#Spot jogging for toning

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[neeeooon]

Hello!

I really love your writing and i am going through your Blue Lock hc... so i don't know if you have already written my request,if so...i am sorry i didn't see it!

How about the Blue Lock guys get jealous over they own teammates?Like he introduce f!reader to his teammates and f!reader is laughing and having a good time? Maybe with Kaiser,Sae and Bachira or any other character you are comfortable with♡

hii thank you so much!! i have one jealousy post but it isn’t jealous toward members (except rin + karasu) SO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST 🩵

when they’re jealous of their teammate

jealous bf bllk x fem!reader

michael kaiser

-> kaiser already hates the fact that yoichi is trying to “take” his spot as the main character on the bm soccer team, but now he’s trying to take you too? absolutely not

-> in reality, isagi is not trying to steal you away from your boyfriend, leaving you completely clueless to kaiser’s jealous and unsure as to why he’s so upset whenever you ask to watch him practice or play games

-> “i just don’t know what’s up with him,” you confess to isagi as you both watch your fuming boyfriend dart across the field, scoring goals so loud you flinch. “ever since i started coming to games here, he seems pissed off. he was never upset when i did this before!”

-> isagi, totally unhelpful, shrugs and sips some water on the sidelines. “your boyfriend is creepy, y/n.” “he is not!” “is too!” you shove isagi in a playful manner, causing you both to laugh, and suddenly your stony-faced boyfriend is right in front of you

-> “oh, micha! done with pr—“ “we’re leaving.” you don’t have time to say goodbye to isagi before you’re on your feet and jogging after kaiser

-> “hey, what—“ “you’re my girlfriend, okay? mine. not his. he can’t have you, too.” you’re a little confused at who he means at first, but once you see the glare he shoots at isagi, you sigh. “he’s not trying to take me away, micha. even if he was, it wouldn’t matter because i’m in love with you.”

itoshi sae

-> he knows oliver is a flirt. he knows you’d never fall for the flattery. but when he overhears the player’s body count, he starts getting a bit nervous, because what could the guy possibly say to get so many people in his bed?

-> sae had a sneaking suspicion that oliver used banter and his witty sense of humor to draw others in, so when the sound of your lighthearted laughter fills his ears, he’s feeling all sorts of twisted inside as he spots you with oliver

-> you and oliver. together. his hand raised as if he’s about to caress the small of your back. he doesn’t get the chance, though, because sae is suddenly standing behind you with oliver’s wrist gripped in a fist

-> “problem?” oliver challenges him, eyes sparkling with mischief. sae scowls and shoved his temporary teammate away before placing his hand on your back and slowly pushing you to the exit with him

-> “hey, i haven’t had my fruit punch yet—woah, are you okay?” your playful tone dies in your mouth when you see how tensely your boyfriend is looking at you

-> “you were laughing.” “oh, um, yeah. he made a really bad dad pun, you know i’m a sucker for those.” “he was going to touch you, y/n. he’s clearly hitting on you.” you shuffle a bit, unsure of what to say. “oh. i didn’t realize..”

-> and you didn’t, because why would you look at anyone else when you were dating itoshi sae? the man worshiped you..! in his own ways. your smile throws him off. “no need to be jealous, cute boy. i only have eyes for you.”

bachira meguru

-> bachira doesn’t like feeling jealous. he trusts you, he really does, but watching you and rin makes him doubt that

-> you’ll admit that you have been shadowing the younger itoshi quite a bit, but it’s not the the reasons bachira’s mind plagues him with

-> your older brother passed away in an accident, and your last conversation with him hadn’t been the kindest. when you learned about the strained relationship between rin and his brother, you wanted to help in a familiar sense

-> “y/n, can you help me?” bachira whined as he frowned down at his english homework. “i’ll be right there, megs.” and then you wander off to huddle heads with rin

-> and then? you laughed. with rin! bachira has never seen the guy smile, and now he’s making you laugh? his cheeks puff and blush in envy as he discards his homework and stomps over to you

-> “y/n, i would very much like your help right now please!” you can tell that he’s frustrated, but he looks so adorable that you can’t help but smile as you stand. “okay, i’m coming, pretty boy. what’s up?”

-> “you and that. him! that guy! it makes me feel all icky inside watching you laugh with him, and i don’t like it.” his blatant honestly makes you grab his hands and pull him closer to you. “he reminds me of my brother… but you’re right, i’m sorry if i crossed a line. i’m only trying to help, but you’re my boyfriend, so if hanging out with him makes you uncomfortable, i’ll stop.”

[nysrage]

okay walk wit me sis.. 😌

make it fit connie.. or like fake sympathy condescending connie while y’all fucking.. FUCK I LOVE THAT SHIT.. 😩

ouu girl i’m walking! lemme see if i can get it to slight jog tho!

connie wasn’t oblivious to the fact he had a big ass dick. no, not at all. he’d spent most of his late high school and early college years figuring out where’d he’d fit on the inch chain as he liked to call it. most girls not being able to handle it or wouldn’t even attempt to tame it once they saw the monster that lay behind his sweats. many of his friends making fun of him that he didn’t get pussy but in reality, no one was bold enough to take it for him. not until he got his hands on you.

the girl at his university know for her unique street art. from the city and a splitting image of a bratz doll, who was never scared of a challenge felt she was ready to tame everything in life even her above averaged boyfriend.

that is until she found herself atop of him, positioned in reverse cowgirl to give her a man a view he’d never forget. thighs burning from riding dick splitting her open as she sank down a few inches onto him. “f-fuck i can’ttt .” finding herself scurrying back up to the tip, running the longtime lovin’ he was giving you. “thought you wanted it mamí? let papí give it to you.” connie teased, long thick dick hitting every stop imaginable inside of you. “s’too much!” you whined.

“too much..?” connie chuckled, grabbing ahold of your hips and taking a good look your tight two toned pussy wrapped around him. slick dribbling down his dick as you started to fill that emptiness inside you. “nah i think my good girl can take a lil more..” sinking deeper into that clamping hole of yours, moaning at the pressure of him slowly filling you up and sitting you down on his dick. “shittt.” relaxing your body as your walls loosening with warm slick and pulsing as you adjusted to his size. slowly molding to his curvature, filling you deliciously. connie knew it just took a lil work for you to get where you needed to be. “mhm, keep opening that pussy f’me, you right there mamí.”

giving you a final deep thrust that left your soft ass flush against his pelvis, leaving stomach full and mind in sex crazed haze. “fuck this pussy s’good.” groaning as he bounced you up and down his dick, removing his hands once he felt he set a steady pace for you. Inching your hips and down slowly trying your best to take every single inch. Connie landing a rough slap to your ass that left your body jolting from the stinging pleasure. “go down on it princesa, don’t be lazy.”

“thought you said you could take it.”

ass ripppling like waves as he met your hips and fucked himself up into you focused on that pretty pussy sucking every inch of him deeper than he’s ever felt before. nails digging at his thighs for dear life as your body bounced above his, “your so fucking deep” whine barely audible above the loud gushing of your pussy let him know that it’d take every inch happily. “s’ too muchhh! con—” fucking you down on him harder as he reached the spongey spot within that always started the waterworks. “awe that’s all you can take mamí..?” voice rough and full of feigned sympathy as he held up your ass mid air and fucked up into you hard, taking his pounding like a champ and meeting his rough thrusts. A smile creeping on connie’s face once you start riding out the literal high your body was about to reach.

“and you whining it too much, pussy the perfect fit for papí.”

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento was not a father; not strictly speaking. Not technically speaking. Not metaphorically speaking. The absence of paternity, however, did nothing to eschew him of the shackles he wore with pride, wearing them as a mantle; a medal of honour.

For one with such a black hole in his life, Itadori Yuuji would not notice Kento's absence unless something took Kento away from him, so natural was it that the void was filled.

Nanami Kento's priorities altered so dramatically, with such quiet consideration, that he had no real words to explain his situation to you when he first took you out for dinner. Or, when he took you out to the beach. Or, when you took him to that art gallery. Or, when you came over to his, tumbling through the door into stumbling kisses, all hands and groans and desperation.

For Nanami Kento was not a father. He ensured that his relationship with Yuuji did not overlap with his relationship with you, fearful that you would reject the burden of not-parenthood.

Kento was so introspective in his attempts to hide his not-parenthood, that he failed to see how blatantly-fucking-obvious he was. As if you wouldn't notice that dinner was always made for three, with a portion put aside or frozen for a hungry visitor. As if you wouldn't notice that Kento browsed the teenage boy sections in clothes stores, making note of what he would come back for later. As if you had not seen Kento listed as "I.C.E." on Yuuji's phone screen at school one day.

As if you were not a mother. As if you were not fully prepared to be.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento was stalking through the belly of the beast when he spotted two missed calls; one from Yuuji, and one from Shoko. His heart leapt into his mouth, his blade hanging dumbly by his side as he cursed internally at his lack of signal. Torn by conflicting responsibilities, he focused on the task at hand, but as a noticeably sloppier Sorcerer when worry gnawed at the bones of him.

An hour later, finally free, he jogged to his car, panting. He slipped into his seat, and called Yuuji-- no answer. He called Shoko-- no answer. He swore again, hurrying to start the car...and his phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen, and opened a message from you. He sat, staring at it, a cold trickle of worry down his spine. A photo; of Yuuji's characteristic shoes, beside your own, with the caption:

Picked up a wounded stray. He looks hungry. We'll be at yours soon!

