#They should not be left in a room together

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Bonus Sessions

In which you interview 2 multi-world champions in one sitting.

Warnings: discussions of the traumatic 2021 Abu Dhabi race (lol) Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2k words

(quick note. shoutout to @shelbyteller for the inspiration for this one. Hope it lives up to your expectations bb!)

"I can't believe you got him to agree to this." You say, shuffling a few papers on your desk in the Monaco apartment you share with Max.

Max looks at you, brow raised. "Are you kidding me? I didn't have to do any convincing. That man loves you. Honestly, I should probably be a little jealous of how eagerly he agreed to come on the show."

You roll your eyes, knowing that Max is being ridiculous. "As if I'd ever look at anyone but you." You tease, rising from your desk chair before crossing the room to sit on Max's lap.

When you had moved in with Max earlier in the year, one of the things he had insisted on was turning one of the spare rooms in his (well, now it was yours too, he had insisted on putting you on the deed to the property after your engagement, much to the dismay of his lawyer) apartment into a dual recording studio and office for you.

Tucked away in one of the corners was a large mahogany desk that you spent most of your time at. On the other side of the room that's decorated in tones of gold and champagne pink sits your podcasting setup with 2 comfy sitting chairs, microphones, and side tables. It's the perfect cozy setup. You didn't use this room all the time for your guests, a lot of the time you were traveling to meet them. This room was used for when you did your 'bonus session' episodes and when you had more personal friends on the show, like today's guest.

Max wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you closer into his chest. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He murmurs, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You hum, small grin spreading across your face as you lean your head further into the crook of his neck. "Not in the last ten minutes."

"Well, let me remedy that terrible fact." Max's lips skate over your jaw before they find their home. "I love you beyond words, schatje." His words are mumbled against your lips but you understand them all the same.

When he slips his tongue into your mouth you can't help the sigh that leaves your body. It doesn't matter how many times Max kisses you because every time his lips land on yours, it feels like the first time.

The make out session continues for several moments before you're interrupted by a buzzing on Max's phone. "Looks like he's here. You ready?"

You glance down at your outfit, casual but put together for the interview that you're sure will make some waves in the F1 world. Not only because of who it is but also because of what you got him to agree to discuss today. "I hope so!"

Max leaves the office to retrieve your guest as you begin prep on the room. You had decided to just run the entire episode by yourself today, giving Steve and Shannon the day off from filming since it was in your home and you liked to keep this environment as relaxed and low key as possible.

Voices float towards you as you finish up the last bits of preparation. And then, they're standing in the doorway.

"I hear congratulations are in order!"

"Lewis!" You croon, setting down the papers in your hands before crossing the room to your friend's opened arms. "Thank you so much."

Lewis chuckles before holding you out at arms length, "Let me see that rock. I'm sure Instagram did it no justice."

You happily hold out your left hand for Lewis to take, grinning like an idiot over his shoulder at Max, who is leaning against the door frame with the same goofy grin on his face. The word 'proud' didn't seem to do what he felt for you in this moment justice.

"He did good, didn't he?"

"Ma'am, that man is so wildly in love with you." Lewis chuckles before looking over his shoulder at Max. "Good taste there, mate."

Max nods. "Thanks. Can I get you anything before you guys get started?"

Lewis shakes his head and just like that, you go into work mode. You give Lewis a brief explanation on how it's going to work, just like you did for Max over a year ago. Meanwhile, Max sits at your desk and watches you work. In the last year, he hasn't really had the opportunity to watch you film and record a show because he's always felt in the way but this time is different. He had been the one to ask Lewis onto the show and it had been Lewis that insisted he stay to watch the entire interview when he had tried to excuse himself moments before.

You were so in your element is left Max in awe. The way you moved around the room with such confidence, setting up the cameras and microphones, talking to Lewis like he was a brother or an old friend, you really commanded the room and made both of these drivers, who were used to wrestling flying torpedos around hairpin curves going fast enough to kill someone was just awe inspiring.

"Okay, but seriously, before we wrap this up we need to talk about one more thing." You giggle a bit, watching as Lewis reaches down to scratch Rosco on the head.

"Shit." Lewis hisses while Max laughs from his spot at your desk where he's been watching the entire interview quietly. "I thought you were going to forget about that."

You toss your head back, laughing maniacally. "And blow the chance at having two fan bases hate me? As if, Hamilton. Max, do you want to join us?"

Although you have the air of someone who couldn't care less about the upcoming topic, secretly, your stomach twists with anxiety. When Max had suggested the finale to your landmark interview with Lewis and when Lewis had agreed to is, you had been confident that you could handle such a touchy subject but now? Now that you were face with actually having to talk to your friend about it on camera to be released for the entire world to see? You were having second thoughts.

Max stands and sits next to you in the chair that you had pulled out moments before.

"And before we even get started, I want to preface this final segment by saying that you both agreed to this before hand and I am not blindsiding anyone, right?"

Both men grin at you where you sit between them and nod. "We both agreed to this." Lewis says.

"Well I, for one, feel a bit like a hostage here having to agree to this on camera." You reach across and smack Max on the shoulder, causing him to smile even wider. "Yes, of course. We both agreed to this."

"We're a few years removed from the 2021 season. Lewis, looking back do you think there's anything you could have done differently to change the outcome?"

Lewis shrugs, "If you would have asked me that a year ago, I would have probably said yes but as we get further away from it I think we did everything we could have. Sometimes, there are decisions made and things happen that are outside of your control. As a racing driver, you want everything to be under your control and even when it's not, it's in our nature to take on everything as if it is under our control."

"Are you calling me a control freak?" Max quips from your other side.

"We're all control freaks, man." Lewis says with a chuckle.

"What's that saying? Hindsight is 20/20? Looking back, there are always things you see and go 'well that was a terrible decision." Max says, smiling over at his rival. "But at the time, we all made what we thought were the best decisions we could with the information we had in front of us. I don't think there was anything either of us could have done to have change the outcome based on what we knew then and there."

You nod, grinning at both of the men. "Can we talk about Abu Dhabi for a second? I don't want to talk about the race, that's been done to death. But, can you walk me through what was going through your head in the days after?"

"I isolated big time." Lewis says, looking down at his hands before reaching to scratch Rosco's head. "I took off and spent time alone and just did a lot of thinking. I hated that my championship came down to the decisions of one man. Had we been better and more consistent the entire year, it wouldn't have come down to the last lap. That was on me and no one else. I had to take that on and figure out how I was going to face the team after letting them down."

"But you didn't let them down." Max insists. "That entire season was a masterclass in never giving up and making something out of nothing. I mean, sure I was the beneficiary of that final call from Race Control but it could have easily went the other way. I don't know what I would have done had I been in your shoes after that race."

"You would have been fine." Lewis says. "You've always been better at compartmentalizing things on the track. I take a lot of my work home with me. It's why I struggle to let people in. I'm often caught up in my own world focusing on what I need to do to perform better and improve, racing takes up my whole life and I'm content with that. You're a different breed. You don't take work home with you and that's how you were able to land this gorgeous girl."

"Hey, lay off the flirting with my fiance." Max snaps good naturdly, reaching for your hand and giving Lewis a wink. "Your singular focus is how you've won so many championships though and no one can fault you for that."

The rest of the interview continues for a few more minutes before you begin to wrap things up. It's been almost two hours at that point and the last 30 minutes of the interview is just Max and Lewis talking racing, Max threatening to retire, and Lewis threatening to pull an Alonso and never retire.

When the episode it released, it is a complete surprise and incredibly well received by everyone inside and outside the F1 community, which was somewhat surprising to you as you know what a hot button issue the 2021 season was and how polarizing discussing that very last race could be. In the end, it's one of your more favorite episodes and it opens up the doors to many more sports interviews, including a partnership with F1 TV for some mid-season post-race work that has you doing even more of what you love: getting to know the people beneath the sheen and shine of their own celebrity.

TheYappingHour Posted:

928,991 likes liked by charlesleclerc, ferrari, roscolovescoco, and others theyappinghour newest episode drops today featuring this handsome boy and his dad! ;) make sure you listen to the entire hour...there may be a surprise guest at the end! lewishamilton pleasure being on with you. and once again, congrats on the engagement! max is a lucky man! >>>theyappinghour oh lewis! you're the best. thank you <3 user028 i cannot get over how good she is at making people feel comfortable talking to her about hard things. i've NEVER heard lewis open up about 2021 like that before. >>>user9281 seriously. she is a magician. user0911 the cameo at the end! the yapping about the engagement! lewis sounding so genuinely happy for them! this may just be one of my favorite episodes ever.

tags: @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 14

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.2k

Note : Hey lovelies!! Sorry for those I missed in the tags last time! My notes has been weird latter and I accidentally deleted a bunch so hopefully now you’re all back here again! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Never Ask to be Forgiven”

Saturday.

You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the too-clean white ceiling, your ears trying to find comfort in the beeping that marked your heart rate. The pain was still there, a dull throb radiating from every bruise and cut. 

But that was all. 

You didn’t know what you expected. Maybe some part of you thought the last four years would come back, simply because waking up this time felt so eerily similar to the first. But no—there was nothing. All you had were the last few months. The hurt, the betrayal— the nights spent in Bucky’s arms, the pain that followed.

And then you noticed him.

Bucky sat slumped in the chair beside your bed, his face buried in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was messy, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. He’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The moment he noticed you were moving, his hand shot out, hesitating just inches before it reached you. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured, relief flooding into his voice. 

You stared straight ahead. You refused to give him your attention. You didn’t want to give him your time.

“I... I’m so sorry,” he broke the silence, his voice breaking as he struggled to keep his composure. He was uncomfortable, and she was filling in the silence. “I should have told you everything.”

You stayed quiet, your eyes fixed on the wall.

“I was wrong.” The words spilled out of him in a rush. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I was terrified of losing you. But that’s no excuse. I... I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

All you heard was I this, I that. He was begging for your forgiveness, but it wasn’t something he could plead for. It was something you had to choose to give freely. On your own terms.

Slowly, familiar fury rose up in your chest, destroying any trace of empathy you had for him.

“Get out.” The words left your lips before you’d even realised you’d spoken. Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet it didn’t leave any room for debate.

Bucky’s face fell, the sadness in his eyes drowning him alive. “Please,” he tried, his voice trembling. “If you’ll just listen—”

“No.” Your voice steeled. “Out.”

You watched as he staggered to his feet, his hand slipping away from where it had been, hovering near yours. You remained still, refusing to give in to the quiet voice in your mind whispering that you still loved him— more than you had ever loved anyone before.

For a moment, it looked like he might try one last desperate plea. But then, he turned and walked toward the door.

He paused at the door frame, as if waiting for you to change your mind. But you didn’t look away. You held that cold stare until he was gone.

Sunday. 

The knock came quietly at first, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they wanted to disturb you. 

You didn’t answer. You had nothing left to give. No words left to say. 

The door creaked open.

Yelena moved with a hesitation you’d never seen in her before—like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to be there. 

You stayed still waiting for her to say something or leave. She did neither.

Instead, she lingered by the door, counting her breaths like she was trying to keep herself together. When she finally spoke, her voice came in the form of a whisper. “I’m not here to make excuses.”

You didn’t respond, resentment still alive in the dark corners of your mind. 

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Yelena sighed, stepping closer, “but I’ve been sitting outside that door for hours, trying to… gather the courage to come in.”

You closed your eyes, wishing she would just go away. 

“I tried,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was afraid. So I projected it on Bucky. And I’m not making excuses for him either but… I think I discouraged him.”

Yelena had to learn the hard way; you can’t force the truth out of someone. Force only breeds fear, and fear makes people say whatever they think will make the pain go away, truth be damned.

She understood that now— that there was something fundamentally wrong about using force in human relationships. But in her defence, it was all she had ever known. The Red Room, the kills she was forced to carry out—they’d taught her that control came through fear. Force became the only reliable tool in her arsenal. 

She realised now, that it was the same for Bucky.

Hydra had stripped away his humanity, piece by piece. Force had shaped him, twisted him into a weapon of someone else’s will. Force has dehumanised him. 

Of course he had resisted when met with any kind of force. Of course he had pushed back.

Yelena wasn’t going to defend him—not entirely. But she couldn’t deny that what he’d done was painfully… human. His reaction had been flawed, but it came from a place of desperate survival— and she understood that better than anyone.

She had failed to see Bucky as human. In doing so, they both had failed you.

You clenched your teeth, refusing to look at her, refusing to acknowledge the sting of her words.

When you finally spoke, your voice was cold. “You were complicit.”

You heard tension in the sharp inhale she took, in the faint tremble in her breath. “I know,” she said quietly. 

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her face in your peripheral vision. 

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me,” she said, taking another cautious step closer. “I just... I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Her voice broke, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The sincerity in her voice was unbearable.

You exhaled, pressing your palms into the bed. “I don’t have the energy to fight you right now,” you muttered, the tiniest hint of acceptance forming on your face. You didn’t know if you could ever forgive either of them, but you were tired— tired of being bitter. Tired of feeling nothing but hatred.

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll take it.”

She pulled a chair over. After a while, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “There’s something else I think you need to hear,” she said carefully. 

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t stop her either.

“It’s Bucky,” she said hesitantly. “He… he’s in pieces over you. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. And I know he fucked up— but…”

Your breath hitched.

“His heart is yours,” She continued softly, “It always has been. And… and I’ve just never ever seen you as happy as you were with him.”

The words hit you harder than you would ever admit. 

She only ever wanted you to be happy.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms.

“I know you don’t want to see him,” Yelena added quickly. “But you should just… think about him. For your own sake.”

You didn’t answer. 

You couldn’t.

Monday. 

Today, Sam stepped inside, tablet by his side. He wore his expression as a mask of restraint, not betraying the guilt he felt underneath. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away as he offered you quiet sympathy you weren’t ready to face yet.

Progress had been slow. You’d refused to see anyone but Yelena, but even when she was in the room, you barely talked to her. 

Maybe you just didn’t want to be isolated while you were healing— maybe you just needed a friend.

When Sam spoke, his voice was measured, like he was tiptoeing across a lake that had just frozen over

“I know you’re angry,” he said cautiously. “And you’ve got every right to be. But there’s… something you need to see.”

You wanted to tell him to leave, to stop pulling at threads you weren’t ready to unravel. Anger was easier— simpler. It didn’t leave room for doubt, didn’t force you to come face to face with how complicated everything had become. 

But his words lingered in your mind, demanding curiosity from you. 

So you gave an almost imperceptible nod you gave in response.

Sam crossed the room carefully, like he was approaching a wounded animal. He placed the tablet on your lap, waiting for you to take the reins.

“The first time— when you lost your memories, he sat with you for hours,” Sam said quietly. “That’s— It’s all here.”

When he stepped back, his hand retreated reluctantly. 

Without another word, Sam turned and left, his footsteps fading down the hall until the room was nothing but a bubble of suffocating silence.

