in the darkness of his own room. the events of the last thirty or so minutes replayed in his mind, a taunting loop of your smile as you looked at the man responsible for it. its not that he hated seeing you smile -- he loved it. but it was a different thing entirely when you smiled so big because of a man he could never be. maybe in another life, but not now.

the thoughts swirled in his head for what felt like hours. it was likely barely half an hour in reality, being that it took fifteen minutes alone to get up to his room from where the two of you had been before and likely another few to finish your work.

finally, a knock on the door of his room regained his attention.

"come in." he spoke, not looking away from the ceiling tile he'd been fixed on.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you asked, clearly angry.

the phantom sat up, looking over to you incredulously. "what?"

"why the hell would you leave?"

"wasn't interested in watching him flirt with you." he was curt, as always.

"oh, yeah," you said dramatically. you were walking over to him now, standing in front of him. "because i was enjoying it so much. loved it even more when my boyfriend got tired and left me alone with him."

oh. that makes more sense than you blatantly hitting on him in front of your own boyfriend.

"really? sure seemed to find him so funny."

"because what am i supposed to do? tell him that he's not funny and to shut up?"

"you could have told him not to touch you."

"i did! and you didn't see me brushing his hand away and walking faster so he wouldn't rest his hand on my back? or were you too busy wallowing?"

the reality of this set in on him suddenly. he really had been too caught up in his own mind to realize what was happening. he had left you in an uncomfortable situation all because he was too stubborn to listen to what was actually happening.

"i'm sorry." he finally spoke.

"its okay," you sighed, and crawled your way into his bed. "i'll file a report or something later. we deserve a nap."

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katsu28 · 4 months ago

Text

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

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

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

previous chapter | masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you’ll be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should come in.”

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

“I think it’s plenty dry.”

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

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

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

“Are you calling me fat?”

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

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

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

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

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

Right.

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

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

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

“Is the water nice?”

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

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

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

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

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

“Jumping off the roof!”

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was…exhilarating.”

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is a mystery even to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He thinks?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

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

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

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

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

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

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new chapter :)

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

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antiquarianfics · 11 months ago

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Accidental

What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warning(s): canon level violence, kidnapping

a/n: idk if this does well, maybe i’ll do a pt 2?

part 2

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

You glance down at the picture in your hand of your younger sister before putting the picture back safely away in your jacket pocket. You take a deep breath and pull the right ear loop of your black mask up around your right ear to secure your mask to your face. Then, you pull your hood up over your head, check that your gun is still securely in its holster, and slide around the corner. You were going to find your sister. You promised.

You walk with purpose towards the bar that you’d heard men who work for the man responsible for your sister’s disappearance were known to hang out. In fact, you’re pretty sure the man responsible owned the bar, so you have a good feeling anyone you kidnap to question will be able to give you some amount of information. You have a feeling, though, that you’re not getting into the bar, so you slink around the back. Surely someone will need a cigarette break?

As luck would have it, as you slink around the corner, someone is already taking a cigarette break. The man stands tall, leaning against the side of the wall, a cigarette lit. He isn’t smoking it, though, merely holding it lit in front of his face, studying it. The man is wearing a black suit, his jacket unbuttoned. Perhaps he had just gotten off work?

Good, you think. He must be freshly off work; I’ll have a few hours before anyone thinks to look for him.

You walk quietly, stealthily up to the man. Before he notices you, you take the butt of your gun and knock it hard against the man’s temple. He crumbles.

—

It isn’t easy, but you manage to drag the man to an empty townhome where you tie him up in the basement. You have his hands bound to the chair, each wrist tied carefully to the chair’s arms. His feet are bound at the ankles. You don’t bother gagging him. You sit a good distance away on an uncomfortable futon, your mask still on, your hood still pulled up. You’re cleaning your gun when the man finally stirs.

The man groans as he raises his head, bright blue eyes scanning the room, settling on the only exit up the stairs behind him, noticing the lack of windows, and then falling on his captor in front of him: You. The man says nothing, merely stares. You stare back, raising an eyebrow. He breaks first.

“I’m awake now. What do you want?” His voice is gravely with disuse, his tone serious.

You laugh. To your own surprise as well as your captive’s, it’s a genuine laugh—your normal laugh.

“What? No “Who are you? What’s going on? How did I get here?” You ask, amused.

“You’ve watched too many cop shows.”

You laugh again. “Perhaps.”