Kento churned through emotions, trying to read your tone on the screen. Angry? Cheerful? Exasperated? Would you want to talk about his deceit later? Technically he hadn't lied. Or, he had. A lie by omission perhaps? She's angry. She's disappointed at least. Is that worse? That's worse.

Kento stewed, the whole drive home.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento continued to stew, when he arrived home to an empty house. He paced, and sat, and paced, and sat. He cursed himself for not maintaining tighter boundaries between Nanami-Kento-the-Boyfriend and Nanami-Kento-the-Not-Father. So deep was he in his self-flagellation, he jolted to hear the door open, and two familiar peals of laughter rolling through.

"--Ieiri-san told me I should have waited for Ino to arrive, but I just had to do something, y'know--"

"--not jump through a damn window, Yuuji, that's excessive--"

"--not stupid if it worked though--"

"--as your Not-Mother, I cannot condone this."

Kento stood, watching the scene unfold in wonder. You and Yuuji, bantering. You reaching for the grocery bags, and Yuuji insisting he carry them instead. You directing Yuuji to the bag with the snacks. Yuuji totally bypassing Kento, jogging past him to the kitchen.

As if this was his home. As if Kento was his home. As if you were his home.

Kento was still stunned into silence when you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Hey! Sorry we're late. Yuuji was hurt on a mission, so I picked him up, but I wanted to get ice cream, and I noticed we didn't have enough in for dinner for three, and--"

Your words cut off with a muffled "mmf!" as Kento leaned down, pulling you in by the back of the neck, and small of your back, silencing you with a kiss which tasted of all the gratitude for which he had no words. By the time he'd released your lips, his forehead pressed to yours, you felt the air rush back to the vacuum he'd left behind.

"...Kento, are you oka--"

"I love you."

The air rushed straight back out of you, leaving you light and giddy. Your lips puckered, threatening tears, so long had you been wondering if he'd ever confess the depths of his feelings.

"...you love me?"

"I love you. I love you. I absolutely love you. And I'm sorry I didn't--..."

"...didn't think I'd be happy with you looking after a boy with no parents, who needs some?"

You let your question hang, so Kento could soak in how much of a fool he'd been. He sighed, tense and looking over at Yuuji rustling through grocery bags in the kitchen.

"...I didn't want to assume that you'd accept it."

"Would you choose someone like that, though?" Kento looked unsure, and you clarified. "I mean, would you choose someone who felt jealous of you looking after an orphaned child?"

Kento's gears turned. "...no."

You smiled up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Exactly. So, like I was saying...I put fresh sheets in his room. I'll go and make dinner. Yuuji will pick a movie. And you should have a word with him about jumping through plate glass windows to get to a Curse faster."

At that, Kento's head snapped up, fixing Yuuji with a frown that had Yuuji dropping bags of snacks on the floor.

"Yuuji."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanamin, I--"

"Language."

"Shit, I'm sorry Nanami-san, I--"

You headed to the kitchen, pulling on an apron and stifling laughter at the Not-Father and Not-Son bickering in your wake.

[tsunodaradio]

they should call you sugar ⛐ 𝐈𝐇𝟔

isack has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where you think isack can't hurt a fly.)

ꔮ starring: isack hadjar x reader. ꔮ word count: 0.9k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. rookies make an appearance. title from tyler, the creator's sweet / i thought you wanted to dance. ꔮ commentary box: people starting to love on isack YUPPP!!! i used to dream of times like this 🙂‍↕️ a quick lil somethin' as part of my soft spot mini-series. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first time you hear about Isack being this formidable, foul-mouthed figure on the grid, you nearly bust a stitch laughing. 

Isack? Your Isack? Screaming over the radio, cussing out in the open? 

What are these people on? 

In all the time you’ve known him, Isack hasn’t raised his voice within your vicinity. Not once. There are a handful of times where he would have gotten away with it, you think. The wrong order at a restaurant after an hour wait. Or that one time you accidentally spilled coffee on his brand new team kit. 

He’d always been patient, level-headed. It was to the point where you felt like you were dealing with an actual angel. 

So, now— when the other rookies try to warn you about his supposedly colorful way of expressing himself? 

“That is not Isack Hadjar,” you say in between chuckles, the words muffled behind your palm. “You’re all being absurd. Isack is an absolute sweetheart.” 

Gabriel actually snorts out his drink through his nose. As Ollie and Kimi rib him for it, Jack nudges you in the side. 

“How does he treat you, then?” the Alpine rookie asks, a corner of his mouth twitching upward in a light smirk. 

“You know,” you stammer. “As he should. Opening the door for me, carrying my stuff.” 

You don’t like the look the boys share. It’s like you’re on the outside of their inside joke, and Kimi is completely unable to hide his amusement. 

“You should call him ‘sugar’,” the youngest snickers, “because he’s just so sweet to you.”

The four share a laugh. You give them a heatless glare before stalking off somewhere else to the paddock. You’d come to surprise Isack on his first day of free practice sessions, wanting to watch your best friend officially kick off his Formula One 2025 campaign. 

The other rookies had spotted you and made a jab out of it, leaving you confused. Isack was nice to everybody.

Wasn’t he?

It’s a good day on track. Isack comes out as top of the rookies in the first session, and finishes at an even better place by the second session. By the time you’re weaving over to where the Racing Bulls are, you’re mildly surprised you haven’t been found out yet. 

Isack texted in between sessions, asking if you’d watched from home. You held back on responding, wanting to make the surprise good. 

In the end, you’re the one who ends up surprised. 

Because Isack— who is yet to see you— is cussing in both languages as he jokes around with his social media team. “I am telling you,” he’s arguing, laughter edging his tone, “the ‘it’s Britney, bitch!’ TikTok will do numbers! Putain, just let me at it!” 

It’s a bit fascinating. Here’s Isack with the people he sees everyday, acting more larger-than-life than you’ve ever seen him. You falter in your steps, feeling a bit out of your depth. Are you welcome here? 

Before you can even consider leaving, maybe acting like you were never here, Isack’s eyes skip over you. 

He does a double take. And then he comes to a full stop, his jaw going completely slack. 

“Ma moitié!”

The nickname he’d given you some time back— my better half— lands like a punch to the gut. You’re frozen in your place until he’s jogging up to you, his expression caught between shock and excitement. 

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice is softer, now. More reverent. It’s a stark difference to how he had been interacting with the others, and it reminds you of the other rookies’ teasing. 

You swallow. Now is not the time for a crisis, you mentally chide yourself. “Are you kidding?” you say. “I wouldn’t miss this race weekend for the world.” 

Isack is positively beaming. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your wrist, as if to check if you’re real. When he seems to realize that you are, he actually giggles before tugging you in for a quick hug. 

“I still have to do some more social filming,” he laments. “But I am free after for a— what do you want? A meal? A drive?” 

“Anything, anything,” you say affectionately as you pat the small of Isack’s back. “We’ll figure it out later. Go film, ma moitié.” 

He squeezes you tight before pulling away. His eyes are bright; his smile, a little different from the practiced one he had been donning earlier. You have a suspicion that this smile, this softness, is the real Isack. 

“Okay. Later.” He pauses for a beat, his grin breaking wide across his face. “You can’t just surprise me like this. It’s going to make my heart stop.” 

You laugh. “Wouldn’t want that. Now, shoo!” 

And then— because Kimi had planted the idea in your head— you call out as Isack leaves, “See you later, sugar.” 

Your best friend trips on his shoelaces. 

He throws you a look over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. It looks like there’s a cuss on the tip of his tongue, but he shakes his head and sticks out his tongue instead. It’s as if he’s physically incapable of swearing at you, no matter how small the offense. 

You wave at him as he leaves. People could say what they wanted, but Isack would always be sweet when it came to you. ⛐

[maxlarens]

lando and 3💗💗

3) hiding face in neck

There’s a grin splitting its way across your face as you hustle through corridors and fight crowds across the paddock. You thought you’d be able to get away with watching the race in one of the fancy Miami VIP areas. You’d thought he’d do good but not this good— you shouldn’t have underestimated him.

P1. P1.

You should have started hustling to McLaren earlier in the race honestly, when he was leading and you had a sick feeling in your gut from the anticipation.

Whatever.

You’re sprinting like your life depends on it, flashing your lanyard and flagging down McLaren staff who recognise you so you can be let into areas that Lando or someone equally as important usually takes you through.

You’re waylaid just before you can hit the tarmac. Stopped by an obstinate security guard who you can’t really blame for just doing his job. You can see flashes of orange, bits of the car as you stand on your tiptoes to catch someone anyone’s eye.

“You have to let me through,” you say, “I am literally his best friend. He just won.” Then you’re seeing a Red Bull cap and you’re shouting, “MAX! Oi, Max!”

Max frowns, head turning in each direction until he finally spots you and the security guard who’s trying to hold you off. He rolls his eyes, then jogs over.

“You can let her through, mate,” he says, an exasperated edge to his tone that you will deal with later thank you very much, “She’s with Lando.”

You’re not with Lando, you want to bite back. Okay, technically in Max’s sense of the word you are.

Whatever.

The moment the security guard moves his arm you’re off like a shot, sparing only a second to pat Max’s arm in thanks. You take off onto the tarmac, out into the Miami sun. There’s the MCL38, there’s a sea of papaya behind a barricade, there’s Zak Brown and there’s Lando.

You thud into his side, almost knocking him into Zak as you throw your arms around his neck. Responding on instinct he catches you, one arm winding around your waist. You’re babbling as soon as you’ve got him in your grip— I’m so proud of you’s and I knew you could do it’s bubbling from your mouth as you try to stop from crying.