You stared at the tablet on your lap.

You wanted to push it away, to leave it untouched, to keep its secrets buried forever. You didn’t want to do this—not again. Not let a piece of technology guide you through fragments of memories better left forgotten. But your hands had other plans. 

You gave in, pressing play. The screen came alive with a flicker, pixels blooming into existence from the void. 

And then, there he was.

Bucky, in the sterile, dim light of a hospital room, looked like he’d been hollowed out. His eyes were red and swollen, dark circles beneath them etched deep into his face. He was holding your hand, his thumb brushing absently across your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, “You deserve so much better than this. I just… I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because… because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

The raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes, sent a tremor through your chest. You could see it, the regret laid bare, the desperation searing through him like the pain of an open wound.

Here, he wasn’t hiding. He wasn’t holding anything back. He was just a man, broken and afraid, holding onto your hand like it was a lifeline.

The footage cut briefly, and when it resumed, he was still there with the same clothes, the same tousled hair.

The time stamp showed that a day had passed. 

Here, his voice was softer, more fragile. His thumb was still tracing small circles over your hand. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, and I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in,” he murmured, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn’t show it. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

The words felt like a surgical knife had methodically split your heart open, removing the hatred from your body piece by piece before stitching it up again.

You couldn't quite believe— that despite being cold to you then— he had known exactly what you meant to him. 

He’d known, even when he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice collapsing. He clung to your hand as if it was the only real thing left in the world. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your throat tightened, and you felt tears burning in the back of your eyes. 

He’d spent so long hiding this, hiding everything he felt.

And it all came spilling out when you weren’t even awake to hear it.

Then he looked up, his eyes lost in a distant memory. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together?” He let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be a distraction. You said I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that you cared about me… that I meant something to you. And I took you for granted.”

The remorse, the grief in his voice, was too much to bear. 

And then, he said it: a quiet confession of a broken man.

“I love you.”

The screen went dark, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. 

Your heart twisted.

You knew now, deep down, that he was just a man—flawed, broken, fighting his own battles. Sometimes, he failed. This time, he failed you. 

But aren’t failures what makes us all so devastatingly human?

And yes, he failed. But he was also a man who loved you. The man who sat beside you for hours, holding your hand, pouring out every piece of himself in the hope that you’d feel him.

And love is something he could never fail at.

Tears slipped down your cheeks washing away the last shreds of your anger. You couldn’t forget the hurt he’d caused, couldn’t ignore the wounds he drove in your heart, but you could try to understand why it hurt so much. 

You couldn’t deny that you loved him, too—despite everything. And for the first time since all of this began, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through the pain.

You could be whole again.

Tuesday.

Today, you were discharged. And today, you went searching for a friend—not Yelena. Things between you and her were still fragile, and you were unsure if you had even forgiven her completely.

Instead, you found yourself back at the museum, sitting in front of Bucky’s old war uniform. The glass case reflected your bruised face, a monument to your present and his past.

Alex sat beside you, eyes furrowed with concern 

"Tell me everything," she said.

And so you did.

-To be continued…

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[liahaslosthermind]

~𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭~ Part 3

Part 3 of The Spy Master's Secret Find more ACOTAR works here! Summary: The Inner Circle meets the most important person in Azriel's life. Warnings: Lia rewrites what the Carranam bond is to fit her own fantasy, (Mention of) Bad injuries and domestic abuse, (Mention of) Azriel's dad 🤢, Inner Circle loves to STAY in Azriel's business, I actually write Rhys as not an asshole in this one

“My Carranam.” The Spy Master replied.

No one was given time to think, much less respond, before Azriel had commanded everyone to leave the room. They would have been more reluctant to do so, the desire to know what the hell he meant was painful, had the serious look on the strange female’s face, and the look of despair on Azriel’s, had given them the impression this conversation was better left between the two. 

Out in the hallway, Cassian finally voiced his concern, 

“Should we have left him alone with whoever that was? He isn’t in any state to be fighting back should he ne-”

Amren scoffed at the question. “I’d trust her with him far more than you all.”

 “What do you mean? Do you know her?” Elain asked.

“No, but he is her Carranam. You all might not know the significance of such a bond- I don’t even know much about it myself, but I know enough to believe there is no one who would protect and cherish him more.” There was a sort of amazement and respect in Amren’s eyes that told the rest of them that she was right. Gave them enough information to walk away from the bedroom, content on letting Azriel come to them when he was ready.

—

The Inner Circle was no longer content waiting for their Spy Master to make an appearance. All had been sitting at the dining table for what must have been millenia, plates full with no appetite as millions of questions swarmed their heads. Amren had seemingly been the only one to have any idea what any of this could have meant, but the second she got the chance, she disappeared so she wouldn’t be bothered with questions about something that had nothing to do with her. 

Finally, Nesta broke the silence.

“Do you think he is purposefully trying to torture us by taking forever?” She asked, eyeing the very apparent shadows in the corner that had been slithering to and from the room since they had all sat down. “Or do you think she is-”

“It would be my fault Azriel was occupied for a bit.” The strange fae announced as she entered the room, Azriel by her side with a slight limp. The two looked… strange together, but also so right. White feathered wings stood tall behind the female, nicely contrasting Azriel’s leathery Illyrian ones. Where he was crowned in darkness and shadows, she seemed to have bathed in light. It should have contrasted each other terribly, but their stark differences only seemed to compliment the other.

It also didn’t escape anyone’s notice how their friend looked thousands of times better than he did just hours earlier.

He was still clearly injured, but far from the edge of death he teetered on these past few days.

“How? Madja could only do so much for him.” Rhysand asked, astonished at how well his brother looked.

She helped him into his seat before taking the empty one next to him. Even as they got comfortable, her hand never left his arm, finding comfort in his touch after days of agony and helplessness.

“Junia is a healer. The best Dawn has to offer.” Azriel said, the pride clear in his voice. It made sense that she- Junia had been from Dawn. A Peregryn and an Illyrian, two lesser fae known for their warrior skills and inherent desire for the skies. 

“I am not as skilled as Madja, but it's easier to heal when you know exactly what is wrong, exactly what hurts.” Junia said, rolling her eyes at Azriel’s shameless bragging. 

She let out a deep and rich laugh as she looked at everyone’s faces, all pained by the many questions swirling around in there. Feyre noted that she hadn’t heard such a joyous laugh since Azriel had done the same when Elain had gifted him medicine for all the headaches the Inner Circle gave him. 

Clearly, whatever bond they had between them was deep.

“You better introduce me, put them out of their misery.” She teased Az, who had been too caught up relishing her laugh, after a very long and rough berating it was nice to see her not seconds away from tearing out his wings. 

“R-right. Uh- this is my- well this is-” Azriel stammered.

“Mother above Az, don’t hurt yourself," Cassian amused.

Azriel closed his mouth as he blushed, unsure of how to go about this. 

“My name is Junia. As the brooding bat said, I am his Carranam.” Junia answered, side eyeing Azriel.

Keep it together, Az. It's a little pathetic. 

Azriel responded to her teasing look with a glare. We haven’t had to tell anyone about this in a while. Why don’t you try to explain it to these idiots if you are so clever.

Rhysand noticed the silent conversation going on between them.

“You can converse like Daemati? Is that your ability?” The High Lord asked her.

They both hesitated, realizing they didn’t really know how their so-called “telepathy” worked.

“No- or I don’t believe so at least. When you communicate with someone, you are doing so verbally, even if not aloud, correct? I don’t hear Azriel’s voice in my head, I just feel what he is trying to tell me, if that makes sense.”

“Like a mating bond?” Feyre questioned.

“Also no. It's not our feelings that are conveyed solely, we can gather more specific meaning from it. Yes, Junia would feel I was not excited for this conversation, but she would also know I was offering her one last chance to leave, should she also not want to deal with all of your… strong personalities.” Azriel responded, looking at Junia. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with his family.

She laughed at his desperation which, while very clear to her, she knew the Inner Circle was none the wiser to the just how far Azriel was willing to go to leave this table. She could see him coming up with escape routes in his head as he picked up his wine glass. 

“Oh you poor delicate flower,” She teased. 

Unfortunately, they all still noticed the blush that once again appeared on Az’s face, laughing at their scary brother, head tortured of the Night Court, being compared to a ‘delicate flower’. 

Downing the rest of his glass, Azriel finally explained.

“A carranam bond isn’t like a mating bond. It comes from an old phrase, A Soul Friend. It gives Junia and I the ability to channel each other's powers, even make them stronger when we are together. Like you noticed, we have a different, more intimate way of communicating, far stronger than Daemati and mates can.”

“How the hell has no one else here heard of this bond?” Nesta asked, skeptical. Seems like something a group of people as obsessed with the mating bond would know about.

“It is rare, extremely so. There are also many… vulnerabilities that come with a bond such as this. To find your carranam is hard enough, most will never be born with one. But to accept such a bond is dangerous. And unfortunately there have been instances of others abusing such a gift. Tying their carranam up to reap their abilities, taking so much from them that both end up going insane. It became illegal in many places and eventually was forgotten by our world.” Junia answered.

“How did you find out what you guys had?” Feyre jumped in.

While this was Junia’s story as much as Azriel’s, she hesitated. Because there was another factor to that story, and she didn’t believe she was the one who should talk about it first.

Another glance between the two, a question asked. Azriel answered it by speaking up, “Junia is from Dawn. After my… mother was released- rescued from my father’s abuse, she wasn’t in wonderful shape. Fortunately, Rhys, Cassian, and myself found a place created by High Lord Thesan’s mother that offered aid to those escaping similar situations, Rosehall. That is where Junia worked as head healer. She helped my mother a lot throughout the years.” Such admiration and gratitude in his voice made several people at the table start to tear up.

Everyone was quiet. While Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor knew the story of Azriel’s mother being sent to Rosehall, they hadn’t known about Junia, just about the healer Az’s mother had gotten along with-

“You are the friend of his mother’s he sends gifts to every Solstice?” Mor asked, having been approached by Azriel for help with buying said gifts many times in the past.

“I thought you picked those gifts out yourself? You didn’t tell me Mor did all the work.” Junia turned to Az.

“I do pick them out, you just have peculiar taste. I have needed her help locating shops to buy such things before. That's it.” Az defended.

I certainly do have peculiar taste she silently said to Az who, again, blushed at the double entendre.

He quickly cleared his throat, “A few years after my mother had entered her care, while I was visiting, there was an attack on Rosehall. It was one of the families of a newer resident enacting revenge for escaping abuse. When many were hurt or dying… or dead, the two of us the only ones available to help, this bond had snapped out because of that desperation. It was new but it felt like it had always been there. We both leaned into the feeling and fortunately it didn’t end terribly. Suddenly, my shadows were able to start healing, and were able to talk to Junia, giving her any info on people who needed her help that she couldn’t see.”

Everyone was astonished at such a story. So different but also so similar to the mating bond. 

“Since then we have been each others’ confidants. While we don’t live particularly close, shadow walking gives me the ability to come to him whenever, and vice versa. Plus the connection is always there, even miles upon miles apart.” Junia answered. 

“Why keep it a secret?” Cassian questioned, knowing how much a connection like this would matter to Az, but confused because wouldn’t he want his family to know about him having such a bond?

“I am not exactly without enemies, Cas. I couldn’t have a possibility of someone coming after her because of me.” The sound of raw pain in his voice let his family know that this wasn’t something that was simply a fear. 

Someone had gone after her in revenge.

“Your secret is safe with us. You are safe with us. Should you need anything, just say the word.” Rhysand offered. 

The two carranam looked at each other. “After I spent a while yelling at Azriel for scaring me half to death multiple times in the past few days. We decided that maybe it was best I… step back from Rosehall.” Junia explained, sadness present in her tone as she talked about leaving the place that had been her sole purpose for her entire life. “I have healers on my staff that deserve the promotion, including Azriel’s mother, who has used her experiences to really become a confidant and friend to so many of our residents.” 

Azriel’s throat bobbed at the mention of just how much his mom had healed and helped since she escaped his father. 

Excitement filled the room at the possibility of adding another to their family. But Junia was still painfully aware of just how many questions everyone had.

“Alright, now that all the nitty gritty is out of the way, you can all begin your interrogation,” she teased.

All at once, tens of questions left everyone’s mouth. Not a single one able to be distinguished over the rest.

Azriel’s hand reached down to hold Junia’s, squeezing her while seeming to say I told you we should have escaped while we could.

They both downed their wine glasses while they waited for the Inner Circle to tire themselves out. 

A/N: Originally, this was the end. But I think I created so much backstory and also fell too much in love with Junia not to add more. So please let me know if you'd like more to this series! (And what you’d like to see)

Taglist: @bunnyred-blog1 @that-one-bibliophole @fuckingsimp4azriel @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minaaminaa8 @lilah-asteria @azrielswhore @maksamillion

(If you are featured here but you didn't get tagged, check your privacy settings to make sure you allow for tags!)

[fandomnerd9602]

A Date Date

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

You have been dating your best friend and wolf pal, hybrid Natasha Romanoff for the past week or so. And honestly, it was the best week of your life.

Natasha really furnished her cave on the Westview sanctuary complex site. She put in the couch, the kitchenette, the flatscreen TV and of course, the foosball table. You still have bragging rights over beating her the first time you played.

And Natasha didn’t simply get much alone time, though because well, Natasha shared the cave with her sister and fellow wolf Yelena. not that you were complaining or anything. You and Natasha were happy to take your relationship slow. You were best friends before all these uncovered feelings.

Your mind couldn't help but think about how most of your time together was spent in the cave or on the sanctuary grounds. Natasha was an amazing girlfriend, she deserved to be treated like a queen.

"Hey (Y/N)" Yelena said, stirring you from your thoughts, "you gotta take Nattie on a date"

"Yeah I should!" you agreed, "i'm dating the most spectacular girl in the world and I want everyone to know!"

"That and I need my sleep" Yelena huffs, "you two kissing and cuddling keeps me up. Love is so gross."

You simply left the break room and made your way to your office. You began researching little events you could take Natasha out to. One certain little event caught your eye. It was perfect! It was local and it was something that you knew Natasha would love! You bought the tickets and made your way next door to your wolf girlfriend's office.

“Hey Nat,” you walked into her office a little uneasy yet confident

“Yes malysh?” She asks her tail swishing happily at the sight of you.

“There’s a community theater production of Swan Lake this Friday.” You explain, “and I wanted to know if you wanted to see it with me”

A small smile makes its way across her lips, “are you asking me on a date, malysh?”

“Well I am your…and I want to..to…” you find yourself stuttering nervously. Natasha gets up from her chair and saunters over to you, giggling.

She wraps her arms around your neck and her wolf tail around one of your legs. “Of course. I would love to go with you. I l or ballet.”

She kisses your cheek.

