#WHAT IS UP WITH ALL THE BOYFRIEND LOOKS LATELY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oldermenfucker · 2 days ago

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You’re losing me | Dr. Robby

summary: he doesn’t notice how his behavior in The Pitt is making you fall from his arms, until the consequences of his actions catch up with him.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Robby doesn’t even realize he’s being a dick until it’s a tad bit too late, fem!reader, resident!reader, Abbot!reader (yes she is Jack’s younger sister), age gap (she’s late 20s/early 30s & Robby early 50s), p in v sex, lots of praise, mentions of blood & trauma (it’s The Pitt soooo), English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 9.8k+

an: hiiii so this is my first fic in this fandom hopefully you guys like this!!! More fics of our gorgeous Dr. Daddy and his bestie our other Dr. Daddy will be coming your way<333

Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕✨

You hate the quiet days of ER, as peaceful as it can get through. You crave the adrenaline rush you get from a trauma running through the doors, half bloody and half dead, but today even those cases can’t make your blood pressure as high as the scene in front of you does.

Collins chuckles at something Robby says, snorting and putting her hand up in surrender, patting his biceps before she leaves him alone. And him? He smiles back, his wrinkles around his eye deepening as his eyes follow her.

He is doing exactly what he labeled as ‘unprofessional’ behind closed doors with her, making you mad at him. He told you you must keep your relationship a secret or it would turn into The Pitt’s hottest gossip, and he didn’t want that, and given how most of the nurses and doctors know about his past relationship with Collins, it upsets you beyond belief.

You took this residency program to be with your brother and Robby, and also to get a steady job in the same hospital. Jack helped you tremendously with your transfer, making sure everything was perfect for you to take the morning shifts with your boyfriend, all so you could spend time with him more often.

But now, you are rethinking your decision to the point of no return. It has been months since you started your shifts here, and from the very beginning, Robby treated you like shit. Always hard on you, always criticizing your diagnosis, always on your back with a harsh comment.

You played it off like everyone else did, making sure to nod and say ‘yes, sir’ and move towards the next patient. But every word stung, and when you would tell him at night when you cuddled in his bed, he would brush it off and act like nothing happened.

It was fine at first, or at least you tried to deny what it truly was, but now, seeing him being so lighthearted with everyone in a slow shift while he barks orders at you left and right tears your heart into pieces, and worse, the smiles are always thrown in the direction of every doctor and nurse but you.

You look away as best as you can, trying to find a good case as you lean on Robby’s workstation, tapping your fingers in a rhythm as you scan the trauma board, biting your lip as you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Dr. Abbot,” he says, standing behind you while he looks between you and the board, “What are you looking for?”

“Something to take the edge off,” you don’t mean to sound snappy, but the words come out harsher than intended, and you take a deep breath because with the uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you are sure he has raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to come up with a snarky comment, “I’ll take the biker, Santos is with me.”

“Good,” he nods, pushing his fists into his pockets, but you don’t bother yourself to even glance at him, pushing past him as you drop your stethoscope around your neck, calling for Santos to follow you to the trauma bay.

You do not turn around to see Robby’s reaction; he is probably stunned by the way you ignored him. You have never done that despite how he treats you; it just never settled right inside you to be mean to him, but that was enough to set your mood off for the rest of the shift.

“Alright, what do we have here?” One question, and you get bombarded with answers, and you get your hands on the patient to stabilize him. Santos answers your questions and helps you with everything you might need.

You are light on your feet, keeping everyone in check in the trauma room to make sure the best treatment is given to the poor man who had crashed his bike. Santos listens closely, being snarky and witty about her comebacks, but helps you as best as she can, nonetheless.

“How’s the patient?” You watch as Santos starts to intubate the biker, her hands slightly shaking, ignoring Robby’s presence as he gloves in and moves next to stand next to you, listening to the nurses update him on the patient’s status.

“I’m in!” Santos beams, looking up at you, and you smile back, giving her a quick thumbs up before you turn around, suddenly chest to chest with Robby.

He looks down at you, a silent question hanging in the air between you as he keeps staring back, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You take a deep breath in response, taking off your gloves roughly, making a loud smacking sound of plastic echo in the trauma room.

“He’s stable and ready to go to the OR,” you fist the gloves in a ball, pulling the white gown off in a hurry, taking a step around Robby to avoid his burning stare, “Santos helped a lot.”

“You called the shots without telling me first.” It’s not a question; it is a statement, and he does not look happy at all. “You are still a resident, you have two more years to go! Why are you being so reckless?”

“The patient was dying, Dr. Robby, I had to do what was necessary—“

“You were unsupervised—“

“She wasn’t,” Collins steps into the room, looks between the two doctors with a small smile, pointing at Santos, who stands awkwardly next to Collins, pouting slightly and rocking on the balls of her feet, “Dr. Santos came to me and told me about this case.”

You gape at her, fighting off a small grateful smile before feeling your heart thumping in your ribcage as if it’s ready to jump out; you are angry at him, furious even, and Robby is just as hot-headed if not more. You can see the dark glare in his eyes as he looks between Collins and you, finally settling them on you.

“Dr. Collins is also a resident, you must consult an Attending. Don’t ever do that again,” he whips out his own gloves, his usual warm brown eyes hold nothing but anger, “You are lucky he is stable.”

“I am not lucky, Dr. Robby.” You take another step closer, feeling his hot breath fanning against your face, “I am a good doctor, hell, even a great doctor. I can do it on my own.”

“Trauma coming through in two minutes! Drowning victim!” Dana’s shout stops Robby from firing back a response to you.

“We’re not done yet,” he points his finger at you, scoffing when you look up, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone. With that, Robby jogs toward the gurney Langdon is pulling into another trauma room, leaving you, Santos, and Collins alone.