He’s laughing— giggling that shrill, joyful thing he does— as he twists around in your arms. He puts both arms around your waist, squeezes and lifts. And you don’t even care that he’s sweaty and smells bad, because he’s shoving his wet (from sweat, from tears) face into your neck and he’s hugging you like he doesn’t want to let go.

[kiemiu]

an average day w/ bf!matt <3 | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship drabble wc 1.6k (library) + (request) warnings -> one use of y/n

9:51am - a tattooed arm weighs heavy across your abdomen as you slowly adjust your eyes to the morning light shining through the curtains. careful stretches and quiet groans leave you as you twist in matt's grip. his arm only hooking around you significantly tighter at your movement. you lie still for a moment before turning towards him, his head remains buried deep into your neck. "matt, baby. cmon, time to get up." you whisper hoarsely, as you tap at his arm. he pretends to continue sleeping as you poke and prod at him to get up. he lowly groans in response before turning over to his side of the bed, his arm still hooked around your waist as he lazily flips you over his body to cradle you into his chest. "5 more minutes, please?" he tiredly grumbles before throwing his leg over you, swiftly pulling you as close as he possibly could. you only sigh in response before relaxing in his grip, knowing that you'd be there for another hour or so.

11:32am - sudden rapid knocks wake you up from your second wave of sleep. chris's voice being heard behind the door as he twisted at the locked door knob. "matt, come on, you said you'd take me to target today." his voice clearly laced with irritation as he banged his fist on the door, louder and louder. "oh my fucking god." matt grumbled his grip on you becoming tighter, cradling your head into his chest before he slightly lifted himself up to shout out "alright chris, i heard you! give me a fucking second." before plopping himself back to his original spot. there was silence on the other side of the door before chris responded "finally, you got 20 minutes!" his voice getting more and more faint as he walked down the hallway. you gently patted matt's chest in comfort before hoisting yourself up and heading to the bathroom. "taking a shower, baby?" he asked, his voice much softer this time. you only hummed in response, lingering by the door, knowing what he'd ask you next. "can i join?"

12:59pm - you slowly pushed the cart, one of matt's arm hooked around your waist as your eyes trailed over the selection of frozen treats. "baby, we already have enough ice cream at home." matt softly whined, his hand affectionately gripped your hip while his thumb gently massaged your clothed skin. "yeah, but you always eat it all. i want something for myself this time." you tease before your eyes land on what flavor you want. "that's—not true." he grumbled with a half-hearted eye roll, knowing you were right. "mmm, i think i'm gonna go with the classic cookie dough." you mutter to yourself before breaking away from him to reach in and grab a small tub of ice cream. just as soon as you set your treat in the cart, chris ran up with a wide smile. "dude, we have to get this! it's the last one on the shelf." he exclaimed excitedly while holding a batman themed lego set, nervously switching from one foot to the other as he waited for your approval to set it down in the cart. matt had a conflicted look on his face as one of his hands mindlessly played with the end of your jacket. just as matt was opening his mouth to say 'no', you interjected with a wide smile and a cheery "of course." making chris throw the set into the cart before jogging away to look at more things he didn't need. "he's gonna go bankrupt if you keep encouraging him." he reprimanded, no malice in his tone while he took over the job of pushing the cart as it started to get too heavy. "oh, shush. you wanted it just as bad."

2:46pm - matt's hand that rested on your thigh reached up to turn down the volume of his music. "sweetheart, can you look up something for us to eat? i'm getting hungry." he asked, his eyes focused on the road as he reached for his phone that rested on the arm rest and handed it to you. you hummed in response before scrolling through various food locations. "can we get red robin? their fries are so good and i'd kill for one of their burgers right now." you asked even as you already started to type in the address. "oh, that'd be so fucking good right now." chris chimed in from the back, his mouth full of potato chips. matt's face scrunched up in slight disgust at the sound of crunching coming from chris. "yeah, that's fine. chris, text nick and ask if he wants anything— and don't get any crumbs on my fucking seats. thanks." matt muttered before resting his hand back on your thigh.

3:33pm - you laid sprawled out on the couch after finishing your meal. a movie you hadn't really been paying attention to played on the tv as you cuddled closer to matt, his hand under your shirt and resting on your stomach. "sleepy?" he quietly asked, his lips resting on the side of your face before pressing gentle pecks across your skin. you only hummed in confirmation, a lazy nod following as you leaned into more of his kisses. "hm, go lay down. i'll clean up and come up in a sec." he dismissed, before gently patting your stomach. you stretched your arms out before walking back to his room, falling on his bed as soon as it was in reach. you could hear him faintly talking to his brother as you didn't close the door all the way. "me and y/n are gonna take a nap. if you need anything, don't ask." you heard matt say as the sound of his voice got closer. you didn't move when you heard the door close behind you, keeping your eyes closed even as you laid sprawled across his entire bed. matt set the multiple water bottles on his nightstand before laying on top of you, laughing at the strained groan you let out. "make room for me and mr. wrinkleton,"

7:22pm - you woke up to the sound of matt's pc turning on. your head lifting up to see him already looking at you with a timid expression. "sorry, baby. i was gonna stream a little with chris. didn't mean to wake you up." he explained apologetically. "its okay." you whispered, knowing you would've woken up sooner or later with the amount him and chris shouted. you stretched before making your way out of the room. "you're leaving?" you heard him ask as soon as you opened his bedroom door. "yeah, i wanna go hang with nick while you stream." you admitted, leaning against his door frame. "oh, okay...gimme a kiss before you go." he said, his head tilted back on his gaming chair, his lips pursed in the air as he waited for you to give him what he wanted. you rolled your eyes playfully before sauntering over to him, resting your hands on the side of his face and tilting his head up before slotting your lips against his. the kiss lingered on longer than you intended as the tip of his nose brushed against your cheek. "love you, pretty." he whispered, dazed as you broke away from the kiss, his eyes going back and forth from your lips and eyes. "i love you more." you replied with a smile before pressing a quick departing peck on his lips and closing the door behind you.

10:01pm - you and nick giggled uncontrollably while filming your 3rd tik tok together that would most likely go straight to his drafts. you rewatched it over and over again, clutching your stomachs and doubling over in laughter as you watched the two of you do stupid stunts. tears forming in your eyes as you both sat on the floor together thinking of the next video you'd film together. there was a soft knock on the door, halting your shenanigans. "what?" nick yelled out before the door opened. it was matt, and his eyes immediately landed on yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "you guys wanna come down and play uno with me and chris?" he asked, chris peeking behind his shoulder with his hands clasped together in a pleading manner. "fine, but be prepared to lose." nick answered as all of you started to make your way towards the living room, matt straying behind to hook his arm around your waist.

12:11am - multiple games went by, everyone having their fair share of wins but nick ultimately coming out as the winner. "get your skills up, bitches." being his final statement before he made his way back to his room, his head held high at his victory. the rest of you retreat to your bedrooms, the night starting to feel heavy as you and matt once again retreated back to his room with a handful of snacks in your arms. deciding to continue watching the series you started together, you happily munched on your snacks, adding in your own shared commentary, and rewinded the parts that made you laugh.

3:44am - after a few episodes you transcended into gravity falls, quietly listening as matt told you all of the lore he knew and gushed on about his favorite episodes. seeing you yawn made him realize how late it had gotten, you insisted that you weren't tired, despite your droopy eyes telling a different story. matt didn't press the issue, only smiling when he looks over a few minutes later to see you passed out sleeping. once the episode ended, he wasted no time shutting the tv off and tucking you in, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he cuddled as close to you as he possibly could. "sweet dreams, pretty girl."

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🎁: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part One

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

Moving to Barcelona has been a whirlwind of emotions. The city is beautiful, the food incredible, and the people warm and vibrant. Yet, everything still feels new and a little overwhelming. Thankfully, your childhood best friend, Mapi, and your boyfriend, Luis, have both been there to make the transition easier. Luis opened up his apartment to you when you moved for work a few weeks ago, and Mapi has been a lifeline of familiarity, showing you the best spots in the city and introducing you to her circle of friends.

Mapi’s close-knit circle is nothing short of fascinating. There’s Esmee, who has a bubbly personality and a laugh that can light up a room, and Kika, sharp-witted and always up for a joke. Then there’s Ingrid, Mapi’s "wifey," as you love to call her. The nickname never fails to make Mapi blush, and Ingrid just grins knowingly. It’s clear how much Ingrid means to Mapi—she grounds her and brings out the best in her. Watching them together always warms your heart.

One name that keeps coming up, however, is Alexia. Mapi has been insistent that you meet Alexia, describing her as family and someone she deeply values. But between work and settling into your new life, your paths haven’t crossed yet.

That changes one Saturday when Mapi invites you and Luis to one of her games. Sitting in the friends and family section, you’re excited to see Mapi in action. Luis, however, isn’t as enthused. He spends most of the match on his phone, but he came because you asked, so you don’t press him about it.

---

After the game, Mapi spots you and jogs over with Ingrid in tow. She greets you warmly, her post-game energy still buzzing. “You made it!” she says, hugging you tightly.

Luis nods politely, but his attention drifts back to his phone. You let it slide and focus on catching up with Mapi and Ingrid. As you chat, Mapi’s face lights up. “There’s someone you need to meet,” she says, turning to call someone over.

Moments later, Alexia joins you. She’s stunning, her presence commanding yet warm. “So, you’re the famous childhood friend,” she says with a smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

You return the smile. “The feeling’s mutual. Mapi talks about you all the time.”