“It’s a date” you blush, “our first official date”

“First of many I’d say,” she whispers in your ear before placing small peck to your lips. “Dress nicely”

“I-I will” you answer back.

Friday had arrived. You and Natasha had agreed to meet at the community theater. So you got yourself ready in your own apartment. You got a nicely tailored outfit and got yourself ready.

Meanwhile, Natasha was in her cave trying to find the right outfit. She found herself muttering in Russian as Yelena walked in.

“You’re muttering again,” the blonde wolf smirked at her redheaded sister.

“Don’t just stand there!” Natasha whined, “I need to find the right outfit here! It’s my first date with my malysh!”

Yelena grips her sister’s arms. “Listen here sestra, (Y/N) loves you. So much. Like you could wear a paper bag and they would see you as a goddess”

“Thank you,” she whispers back, hugging her sister tight.

Yelena shoves an outfit package into Natasha’s hands. “Here wear this.”

“What? How?”

“I bought it for you as soon as I found out you two were into each other” Yelena shrugs and leaves.

Natasha made her way to the community theater. She was practically stunned to see you waiting for her on the steps to the theater in that nicely tailored outfit. How it fit you just right.

You were in shock, seeing her in that grey dress. How it hugged her curves and allowed her wolf tail to swish freely. The grey highlighted her red hair and the red fur of her tail and ears.

“Hey” she smiles as she walks up to you, “you look delicious”

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, “you look amazing. The dress’ color suits you”

Natasha hums in contentment. You offer your arm which she gladly takes. The two of you walk up the steps to the theater arm in arm.

You take your seats and enjoy the rest of the evening holding hands. The ballet was pleasant. Natasha keeps whispering all the techniques and styles of ballet that she remembers from her youth. You loved seeing how her eyes lit up and how passionate she was for the art.

The crowd cheered as the demonstration of Swan Lake came to an end. You could hear Natasha’s stomach growling.

“Sorry I didn’t eat before coming here” she blushes in embarrassment.

“To the nearest diner!” You say in an over the top heroic voice as the two of you rush off hand in hand. The two of you laughed and giggled the whole way to the diner.

You and Natasha would go on to have many more dates. And each and every one of them just made you fall deeper and deeper in love with your redheaded wolf girl.

Tags: @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @aloneodi @ab1nsur @julieromanoff @revanshand @moonlit-imagines @moonlit-ficrecs @multi-fandom-enjoyer @texaswolf23

[mizusugii]

lace-y 𐙚 (sam winchester x reader)

↳ you were alone in the bunker with sam and having a movie night with him... while wearing a really pretty white, lace-y lingerie set and one of his oversized tees. what could go wrong!

↳ cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab!reader, fingering, reader is e@ten out, little bit of praise (and this is my first time writing nsfw so maybe that should be its own warning!)

You pushed the door of the bunker open, letting the cold night air whip through your hair before stepping into the warmth and sighing with relief. Sam followed close behind you, closing and locking the door as you made your way down the stairs. You and him were coming back from a hunt alone, since Dean and Cas were busy with their own side mission. You didn’t mind at all- it gave you more solo time with your favorite person. As you reached the bottom of the stairwell, you tossed your bag and keys to the table, noting how your belongings nearly knocked over one of the beer bottles Dean left out. You made a mental note to clean up… tomorrow. You were too spent to do it tonight. 

The two of you made your way to Sam’s room. You had your own room, of course- the bunker has, like, 84 of them after all- but you had agreed to watch some Netflix together after getting back as a little reward for your efforts. As you got into his room, you smiled. His room always felt so cozy. After he moved in, he slowly made himself at home… a couple books piled on his desk, a few posters from his favorite movies, and a whole lot of flannels on a rack that you liked to occasionally steal from. In all fairness, there’s no way he needs all of them. But there he was- shedding his Carhart jacket off just to reveal yet another flannel, this one a nice burgundy color. He threw the jacket onto a nearby armchair and watched as you did the same with yours, now in a long sleeve shirt and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the cutest outfit, but you couldn’t wear your cute outfits out on hunts where you needed to actually be able to bend over or get dirty. You did note some stains on your outfit, and you wanted nothing more then to change into something cleaner and comfier, but your PJs were all the way in your room…

“Hey Sam, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” You asked as he settled into bed, leaning against the bed frame.

“Uhhh yeah, they’re in the second drawer down, take whatever you want.” He smiled before pulling out his phone. You thanked him and went into his wooden dresser to find a shirt. He had a lot of plain white tees for layering, but when you dug a bit deeper you found some of his older stuff. You grinned when you landed on a gray Stanford shirt, and you pulled it out. Sam was tall enough where any of his shirts fit you like a dress. Without much thinking, you started tugging your own shirt off over your head right in front of him. Sam noticed it and tried not to stare- bless his heart, he really did try- but he couldn’t help but notice the lace white bra you had on. He felt his face heat up and he felt bad for staring, his eyes darting back to his phone as you pulled his oversized shirt over yourself and discarded your pants. After you were all adjusted, you climbed into the bed with him and grabbed the remote off the bedside table. 

“What do you wanna watch?” You asked, already beginning to scroll through movies. You were sitting fairly close, curled up beside him with your thighs just inches away from touching his. 

“Uhhh…” He trailed off, trying to compose himself. 

“You’re never helpful with this, you know.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You landed on some cheesy horror movie with a god-awful cover and clicked on it. You always found those types of horror movies ironic, given your job as a hunter. Some horribly CGI’d ghost haunting a B-list actress who runs away in heels and trips over herself like every seven seconds… sometimes it felt more like a parody movie.

“Interesting choice.” He quipped as the movie began. You laughed and looked over at him, your head resting against one of the propped up pillows. 

“Hey, if you have a problem with it, then your indecisive ass can change it.” You said. He shook his head silently and leaned back a little bit more.

“No, it’s perfect.” He said. You smiled and returned your gaze to the TV as the camera slowly zoomed out on a dilapidated house in the middle of a forest. You both watched in silence, occasionally scoffing at the horrible effects and dialogue. As the movie went on, you both slowly got more comfortable. At some point, you adjusted and ended up with your right thigh touching his leg. He pretended to not notice, but when you lifted your arms to stretch about 20 minutes into the film, your (or rather, his) shirt rode up a bit and the slightest bit of lace peeked through on your inner thigh. Where there were endless comments and critiques from the two of you before, you noticed he started to go silent, and his eyes were glued to the TV like he would be stricken down on the spot if he dared to look away. 

Your little comments went unnoticed, and you couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. After another 10 minutes of painful silence, you finally tugged on his arm a bit to get his attention. 

His eyes flicked in your direction before returning back to the TV. “Yeah?”

“Is something up?” You asked, trying to get even a little bit of eye contact. He made a slight frown and shook his head, eyes still watching the shitty flick in front of him. 

“M-m.” He hummed, hands moving to fidget with the hem of his comforter. You furrowed your brows and reached for the remote, pausing the movie.

“I don’t believe you.” You responded. He just kept staring straight, trying to think of something to say. 

“Hey, can you look at me?” You asked, just a bit frustrated as he seemed to have an aversion to turning to face you. 

He took a small breath before turning his head, eyes immediately darting to your bare thighs before dragging up to your face.

Oh. Oh. 

“Oh uhm… Sorry.” You said sheepishly, now embarrassed. You tried to move your hand to pull the shirt down, but his hand caught yours. You looked up to him in confusion.

He held it there wordlessly, and you could see something change in his eyes. Where he was avoidant and cold before, there was a sort of glint in his pupils, and his attention couldn’t be further away from the TV now. You felt your face flush, and you bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to make the tension dissipate. You saw him glance at your cherry glossed lips, and you almost laughed because he obviously wanted to make a move but was stuck like a deer in headlights.

You moved in slowly until your lips connected, feeling him nearly jolt at the contact. You lingered there for a few seconds before pulling back. 

“Is this okay?” You asked quietly, making sure he was comfortable. He nodded slowly, and this time he leaned forward, connecting your lips again. His hand that once had an iron grip on yours now moved to your cheek, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as his calloused hand moved across your jaw. You’re not sure why you decided to go with the white lace lingerie this morning, but you’re so grateful you did- it saved you from a whole lot more of silent pining. The kiss deepened, and as it got more passionate you slowly moved so that you were straddling his lap, never breaking your connection. His hand dropped from your face and as you pulled away you saw him go still, feeling him harden beneath you. 

It wasn’t that he was ravenous... but there was a sudden sense of desperation as he kissed you again on the lips, and you couldn’t help slowly grinding across his middle. He let out a soft groan before his lips slowly moved to your jaw, then your neck. That shy boy from just seconds ago was gone. You threw your head back a bit, giving him more access. He moved his lips all around your neck, occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin. You felt every sense heighten- his mouth marking your neck, the friction between your thin panties and thick denim, his rough fingers starting to pull at the material of your shirt…

Speaking of which, he lifted the shirt over your head, quickly breaking away from your neck to pull the fabric over your face. As he threw the shirt behind you, his eyes roamed over your body. He could finally see the full set of thin lace white lingerie adorned with small satin bows, the underwear riding up your sides as your legs straddled his. His racing thoughts stilled, and he just sat there looking at you like if he moved, he’d lose his perfect view. When you shifted forward a bit, his trance was broken, and the sensation caused him to immediately attach his lips back on to yours. Your small whimpers fueled his hunger, and he gently pushed forwards, sending you backwards so that your head was hitting the mattress behind you. He was now hovering over you, still kissing you and softly pulling at your glossy lips with his teeth. His lips moved slowly down your face, onto your neck where he kissed a few of his marks from earlier, across your chest between your cupped breasts, down your tummy and ghosting just above where your underwear covered you. You looked down to see his face just above your core, looking into your eyes with caution, silently asking for permission. Your short nod was all he needed, and he gently looped his fingers around the waistband and pulled the panties off and down your legs. You felt your heart race when he gently pushed your soft thighs apart, baring yourself in a way that might have felt embarrassing if he wasn’t practically drooling at the sight.

He ignored his urges and started slowly, kissing up your plush thigh. The sensation of him just inches away from where you needed him most, blended with his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin was driving you crazy. You needed something, now. 

“Sam..” You whimpered, voice shaking with anticipation. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looked up with lust-blown eyes, cheek resting on your left thigh.

“Please…” You begged weakly, squirming a bit.

You didn’t have to voice what you wanted. He smiled sweetly at you before moving to your core, gently pushing his tongue past your folds. You gasped and your hands clumsily fumbled around the sheets until they landed on the back of his head, fingers hooking into his soft hair. He lapped at your clit, and you wondered how the hell his brother got all the credit for being a “pussy magnet” when he was eating you out like a damn professional. His breath fanned over your hot, wet core, causing you to grip his chestnut hair tighter. He groaned, causing vibrations that only added to your intense pleasure.

“Fuck…” You hissed, hips slightly rolling. One of the hands that was currently holding your thighs apart slowly moved upward towards your waist in an attempt to keep you (relatively) in place. His tongue, slick with your arousal, was driving you crazy, and your soft moans and whimpers made him work even faster until you were nearing the edge. 

Then you felt one of his hands trail up your thigh, and two long fingers gently prodded at your entrance. You gasped at the feeling as they gathered arousal and slipped effortlessly inside you, his tongue still working at your puffy clit. You were blissed out, softly moaning his name as he worked his impossibly long fingers in and out of you. Your breaths got short and your hips rutted up, and he knew you were close. He pulled his mouth off your core, but kept his fingers at a steady pace, looking up at you for the first time in a while as your hand dropped off the back of his head and onto his shoulder, gripping for dear life.

“That’s it pretty girl, I got you.” He praised, using his free hand to rub gentle circles into your waist. As his pace quickened, you whined his name and felt the pressure in your lower half snap, moaning as you climaxed. Your eyes shut closed, and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled his fingers out as you were still coming down, and the hand that wasn’t coated in slick was reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

“You okay hon?” He asked, climbing up to kiss you on the forehead. Your face was completely flush, and your hair was a bit of a mess from writhing around on the pillow. You looked up into his eyes and smiled at his gentleness, and you nodded slowly. 

“Felt really good..” You mumbled, still somewhat incoherent as you recovered. He smiled back and kissed you gently.

“You look so cute in white, you know…”

↳ a/n: hiii! this is my first time writing nsfw so please be gentle w me :,) i have no idea what i'm doing even though my tumblr history would say otherwise... anyways i have a bit of free time between now and finals- send requests! thank u for reading lovelies <3

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Broken Promises

Summary - One passionate night together shatters when she must confront her impending betrothal, leading to a tragic betrayal that alters their fates forever. Left with only the haunting memory of their love, Aemond grapples with the consequences of their brief connection.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), violence

Word count - 2581

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The day Aemond Targaryen bared his heart to the woman he had hopelessly fallen in love with was also the day their brief love story came to a tragic end.

I sat alone in my chambers, knees pulled tightly to my chest, absentmindedly dipping my fingers into the pool of melted candle wax. The fleeting sting of the burn felt oddly comforting, its warmth a poor distraction from the turmoil within me.

Resting my head on my knees, my eyes wandered toward the window where a fierce storm raged outside, rain hammering against the glass in violent bursts. 

The thunder echoed my inner conflict, my thoughts a chaotic tangle of duty and desire. 

The looming shadow of my upcoming betrothal to the son of Lord Jasper Wylde weighed heavily on me, yet it paled in comparison to the feelings I harboured for Aemond—the one-eyed prince who had unknowingly captured my heart.

A soft creak interrupted my thoughts. The chamber doors opened slowly, the heavy wood groaning as someone entered. 

When I looked up, I gasped—it was the last person I had expected to see tonight.

"Aemond?" I whispered, startled. My fingers brushed the candle beside me, knocking it over. The flame extinguished with a hiss as the wax spilt across the stone floor, plunging the room into near darkness.

He stood in the doorway, drenched to the bone, his black leathers gleaming in the flickering light from the dying hearth. 

His hair clung to his face, the wet strands only making the sharp planes of his features more severe, his single violet eye burning with an intensity I'd never seen before.

"Do not marry him," he breathed, his voice rough with desperation.

I blinked, struggling to comprehend his words. My gaze roamed his figure, taking in the sight of him, as if he had just flown through the storm on Vhagar to reach me, his presence here a force of nature all its own. 

The storm outside seemed to pale in comparison to the tempest in his eye.

Aemond took a step closer, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor as the storm outside raged on. His face, half-shrouded in shadow, was a mask of barely contained emotion. 

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, my breath catching in my throat as he moved closer, his single eye locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

"I cannot stand by and watch you wed another," he said, his voice low and raw with emotion. "I know your duty binds you, but I cannot—will not—pretend any longer."

His words struck me like a lightning bolt. My mind reeled as I processed what he was saying, yet somewhere deep within me, I had known this was coming. 

I had felt it in the way he lingered near me, in the way his gaze lingered a little too long, in the way his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of propriety. 