“I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

“Information.”

“Can’t help you.”

“Sure you can.”

“Why’s that?” He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Found you outside The Red Star. The only people who hang around that bar work for the man that’s responsible for my sister’s kidnapping.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Kid, listen, if your sister was taken by the mob, she probably owed them something she couldn’t repay. You’re going to have to accept your sister was in with the wrong crowd.”

You pull a knife from its sheath at your belt and put it to the man’s neck. He sucks in a breadth.

“Bullshit. Tell me. What do you know about my sister?”

“Nothing.”

You push the knife further against his neck. “Bull.”

“There’s a lot of women in Brooklyn, sweetheart. Can’t expect me to know which one you’re talkin’ about with no information.” He shoots you a cheeky smile.

You sigh and pull away. You pull out your sister’s picture and show it to him.

“Her name is Ellie. Now, spill.”

He leans forward a little to look at the picture before leaning back.

“Never seen her.”

You tilt your head at him and purse your lips.

“You’re lying. You know something.”

“Perceptive are we?”

You hum. He sighs.

“Well, I’m not just going to risk my life and my job for anyone. Who are you? Show your face.”

You roll your eyes, and against your better judgement, you pull your hood back and your mask down. You need answers. The man stares at you, taking in your features, and after what feels like forever, he seems to make a decision. He smirks.

“You’re looking for a man by the name of Barnes, James Barnes. He’s the owner of the bar you took me from, and he’s the head of the Barnes Family. He’ll have the answers you’re looking for.”

“Where can I find him?”

The man grins, a dashing smile.

“I’m right here, Doll.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x you #marvel x reader angst #marvel fanfiction

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sierrale8ne · 5 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck.

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink.

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry.

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset.

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another.

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite.

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.”

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye.

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants.

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me.

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom.

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles.

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?”

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath.

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run.

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did.

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal.

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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vivid-vise · 20 days ago

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how bout both underage big bro toru and reader😵‍💫 hes so dumb and cocky and knows everythinggg till hes crying about how he made a mistake while fucking his little sister :/

contents: underäge, incest, dubcon, kinda hate this tbh but i really liked the idea so u_u

wc: 1.4k

oho you are speaking my language friend. shota toru is an occasional guilty pleasure. this is kinda ass though, so bare with me lol

the late nineties.

satoru, though he doesn't quite understand what it entails at his young age, is on the cusp of puberty, cusp of the age where his hormones will get the better of him. not only that, but the internet is starting to get more popular, and being the spoiled brat that he is, satoru gets all the access and free reign of the internet he wants, lest someone incurs the wrath of his tantrums.

and of course, with his amount of unrestricted access and a curious, young mind, it doesn’t take him long to come across porn. at his age, however, it rots his brain fast, quickly becoming something that is constantly at the forefront of his mind.

every ounce of freetime he can get his hands on, he’s in front of a computer screen watching large-breasted women, oiled up and getting the daylights fucked out of them, and when the internet wasn’t viable, satoru would roam the gojō estate high and low in search of dirty magazines or erotic literature, knowing the gross old men or lonely women would have some lying around, hidden from him. but not even the greatest of hiding places could escape satoru’s insatiable six eyes.

he needed to look at something.

at least, until it stopped being enough.

it got to the point where his addiction to just looking at such content wasn’t enough to stimulate his mind anymore; he needed something physical, and that’s when he noticed how his body was reacting to what he was looking at. surely, one would think, satoru would resort to touching himself to relieve the ache of no stimulation, and he did for a bit—rubbing his prepubescent dick against the palm of his hand while sat at the computer, or putting a pillow between his legs and grinding against it as he flipped through dirty pages, but that quickly lost his interest.

with all he’s learning through the porn he consumes, satoru wants to put it into action, wants to actually fuck someone too. of course, given his status in the clan, he could order almost anyone to comply; it would be simple to just tell one of the maids to bend over, but despite what he saw, satoru didn’t really want to do anything with an adult woman. after all, he’s still a kid, still smaller than the adults, and in all the porn he looked at, the woman was always smaller and weaker than the man.

therefore, he needed someone smaller than him too, and there was really one person of note he could think of: his little sister.

and as that thought crosses his mind, satoru suddenly gets excited.

i mean, you’re not only smaller than him, but younger and more stupid than him too. so, not only does he get to relieve his own desires the way he wants, he gets to be the one to personally show you everything he knows, and he can’t wait.