Before you can exchange more than a few pleasantries, you feel an arm slide around your waist. Luis pulls you close, his sudden gesture catching you off guard. For a fleeting moment, Alexia’s expression shifts—surprise flickering across her face—but it vanishes almost instantly. She excuses herself gracefully and walks away.

“We’re all going to a bar later,” Mapi says, turning back to you. “You and Luis should come.”

Luis declines, citing other plans, but you agree to join.

---

Later that evening, you find yourself at a cozy bar with Mapi and Ingrid, reminiscing about your childhood. You laugh over old stories, and it feels like a slice of home in this new city.

As the night goes on, Alexia joins your table, sliding into the seat next to you. She’s easy to talk to, her charm effortless. You laugh over shared jokes, and there are moments where her compliments make you wonder if she’s flirting. But surely, you’re imagining it.

At one point, Mapi drags Alexia to the bar to help carry drinks. Left alone with Ingrid, you can’t help but share your thoughts. “She seems like a nice person,” you say, “and she’s clearly a good friend to Mapi.”

Ingrid’s knowing smile makes you pause. “She’s a good friend,” she agrees.

At the bar, Mapi hands over some cash to the bartender and glances sideways at Alexia, who has been unusually quiet. “What?” Alexia asks when she catches Mapi staring.

“No,” Mapi says firmly, shaking her head.

Alexia arches a brow. “No, what?”

“No to whatever you’re thinking,” Mapi clarifies. “She’s off-limits, Alexia. Don’t even think about it.”

Alexia’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “She’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Mapi counters, her tone exasperated. “And she’s happy.”

“Sure she is,” Alexia replies, grabbing two glasses the bartender sets down. Her expression is unreadable, though the glint in her eyes suggests defiance. “But happiness can be… fluid.”

Mapi groans and rubs her temples. “Alexia, I’m serious. Don’t do this.”

Alexia leans in slightly, her smirk softening into something more earnest. “I’m not planning anything,” she says. “But if she’s as happy as you say, then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

Mapi exhales sharply but doesn’t argue further as Alexia picks up the drinks and heads back to the table. Mapi watches her go, muttering under her breath, “Trouble. This is going to be trouble.”

Alexia places a drink in front of you, her fingers brushing yours for just a moment.

---

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly, though you can’t ignore the occasional lingering glance from Alexia. Around 10 p.m., you decide to call it a night. You say your goodbyes and step out into the cool Barcelona air. As you turn to head home, a voice calls out.

“Wait.”

You turn to see Alexia jogging after you. “I’ll walk you home,” she says.

“That’s not necessary,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

She insisted, and eventually, you relented. The walk was pleasant, filled with light banter, but something about her lingering gazes unsettled you. When she complimented you again, you stopped in your tracks and have to ask outright. “Are you flirting with me?”

Her smirk is infuriatingly confident. “Would it be bad if I was? It’s no secret I like flirting with beautiful women.”

You stop in your tracks. “I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.”

Her expression falters for a split second before she recovers. “That boy at the game? Really?”

“Yes,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that even supposed to mean? That boy?!”

“Nothing,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just… you don’t give off straight vibes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I am. And I’m happy with my boyfriend. So whatever you’re trying to do, stop.”

Alexia’s smirk deepened, and she took a step closer. “You weren’t exactly discouraging me earlier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice sharpening.

“You flirted back,” she said simply, her gaze unwavering. “At the bar. The way you laughed at my jokes, the way you looked at me—it wasn’t nothing.”

Your stomach twisted. “I was just being polite.”

“Maybe,” she said, tilting her head. “But if you’re so sure, why does it bother you that I think otherwise?”

Her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you shook your head. “This conversation is over.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

You reach your building and turn to face her. “This is me. Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her smirk returns, along with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

---

As you watch her walk away, you feel a mix of irritation and something you can’t quite place. Shaking your head, you head upstairs and slip into bed beside Luis. Yet, Alexia’s words linger. You weren’t flirting… were you?

Meanwhile, Alexia walks home with a determined glint in her eye. Sure, you’re taken, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’d seen something in you—something she’s not ready to let go of just yet. After all, she’s Alexia Putellas. And if anyone can make you see what she does, it’s her.

[sweetlyvibe]

✎ . . . their reaction to you accidentally MATCHING

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝖱𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝖬𝗂𝗒𝖺 ⋆ 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾 ⋆ 𝖮𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝖳𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗎

Rintarou walked into the café where you’d agreed to meet, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd until they landed on you. He stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at your outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy—oversized sweatshirt, black joggers, and sneakers—but it looked eerily similar to what he was wearing.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he slid into the seat across from you. “Nice outfit,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Trying to copy me or something?”

You blinked in confusion, looking him up and down before realizing the unintentional match. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even notice!” you said, your cheeks warming. “This wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

Rintarou leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Sure it wasn’t,” he teased, resting his chin on his hand. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I do have great taste.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “Well, maybe I’m just naturally stylish, and it happens to overlap with yours.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t be surprised if people start thinking we’re a couple or something.” His teasing smirk softened as he added, “Not that I’d mind.”

Kenma was sitting on his gaming chair, eyes glued to the screen, when you walked into the room wearing a hoodie almost identical to his usual oversized one. He glanced up for a second, then did a double take.

“Is that… my hoodie?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You looked down at yourself, realizing the similarity but shaking your head. “Nope, it’s mine. But I guess it does look like something you’d wear.”

Kenma’s lips quirked up into a small smile as he paused his game. “It suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? So, you’re saying you have good taste?”

He shrugged, looking away to hide the faint pink on his cheeks. “I guess.”

Sitting down beside him, you added, “Maybe I’ll start dressing like you all the time. We can be a matching duo.”

Kenma gave a soft chuckle, his shyness peeking through. “As long as you don’t take my actual clothes, I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

Atsumu was leaning against the gym doors, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you. The moment you arrived, his eyes widened slightly as he took in your outfit—a clean, sporty jacket paired with joggers and sneakers that mirrored his own style.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, walking toward you with an exaggerated grin. “Are ya tryin’ to copy me or somethin’?”

You blinked, confused, until you glanced at his outfit and saw the resemblance. “Oh no, this wasn’t on purpose, I promise!” you said, laughing nervously.

Atsumu crossed his arms, pretending to be serious. “Sure it wasn’t. Admit it, Y/n, ya just wanna look as cool as me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because nothing screams ‘fashion icon’ like your sweatpants,” you teased back.

He laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. Ya pull it off better than I do anyway.”

His tone was playful, but the way he looked at you—his eyes soft and full of admiration—told you he really meant it.

Tooru spotted you in the stands before the game even started, his eyes immediately locking onto your outfit. The loose-fitting button-up shirt tucked into straight-leg pants looked like something straight out of his wardrobe. He smirked to himself as he jogged over to you during warm-ups.

“Y/n,” he called, leaning casually against the barrier, “are you trying to outshine me with my own style?”

You tilted your head, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He pointed to your outfit, then gestured to his own. “We’re practically twins today.”

You glanced at his clothes, then back at yours, groaning when you realized the unintentional match. “Oh no, I didn’t even notice! I swear this wasn’t planned!”

Tooru laughed, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, I’ll let it slide this time. But you do realize everyone’s going to think you’re my biggest fan, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but he reached out to gently adjust your collar, his tone softening. “Honestly, you look amazing. Maybe we should match more often.”

His teasing grin lingered, but the way his eyes shone with affection made your heart flutter.

[bueckers555]

CAN’T STAND YOU — nika muhl x reader

summary: in which, you and nika show each other just how much you can’t stand one another

warnings: smut smut and more smut

authors note. part two of the pazzi x reader fic will be up soon but first, my girl nika cuz one too many angry edits of her popped up so this is what my head came up with ITS OVULATION WEEK SORRY

No one on the team could pinpoint when it started—least of all you or Nika Mühl.

Maybe it was during that first practice when you’d hustled for a loose ball and she’d beaten you to it, smirking as she dribbled away like she’d just claimed some unspoken victory. Or maybe it was the time she’d called out your positioning in a drill, her tone sharp and clipped, like you were a rookie who didn’t belong on the same court as her. Whatever it was, the seed had been planted, and it grew into something jagged and unyielding, a mutual loathing neither of you could shake.

It wasn’t loud or showy at first. You didn’t scream in each other’s faces or throw punches in the gym. It was quieter, colder— a slow burn that everyone felt but no one could fix.

You’d roll your eyes when she took the lead in huddles, her voice cutting through the air with that unshakable confidence. She’d scoff when you ran a play, muttering something under her breath about your footwork or your timing.

The team noticed, though—they always did. Paige would shoot Aaliyah a look, a silent “not this again,” while the freshmen shuffled awkwardly, unsure where to stand when the tension thickened.

On the court, it was a different beast. You were both too good to let it tank the game outright, but it showed in the cracks. During a fast break, you’d hesitate just a split second before passing to her, the ball leaving your hands with a little too much force, like you were daring her to miss. She’d catch it, of course—she was Nika Mühl, she didn’t miss much—but the glare she’d send your way could’ve burned a hole through the hardwood.

When she drove to the basket, you’d hang back instead of setting the screen she needed, forcing her to twist through defenders alone. She’d still score half the time, but the other half, she’d turn it over, and you’d feel a flicker of grim satisfaction.

“Run the play right next time,” she’d say after, her voice low and flat as you jogged back on defense. Not accusatory—just factual, like she was stating the weather. It pissed you off more than if she’d yelled.