But hearing it out loud—hearing the vulnerability in his voice as he bared his heart to me—was something entirely different.

"Aemond..." I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of what I should feel, or what I was allowed to feel.

His hand reached out, trembling slightly as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin. His touch was surprisingly warm, despite the cold dampness that clung to him. 

"I have loved you, quietly, endlessly, for so long," he murmured, his eye never leaving mine. "I tried to fight it. I tried to bury it beneath duty, beneath everything else. But when I heard of your betrothal... I couldn't breathe. The thought of you with him—of you becoming his—"

His voice faltered, breaking slightly, and in that moment, all of his carefully constructed walls crumbled.

"I love you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much aching truth that it made my heart lurch. "I've loved you from the moment I first saw you, and I will never stop."

Before I could respond, before I could even process the weight of his confession, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine with a fierce, desperate hunger. 

The kiss was rough at first, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every repressed feeling into it, but it quickly softened into something gentler, something more tender. 

I gasped against his mouth, my fingers instinctively tangling in his soaked hair as I kissed him back, the world outside falling away, leaving only us and the storm of emotions swirling between us.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. 

"I cannot lose you," he murmured, his breath warm against my lips. "Not like this."

"Aemond," I whispered, my voice trembling, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "I feel the same... I always have."

At my words, something in him seemed to snap. His lips claimed mine again, this time softer, slower, as if he was savouring the moment, afraid it might slip away if he didn't hold on tightly enough. 

His hands roamed my body, hesitantly at first, but growing more confident as I responded, my own hands exploring the hard planes of his chest.

Before I knew it, we were moving, stumbling backward toward the bed, our kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if every second that passed only heightened the tension between us. 

When my back hit the edge of the bed, I pulled him down with me, the weight of his body pressing against mine sending a thrill through me that I had never known before.

He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze searching. 

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse with need but laced with a deep tenderness.

I nodded, my heart racing, but there was no fear—only a burning need to be closer to him, to feel everything we had both been denying for so long. 

"Yes," I whispered. "I'm sure."

Aemond kissed me again, this time slower, more reverent, as if he was savouring every moment. 

His hands moved with care, gently removing the layers of my clothing, and I did the same, my fingers trembling as I unbuckled his belt, peeled away his wet cloak, and let it fall to the floor. 

With each piece of clothing shed, the vulnerability between us grew, until we were both bare, exposed not just physically, but emotionally.

When he finally lowered himself over me, his body warm and solid against mine, it felt like the world had shifted, like everything had fallen into place in that moment. 

His touch was careful, almost worshipful, as his hands caressed my skin, and when he finally entered me, it was slow, gentle, as if he was afraid of hurting me. 

A soft gasp escaped my lips at the sensation, unfamiliar yet achingly beautiful.

He paused, his eye locked on mine, waiting, asking without words if I was alright. I nodded, my fingers gripping his shoulders, urging him on. 

Slowly, he began to move, and the initial discomfort melted into something deeper, something breathtakingly intimate.

Each thrust was a silent confession, a shared secret, as our bodies moved together in perfect harmony. 

His name fell from my lips in a breathless whisper, and he responded with a soft groan, his movements growing more urgent as we lost ourselves in each other.

The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of our mingled breaths, the soft rustling of sheets, and the overwhelming closeness of his body against mine. 

Time lost all meaning as we came together again and again, until finally, the tension built to a crescendo, and we shattered, our release a shared moment of pure, aching bliss.

Aemond collapsed beside me, his breath ragged as he pulled me into his arms, his chest rising and falling rapidly against my back. 

I turned to face him, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

In the quiet aftermath, with the storm still raging outside but a new peace settling between us, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. 

This night, this moment, had changed everything.

As we lay together, the only sound was the steady rise and fall of our breaths and the distant rumble of the storm, now reduced to a soft whisper outside the windows. 

Aemond's arm was draped protectively over my waist, his warmth surrounding me like a cocoon. 

I traced the lines of his chest absentmindedly, my mind already drifting to the reality I would have to face in a few hours.

But as the weight of duty settled on my shoulders once more, I felt the inevitable tug of responsibility, like a noose tightening around my neck. 

I knew what needed to be done. I could not avoid it any longer.

With a deep sigh, I slowly disentangled myself from Aemond's embrace, careful not to disturb him. The cool air hit my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth we had shared. 

I could feel his gaze on me before he even spoke.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep but laced with a note of concern. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my arm, urging me to stay.

I turned to face him, already half-dressed, my heart aching at the sight of him—his hair tousled, his violet eye clouded with worry, his lips still swollen from our kisses. 

He looked vulnerable, a far cry from the fierce, stoic prince the world knew him to be.

"I have to go," I said softly, pulling on the last of my clothes. The words felt like shards of glass in my throat. "I have to tell him... about the betrothal. About us."

Aemond's expression darkened, and he sat up, his brows drawing together in a storm of emotions. 

"Tell him?" he echoed, his voice suddenly sharper, filled with disbelief and rising panic. "You don't owe him anything. You don't have to—"

"I do," I interrupted gently, though the pain in my chest nearly doubled as I saw the flicker of hurt in his eye. "If I'm to end this, he needs to know. I can't leave him in the dark. It's only right." 

I hesitated, reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "But don't worry... I'll be back."

Aemond's grip tightened around my hand, his desperation now palpable. "Stay," he whispered, his voice low but filled with a quiet, almost pleading intensity. 

"Stay with me. Forget him. We can leave this place—together. We can run, escape this life, and no one will follow. Let me take you away from all of this."

For a fleeting moment, I considered it. Running away with Aemond sounded like a dream.

 A life with him, free of duty, free of the obligations that bound us to others, was all I had ever wanted. But reality was much crueller. There was no escaping our fates. 

And I could not live with myself if I left things unfinished if I left my betrothed without an explanation.

"I can't," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Aemond's forehead. "But I will come back to you. I promise."

Aemond's eye searched mine, as though he were trying to convince himself of my words, but deep down, I saw the doubt flicker in him. 

He didn't want to believe it, but he nodded slowly, reluctantly releasing my hand.

"I'll wait for you," he murmured, his voice tight with resignation. "Come back to me."

I gave him a sad smile before slipping out of the room, leaving him behind in the dim light of our shared night, unaware that it would be the last time I would ever see him.

I made my way to Jasper Wylde's son, my heart heavy with dread but resolved to set things right. I needed to tell him that the betrothal could not go forward, that my heart belonged to another, even if it would shatter the fragile alliance our families had built. 

I hoped—perhaps foolishly—that he might understand, that he would let me go.

But when I stood before him in his chambers, and the words tumbled from my lips, his reaction was far from what I had imagined.

At first, he was silent, his face an unreadable mask, but I could see the fury simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists. 

I took a step back, suddenly aware of the growing tension in the room.

"You love him?" he asked, his voice unnervingly calm, though the venom lacing his words was unmistakable. "The one-eyed prince? You think I will simply stand by and allow you to humiliate me like this? To betray our betrothal for him?"

I opened my mouth to speak, to try and reason with him, but the storm broke before I had a chance. 

In an instant, his rage erupted. He lunged forward, his hand striking me across the face with such force that I stumbled, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. 

Panic surged through me, but before I could react, he was upon me, his hands around my throat, his face twisted in an unrecognizable fury.

"You think you can leave me?!" he snarled, his grip tightening as I gasped for air. "You think I'll let you walk away from this? You belong to me!"

I clawed at his hands, but his strength was overwhelming. My vision blurred, dark spots clouding the edges of my sight as my body fought for breath. 

Desperation filled me, but it was no use. 

The world around me began to fade, the sound of his hateful words growing distant until, finally, there was nothing but silence.

Aemond waited for hours, pacing back and forth in the darkened chamber where we had shared our first and only night together. His heart raced with anxiety, his mind conjuring up every possible reason for my delay, but always, he held onto hope. 

I would come back to him. I had promised.

But as dawn broke and the first rays of light crept into the room, reality began to settle in. Something was wrong. Aemond's chest tightened with a growing sense of dread. 

He threw on his clothes and stormed out of the room, determined to find me.

It wasn't until later that day that he learned the truth.

When they found my body—lifeless, bruised, and cold—Aemond's world shattered. 

The news spread quickly, whispers of a lover's quarrel turned deadly, but all Aemond could hear was the sound of his own heartbreaking, the weight of his own failure crashing down on him.

I had promised I would come back to him. I never did.

In that moment, standing over my lifeless body, Aemond knew that the love we had shared, however brief, would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

Our love story had been beautiful, but it was never meant to last. 

And now, it had ended in the worst possible way—tragic, unfinished, and forever lost to the cruelty of fate.

In the shadow of my death, Aemond's heart hardened. The gentle, desperate man I had known that night was gone, replaced by a hollow, vengeful prince, consumed by a rage that would never be quenched. 

He swore vengeance on the man who had taken me from him, but even revenge could not bring me back. 

Our love, fleeting and fragile, was now nothing more than a bitter memory, a love story destined to end in heartbreak.

A/n - I am still not over Autumn and Finny from 'if he had been with me' so I gotta make sure everyone suffers <3

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[morgana-larkin]

I love your writing and I have a Melissa x reader prompt for you.

They have something casual going on and Mel always tells the reader she is her girl until one day Melissa decides to really make the reader officially her girl.

I thought on something sweet 💕

Hi anon! I love that you love my writing and thank you for the prompt! I kept this sweet like you wanted as it could have gone dark 🙂. I based some of this off of Chappell Roan’s song Casual. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I decided to wait on Worth It part 12 until the new episodes come out to meet Melissa’s family and see what they’re like.

Casual Now?

Warnings: Smut

Words: 2.6k

Both of you lay your head on a pillow after coming, catching your breath. You fall asleep and Melissa scootches closer to you and places an arm around you, gives you a light kiss to avoid waking you up, and then falls asleep beside you.

You wake up and you look to see Melissa is still asleep. You carefully get up as her arm is around you and then you quietly get dressed and then leave. Unknown to you, Melissa was awake the entire time, she woke up a few minutes before you did and she was just enjoying your body against hers, knowing you won’t be soon. She usually awoke a few minutes before you did and just enjoys the feeling of your body against hers.

She let out a sigh when she heard the door to her house close and she went to the window to make sure you got to your car safely. She then kicks her dresser out of anger and then goes to her bed and a tear falls down. The two of you started this casual, no strings attached relationship 3 months ago to let off steam from teaching, but it seems Melissa caught feelings in that time. She thinks back on what happened during sex last night.

You were under her as she had two fingers deep in you. You were a moaning mess and Melissa thinks you look beautiful and the sounds you make are music to her ears.

“Melissa, I’m so close!” You tell her as your legs start shaking.

“Come my beautiful girl.” She tells you and you immediately come.

Melissa didn’t mean to call you her girl but she figured you didn’t notice as you were so close to an orgasm. She sits on her bed thinking about what life could be like with you. If you started dating then she can show you off as hers, eventually move in together, and lots of kisses that she can steal from you.

The next day Melissa gets ready for work, she covers up the small hickey you left on her left breast by accident. She walks in and goes to the break room and sits next to Barb with the trio distracted by something on Janine’s phone.

“Did you see her again this weekend?” Barb asks her as Melissa slumps down in her chair. She of course told Barb when she started getting feelings as she had to tell someone.

“Yes, even if I know I shouldn’t, I just want to be near her.” Melissa explains to her.

“Melissa, you should end it or tell her.” Barb tells her sternly.

“I tried subtly talking about a relationship and she said it’s casual, just like we talked about 3 months ago.” Melissa says and puts her head in her hands. She then gets a text and she looks at her phone.

You: You look stressed, did the other night not help?

You messaged her and she looks and sees you across the room with some teachers and you’re looking at her.

Melissa: It helped at the time, but now I’m thinking of all the things I have to do this week

You: Need a pick me up after school?

Melissa: I’d like that

*After School*

Melissa makes her way to her car to go home and then prepare for when she sees you later. She gets to her car but then sees you walking out of the building and almost no teachers or cars around. She gets an idea and goes to you and drags you to her car.

“Melissa, what are you doing?” You ask her confused and she opens the passenger door and you smile then get in. “Can’t wait I see.” You tease her and she gets in after you.

She gets on top of you and begins making out with you and she feels the stress of today melt away with each kiss. She then goes lower and starts kissing your neck, and without knowing it, she starts sucking, marking you as hers.

“Melissa, don’t leave a hickey on my neck.” You tell her and she groans but then she trails lower and she lowers your shirt and starts sucking on your chest. You know she loves sucking on your body, but what you don’t know is she only started doing it to mark you as hers when she got feelings for you. She then gets down from the seat and drags your underwear down.

“It’s a good thing you decided to wear a dress today, my beautiful girl.” She tells you before diving right to your clit and you moan out.

“Oh Melissa, your tongue feels so good.” You gasp out and you feel her smile as she continues eating you out. You feel each lick and suck she gives your clit and you feel your orgasm start building quickly. She knows your body so well and knows how to bring you to an orgasm in minutes with just her tongue. You grab hold of her hair and you start moving your hips before she pins you down. Your legs start shaking and she goes faster before you moan out as you come. She pulls away and gets back on top of you and continues kissing you to help you come down.

You then slip your hand down her pants and find her clit and immediately start doing circles on it. Melissa gasps and grabs hold of the seat as you bring her to the edge in under a minute. She surges forward and kisses you as she comes.

“So, feel better?” You ask her as you take deep breaths while she rests on your lap.

“Ya, thanks hon.” She says softly and smiles at you.

“You looked really stressed in the break room this morning.” You tell her and she groans and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Don’t remind me.” She says and you giggle.

“Busy week this week?” You ask her.

“More like busy life.” She says and you hum. “Do you want to come back to my place? I have lots of leftovers.” She says and you look at her.

“Why do you want to feed me?”

“We’re friends aren’t we? Isn’t that what friends do?” She asks you.

“They do.” Is all you say as she draws mindless patterns on your chest.

“So want to come to my house then?” She asks you again and you smile and nod.

“Sure, I do love your cooking.” You tell her and Melissa feels happiness run through her entire body knowing she gets to spend time with you.

Melissa gets home and immediately gets changed into something more comfortable but also something that’ll have you staring at her. She goes for a dark pink low cut tank top, black leggings and a black knitted sweater her nonna gave her. You knocked on the door half an hour later and Melissa nearly ran to the door to answer it.

“Hey hon.” She tells you and you smile at her.

“Hey Melissa.” You say and go in when she steps aside. “You look nice.” You tell her when you take in her outfit.

“Thanks, I was just about to reheat the leftovers.” She tells you and goes into the kitchen and you follow her.

“I’m still surprised you offered me to come over. I know we’re friends but you barely offer any friends to come over to your place.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“That’s because some of them annoy me.” She says.

“And I don’t?”

“You did at first, but you were new last year.”