but he did—waited for there to be less nosey pests wandering around the estate, trying to get him to do shit. when the time came, however, he couldn't help rushing to your door, barging into your room.

you jump, a doll flying from your hand as you are startled by his entrance, but as your heart calms down, you get excited at the sight of your brother. “toru!!” you swoon in your annoying voice, getting up from your spot on the floor to run over and hug him. normally, he would push you off of him, not wanting physical contact, and that’s where the interaction between siblings would end, but he makes an exception today.

satoru opens his arms up for you, welcoming your embrace, to which he notices your eyes sparkle. you bury your face in his chest, holding him tightly, and he takes the opportunity to lean down and whisper in your ear, “sis, i wanna play a game with you. do you want to do it?” and with no idea what this ‘game’ entails, you look up at him and eagerly nod your head, wanting to spend as much time with your ever-so-busy big brother as possible. he pats your head approvingly before pulling away, telling you to, “go take off your clothes and sit on the bed.”

as you follow his orders, stripping yourself down without question, satoru checks outside your room, making sure no one’s coming down the corridor before he gets started—not like many people do, considering you’re the sibling of much lesser importance, but it’s worth to check, and once the coast is clear, he turns back to you.

and disappointment rings true when he takes in the sight of your naked body, but what was he expecting? you’re a child, after all, and the only thing that truly matters is he has power over you. so, without wasting anymore time, satoru removes his clothes too, and walks over to you on the bed.

“lay back, sis,” he directs you, though pushing you down on your back before you could even attempt to do so yourself—the ego to feel like he has to do everything himself earning an innocently confused stare from you, but he pays it no mind, instead focusing on the task before him.

it’s simple; he just needs to copy what he’s seen dozens of times before, and so, satoru grabs the back of your soft thighs and lifts them up, bending you in half almost. the confusion in your expression gets even more palpable, maybe even a little scared, but you trust your brother. besides, he was the one to suggest this game, so he must know what he’s doing, right? and he sure acts like he knows what he’s doing as he strokes his softened cock to get it ready.

but oh, how wrong the both of you were.

as satoru pushes into you, he hears you squeak in pain, instead of a sensual moan he’s so accustomed to in his porn, and he feels a surge of panic and a hint of anger rise as he sees tears prick your eyes. this isn’t supposed to hurt.

maybe he just needs to start moving?

but when he does, you let out a sob, feeling some sort of tearing in your cunt, and satoru furrows his eyebrows. “stop crying, you baby! that’s not what you're supposed to do!” he yells at you, which only makes you cry more.

he grits his teeth and keeps moving anyways, an unsteady rhythm to his hips as he thrusts into you as he dons on him that maybe he shouldn’t have done this, but he’s a stubborn child, even as his little sister starts to cry out for their mom and dad.

“no, no, no, no, no!” he whines, letting go of your legs to cover your mouth with both his hands, “stop that!” satoru starts to rush his movement, leading only to you thrashing beneath you, and he can start to feel his eye water from frustration. why are you being difficult?

his hips quickly begin to stutter as he nears his completion, but only being on the onset of puberty, his finish is lackluster, a few tiny spurts of watery coming out of him instead of thicky, pearly white stuff he’s seen and read about, making his even more frustrated. the tipping point, however, was when he pulls out and sees your blood staining his skin, and he can’t help the tantrum that soon takes over.

his first time was supposed to be amazing, just like in all the porn he’s consumed, but instead, it makes him cry. it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t relieving, and it makes him wonder if he did something wrong, which he hates even more.

“t… t-this is your fault, dummy!” he cries out at his sister, whimpering beneath him as she bleeds and aches, and he can’t stop himself from slapping her. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this! why’d you ruin it?!”

and you, innocent child that you are, didn’t know what you did wrong, but seeing your brother cry as he hits you, you feel bad anyway, even though you’re the one in pain. “i-i’m sorry, big bro… it… it hurts though…” you whine, and as you see him raise his hand, you flinch, “p-please don’t hit me again… i’ll b-be good next time…”

and just like that, at the mention of a next time, satoru starts to calm down. there would've been a next time regardless, but knowing that you’ll be a good girl and let him do what he wants, is enough to console the child that he still is.

#tw.dark content #tw.incest #tw.underäge #tw.dubcon #𑁍 vv:ficlets 𑁍#𑁍 vv:satoru 𑁍

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