“Maybe if you didn’t hog it, I would,” you’d mutter, loud enough for her to hear but not enough to draw Geno’s attention. She’d pretend she didn’t, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you she had.

The team adapted. They had to. Paige started calling the shots more, acting as a buffer, while KK quietly nudged you both toward open spots to keep the offense flowing. But it was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

During one game against a ranked opponent, you’d both gone for the same rebound—neither of you calling it—and ended up colliding, the ball slipping through your hands and out of bounds. The crowd groaned, and Nika’s eyes met yours for a split second, sharp and furious, before she turned away. Coach benched you both for the next few minutes, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Off the court, it was subtler but no less brutal. In the weight room, you’d push yourself harder when she was around, stacking plates on the bar until your arms shook, just to prove a point. She’d do the same, her reps silent and relentless, never looking your way but always aware. At team dinners, you’d sit at opposite ends of the table, your conversations with others clipped whenever she spoke up. The team stopped trying to force you together after a while—why bother when it always ended the same?

No one knew why it ran so deep. You couldn’t explain it yourself. She wasn’t cruel, not really—just infuriatingly self-assured, like she’d already sized you up and found you lacking. And you weren’t petty, but something about her set your teeth on edge—maybe the way she carried herself, like the court was hers and you were just borrowing space. It wasn’t jealousy; you were too good for that. It wasn’t even personal, not at first. It just was, a reflex neither of you could unlearn.

By the time that bad game rolled around, the tension had a pulse of its own. You’d both been off: your shots rimmed out, her passes sailed wide. The mistakes weren’t all on one of you, but it didn’t matter. Every missed opportunity became a weapon, every fumble a reason to point the finger. The final buzzer sounded, and the loss sank in, heavy and bitter. You caught her eye as you walked off the court, her expression a mirror of your own—frustration, blame, and something darker simmering beneath.

The team saw it coming. They always did. But this time, when the locker room door swung shut behind you, it wasn’t just another cold standoff. It was the breaking point.

The locker room was suffocating with tension after the game—a brutal loss that left the team reeling. The scoreboard had mocked them: 72-68, a four-point deficit that felt like a chasm.

Everyone knew who’d been at each other’s throats all night: you and Nika Mühl. The star guard’s fiery glare had met your own more times than the ball had hit the rim, and the team was sick of it.

“Great job out there, huh? Maybe if you’d passed the damn ball instead of hogging it, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” you snapped, slamming your locker shut. Your voice echoed off the metal, sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of your teammates.

Nika whirled around, her dark hair still damp with sweat, eyes blazing. “Me? You’re the one who missed three wide-open shots in the fourth quarter. My grandma could’ve made those with her eyes closed, and she’s half-blind!”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, stepping closer, your chest heaving from the adrenaline still pumping through you. “Your ass had two turnovers trying to show off with those fancy ass dribbles. Maybe stick to the basics next time, hotshot.”

The rest of the team exchanged looks—Paige Bueckers rolled her eyes and muttered, “Here we go again,” while Azzi Fudd grabbed her bag and bolted for the door. They’d seen this dance before: you and Nika, two storms colliding, leaving wreckage in your wake. No one dared intervene anymore.

It was pointless. Like trying to get a shark and bear get along: stupid and a waste of time.

Nika’s jaw tightened, her lips curling into a sneer. “Shit, at least I’m not the one who let their girl blow past them for that game-tying layup. You’re a mess.”

You laughed, bitter and cold. “A mess? Says the one who fouled out with two minutes left. Real fucking clutch, Mühl.”

She stepped closer, her breath hot against your face, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Keep talking. See where it gets you.”

The air crackled between you, thick with rage and something else—something unspoken that had been simmering for weeks. Your teammates had scattered now, leaving the locker room empty except for the two of you, the silence amplifying every ragged breath.

“Fuck you, Nika,” you hissed, shoving her shoulder.

She didn’t budge, just grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer, her grip bruising. “Fuck you,” she spat back, her lips inches from yours.

And then—chaos. You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly her mouth was on yours, all teeth and fury, a kiss that felt more like a fight. You shoved her against the lockers, the clang of metal ringing out as your hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard. She groaned—a sound that was half-anger, half-need—and bit your lip, drawing a sharp hiss from you.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered against her mouth, your hands already under her jersey, nails raking down her back.

“Shut up,” she growled, spinning you around so your back hit the cold steel. Her fingers were rough, tugging at your shorts, yanking them down with no patience. “You piss me off.”

“Good,” you snarled, kicking the fabric aside and pulling her closer, your thigh slotting between her legs. She was still in her uniform, sweaty and disheveled, and the sight of her—pupils blown, chest heaving—made your stomach twist with want.

Her hands found your hips, digging in as she ground against you, her breath hitching. “Fuckin’ always got sum to say,” she taunted, but her voice cracked when your fingers slipped beneath her waistband, finding her already soaked. “Fuck—”

“Keep talking,” you mocked, echoing her earlier threat as you pressed two fingers inside her, curling them hard. She gasped, her head tipping back against the locker, and the sound sent a jolt straight through you.

She didn’t back down, though—never did. Her hand slid between your thighs, mirroring your movements, and the sudden pressure made your knees buckle. “You’re such a bitch,” she whispered, her thumb circling you with ruthless precision, “can’t fucking stand you.”

The words hit like a punch, and you hated how they made you clench around her fingers. You retaliated, adding a third finger, pumping faster, deeper, until her thighs trembled and her insults dissolved into broken moans. The locker room smelled of sweat and sex, the air thick with the sound of your ragged breathing and the wet, desperate rhythm of your bodies.

“Fuck, Nika—” you choked out, your free hand gripping her shoulder as she pushed you to the edge, her fingers relentless. She smirked, even as her own voice shook, “Say it again.”

You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but your body betrayed you, shuddering as she tipped you over, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave. You clung to her, nails biting into her skin, and she followed seconds later, her hips jerking against your hand as she came with a string of curses in Croatian you barely understood.

But it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. The anger still burned, fueling something primal. You shoved her onto the bench, straddling her before she could recover, and she pulled you down with a wicked grin, her hands guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. The friction was maddening, too much and not enough all at once, and soon you were both chasing that high again—overstimulated, oversensitive, but too stubborn to stop.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” she panted, her voice raw as she gripped your waist, her touch bruising in the best way.

“Then die,” you shot back, but the words lost their venom as you came again, harder this time, your vision blurring. She laughed—breathless, triumphant—and pulled you into another messy, desperate kiss, her tongue claiming you like she’d won the argument.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, both of you sweaty, trembling messes. The locker room was silent again, save for your heavy breathing. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the weight of what just happened settling in.

Finally, Nika muttered, “We’re still fucked for the next game.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue. “Yeah. But at least we’re good at this.”

She smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and for once, there was no venom in her eyes—just a flicker of something softer. “Truce?”

“For now,” you said, and you both knew it wouldn’t last.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.

hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader

[6:00]

Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.

Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.

“Where you... going...”

Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.

Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.

“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.

“Stay... please...”

“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”

“You feel better than blåhaj...”

“...”

It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.

Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.

Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.

Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...

The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.

[12:00]

“Can we eat fries for lunch?”

you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“No”

“WHYYYY!”

“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.

okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.

just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.

“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.

What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.

“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.

“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.

“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.

Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.

[18:00]

You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.

“Mushroom”

“Mango”

“Oreo”

“Orange”

“Egg”

“g...”

“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”

“Fucking hell...”

Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.

[23:00]

“Time to sleep.”

“but I want to watch this movie.”

“You can watch it tomorrow.”

“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”

“...Fine.”

(00:00)

Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.

He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.

He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.

He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.

“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.

a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u

[justkending]

Pink or Violet? (Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

(All gifs are from Pinterest)

(Part two of "It's just a papercut..." Drabble)

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Well, wow-ee wow, wow... Y'all blew up the last little drabble connected to this one, so I had to grant myself some writing time today to come up with a follow-up drabble. This one is a lot more lighthearted and a good 5-8 months in the future (your choice, really). Thank you, guys, for all the love on the last one, and I hope this one is a nice extension of it ;)

________________

“Have you ever considered going brunette? Whoa!” I sense the knife before I see it and manage to expertly dodge it with a laugh. “Hey, my teammate said I’m not allowed to get stabbed anymore, big guy,” I shun, turning in my spot, kicking the man in the nuts, and as he folds over in pain, I hold his head perfectly to knee him in the face, hearing a satisfying crunch, causing him to land with a thump to my side. “Rude to interrupt conversations, too, dude.” 

Currently, we were in the middle of a stakeout… Or what started as a stakeout and now is a full-on brawl. 

Nat and I were rudely interrupted in our conversation about disguises we wanted to try, when an explosion in the facility we were monitoring took over the west wing. 

“I’ve done a wig,” Nat answers as she jumps, doing one of her classic moves where she’s sat on the shoulders of her assaulter, choking him out with her thighs before flinging her body to where she’s standing again casually and the man is incapacitated passed out on the floor. “Not that I didn’t find it flattering, but it’s harder to dye back with such a dark color.” She shrugs as she moves on to her next victim. 

I bend grabbing the knife from the man I just took down and flip it a few times in my hand. “Makes sense.” I nod with a convinced look. “On your right,” I hum, and she ducks while I throw the knife perfectly to where it lodges itself in the thigh of her attacker. 

A blood-curdling scream sounds at his pain, and I pout at him in fake sympathy as Nat shoots her widow bite as he falls, making him shake in shock before passing out. 