“So what made you take an interest in me?” You ask her and she quirks an eyebrow at you. “At least, enough of an interest to want to sleep with me.” You add and she chuckles.

“You’re cute and you don’t annoy me as much.” She tells you as she gets the now hot containers out of the microwave and transfers the food onto a plate. She then takes the plates and brings them to the dinner table. You sit down and take your first bite.

“I always love your cooking.” You say with a hum and she smiles at you. “Why did you never become a chef?” You ask her.

“Because cooking is one of my passions but I only like cooking for people I like.”

“Well I’m honoured to be one of those people.” You tell her and Melissa can’t help but smile as you smile at her.

After dinner you both go to the couch with some wine and start a conversation.

“So why Abbott?” She asks you and you tilt your head. “You could teach anywhere, so why an underfunded school?”

“Because I didn’t become a teacher for a big paycheck, I became one to help students.” You tell her with a shrug. “What about you?”

“Same thing.” She says as she finishes off the wine in her glass. “Can I kiss you?” She blurts out and you look at her confused.

“Why are you asking? We’ve kissed before.” You tell her.

“Ya but only when we have sex. Right now I just want to kiss you.” She tells you and looks down at her hands. You put your wine glass down, cup her cheek and kiss her. She puts her hands in your hair to keep you from pulling away and enjoys the feel of your lips on hers. You pull away too soon for Melissa’s liking and you look at her.

“That was one hell of a kiss.” You say with a slight blush.

“Ya, it was.” Melissa agrees with a slight blush of her own.

“Did you really want me over because we’re friends and no other reason?” You ask softly.

“What other reason could I possibly have?”

“I don’t know, it’s just you’ve been acting different lately.” You say and play with your fingernails absent mindlessly.

“Different how?”

“It’s just… before, at the beginning of this casual relationship, you seem to only be in it for the sex, which is the reason we started this. But lately it seems like you want more than just sex.” You try to explain and she looks at you. “Like you kiss me a lot more now, you talk to me in school just to talk to me, you’re inviting me to your place for dinner, and the other day I ran into Kristen Marie and she mentioned you talk about me.” You tell her and she sighs.

“Can’t I just want to be friends with you as well as have casual sex.” She replies with.

“Is it still casual?” You ask her and Melissa freezes. She didn’t expect you to catch on to anything that she does differently.

“It’s still casual hon, I’m not interested in anything else.”

“I didn’t ask you if you were interested in a relationship, I’m asking if you have feelings for me.” You bluntly ask her and Melissa is looking at you like a deer in headlights.

“Look hon, I don’t know what you’re trying to get here but-” she starts to ask but you cut her off with a kiss. She immediately kisses you back and she deepens it quickly. You take her sweater off and she immediately takes yours off before you break the kiss to take off her tank top. “Wait hon, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I didn’t ask you here for sex.” She clarifies and you roll your eyes.

“I know, but that tank top was driving me crazy as it gave me a great view.” You tell her before kissing her again. Melissa has become addicted to your kisses and always immediately kisses you back. You unclip her bra and tear it off her and cup her boobs with your hands. “Mm, I just love them.” You tell her.

“Touch them all you want.” She says and winks at you before kissing you again. She then straddles your lap and trails her mouth down to your neck and begins kissing it.

“No hickeys on my neck.” You remind her and Melissa has had enough.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not together and I’m a teacher.”

“What does us not being together have to do with it?”

“Because I don’t want other girls getting the wrong idea, I don’t want them to think I’m not available.” You tell her and Melissa feels a tightness in her chest.

“Are you seeing other girls?” She asks you before she stops herself.

“On dates, yes, I’ve been on a date with two girls since we’ve been hooking up.” You tell her honestly and Melissa gets off of you and sits beside you on the couch. She puts her head in her hands as you look at her confused. “Melissa? What’s wrong?” You ask her and you put a hand on her arm.

“I don’t want you to go out with other girls, I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” She says without looking at you.

“What?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“You’re right, I do have feelings for you and I’m scared about that. I didn’t expect to get feelings for you. It did start off as just casual but about a month later I started having a crush on you.” She tells you and leans back onto the couch. You stare at her in shock before you grab her chin and turn her head to look at you.

“Are you telling me the truth?” You ask her and she nods as a tear falls down her cheek. You wipe the tear away before cupping her cheek and she leans into your touch. “I have feelings for you too.” You tell her and she puts her hand over yours that’s on her cheek.

“Really?”

“Yes, why do you think I’ve noticed you acting different? You know I can be oblivious to things like that but I noticed with you because I wanted to know if you felt the same way.” You tell her and she smiles. “And I honestly didn’t expect to tell you while your boobs are out.” You add on and she giggles.

“Are you complaining?” She asks and you shake your head.

“It’s an incredible sight and they’re a big weakness for me.” You tell her and you blush a bit. She then cups both your cheeks and leans in and kisses you.

“Do you want to be with me?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I thought you didn’t want a relationship right now?”

“I didn’t but I want you. I want you to be my girl and no one else’s.” She tells you and you smile.

“So that’s why you’ve been calling me your girl during sex lately.” You say and she nods. “I want to be your girl, but only if you ask me properly.” You say and she shakes her head.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that yes but you want me to put your impossible girl.” You tease her with and she giggles before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I do. Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” She asks you.

“Yes.” You tell her and seal it with a kiss. “Wait, how is this gonna go as we’ve already been having sex with each other?” You ask her. She rolls her eyes at you and brings you in for another kiss.

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (7)

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, shooting, gunfight, injury, angst

word count: 1.2k

note: hi all, apologies for not posting for a bit, life got crazy and I low-key got the ick... as well as writers block... but I will persevere. Enjoy this chapter I will do my best to get back to weekly posts!

You couldn’t get those boxes out of your head. All the baby toys, the clothes, the crib. It was the only thing you could see as you stared at the dark wall across from where you sat on the bed. Luckily, you had texted Baela about the situation and she was on her way with Jace to come pick you up.

A part of you felt bad for ruining their date night but you were NOT going to stay the night here. 

Especially not in this room.

Aemond and Alys’s shared bedroom looked nothing like you would have imagined. Not that you would even think to imagine it- actually you never even thought that they’d actually live together at all.

Even though there seemed to be no evidence of Aemond’s fiancée downstairs, there was plenty of evidence in this room. Pictures of the two together littered the walls, the nightstands, the dresser. Evidence of their clearly real and loving relationship.

And to your dismay it fucking hurt. 

Alys would be a mother to Aemond’s child, she would be the strong wife he always needed and you would be a memory, a brief moment in his life. 

Nothing more than a highschool sweetheart.

A silent, cold anger seemed to fizzle in the pit of your stomach, like a rattling snake setting to strike.

You were just a phase but yet your life seemed to be in danger again. 

Lies were being told again. 

Secrets were being kept again.

The door to the room opened, Aemond coming in with mugs of something steaming. 

“I think I should go.” You crossed your arms, your tone rattled a warning.

Aemond looked up, brows furrowing. He set the mugs on the dresser and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t care what you want.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

You uncrossed your arms ready to strike. “I’m tired of this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

It wasn’t a lie, you did feel tired, tired of trying to be an adult and tired of being the bigger person. At some point you were bound to start telling the truth, you needed to. “She’s pregnant.”

He arched his brow. “What?”

You stood from the bed. “I saw the room, the boxes of baby stuff. I saw it all.”

He frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You stepped closer. “Don’t know what I’m talking about? I know that I’m talking about how you fucking proposed to Alys Rivers. I’m talking about how you asked me to marry you and that doesn’t seem to fucking matter anymore. I’m talking about the fact that you got her pregnant and now I’m going to have to fucking live in the same city as you, your wife and your child. And that none of what we went through together matters.” You took a deep breath. 

Why is it not me? Desperately you wanted to say it but you just couldn’t let yourself open up to him all the way yet. Not with the room full of a future that wasn’t yours next door.

He looked at you incredulously. “You… you never wanted this life.”

“But I always wanted you.”

He continued to stare at you, like he was looking at you for the first time since you had arrived back.

You began to feel self conscious, maybe you said too much. “Say something.” 

He rushed forward grabbing your face in his large hands and pressing his mouth against yours. You froze, not processing what was happening until his tongue pushed into your mouth and he tangled his hands in your hair pulling you even closer to him. Your arms instinctively reached up grabbing the front of his shirt as he was finally knocked out of his daze.

His arms moved down your body, grabbing and squeezing at whatever flesh he could find until he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked you back towards the bed, setting you down- never breaking the kiss. 

He finally pulled away, allowing you to breathe, both of you panting trying to catch your breaths as you stared at one another.

Too familiar, this all felt too familiar. Your heart pounded as you let yourself fall into old habits. 

His gaze was soft as he reached out to caress your face, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I will always want you too.”

Your chest tightened as he leaned closer, his kiss gentle this time. But as soon as it started it ended, Aemond pulling away to lean his forehead against yours to take a deep breathe. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your arms.

“But I made a promise to Alys and there’s things I need to take care of before-”

You fully pulled away, moving out from under him to get off of the bed. “What.”

“There are things that I need to do, promises I need to keep in order to-to make sure your safe, to make sure everything is safe and protected.”

You stared at him like he had three heads. “What the fuck are you talking about right now Aemond?”

He moved to get up to pull you to him but you stepped away. “I just need time, just give me time.”

“You had time, almost five years of it and it seems in that time you can’t even get your fucking lies straight.”

“It’s complicated okay, the less people know the better. Just try to trust me, please.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It was like you were having two different conversations. “Is this about business or is this about love?”

“What?”

“Is it business or is it love?”

“(Y/N)-”

“Is it business or is it love, Aemond, that’s all I want to know.” 

“It’s complicated.”

Your eyes burned. Fucking unbelievable. “Clearly. But the only person making it complicated here is you. Why can’t it ever be fucking easy with you Aemond? Why can’t you ever tell me the truth?” 

He tried to get closer to you. “You know nothing about what is going on. What I am trying to fix, what I am trying to build for-for us.” He reached out to take your hands in his. “I am doing everything in my power to make things right, to make us right but I need more time. Just a little more time.”

You shook your head. “She’s pregnant Aemond, you are out of time.”

Your phone chimed with a text, you quickly pulled it out of your pocket. “That’s Baela, she’s here with Jace.” 

“(Y/N)-”

“I am done with the nonsensical answers. I am done with the empty words. I am done with all of it. I never should have come back here, never should have taken that stupid fucking job. I certainly never should have ever let you into my life.”

Tears were beginning to fall now, tears that were long overdue. After so long of bottling it up, after so long of being okay it wasn’t okay anymore. You were broken. You turned to leave, going past the soon to be nursery, going down the stairs, grabbing your bags that you had left and walked straight out of Aemond and Aly’s home. 

When you got into Jace’s car, it took everything in you to not fully break down as Baela turned to you from the passenger's seat and asked you what was wrong. 

You just shook your head and simply said. “She’s pregnant.”

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[niceonejames7]

the sirius watermelon fic was SO CUTE I NEED A PART TWO OF THEM GETTING TOGETHER

watermelon pyjamas pt.2

sirius finally tells you how he feels. (the classic angry confession trope) part 1

words: 1.7k

genre: literally idiots™ to lovers, roommate!sirius, hurt/comfort(?), confession, lil angst, ends with fluff.

a/n: guys this is like my first ask. eeeek! thanks for requesting and reading<3

.....

“I’m an idiot”

“You're gonna have to elaborate."

“James, please."

Sirius wasn't sure if he would classify this as a bad day. Realising he's in love with you wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him, but hearing James gloat about how right he had been was.

He had managed to avoid you that evening, even the next day, internally panicking over what to do. But he was home in the evening, ignoring that stupid warm feeling in his chest when he saw your shoes in front of the door.

He entered the room, and sighed.

I'm fucked.

“Did you buy fruit themed pyjamas?" Sirius asked, his eyes moving over the cherry printed clothing. He was annoyed, not at you, mostly at himself. He couldn't find a single explanation why this affected him so much, but it did.

“I have watermelon, cherry, kiwi and peach.” You counted on your fingers.

“Wear the peach one tomorrow." Sirius grimaced at his too quick of a response, thankfully his face wasn't visible. He wasn't very proud of himself right now.

"I meant like- as a suggestion, that sounds cute, you know." He tries to explain himself, cringing on his own words.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, amused by his eagerness, “Do you want these? You seem to like them a lot." You asked cheekily.

Yeah, sure. That's exactly why I want you to wear these, Sirius though internally. His thoughts had involved you in his bed with the pants on, maybe off, but he kept that shamefully to himself.

The next couple of days felt torturous. Sirius felt like he had to physically restrain himself from reaching for you. Anytime you touch his shoulder, lean against him, huddle together on the couch, he overthought everything.

Every touch left him breathless, every look made it hard to breath. I need help.

.

You were distraught. For some reason, for the last few days, Sirius was acting weird. He had started pulling away from you, as if watching you from a distance. No ruffling your hair, no forehead kisses, no comfortable touches. It's not as if he owed you any affection, but he had stopped.

He knew.

He knew you had feelings for him. Even if he doesn't, which you desperately hope is the truth, he has a problem. You didn't know what to do. Everytime you thought to ask him something, he'd make up an excuse and leave. He definitely didn't want to talk to you.

Lily had suggested exactly as you predicted, the usual, you should talk to him, maybe he was just busy. And other times, she had been right, but not this time. All of this had led you to the inevitable decision, something you should have done long ago. Maybe if you had, this wouldn't have happened.

……

"I'm gonna move out, Lils.” You say into the phone,"What? Why?” Lily exclaimed, rather dramatically.

You sigh,"I can't live like this. He doesn't owe me anything. I shouldn't be expecting… things from him.”

There's a slight pause before you continue,"And I can't move on if I live with him. It's too painful, and too hard."

“Here's the real reason."

Lily felt like bashing her head against a wall. How can two people be so stupid at the same time? You two were perfect for each other, both too oblivious to see the obvious.

“Listen, I really think you should just tell him, even if you move out. He wouldn't stop being your friend, honey."

You hum as she says, but part of you knows you can't say it. You don't have the guts. You hear the familiar click of the door, Sirius is home.

“Lils, I've gotta go. I'll talk to you later." You hang up the phone, not listening to whatever she said at the end, too nervous to care.

Your hands are sweaty, and your hands are fidgeting constantly. Sirius comes in and can immediately sense your anxious energy,

“What happened, lovely?" He asks, his voice cooing as he moves over to you.

He's used to you busying yourself around the house, sometimes bobbing your head to music as you wash the dishes, or some other silly thing, he could go on.

“Sirius, we need to talk." You say quickly, your words too rushed, dreading this conversation.

Sirius' heart feels like it's going to lurch out.

Oh no.

He thinks that you know, somehow. That he had… he'd stopped saying it at a point. The impossibility of it all was a painful reminder. Now you're going to confront him. He's fucked.

“Okay…” He says, his voice too quiet now.