“What about you?” she asks with a breath, brushing her hair out of her face. “Ever considered a neon green?” 

“What? No. Am I trying to get caught in this undercover scenario?” I reload my gun before holstering it, and we start jogging to our next spot. 

“I just think it’d be fun to venture away from the neutral tones for once. Maybe there would be a mission where you did need to be found and-” Nat’s cut off by coms in our ears. 

“Ladies, enough salon talk,” Tony’s voice comes through. “We have a situation in the northeast corridor with much more pressing matters happening!” 

“We’re coming!” Nat groaned. “God. Micromanager is in full force today.” 

“Besides, Y/N’s skin complexion wouldn’t work with a neon green. Maybe a pink, though…” Tony continues before his comms cut out, and he’s back to shooting things from the sky.

“Oh, pink would be really good with your skin tone,” Nat seconds as we turn a corner. 

“No one is dying their hair pink! I could use some backup!” Bucky’s shouts come from the comms next.

“Where’s Steve?” Nat asks, pausing at a fork in the halls before signaling me to follow. 

“Caught up at the moment,” Steve’s grunts came through my earpiece. 

“Almost there, Barnes!” I note as we come to the hall where he’s supposedly located. “And I’ll have you know, if I want to dye my hair pink, I’ll damn well dye my hair pink!” 

“Guns, Y/N,” Bucky groans. “I have guns going off around me and at me. I’m not worried about a fake scenario right now. I’m worried about a very real one that’s-” He’s cut off and grunts a few times. “Please just-” 

The two men he was up against fall slack to the ground, and he’s left panting with relief as he turns back to me, standing at the end of the hall with my gun lowering down to my side. 

“Please, what? I like it when you use your manners,” I smirk as I walk up proudly to him. 

“You need to be humbled a touch,” he notes, shaking his head as he checks his weapons and reloads them while I walk to stand by him. 

I roll my eyes before assessing our surroundings as he gears up. “You’re just jealous because the girls have more fun with undercover makeovers. You want a pink wig too?” I tease, poking his shoulder. 

He playfully shoves my own and makes me teeter some as I laugh. 

“I got the information!” Steve’s shout come back through. “We can wrap this up.” 

“Thank God,” I groan, adjusting my holster on my hip. “I have dinner plans.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your nightly, never-changing program,” Tony snarks. 

“It’s ok. You can compensate by paying for my meal,” I retort back, pushing the button in my ear to keep it in place. “Speaking of compensation…” 

“Y/N, I swear if you say you stole my credit card information again,” Tony groans. 

“What, me? No… I would nev-” 

“Shut it. I don’t even have the energy to fight you.” 

I turn to Bucky and wink, and he’s biting back a laugh with a wide smile. 

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he says lowly, the comms not picking up on us. 

“You like it,” I shrug and start moving down the corridor, where Nat’s waving us on to follow. 

“That I do,” he hums, following behind me and playfully kicking my ass with the tip of his boot. “Now, these dinner plans…” 

“Interested?” 

“More than you know…” 

____________________

Back at the compound, freshly out of the shower, I hear a knock on my door. “Just got out of the shower, but the doors unlocked!” I shout. 

“Dinner’s arrived!” Bucky shouts, shutting the door behind him carefully. 

“Thank God. I’m starving,” I grumble, throwing my sweatshirt over my head after getting dressed. “I’ll send Tony a thank you card later for covering tonight's meal,” I hum, drying my hair with a towel as I come into the room. 

The greased takeout bag smells fresh of hole-in-the-wall dinner food, making my mouth water. I grin as Bucky places it on the coffee table in front of my couch and starts arranging the containers for us to splurge. 

“No, you won’t,” Bucky responds to my thank you card comment. 

“No, I won’t,” I agree, jumping over the back of the couch and bouncing into the seat next to him. “Hmm, you smell nice.” I’ve come to learn, and so has Bucky, that his body wash might as well be my kryptonite. 

“I can say the same for-,” he bumps me with his elbow before his eyes narrow on my exposed shoulder, and without a second thought, he grabs my arms and moves my body to face him. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at the spot he’s glaring at as best as I can. 

“You got a cut,” he points out, hovering his fingers around the area and moving my sweatshirt out of the way. 

Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have cut the neckline to half my sweatshirt after that stupid TikTok trend I saw the kids doing… Or at least worn one that wasn’t butchered tonight.

“Buck, it’s literally a scratch. And I’m genuinely not downplaying it at all,” I note, grabbing his wrist and trying to move his hands away, but they have an iron grip on me. 

Or should I say, vibranium grip on me?! Haha! Get it?.. No? Ok, moving on…

But seriously. The cut was just that. A cut. It wasn’t anything like the night we talked things out months and months ago. That one had become slightly scarred, whereas this one will be scabed over in the morning and likely be gone in 2-3 days. I might as well have gotten into it with a cat who was pissed when he figured out he’d been put on a diet. 

“A cut’s a cut,” Bucky argues, looking up at me. “Did you clean it?” 

“Yes, I cleaned it in the shower with the rest of my body. I disinfected it, and it has that balm on it. And before you ask,” I say just as he opens his mouth. “Yes, it’s that special salve you had Banner make for me. I’m set.” 

Bucky had become a little more intense when it came to my injuries since about three missions ago, I had moved at the perfect time to redirect a knife headed right at him, but it sliced my wrist in the redirection, and much to my misfortune, it was laced with something. 

To add to the list of medications he’s had Banner concoct specifically for my clumsy self (which were in the double digits at this point), I now have a poison control cream that counteracts most toxins and keeps me from saying hello to Heaven sooner than I hope. 

“You don’t feel weird or anything?” His eyes are scanning mine and my face for any lies or other injuries I haven’t told him about, and I’ve come to learn if it makes him feel better to double-check up to 20x before being satisfied, I’ll allow it. 

“I’m right as rain,” I nod, smiling at him softly, squeezing my grip on his wrist in reassurance. “The only thing I’m feeling is hungry and tired. So, what movie are we watching that I’ll inevitably fall asleep on you during?” 

He hesitates for a moment and then nods, dropping his hands and going back to the food. 

“I was thinking Tombstone,” he answers, grabbing one of the to-go containers with fries and a burger and handing it to me. 

“Another Western? What’s got you on the cowboy kick?” I ask, taking it and popping it open, instantly attacked by the smell of freshly seasoned fries. 

“You keep nicknaming me cowboy, so I figured I should have a little background knowledge of the profession,” he winks at me over his shoulders as he gets his own food together. 

“Oh, yeah? You like the nickname?” I ask, nudging him with my knee. 

“When it comes from you? Yeah. Sam? No. Without hesitation, I will start adding laxatives to his protein shakes if he keeps it up.” 

I laugh at their friendship, and we start up the movie, diving into our much-deserved greasy meal. 

_____________

The next day, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda are lounging on the living room couch, all doing their own thing. Wanda and Sam are watching Sex in the City. Steve was reading a book called The Secret War of Laos, and Bucky was on his computer, fully engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Nat clears her throat, and I stand next to her in a baseball cap with my hair completely hidden underneath. Everyone looks up, and instantly, Bucky’s eyes fall on me. He smiles for a split second before it drops, and he furrows his eyebrows at my appearance. 

“We have an announcement,” Nat smiles mischievously. 

“Oh God…” Bucky rubs his temples and looks down in his lap in seconds. 

“You don’t even know what we’re going to say,” I argue, not able to hold back my laugh. 

“I can use context clues,” he grumbles before looking up, his eyes squinted as if he had a bad headache forming, and it was already making his eyesight worse. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Nat waves him off as Sam and Wanda chuckle, and Steve looks oblivious to what is happening. “Anyway. Y/N and I made a bet and, well… Y/N lost.” 

“Surprisingly, not mad about it,” I shrug, arms crossed over my chest.

“Of course, you’re not…” Bucky mumbles, shutting his computer and putting it to the side.

“What did I miss exactly? Because everyone seems to know what’s happening…” Steve asks, confused, taking in everyone’s reactions. 

“Come on. Let’s see it.” The brunette interlaces his hands and rests them in his lap as he watches me. 

I smile at Nat, who’s also grinning wide, and move to take the ballcap off.

“Awesome,” Sam is the first to say something, and Wanda claps and gushes. 

“Oh wow, that’s so cute!” She smiles widely. 

“Whoa. That’s…” Steve turns his head to the side.

“Pink,” Bucky finishes for him. His eyebrows raise in what looks like surprise as he takes in my new hair. 

“Do you like it?” Nat asks the group, and there’s a mix of reactions as they talk over each other. 

I laugh with them for a little before walking over to Bucky’s side of the couch. Plopping down next to him, the crew talks about their own personal transformations they’d like to do and quickly forget about us in the corner. 

“Thoughts?” I ask, smirking up at Bucky as I sit almost wholly tucked into his side. His arm comes around my shoulders, resting there as he looks at me from the side. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he chuckles once, taking it in up close now. 

“Eh, I thought a change-up would be fun. Change. Is. Good,” I shrug, poking his chest with each word. 

He moves to touch my hair, and as soon as his fingers touch it, his face contorts into an investigative look. 

“What?” I ask, biting my lip as he’s already catching on to my ploy. 

“This isn’t,” he rubs a strand of hair between his fingers, studying the texture. The crease in between his eyebrows drops instantly, and he deadpans to me. “It’s a wi-” 

“Shhh!” I hush him, almost jumping in his lap as I cover my hand over his lips. He freezes, eyes wide, and his hand instinctively goes to my waist to balance me. “Let me live this fantasy a little longer,” I smile, holding back a giggle. 

“This is a fantasy of yours?” He asked behind my hands, words muffled and raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe fantasy isn’t the right word-” 

“Because it’s starting to turn into one for me,” he cuts in, and I can feel his smirk in the palm of my hand. 

I slowly drop it, astonished at his confession. “I’m sorry. Did I hear that right?” I ask, peering at our friends who are now arguing with Sam about growing a mohawk, which he is all for, apparently. 

Instead of answering, he licks his lips as he brings his hands to the wig and plays with strands of it.

“Maybe not the pink, but… How’d you feel about a violet?” he asked, eyes slowly rising to mine. 

“Oh. My. God…” I say lowly, sinking back in my seat, pressed to his side. “Did we just discover a new kink of yours?” 

“I fear we may have…” His voice was low and made a shiver go down my back. 

“I hold no fear at all,” I smirked back at him, looking him up and down. “All I feel about that statement is excitement…” 

“Where exactly did you get this? Because it looks pretty realistic…” His fingers still play with the wig, which, thanks to Nat, is a higher-end one. How he caught on to it being a wig is impressive. 

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrug. “What matters is I happen to know they carry all the colors…” I smirk. 

“Interesting.” 

“Interesting, indeed.” 

He starts to stand up, and I’m confused by the action until he turns and offers me a hand. Once I’m standing, he leans closer and down to whisper in my ear, my hand still in his.

“We can keep this one for now. I have a few ideas still.” 

I look up at him, pleasant surprise on my face. “You know how I said change is good?” He nods with a smirk, his hand squeezing mine in response. “This,” I motion between us. “This is a change I’m glad happened.” 

“Same here,” he winked, pulling my arm so I was flush against him, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, escorting me out of the room.

“Where are they going?” Nat asks, confused at our sudden leave. 

Everyone turns to see the tail end of us leaving, and Wanda laughs after a second and quickly covers her mouth. “God, pray for her,” she says under her breath, and Nat gives her a look. She tries to play it off by coughing and shaking her head. “Sorry, something in my throat.”

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[rafecameronssl4t]

Eyes on The Field || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: Just Rafe not being able to keep his eyes off of you during the entire game.

Warnings: noneee

Word count: 1,194

A/n: its been waaayyy too long since I've written a dcc!reader fic

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Thunderstruck reverberated through every corner of AT&T Stadium, the iconic riff sending a jolt of energy that seemed to pulse in sync with the heartbeat of the crowd. The stadium was alive but it was you and the rest of the DCC who commanded the attention of every eye in the stands. You all moved across the field with a confidence that could only come from countless hours of practice.

The energy was palpable, the air thick with anticipation as you fell into formation, perfectly poised in your pristine blue and white uniform. A practiced smile curved your lips, every muscle in your body was tuned in. The routine was etched into your memory, each move precise, every step instinctive.

You’d performed this dance over a dozen times, and yet the adrenaline coursing through your veins made it feel brand new. The sound of the music thumped in your chest, and the cheers from the crowd seemed to amplify every movement you made.

And I was shakin' at the knees. Could I come again please?

On the sideline, Rafe jogged onto the field with his teammates, his helmet tucked under one arm. Amid the chaos of the game preparation, his eyes instinctively found you in the centre of the squad, your presence commanding his full attention. “Eyes off the cheerleaders, Cameron,” Chris teased, delivering a playful smack to his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Rafe muttered, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. He didn’t even try to deny it. His gaze then moved onto the big screen where you were the focus, captivated by the way you moved with such confidence and poise. As the routine neared its climax, the crowd roared in anticipation.

Then, the iconic jump split. Your body soared effortlessly through the air before landing flawlessly, and the stadium erupted in thunderous applause. As you gathered your pom-poms, you allowed yourself one fleeting moment to catch Rafe’s gaze from across the field. His eyes locked with yours, intense and searching. Still, ever the professional, you maintained your poised demeanor.

With a flick of your hair and a perfectly timed spin, you held your smile, turned, and strode off the field and onto the sidelines with your group as if nothing had happened, leaving Rafe watching after you, captivated as ever.

~

Rafe jogged off the field, his helmet tucked under one arm, sweat glistening on his face. The game was going well—they were up by two touchdowns—but his focus wasn’t entirely on the scoreboard. As he reached the sideline, his eyes instinctively found you again. You had just finished a routine and were taking a quick water break, trying to catch your breath.

When you noticed Rafe staring, you raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. He didn’t look away. Typical. Shaking your head, you turned back to chat with the others, refusing to feed his ego any more than necessary. A few minutes later, you spotted him again. This time, he was walking over with a group of his teammates toward the water station.

They were laughing and jostling each other, but Rafe veered slightly to the side, positioning himself furthest from the group—right next to where you stood. You didn’t look at him at first, your gaze fixed on the field as you absentmindedly adjusted your uniform. You felt him stop beside you, the air between you charged, his presence impossible to ignore.

"You know, there’s a game happening," you teased without turning to him, keeping your tone light but teasing. You didn’t dare make eye contact, aware of the curious glances from both his teammates and your squad. Rafe didn’t seem to care. “Is there?” he replied smoothly, his tone playful but his gaze piercing as it trailed over you. “Because all I’ve been watching is you.”

You let out a small snort, finally glancing at him, unable to help yourself. His bluntness was infuriating and, admittedly, a little thrilling. “You’re going to get in trouble if Coach sees you over here flirting,” you said, your voice quieter now, but there was a teasing lilt in your words. Rafe smirked, crossing his arms as if the idea amused him.

“Let him. You’ve got me so distracted, I’m surprised I haven’t dropped a pass yet.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Turning your attention back to the field, you checked the clock, noting how little time you had left before the next routine. “Maybe I should stop performing,” you said casually. “Can’t have the star receiver losing focus.”

Rafe chuckled softly, his voice dipping just enough for only you to hear. “Don’t you dare. Best part of game day.” His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you let yourself look at him. Really look at him. The teasing glint in his eyes, the way his grin softened just for you—it was hard not to feel flustered under his gaze.

But before you could respond, the music started up again, signaling it was time for you to return to the field. You turned away, a small smile playing on your lips as you joined the formation. As the cheerleaders moved into position, you could still feel his eyes on you.

“Focus, Cameron,” you heard one of his teammates shout from a distance. You hid a smirk as you got into formation. If Rafe was distracted, that was his problem. You had a routine to nail, and he’d just have to wait.

[amirasainz]

Can we please have more of little alonso? Like when she was born and nando holding her for the first time and the grid are confused where he is?

Or before the grid official meeting her, nanda showing them pictures of her and telling them about something cute she did.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

The newest dad on the grid

Fernando stepped into the paddock for the first time in weeks, his signature confident strut unchanged, but there was something different about him—an energy, a spark, a glow even. The break he had taken from the Formula 1 season to welcome his daughter had rejuvenated him in ways no victory lap could. The paddock, buzzing with its usual pre-race fervor, quieted as drivers spotted Fernando.

“Nando!” came a shout from Charles, who jogged over with a huge grin. “Welcome back! How’s... the baby?!” His face lit up like a kid waiting to hear about Christmas morning.

Max, never far from Charles, joined with a smirk. “Yeah, Fernando, how’s fatherhood treating you? You look—different. Happier, even.”

Fernando chuckled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “Ah, much better than any race, I can tell you that. Yn, my little girl, she’s perfect.”

George approached next, Lewis in tow. “Alright, alright, hold on,” George said, adjusting his perfectly tailored shirt. “Are we finally going to see pictures of this famous Yn? Because the way everyone’s been talking, she’s already an icon.”

“Wait, don’t start without me!” Lando called, sprinting over, followed by Oscar, Carlos, and Pierre. The group was forming faster than a DRS train on a straight.

Fernando, laughing at the commotion, pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let me show you.” He unlocked the screen and turned it toward them. The photo he showed was of a tiny baby swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her big brown eyes staring up at the camera with curiosity and innocence.

“OH MY GOD,” Lando exclaimed, practically squealing. “She’s adorable!”

“Look at those cheeks!” Charles leaned in closer, his face nearly pressed against the screen. “She’s like a tiny angel! I bet you can't stop kissing them.”

“She has your eyes,” Lewis said softly, his warm smile matching the tone of his voice.

Fernando puffed out his chest, clearly basking in the praise. “She does, doesn’t she? And she already loves motorsport. When I hold her and talk about racing, she doesn’t cry. She just listens.”

Max snorted. “Fernando, she’s like two weeks old. She probably just likes your voice.”

“She’s already your biggest fan, mate,” Carlos interjected with a proud grin. “Don’t listen to Max.”

Fernando swiped to another photo. This time, Yn was asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around Fernando’s finger. The group collectively let out a chorus of “Awwww!”

“She’s so small!” Pierre said, his voice unusually soft. “Like, her hand is smaller than your finger! How do you even handle her without being terrified?”

“It’s instinct,” Fernando replied with a shrug, though the softness in his voice betrayed his own awe. “The moment I held her for the first time, everything clicked. She’s everything now.”

As Fernando flipped through more pictures—Yn in a tiny onesie with a Formula 1 logo, Yn sleeping on his chest during a nap—the drivers grew more animated.

“Does she have a favorite team yet?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos.

“Obviously Aston Martin,” Carlos quipped. “She knows where her dad is.”

Fernando raised a finger. “Actually, she smiles the most when I hum the Spanish anthem.”