You rub your hands to pep yourself up, encouraging yourself to not lose track,

“I'm gonna move out."

The silence that takes over is one more overwhelming than any noise. Sirius is sure now, you definitely know. A dangerous dread spreads over his body, like a disease covering itself around him.

“It's not because of you, it's because of me." Sirius has the urge to scoff at the cliched statement, but his body feels too stiff, his eyes stuck on you.

But Sirius needed closure. So, whatever your feelings were, Sirius needed to hear why you're leaving.

“Why?" His voice is void of emotion. It breaks your heart.

A pitiful chuckle escaped you, “Sirius, you've made it clear you don't want me here."

Don't confront him. This wasn't the plan.

It wasn't. It wasn't even the reason you were moving out. But he was still your friend, he had still hurt your feelings. You were still mad at him, even though you had no right to be.

“What the hell do you mean?" Sirius asks, incredulous. How could he ever not want you here?

“We haven't talked properly in days. You answer me in singular words-"

Sirius cuts you off, feeling oddly defensive, even if what you were saying wasn't untrue,

“I've been busy-"

“Oh you've been busy before, Sirius. You never did this," You wave him off, but meeting his eyes, you say, “It's alright, I got the message, if you don't want me here-" Your voice rises despite your efforts as the conversation gets more heated,

"So what then? You're just gonna move out? Am I that terrible?” Sirius asks, sarcastically. Typical, you think. You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration,

"Sirius, I told you, this isn't about you,”

Right now, he isn't keen on listening to your reasoning. In his mind, it's all his fault. It's his fault that you have to leave. He's scrambling for explanations,

"Look, I'm sorry that I'm in love with you, alright? I couldn't help myself. Hell,” He laughs, pity and amusement lacing his words, “I didn't even know until a few weeks ago.”

Sirius felt like his world was falling apart. His heart has dared to love someone, and it backfired. He doesn't regret that he loves you, he couldn't. He had no control over that, ever. He was always going to be in love with you.

He only regrets that you found out, somehow. But he supposed that was also inevitable, you weren't daft.

“The point is,” His pleading eyes look at you, “It’s my problem to deal with, not yours.” His eyes are watching your face, you don't know what he might find, “Please, don't leave.”

A few moments pass, and it's as if the world is coming back to you. And one sentence rings in your head, distinct from any other sentence he's said.

I'm sorry that I'm in love with you.

“You what??” You ask, your voice full of incredulity. It feels like someone had hit you with a hammer, or pushed you off a cliff.

“I didn't want to be the guy who's your friend and then tells you he's in love with you, you know? I'm sorry that I love you, but you don't have to leave. If it matters, I will. You should stay here.” Sirius stammers out, his voice laced with pain and nervousness.

Your hands are wrapped under his, his hands clutching yours like they could stop you. They probably did stop you.

"You're in love with me?” You ask, your heart in your mouth, as if one word would be enough to tip you over.

“Please don't make me say it again." Sirius pleads, his eyes slightly watery.

Your eyes flick back and forth to both of his, searching for any kind of hesitance on his face, but it's plain. He's said those words like they were casual, as if they didn't just break your brain. There's nothing to say, or there are no words coming to your brain which are enough to convey your emotions.

A smile spreads across your lips and you bite your lips to conceal it undoing your hands from his to cradle his face,

“You’re in love with me.”

Sirius' pleading frown transforms to a confused one, and he nods, even if you hadn't asked it as a question this time.

You laugh, a watery laugh before you meet your lips to his, smiling too hard to kiss him properly.

Sirius feels like his body is on autopilot, his hands immediately cradling the back of your neck, his other one holding your wrist, his lips immediately responding to yours, as if it was all too natural.

In all his ‘foreseen’ outcomes, this hadn't been a possibility.

He smiles too, confusion still evident at the back of his mind, but he could only focus on the feeling of your lips on his, your hands holding his face.

His head tilts as he tries to get a better angle, desperate to know your tells and signs, his hand wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

You smile again, breaking the kiss but his lips chase you which makes you laugh more, and he hides his face in your shoulder, laughing along with you.

“You're in love with me," You say it quietly, as if you're confirming it to yourself, but he's too close by not to listen.

“And here I was, moving out because I wanted to get over you."

His head whips up, his face dumbstruck,

“What?"

“Mhmm." You bite your lips, and Sirius has half a mind to kiss you again.

“You're also in…." He trails off, his expression confused but you know exactly what he's asking,

“Sirius, I just kissed you."

“Yeah, but what if you just took pity-" You shut him up again, and he melts, exactly as you intended, moulding his body to yours, trying to get as close as he can. If this was your way to shut him up, he could get used to it.

"Wait, so you're not moving out right? Because-" And his words are cut off again, the same way from before.

He smiles against your lips, again, ecstatic. Giddy, even. Sirius could get used to this. Sirius could get used to kissing you as he arrives home.

All this because of fucking watermelon pyjamas.

[copperbadge]

[ID: Four images of my hall closet in various states of renovation; the first shows the closet with ugly old shelving still in it, and the second shows it covered in dirty streaks now that the shelves have been removed. The third image shows it sanded and partially painted in a light green (it's called "relish" by the paint company), with a dropcloth on the floor, and the last shows it fully painted, awaiting shelving.]

Closet is painted! I got paint all over myself as is my wont, but painting barefoot means that I know when I step in paint and don't track it everywhere, and I expect to get it in my hair and on my hands. A quart was the perfect amount to do the walls and one edge with nothing left over. Next year maybe I'll try doing the bathroom, it's one of the only rooms I haven't given a good lick of paint at this point.

I bought a freestanding shelving system from Ikea but so far only the uprights have arrived and not the shelves. Just as well, I'm done working for today in terms of cleaning. Though tomorrow I have a relatively full day and Sunday morning we're taking the stuff over to storage, so it may be Sunday afternoon before I get to actually install anything.

Mmm, that new paint smell. It's probably for the best I'm not sensitive to the off-gassing, though I am running both the central fan and a smaller fan nearby.

Anyway Monday should be interesting because the shelves will be up and the storage stuff away, but I need to spend the week making the place less of a fire/tripping hazard before I host a get-together on Black Friday.

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[m4rv3l-girl]

Bucky and reader are FWB because bucky is scared to commit and reader has feelings for bucky but doesn't tell him so reader finds other ways to push them feelings away and because reader isn't really talking to bucky he steals readers phone to catch readers attention and the phone pings and a message from john walker comes through and bucky clicks on it and sees the pictures of reader in a lingerie set he gets jealous and asks her why she is sending those pictures to John walker and reader replies why you jealous? Not like I'm yours and bucky pins reader to the wall and says "doll you're mine" gives reader the best night of her life and in the morning deletes John's number from her phone

Yours, Only

Bucky x Y/N

Warnings: smut. Unprotected p in v sex. Slight angst.

The tension in the air between Bucky Barnes and Y/N had become a living, breathing thing. It was the kind of dynamic that friends didn’t typically have—heated stares, lingering touches, and shared nights where boundaries blurred. Friends with benefits, they called it, but to Y/N, it felt like so much more. To Bucky, however, it seemed to be just enough.

It had been fine at first, thrilling even. But the more time they spent together, the more her heart yearned for something more substantial. The way he made her laugh with his dry humor, the quiet moments they shared after their escapades—those were the moments Y/N cherished the most.

But Bucky was a man weighed down by his past, and commitment wasn’t something he thought he could offer. So Y/N bottled her feelings, afraid of losing him entirely. The problem was, bottling up emotions had its consequences.

🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇

Recently, Y/N had been pulling back. She still showed up for missions, worked alongside the team, and exchanged casual conversations with Bucky. But the teasing texts had slowed, the playful touches became distant, and their "arrangements" ceased altogether. Bucky noticed.

It started as a gnawing irritation that grew with each day she kept him at arm’s length. He tried to play it cool—he wasn’t her boyfriend, after all—but he couldn’t stop the pang of frustration when he caught her smiling at someone else or, worse, leaving the room the second he entered.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked one night when they crossed paths in the common room.

“Nothing, Barnes,” she replied coolly, not even glancing up from her phone. The way she called him "Barnes" stung more than it should have.

His blue eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push her. Instead, he let her retreat—again.

🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

Bucky was never one to snoop, but desperate times called for desperate measures. When Y/N left her phone on the table after a team briefing, he made his move. Sam had stepped out to grab lunch, Steve was busy with paperwork, and Natasha had raised an eyebrow but let him be.

Grabbing the phone, he flipped it open to the lock screen. A swipe revealed no password, a fact that made him smirk. "Careless," he muttered under his breath.

A soft chime pinged from the phone. Glancing down, his smirk faltered. A message from John Walker flashed across the screen, accompanied by a photo preview that made his jaw tighten.

Y/N, in a lingerie set, her curves accentuated perfectly by the sheer material. It was undeniably alluring—and it sent a surge of possessive anger through him. The scarlet lingerie a fiery halo around her form. The plunge of the bra, a daring invitation, reveals the swells of her breasts, their softness seemingly begging to be touched. The fabric clings to her body like a second skin, tracing the contours of her waist and hips in a sensual dance of shadow and light. Her legs, elegantly placed, stretch out before her, the garter belt a playful accent that speaks to the promise of what lies beneath the matching thong. Her stockings, sheer and whisper-thin, are held up by those garters, hinting at the act of peeling them away layer by layer.

Bucky clicked on the message without hesitation.

🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠

When Y/N came looking for her phone an hour later, Bucky was waiting in the training room, leaning against the wall with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Have you seen my phone?” she asked, scanning the area.

He held it up between his fingers, his grip firm. “Looking for this?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she replied, reaching for it. But Bucky didn’t let go. Instead, he tilted his head and fixed her with a sharp gaze.

“Mind telling me why Walker has pictures of you like this?” he growled, flipping the phone to show her the image.

Y/N froze, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. “You went through my phone?”

“You left it unlocked,” he shot back. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Why do you care, Barnes?” she snapped, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” His voice lowered dangerously. “You think I’m just going to let this slide?”

Y/N’s chest tightened as anger flared within her. “Let what slide? It’s not like I’m yours, Bucky.”

The words hit their mark, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes—something raw and unguarded. Then, faster than she could react, he closed the distance between them, pinning her against the wall.

“Doll,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“You’ve always been mine.”

His declaration left her breathless, her heart hammering against her ribs. She searched his face for any sign that he was joking, but all she found was unwavering certainty.

“Bucky,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

smut————smut———smut———smut————-smut————smut

He didn’t let her finish. His lips captured hers with a fervor that left no room for doubt. The pent-up tension between them exploded in a kiss that was both demanding and tender, a mix of frustration and longing.

Their bodies pressed together as if trying to erase the space that had grown between them. His hands slid to her hips, gripping her tightly, while hers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss grew more intense with each passing second, their tongues dancing a passionate ballet of desire. Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath, tasting the mint on his lips.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky searched her eyes. “I can’t keep pretending this isn’t more, Y/N. It’s killing me.”

Her eyes searched his, a silent question hanging in the air. Was this a confession? Or a declaration of his own feelings? She didn’t know, but she felt something shift inside her—a hope she’d been too scared to acknowledge.

“What do you want from me, Bucky?” she asked, her voice trembling.

He took a deep, ragged breath. “Everything,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “But I don’t know if I deserve it.”

The honesty in his voice broke down the final barriers she’d built around her heart. Tears welled in her eyes as she placed a hand over his, holding it in place. “You do. More than you know.”

With a growl of need, Bucky’s hands moved to her ass, lifting her so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. He grinded into her, the friction between them setting her nerves alight. Y/N gasped, her core clenching at the delicious pressure. She’d missed this, missed him, missed the way he made her feel—like she was the most important person in the world to him.

“Prove you want it,” she challenged, her voice thick with desire.

Bucky didn’t waste any time. He carried her out of the training room and down the hallway, ignoring the surprised looks from passing agents. His movements were swift, yet gentle, driven by an urgency that matched the pounding of his heart.

Reaching her apartment, he kicked the door open, setting her down just long enough to lock it behind them. Then, without breaking their heated gaze, he scooped her up again, walking her backwards until the backs of her legs hit the bed.

He laid her down, his body hovering above hers. The weight of his gaze was heavy, filled with a hunger that made her pulse race. Y/N could feel his erection pressing against her through their clothes, a silent testament to his need for her. She reached for his belt, but Bucky stopped her, his hand capturing hers.

“Let me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he unbuttoned her shirt. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of skin revealed. He pushed the fabric aside, exposing her bra-covered breasts to the cool air. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared, his pupils dilated with desire.

With a gentle tug, he removed her bra, revealing her hardened nipples to his view. He leaned down, brushing his lips against them, and she arched her back with a moan. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, making her ache for more. Bucky’s touch was reverent, almost as if he were afraid she’d vanish if he applied too much pressure.

Her hands found his shoulders, urging him closer. The fabric of his shirt was rough against her palms as she slid them down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath. His skin was warm to the touch, and she craved the feel of him against her, bare and unyielding.

With a sudden surge of strength, she flipped their positions, straddling him. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of protest. Finding none, she began to kiss him again, her hands moving to unbuckle his belt. Bucky’s breath hitched, and he wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding up her back, urging her closer.

The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor was like a gunshot in the quiet room. His shirt was next, tossed aside with a growl. His skin was a canvas of scars and muscles, a testament to the battles he’d survived. Y/N kissed each one, her mouth tracing the path of his pain. His chest heaved under her touch, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Take me, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice thick with need.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands found the hem of her pants, and with a swift move, he had her bare before him. The heat in his gaze was almost tangible as he took in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice hoarse.

Y/N felt a thrill at his words, a warmth that spread through her body like wildfire. She leaned down, capturing his mouth in another kiss, her hips moving against his erection.

Bucky’s hands gripped her ass, urging her closer. His thumbs traced the lines of her panties, and she moaned into his mouth. With a sudden, surprising tenderness, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid them down her legs, leaving her completely exposed.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Then, with a gentle push, he had her lying beneath him again, his body aligning with hers. The head of his cock nudged against her, and she spread her legs wider, silently begging for him to fill her.

With one swift thrust, he was inside her, the sensation so intense she saw stars. They moved together, their rhythm natural and unspoken, as if their bodies had known each other for lifetimes. The friction between them was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that grew louder with each passing moment.

Their kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as their bodies tangled together. Y/N’s nails dug into Bucky’s back, her legs wrapping around his waist. The room spun around them, their worlds collapsing into a single point of heat and passion.

“I need you to know,” Bucky panted between kisses, his voice strained. “I need you to feel it—how much you mean to me. How much I want this to be more than just this—more than just a fuck.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Bucky, I—”

He silenced her with another kiss, his hips rolling into her with a force that made her toes curl. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breaths and gasps. Bucky’s hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her with a newfound sense of urgency. His thumbs circled her nipples, teasing and taunting, until she was writhing beneath him.

Y/N’s hips met his every thrust, her legs tightening around his waist, urging him deeper. She felt herself climbing higher and higher, the tension in her body coiling tightly. Bucky’s movements grew more erratic, his grip on her hips tightening until she knew she’d have bruises. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was the feeling of him inside her, the way his eyes searched hers as if trying to drown in the depths of her soul.

As the waves of pleasure crashed over her, Y/N’s nails dug deeper into his back. She cried out his name, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Bucky groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he continued to pump into her, chasing his own release. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with desire and emotion.

When he finally came, it was with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room. He buried his face in her neck, his teeth grazing her skin gently as he emptied himself inside her.

Y/N felt a strange thrill at his words. It was as if he’d branded her with his very essence, claimed her in a way that went beyond the physical. Her walls crumbled, and she realized that she’d been waiting for this—for him to acknowledge what she’d been feeling all along.

Bucky’s breathing slowly returned to normal, his body relaxing into hers. He kissed the spot where he’d bitten her, his lips lingering. “Mine,” he murmured against her skin, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine. In that moment, she knew that she’d never be the same. She’d been marked by the Winter Soldier, claimed by the man she’d tried so hard not to love. And she didn’t want to be anyone else’s.

They laid there for a while, their hearts beating in sync, the silence speaking volumes. Y/N felt a sense of belonging that she hadn’t experienced in a long time—perhaps ever.

Slowly, Bucky pulled out of her, his eyes never leaving hers. He rolled over onto his side, pulling her with him so that she was nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around her protectively, as if he feared she might disappear if he didn’t hold her tight enough.

————————————-end of smut————————————————

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She felt his thumb rub circles into her back, soothing her, grounding her.

“You know you’re stuck with me now, right, doll?” he whispered, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear.

The words sent a warm glow through her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe that maybe she could have more with Bucky—that maybe he could be her everything.

“Bucky, what do you mean by that?” Y/N’s voice was small, filled with a mix of fear and hope.

He sighed, his chest moving against her with the force of his breath. “It’s complicated, doll,” he murmured. “But the simple version is that I don’t want to be the one who’s just good for a night anymore. I want to be the one who’s good for forever.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She’d been dreaming of this moment, but hearing it from him was different. It was real—and terrifying. She didn’t know how to respond, so she buried her face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, letting it fill her lungs.

They laid there in silence for a few moments longer before Bucky spoke again, his voice a low rumble in her ear. “We should talk about this, Y/N. I don’t want to scare you off, but I can’t keep pretending like this isn’t happening between us.”

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she’d been both dreading and longing for. She pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes searching his. “Okay,” she said, her voice strong despite the tremble in her chest. “Talk to me.”

Bucky rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so she was draped over his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. His hand traced idle patterns on her back as he spoke. “You know my past, all the things I’ve done. I’ve never felt like I could offer someone like you anything real—anything that would make you happy. But when I’m with you, I feel…different. Like maybe I could be the man you deserve.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she listened to his words, feeling the weight of his confession in every beat of his heart beneath her cheek. “You are that man, Bucky,” she whispered. “You’ve always been that man to me.”

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down her face. “But what if I’m not enough?” he asked, his voice raw.

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. “You are enough. More than enough. And if you can’t see that, then I’ll just have to show you every day.”

The tension in the room had shifted, the air now thick with a new kind of anticipation. Bucky’s hand slid up her arm, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin of her inner wrist before moving to cup her cheek. He pulled her down for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate than the ones before.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N could feel the change in him—the tension in his muscles had relaxed, his eyes had softened. He was looking at her with something new—a kind of hope she’d never seen in them before.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and firm. “We’ll figure this out together. But I’m not letting you go, not now that I know what you mean to me.”

A smile spread across her face, genuine and warm. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Their eyes held for a long moment before Bucky leaned in and kissed her again, his hand sliding down to rest over her heart. The beat beneath his palm was a steady reminder of what she meant to him—what they meant to each other.

🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄🌄

Sunlight streamed through the curtains the next morning, warming Y/N’s bare shoulders. She stretched languidly, the memories of the night before flooding back in vivid detail. Turning over, she found Bucky already awake, leaning back against the headboard with a satisfied smirk.

“Morning, doll,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Y/N flushed under his gaze, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Morning.”

As she reached for her phone on the bedside table, Bucky stopped her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. “You won’t be needing this.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

He unlocked the phone with a swipe and handed it to her. The screen showed her contacts list, now missing a particular name.

“Bucky!” she gasped, sitting up. “You deleted John’s number?”

“Damn right I did,” he replied unapologetically. “He doesn’t get to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.”

She gaped at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. “But you’re mine, doll. And that’s all that matters.”

Epilogue

From that day forward, things between them were different. Bucky didn’t run from his feelings anymore, and Y/N didn’t have to push hers away. Their relationship was messy and imperfect, but it was real—and it was theirs.

And John Walker? Well, he didn’t need to know what he was missing…

——————————————————————————————————

Hi! I really hope you enjoyed this. It wasn’t specified if you wanted smut, so I opted to make it a part that you could skip if you wanted. 🫶

Requests Open!

[kinzhae]

Just Want To Talk PT. 2

Part 2 of this story: Part 1

Gojo Satoru

Gojo stood frozen in the middle of the room, his words echoing in his mind. The second the door slammed shut, regret hit him like a tidal wave. He sank onto the couch, running a trembling hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant any of it—not a single word.

He waited an hour. Then two. But you didn’t come back.

Panic set in as he grabbed his phone and dialed your number. It rang and rang, but you didn’t pick up. He called again, and again, his desperation growing with each unanswered call.

Finally, he grabbed his coat and headed out, searching the city for you. When he found you sitting on a park bench, your face buried in your hands, relief washed over him. But when you looked up at him, your tear-streaked face broke his heart all over again.

“Go away, Satoru,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “I messed up,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. Any of it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, and it was wrong. You’re not a burden. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You stared at him, the pain in your chest battling with the sincerity in his voice. “You made me feel worthless, Satoru. Like I didn’t matter to you at all.”

His hands reached for yours, shaking as he held them. “You matter more to me than anything. I just… I don’t know how to do this. To let someone in like this. I’m scared of losing you, and I messed up trying to protect myself.”

Your heart softened slightly at his words, but the pain was still there. “You can’t just push me away every time you’re scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you matter to me. Please, Y/N, give me one more chance.”

You hesitated, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his embrace finally melting the wall around your heart.

Geto Suguru

Hours passed before Suguru found you, sitting alone on the steps of the temple where you’d spent so many happy moments together. When he approached, you didn’t look up.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, sitting beside you. “But then I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

You turned to him, your tear-streaked face filled with pain. “You called me weak, Suguru. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what I’ve become, and I pushed you away because I thought it’d be easier than letting you see me like this.”

“You hurt me,” you said, your voice breaking.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re the only light I have left, Y/N. Please don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, but as he reached for your hand, his grip gentle and desperate, you allowed yourself to believe him, leaning into his embrace as he held you tightly.

Nanami Kento

Nanami worked late into the night, the weight of his words gnawing at the back of his mind. He told himself he’d said what needed to be said, but as the hours passed, guilt began to creep in. When he finally went to bed, he found your side of the bed empty.

Panic set in as he searched the apartment, only to find you curled up on the couch, your face streaked with dried tears.

He crouched beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still hoarse from crying. The exhaustion in your tone cut through him like a knife.

“I should be asking you that,” Nanami replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He sat beside you on the couch, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feeling.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. “You told me I was overthinking, that I was being insecure. But Kento… it’s not insecurity. I just want to feel like I matter to you. I’m not asking for you to drop everything for me, but… I need to know I’m important too.”

Nanami let out a shaky breath, his fingers gently brushing your arm. “You are important to me. I’m just… bad at expressing it. I’ve always been this way, focused on work, trying to make sure everything is in order. But I realize now that I’ve been neglecting the one thing that matters most.”

You shifted slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my responsibilities that I’ve been blind to what you need from me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was wrong, and I want to make it right. I don’t want to lose you over my own shortcomings.”

Your heart softened at his admission, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I need time, Kento. You can’t just brush this off. You need to show me, not just tell me.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I don’t take you for granted.”

He pulled you into his arms, gently resting his chin on top of your head. “I know I’ve been distant. But I promise, I’ll try harder. I won’t let you feel this way again.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but the scar from his words still burned deep inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that things could change.

For now, you let yourself rest in his arms, knowing that he was willing to try. But in the back of your mind, you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

Choso

Choso stood there, his eyes filled with an emotional turmoil that he struggled to control. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“Then tell me,” you said gently, taking a step toward him. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in, Choso. I’m not going anywhere.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice cracked the wall he had so carefully built around himself. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the weight of his inner battle tearing him apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve anyone. Not after everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Choso, I don’t care about what you think you deserve. I care about you. I love you, and I’m not going to walk away because you think you’re too broken.”

He looked down at your hand in his, his throat tight with emotion. Slowly, he pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as he finally let his tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so scared of dragging you down with me.”

You held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m here, Choso. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, as he clung to you, you knew that while the pain wasn’t gone, there was hope for healing. You would both find your way back to each other. Slowly, but surely.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna didn’t follow you immediately. He stayed on his throne, his expression unchanging, but the empty room suddenly felt heavier than usual. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you’d come back like you always did. But as the hours dragged on and the sound of your footsteps never returned, something began to stir inside him—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name.

By the time he went looking for you, the sun had long since set. He found you in the palace garden, sitting on a cold stone bench with your knees pulled to your chest. Your cloak was wrapped tightly around you, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body trembled, either from the cold or from the weight of your grief.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you. You didn’t look up. Maybe you knew he was there, or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to notice.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Still sulking, I see.”

Your head shot up, your tear-streaked face glaring at him with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Go away, Sukuna.”

He ignored your words, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of you. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you trying to freeze to death?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why do you care? I’m just a ‘distraction,’ remember?”

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face. “I… misspoke.”

“Misspoke?” you repeated, standing up abruptly. Your voice cracked as the tears came rushing back. “You told me I was nothing, Sukuna! That I was weak and pathetic! How do you misspeak that?”

He flinched at the raw pain in your voice, his usual arrogance faltering. “I said those things because I’m a fool,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Because I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle you. You make me feel things I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

You stared at him, your anger mingling with confusion. “And you thought hurting me was the answer?”

“I thought it would push you away,” he admitted, his voice filled with rare vulnerability. “That it would be easier if you hated me. But instead, all I’ve done is hurt the one person who matters most to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone breaking through the walls you had built around your heart. “You broke me, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it. I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster everyone says I am.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Slowly, hesitantly, you let him pull you into his arms, his hold tight and protective. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 2

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (Sukuna x reader)

Note: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

It had been two years since you had seen and felt Sukuna’s naked body. Two years too long. You never realized how much you missed out on his life when your hands began to roam around his shoulders. He had gotten bigger and firmer. His body was always much larger than yours, but this was on a different level. He was an athlete, after all. Shoulders that were once just broad were now bulging with muscles. His arms almost looked like water waves, subtly flexing with every movement. He was thicker than an average man. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he could bench press you. He did once before, but now it probably would’ve been like lifting a feather.

His fingers and knuckles were rougher than the ones you were used to, probably because of all the sparring and weight training. Most of his body was now covered in harsh black tattoos. The ones beneath his eyes stood out the most because they matched Yuuji’s scars. You wanted to ask what they meant, but you kept quiet, still resenting him for never reaching out after the breakup. Unprofessional, but could you blame yourself, especially with how things have been going lately? 

Unlike you, Sukuna was surprisingly civil after learning that you would live with him. Simply nodded and gave you a brief run down of where everything was in the high-rise apartment. He didn’t even ask why you, of all people, were suddenly helping him. Uraume was surprised but didn’t press on the matter as much.

“You’ve lost weight.” You could feel the vibrations of his rich and husky voice through the washcloth that you were scrubbing across his chest. Your first task as a ‘highly involved’ manager was to give him a sponge bath after his discharge from the hospital. His shoulder was still healing from the dislocation, so he had to wear a cast. “Hope you weren’t studying too hard.”

His comments fall deaf to your ears as you wring the washcloth in the bathtub. You silently wrap him in a warm fluffy towel and mutter a simple ‘up’ so you could clean the foam surrounding the ledge he was sitting on. You could feel his red eyes burning holes into your skull as you wiped down the area. He stayed in the bathroom the entire time you cleaned up the space, almost like he was waiting for you to guide him back to his room despite being perfectly capable of walking.

You thought he was just messing with you like he did back when you were together, but no, he was just looking at all the changes in your body after not seeing you for so long. It’s not like you had social media so he could look up your appearance. 

Sukuna wanted to send a private investigator after you. Still, he knew it was unethical (also because he was afraid he’d find out if you were in a serious relationship. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if it was true).

You groaned as you stood back up, stretching to relieve the pain in your back. “Your back still hurts? I’ve told you so many times that your posture sucks while you’re studying.” His looming presence just had you more annoyed. 

“You should rest.” You subtly tried to suggest that you wanted to be left alone.

“And you should show a little respect. You work for me now.” 

“Uraume’s my boss. Not you.” You were really working up a sweat, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the humidity in the bathroom or if you were raging on the inside. What made him think he could act all holier than thou after two years of no contact? Especially after being an asshole while breaking up. It’s like you could still see that side of him when you looked into his eyes. “I’ll have dinner ready after my shower.” And with that, you left the bathroom.

-

Preparing dinner was a dull affair. Uraume told you that you need not cook for Sukuna as he had a nutritionist who had created a meal plan for him and a chef who strictly adhered to it. All you had to do was store and heat the meals after the chef delivered them. Uraume also had the courtesy of having meals cooked for you, the same as Sukuna, but yours were more indulgent (more dipping sauces and fewer veggies). You were glad your job was simpler than you expected. In this economy, free accommodation and less money spent on groceries were a blessing.

You opened the disposable box of food for Sukuna, and it had all the things required for a balanced diet. It makes sense; his management probably doesn’t want him to lose or gain too much weight while recovering. It was the basics: half an avocado for healthy fats, grilled salmon for protein, lots of veggies for fiber, and an unimaginable amount of black beans with rice. Funny, did his nutritionist not know that he disliked them? Unlike him, you never had an issue with the legume, so you took some out of his box and put them in yours. So what if he had fewer beans for dinner? The man was injured, and as much as you resented him, you weren’t going to be a monster with him.

Sukuna entered the kitchen, sans t-shirt. You didn’t bother asking him why he was half-naked because you knew his reasoning would be something about you already knowing what his bare body looked like. 

Not with all the new muscles you didn’t. But you brushed that thought aside. 

“Is that my old shirt?”

You looked down and noticed that your oversized t-shirt was indeed his. It must’ve been in the back of your closet while the movers had brought in all your stuff. You had a lot of oversized clothes, but by some miracle, you happened to wear one that belonged to your ex. Your ears felt hot with humiliation. 