“Of course she does,” George said with a laugh. “Your baby, your rules.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Oscar asked shyly.

“Only when she’s hungry or tired,” Fernando said proudly. “She’s very calm otherwise. I think she’ll grow up to be very composed, like her father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered under his breath, earning a playful shove from Lewis.

The group continued to coo over the photos, and even the normally reserved drivers couldn’t resist commenting. Esteban smiled as he observed from a distance but eventually joined in, congratulating Fernando.

“You should bring her to a race one day,” Charles suggested.

“Yeah,” Lando added enthusiastically. “Imagine a tiny Alonso in the paddock, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Fernando grinned. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s better off at home with her mamá. She needs to be calm, not surrounded by all this chaos.”

As the drivers dispersed, Fernando was left with a lingering feeling of warmth. The camaraderie of the paddock had always been special, but now, as a father, he felt it even more deeply. Yn wasn’t just his world; she had somehow become part of theirs too.

Later, during the drivers' press conference, a journalist asked Fernando how it felt to be back after his short break.

“It feels amazing,” he said, his smile unshakeable. “But not as amazing as being a father. Yn is my inspiration now. Every lap, every corner—I’m racing for her.”

The other drivers in the room exchanged knowing smiles. Fernando Alonso, the fierce competitor, had softened in the best possible way. Fatherhood suited him, and they were all here for it.

[slytherinsimp12]

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱 , 𝓹𝓽-2 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: The day after you and James share a kiss, he invited you to watch him play quidditch. You get jealous seeing him with another girl. You meet his friend group. Things don’t end well.

Warnings: Lily is mentioned as James’ friend for the sake of reader x james,( I love jily), Cursing , Rude Sirius, Angst towards the end.

Author’s note: Hi cuties xx. I hope you enjoy pt.2. I’ll be posting pt.3 soon. Feel free to leave comments or send requests if you have any suggestions/improvements/ ideas for this pt and pt-3. Follow me to keep up the updates. <3.

Part 3 (finale) uploaded!

Part 1 and Part 3

————————————X————————————

You woke up to the sound of your dorm mates bubbling over today’s quidditch match. Your head was throbbing with pain; you barely got any sleep last night. Then it all came crashing back to you, the late night stroll that lead to your kiss with James Potter. Bloody hell. Did it really happen? Or was it just an extremely vivid dream. Dubious about the accuracy of your memory, you got up and quickly got dressed , and headed to breakfast.

The great hall was filled with the chatter of excited students; they were all raving about today’s match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Well that explains the dung bombs last night.

Your palms were sweating with nerves, you were so not ready to see him yet.

Right on cue, you spotted James sitting with his friends, and stuffing his face with food.

“I’ve got to fuel up for the match. D’you think having this amazing body was easy?” James gloated coyly.

Your stomach filled with butterflies, how pathetic. There James was, an arrogant git, attacking his food like there was no tomorrow. Yet, you couldn’t help let out a small smile.

“Y/n!” James shouted across the hall.

Your face flushed red out of embarrassment. You tried looking away , but it was too late. James jogged over to you.

“Hey pretty.” He smirked.

“Hi.” You said plainly.

“So, today is the quidditch match. You coming to see me play?” He grinned.

“Uh… I don’t know. I’m not really a sports kinda person.” You told.

“Oh come on, just come to see the legendary James Potter in action, love.” He pleaded.

Merlin, how could someone be so obnoxious yet so charming.

“Tone it down a notch, ‘prongs’. “ You teased, making air quotes.

“I’ll see if I can come, i’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on.” You continued, walking away before he could reply.

The encounter left your stomach rumbling. Thanks to that idiot James, you couldn’t even think about keeping down any food right now.

You hated how James left you feeling. You didn’t like anticipating your face in a red flush, you didn’t like seeing double vision in a rose blush, and most of all, you didn’t like feeling vulnerable by the mere presence of someone, let alone a boy. A boy that half the school is in love with.

Going to the quidditch match was a bad idea, letting James in was a bad idea, it went against everything you told yourself from your very start of Hogwarts. Yet, you found yourself doing exactly that.

You decided you could spare a few minutes to watch the quidditch match. You gaslit yourself into believing you were going for the sake of ‘enjoying and learning the sport’, and not for James. You made your way into the Y/H stands, trying your best not to be noticed by the messy haired Gryffindor chaser. Although, you hardly doubted he would notice you from 50 feet above.

The match dragged on for 3 whole hours, and you were appalled by the fact that you stayed the whole duration. You watched a handful of matches your whole life, but this one, this one was different. It had something to do with the fact that, James was so effortlessly good at what he did.

Gryffindor won even though Slytherin’s seeker caught the snitch. They were leading by a 100 points, and James had thrown the quaffle into the hoop more than 20 times. Even you knew that the victory was mostly his doing. The Gryffindor team jumped off their brooms, and started jumping with excitement, adrenaline pumping through their veins. You wanted to congratulate James, it was the decent thing to do, right?

As you were walking up to the ground, a red headed girl beat you to him. She hugged him rather intimately, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Your stomach churned. Maybe it was the nausea from not eating or maybe it was seeing that girl being so close to James, you didn’t care. What were you doing? Coming to a quidditch match for the captain of the Gryffindor team? You didn’t expect him to notice you, then why were you so offended when he didn’t? Without thinking, you ran out the filed, wanting nothing more than to forget about the stupid match, the stupid kiss and stupid James fucking potter.

The following night in the library ,you were drowning in a pile of books, struggling to finish all your assignments.

“We need to stop running into each other like this.” A voice whispered into your ear from behind.

“Although, you seem to be more interested in running away from me than into me.” James continued. Well you’d he damned. He did in-fact notice you at the match.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you mumbled, refusing to turn around and look at him.

“C’mon, love. Don’t be coy. Why did you run away like that? Still flustered after last night are we?” He pressed.

“Piss off, Potter.” You spat, trying to walk away.

“Wait! Don’t be like that. Do you want to talk about what happened last night, is that it?” He asked, gripping your wrist, stopping you from walking away.

“No. Clearly you’d rather talk to that red headed girl you were being so ‘friendly’ with earlier. I get it, the kiss was no big deal. It’s cool” You lied.

“No big deal? Ouch.” He said, removing a fake arrow from his heart.

“That red head earlier was Lily Evans. She’s my good mate. Trust me, you do NOT need to worry about Lily, plus I’m certain she’s got a thing for Snivellus.” James explained.

“Snivellus?” You questioned. What is up with him and these stupid nicknames?

“Long story. Anyway, why don’t you join me and the lads in the Gryffindor common room tonight. We’re celebrating the win.” Was James asking you to meet his friends tonight? No way. There was only one person you found more insufferable than James, Sirius freaking Black. He was obviously going to be there.

“Um- I- I have uh… errands-“ you tried to come up with an excuse but James cut you off.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He said, as he winked and disappeared into the dark.

A few hours after dinner, you reluctantly made your way into the Gryffindor common room. Everyone seemed to be asleep. The room was dimly lit, with cosy sofas arranged next to a roaring fire. You spotted James , Sirius, Remus , Peter, Lily and Marlene sprawled in front of the fire place.

You cleared your throat, making your presence aware.

“Y/n! You came!” James greeted, pulling you into a side hug.

After introducing you to the group, James insisted you sat right next to him on the sofa. At some point during the night, his hands found their way to the small of your back, tracing gentle circles on it. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to enjoy yourself. But that didn’t last long.

Sirius insisted on playing a game of Truth or Dare, where he mostly targeted you. You managed to dodge most of the questions, which really pissed Sirius off.

“Ok. Fine. If you’re not going to answer any of the questions, Y/n, why is it that you have no friends? Why do you walk around alone and eat alone all the time like some depressed loser.” Sirius said bluntly.

Heat spread from your ears to your neck. Your face burned with embarrassment. That did it.

“Fuck off , Black.” You flipped him off , as you stormed out of the common room.

“What the hell, mate?” You heard James say.

You were walking so fast it could be considered running.

“Y/n, wait!” James called after you.

You tried to ignore him, but he caught up with you in the corridor because the stupid stair cases decided to move, again.

“Y/n…I’m so sorry. Ignore Sirius. He can be a real dick.” James said.

“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your head up to meet his eyes. They were filled with regret. He probably regretted calling you tonight. What was he thinking? Did he expect his friends to like you? In what world would that be true? You saw how they picked on people like you. How they bullied those different from them. Why did you expect anything else?

“What are you thinking?” James asked, brushing his thumb against your cheek. He was standing extremely close to you again. Practically hovering. Before you could answer, he pulls you in, locking his lips with yours. A sudden warmth spreads through your body. You close your eyes, the subtle pressure of his hands on your waist sending jolts of electricity down your spine. This was wrong. Stop. Pull away. You thought to yourself, but your body wouldn’t comply. You kissed him back with more aggression than you anticipated, running your fingers through his hair. After what felt like an eternity of pure heavenly bliss, James pulled away.

“Should we head back?” He asked.

Then you came back to your senses. Reality was a harsh slap in the face. Deal with it now, so you’re not left wretched later.

“I can’t ,James. I can’t do this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought I could handle your friends, the crowds and the constant attention your around. But, truth be told, I really can’t. It’s all too much for me. You’re too much for me…you’ll probably be fine, maybe even better off without me. This was a big mistake.” You said, gesturing between the two of you.

For the first time in history, James Potter was left speechless. His face was engulfed with hurt. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it was better him than you.

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Tag list 💞:

@colouredbyd , @d1lf-loverrr , @dollysh