“I didn’t realize it. Must’ve forgotten to throw it away.” You said while setting up your plates. “It’s fine. Keep it. Haven’t thought about that shirt since… well- whatever. Just keep it.” He almost said it. He almost talked about it out loud. It felt weird hearing about it after so long. It shouldn’t be this strange. The breakup was a mutual decision that you both made and though it was something you had done out of pure frustration and anger, it was still something you both had done together. Pretending like it never happened was just never going to work. Not when you were meant to be with him 24/7.

However, you decided to push that conversation for another day. If it’s meant to happen, then it’ll happen; there’s no point in rushing it. You slid your plate next to your former lover’s seat on the dining table, and he said nothing when he noticed that he had fewer beans than you. Thank goodness. He didn’t need to know that you were still a little soft for him despite all the prickliness of the past.

You were about to lift your fork to eat when Sukuna loudly cleared his throat. “Aren’t you gonna feed me?” he flatly asked. 

“I’m not your-” you were about to tell him off, but then you remembered that his dominant hand was in a cast. 

“- sorry.” Embarrassed once again, you picked his fork up to feed him a piece of broccoli. “Sprinkle a little salt on that,” he said while chewing, giving you quite a gross view of the ground vegetable in his mouth. You held back your grimacing for the sake of your job and did as he asked. He grinned when you placed a salted broccoli in his mouth. “Now, give me a little salmon with that.” 

“Sukuna, can you please chew with your mouth closed,” you said while cutting out a bite-sized piece of his salmon. “You still love nagging me, huh? Also, cut a bigger piece. My mouth’s bigger than yours, hon.” 

You glared at him through your lashes and swore you could almost see him smile. Not the genuine kind, but the type that made you want to slap his face. His gorgeous, chiseled face. The one that once looked at you with everlasting love. You squeezed your eyes shut to escape your stupid daydreams. 

The past is past. You’re now in front of an egotistical dumbass. Not your lovable ex.

You cut up a bigger piece of salmon and tried your best to stop yourself from shoving it into his mouth. “That’s more like it,” he mumbled (after chewing since you had so respectfully asked). 

If only you knew that Sukuna was ambidextrous because he had broken his dominant hand while sparring too many times.

-

The last task for the day was icing his bruises for a few minutes before bed. Sukuna was sitting on his bed, head facing you while you were close enough to stand between his legs. He ignored his urge to pull you into his embrace for his sanity. After preparing the ice pack, you pressed it on his purple and yellowing bruises. Uraume had told you that he refused any kind of treatment back at the hospital, so they were getting worse. 

They weren’t wrong; you could see the pain on Sukuna’s face after he had neglected his wounds for so long. He had a particularly gnarly one beneath his left pec, and you bent down to reach it properly. Your head was below his chin, and he could smell your shampoo.

Strawberries. He noted that you still hadn’t changed your shampoo. You were always a stickler for consistency. He began to feel nostalgic as he remembered that there was a time when he used to smell like the same shampoo after staying at your place. His mind drifted to when you both showered together for the first time, how you lathered the shampoo in your hand and carefully massaged it on his scalp. No masseuse or physiotherapy had ever been that relaxing for him compared to the magic in your hands. He remembered how his pillow would smell like you for hours after you’d leave his place. Now, seeing you here was getting him worked up. Would his house begin to smell like your perfume now that you were here? He wanted to set fire to all your clothes and only let you wear his if it meant that all his clothes would smell like you. Two years have gone by, and he still feels like he wants to inject you in his veins.

All while Sukuna was in his nostalgic dreamland, you were trying your best not to focus on his pebbled nipples, courtesy of the ice pack.

—

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife

[f1swiftiee]

Tipsy - LN4

pairings: lando x fem!reader, leclerc!reader

summary: lando has a massive crush on his rival's teammate, and his efforts to catch her attention never actually catches her attention, but rather everyone else's, until one day, when all things go downhill.

a/n: hii!! sorry it took me so long to write this! not proofread, so feel free to point out any mistakes. i changed a few details to make the story make sense. thanks and enjoy! there will be a part 2!

warnings: drinking, unplanned pregnancy, mention of sex, and thats all i think??

______________________________________________________________

It was no secret that Lando had a crush on you. Everyone seemed to just simply know that he was head over heels for you. Well, everyone, except you. Lando had tried countless times to make a move, but each time, you either didn't notice or took it as a joke. Lando was determined. No matter how long or how much effort it was going to take, he was willing to do it, for you.

౨ৎ

The sunlight of Miami shone through the blinds in your hotel room, which you were sharing with your brother, Charles, and his girlfriend, Alex. You didn’t mind staying with them, as you and Alex got along quite well. As soon as you fully woke up you saw that Alex was still asleep and that Charles had already left to head to the track. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked over and woke up Alex. Together, you two got ready and headed out the door.

On the drive there, Alex was driving, and the conversation somehow drifted over to which drivers would win the Dutch Grand Prix that day. “I bet you $100 that Charles is going to beat everyone today,” Alex said.

“You’re just saying that because he’s your boyfriend. I bet that Lando’s gonna win today. He’s been performing a lot better recently. Have you noticed that?” You had your mind set on Lando, for no reason at all, but you had a strange gut feeling.

“Maybe that's because a certain someone has been going to all the races recently,”, looking over and winking at you.

“Huh? I didn’t say anything about me? I was just saying that Lando and the team have been doing a lot better recently, unlike a certain someone. *cough* *cough* Charles.”

“No way you just said that! He got P5 yesterday!”

“Yeah exactly, and who was P1 in quali?” As you said that, Alex pulled the car into the parking lot and parked the car. After this, the two of you got out of the car and headed towards the garage, but not without passing the McLaren garage.

As you and Alex were passing McLaren, the two of you heard a voice, which you knew all too well call out. "Y/n!" You turned around and saw Lando standing a few feet away, beaming. He began running and quickly caught up to you and Alex.

"Y/n! I didn't know you were coming to the grand prix! You know, you should ditch Charles in the Ferrari garage and come over to the McLaren garage. Plus, Oscar brought Lily," Lando said, but not without his whole face turning red.

"Lily!! Wait, Lando, I'd love to, but I can't just leave Alex! Wait, can she come too?"

Quickly, Alex interrupted and said, "No, no, Y/n you should go to the McLaren garage. Also, I have Rebecca, so I won't be alone. Plus, Charles would kill me if he heard I was in McLaren."

"Soo, is that a yes, Y/n?" Lando said, and this time, even you could sense the excitement in his tone.

"Yeah, sure! Alex, I'll catch up with you later sometime during or after the race."

And with that, Lando led the way back to his garage. He showed you his car and led you towards his driver's room. As you were stepping into his driver's room, you spotted Lily, who was passing by with Oscar. "LILY!!" you called out.

"Y/N!!" Lily yelled. Lily started running towards you, and the two of you shared a tight embrace.

"Lily! It's been forever since I've last seen you! You haven't come to any of the races recently. Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you about the cute guy I saw at this new cafe!"

Upon hearing that, Lando felt a sudden pang of jealousy. He decided that he was going to make a move that day so that no other guy would have the chance to date you before he did. Oscar glanced at Lando, and he was easily able to read Lando's face and understand what he was thinking. "Mate, if you really like her, you should do it. You know, she'd probably say yes," Oscar said, empathetically.

౨ৎ

It was now time for the drivers to head to the garages and get into the cars. You were still in the McLaren garage, and you were standing with Lily. The two of you's hearts were racing like crazy, as they always did before a race began. The drivers lined up, and the lights went out. The first half of the race went smoothly, until lap 38. Lando, Charles, and Max were all battling for the first-place spot. Not to mention that Carlos, Oscar, and George were not too far behind as well. The battle continued for a few more laps until Lando somehow managed to pull through and take the lead. Seeing this made you and Lily quite anxious, so you both talked for a bit and took a break from staring at the screen. After a few minutes, loud commotion was heard from the screen, and you both looked up to see a papaya car cross the line, earning first place. Seeing this, you blurted out, "Was that Oscar?"

Lily replied, "No! That was Lando! Oh my gosh! He won!! BY TWENTY SECONDS?" "WHAT??"

After learning that, you couldn't help but smile. You were so proud of Lando, after all that hard work that he had put into his performance and training, and it finally paid off. Seeing this, Lily smirked at you and said, "Ooh, someone's got a crush!"

"No! He's just a friend, Lily. I'm just really proud of him."

"Whatever you say," Lily said while shrugging her shoulders.

As you watched the drivers on the podium, you couldn't help but stare and Lando. The way his messy curls sat atop his head so perfectly and the way his green eyes reflected the sun was just so beautiful. The way that he did his champagne pop simply mesmerized you. You couldn't help but notice that he did look down at you quite a few times while standing on the top podium, with Max in second, and Charles in third.

Later that night, most of the grid went to a club nearby to celebrate and party. You were planning to meet them there afterward, with a few of your friends. After you arrived, you saw Carlos, Charles, Rebecca, and Alex at the bar and headed over to them. As the night went on, you and the drivers kept downing drinks, but no one was nearly as drunk as you were.

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N?" one of your friends asked, as she approached the group.

"Uhh no? I thought she was with you guys? No?" Carlos said, clearly concerned.

"Yeah, me too. I thought she was with you too," Charles said.

"While we're on this topic of missing people, has no one else noticed that the race winner's gone too?" Daniel added. As soon as Daniel said this, everyone seemed to understand simultaneously.

"Daniel! Lando and my sister? Seriously?" Charles denied.

"You never know, mate," Oscar said, a large smirk evident on his face.

______________________________________________________________

austria gp

Later that day, all the drivers and wags were meeting up at 7 for dinner before the race weekend began, and you were planning to attend. It was currently 4 PM, and you were feeling quite nauseous. This had been going on for the past month or so. At first, you thought you had caught the stomach bug or something, but you were beginning to think that it wasn't.

_____________________________________________________________

30 minutes had passed since you had texted Alex, and you heard the door of your hotel room swing open. "Y/n!! I'm back!!!" Alex exclaimed. Alex ran over and hopped onto the bed next to you.

"What'd you get?" you asked, reaching over for the bag, "Wait, wasn't Charles with you?"

"No, he said he was gonna go with Carlos and that he would meet me at the restaurant," Alex replied.

You began digging through the bag, "Advil, Tylenol, Ibeuprofen... did you really need to buy all of this?" you remarked.

"Duh! I didn't know what you needed, so I got everything!"

You continued rummaging through the bag, and felt some sort of box at the bottom "Thanks Alex- wait what's this?" you questioned. You pulled out the white box and read the front, "PREGNANCY TEST" "Really?" you questioned.

"You never know! Better to be safe than sorry!" Alex said, shrugging her shoulders, "You might as well take it just to be sure!"

______________________________________________________________

You took the test in the bathroom, with Alex waiting outside the door. By now, it was almost 5 PM. "Can I come in?" Alex asked. "Yeah, one sec," you said while washing your hands. After you dried your hands, you opened the door and let Alex in. As soon as she stepped into the bathroom, your alarm went off. "Okay, you check for me. I'm too scared," you said nervously.

Alex flipped over the test. "OH MY GOD! Alex exclaimed.

"What? What? Is it bad? Let me see!" you said.

Alex handed the test and you gasped in horror at the test. "PREGNANT" This couldn't actually be happening, right? You were pregnant? You thought of what you had done the past two months and of anyone you had slept with, and one name came to your mind, Lando.

"OH MY GOD! I'M AN IDIOT!" you exclaimed, tears brimming your eyes.

"Hey, hey. It's okay! Do you know who the dad is? Wait, is it Lando?" Alex said, trying to calm you down and figure everything out.

Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back into your mind. Lando had driven you home that night, and you two ended up in the backseat of his McLaren. "Lando. Me and him had sex in his car when he took me back to my hotel room in Miami," you said, sobbing, "I can't believe this! I'm not ready to be a mom yet!"

"I'll go ahead and let Charles know that we won't be attending tonight," Alex told you, pulling out her phone.

______________________________________________________________

Charles and Carlos drove to the dinner, and Carlos could tell that something was off with Charles. "Charles, you've been acting off all night. Tell me what's wrong; I can tell when you have something bothering you," Carlos said, trying to pry an answer out of him.

"I-I'm not really sure. You know how y/n and Alex were supposed to attend the dinner, right?"

"Yeah," Carlos said, nodding. As he and Charles continued talking, they pulled into the parking lot and began making their way into the restaurant.

"Well, Alex texted me randomly and said they wouldn't make it, and when I asked her why, she wouldn't answer me. I think something's wrong with y/n. I told her I was going to come back to the hotel, and she freaked out on me. I don't know what to d-" Suddenly, Charles was interrupted by the ringing to Carlos's phone. He pulled it out and answered.

"Er, Hello?" Carlos said, sitting down at the table, waving to the other drivers.

"Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I can't make it tonight. Neither can Kika, Lily Z, Lily M, or Carmen."

"What, you too?"

"Yeah, I got to go! I'll call you later!"

Carlos glanced back at his phone. "CALL ENDED" Upon seeing this, he put his phone away back into his pocket.

The dinner continued, but Charles and Carlos couldn't shake away the feeling that something was wrong. None of the other drivers knew what was going on either.

౨ৎ

lando's pov

Lando was disappointed, as he was going to take this as an opportunity to try to talk to you after the night you spent together because you had been avoiding him ever since. He decided to send you a text, to see if you were okay and ask why none of the wags were attending.

He started at his phone for a moment, hoping for a response, but got none. He checked his phone a few minutes later and saw that he had been left on read.

౨ৎ

Back at the hotel room, it was as hectic as ever. Y/n was a complete mess, her mascara running down her face, as the wags sat around her, trying to comfort her.

"Are you completely sure you're pregnant? I mean, you only took one test. It wouldn't hurt to take another one just to be sure," Lily M said.

In unison, the rest of the wags nodded in agreement, and Carmen ran over to the corner, where the pharmacy bag was lying and got out another test. She walked back over and handed it to you.

Slowly, you got up and walked over to the bathroom, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Was this really happening? Were you even ready to be a mom? How would Lando react? Would he have time to be a dad, considering his F1 schedule?

The timer on your phone rang, and the wags sat on the bed, waiting in anticipation. You, however, could not bring yourself to turn over the test. "Hey, can someone come in here and see the test? I'm too scared to flip it over!" you called out. All the wags rushed over, and suddenly there was a whole group of you in the small hotel bathroom. Kika was the first to grap the test, and she gasped as she saw the result. "PREGNANT" She showed the test to everyone in the bathroom. Your knees gave out, and you slid down the wall, into a sitting position, leaning against the wall.

Lily Z crouched down and gave you a hug. "Hey, everything's gonna be okay. We're all here for you!", she said while comforting you.

The rest of the wags squatted down to face you, and they all assured you that no matter what happened, they would all be there for you.

part 2 coming soon!!