“Walk with me, Dr. Abbot?” Collins smiles, muttering to Santos to go find another patient before she waits for you to join her at the door, watching you closely as you slam your gloves and gown into the trash, using the sanitizer machine on the wall before you give her a quick smile.

“Sure.”

You both walk to the nurse station, standing shoulder to shoulder while you look at the trauma board. You are nervous; how can you not be? Collins is Robby’s ex. She is gorgeous, intelligent, and a very talented doctor. But what is making you shake slightly is how she stepped in to save you from your boyfriend’s scolding.

“Thank you…” You mumble quietly, or as quietly as you can in a chaotic ER, giving her a grateful yet awkward smile as well.

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging before she continues, “I’ve been in your shoes a few years ago. It’s exhausting.”

“What?” You ask, confused and dumbfounded, your lips parting in surprise when she side eyes you playfully, shaking her head and laughing slowly, “What do you mean? What are you laughing at, Dr. Collins?”

“You guy are not as subtle as you think you are,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looks back at the board, squeezing your shoulder, “I can see how you look at him, I used to do the same, having high hopes that one day he’ll quit being harsh on me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to play it off cool, acting as if you have no idea what she is saying, but Collins sees straight through your lie, raising her eyebrows at you with boredom. You sigh, dropping your head on her shoulder, “Fine! Yes, he’s my boyfriend, or at least I thought he was. It is… tiresome to deal with his mean words every day.”

“He’s been riding you for so long,” she sighs too, patting your arm gently, “It’s no excuse, but… he thinks if he pushes you away, he can maintain his professional standards or whatever he calls them. He’s done it before, and he’s doing it again.”

“I know what he is trying to do,” you shake your head, exhaling shakily, “He doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s dating his resident, and Jack Abbot’s younger sister, so he goes on a spiral to be mean to me and put a distance between us.”

“Well, he’s doing a poor job at both,” she snorts, letting go of you to reach for an iPad, going through different cases to choose one for you. “He is an idiot, you just have to learn to live with it if you wanna work here.”

“Sometimes I think he hates me.”

“Hey, no—“

“What are you two up to?” Dana interrupts Heather, leaning on the station behind her as she looks between the two of you, “What has he done this time?”

“He’s being unreasonable to Dr. Abbot.”

“Not unreasonable, but… just how an attending with a ‘Robinavitch’ last name would be,” you try to crack a joke, but Dana winces and gives you a sympathetic look.

“C’mon, I’ve known him more than your experiences combined. He is being a dick to you because he is scared, give him hell for it, alright? Now go play doctors until I knock some sense into your loverboy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Collins says, pointing at one of the trauma rooms, “South fourteen, Twenty-four years old male with a twisted ankle — probably sprained. Take this, Dr. Abbot, it’ll give you a break until you are well enough to come back.”

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing the iPad from her hands, nodding as you walk towards the patient’s room, head swirling with different thoughts about what those two women just told you.

You are aware of what Robby is doing, or at least you think you do. It makes sense to some extent; he is a professional man, a doctor who runs The Pitt and barely survives every day, and yet, he gives you the worst treatment out of everyone because he doesn’t want to reveal your relationship to the world.

And it breaks your heart to tolerate his mean words and being the punching bag to his sour moods, receiving all the blows just because you are in arm’s reach — what makes it worse is that he does not even realize how bad his words are, and when you confront him at night after his long hot shower, he only shrugs and tells you if Dana found out about you, then everyone can.

Excuse after excuse.

You roll your shoulders back, knocking on the door as you enter the trauma room, finding Princess going through the patient’s file and waiting for you to join them.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Abbot!” You smile and get to work, sitting on the chair next to the bed as you examine the guy’s ankle, looking for inflammation and bruising as you try to distract him from the pain.

“Well, you’re lucky it’s not broken,” you nod, taking your gloves off before turning toward Princess, “Send him to radiology to get an X-ray, I’m sure it’s only a sprain, but let’s take a look anyway.”

“Dr. Abbot!” Mel barges inside the room, panting slightly as she looks at you with wide eyes, “New patient! Forty-five-year-old female with a head concussion and a broken stick in her upper arm. She fell on the fence while she was trying to clean the windows of her house.”

“Let’s go,” you stand up, dropping the gloves you used on the previous patient into the bin, sanitizing your hands before running towards the gurney, finding Mohan and Robby discussing different procedures, “How is she?”

“Pupils dilated, unresponsive—“ you try to focus on what Samira is saying, you are, but Robby’s gaze moves from the patient to you, watching you closely as you and Mohan start to stabilize the patient, but it is awfully hard to not get distracted with how intense his presence is.

“She’s having a heart attack—“ you rush to lower the back of the bed, flattening the patient before scissoring her dress, baring her chest to Mel to put the pads on, Mohan increasing the voltage to two hundred, waiting for everyone to step back, “Clear!”

The patient does not respond to the shock. Mohan and Robby work together to keep her blood pressure high, but all of a sudden, the lines of the monitor go flat, and the beeping stops.

“Asystolic…” Mel whispers, standing next to you as Mohan takes off the pads, waiting for her Attending’s orders.

“Start compressions!”

You put one knee on the bed, interlocking your fingers before starting to push on the patient’s chest, huffing with each move as everyone waits in the room with bated breath.

“Hold compressions,” Robby tells you, waiting to see if the heart restarts, but when he sees the flat line again, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, “Push an epi and resume compressions again.”

You begin to push down on her chest, body, and shoulders, moving with each press, trying to keep your breathing in check while you look at Robby to say something, anything.

But the line falls flat again after you stop, but before you can bend down to restart CPR, Robby’s voice stops you, “She’s dead,” he announces, looking down at his watch before he exhales deeply, “16:38…”

You step down from the bed, throwing your head back with your hands on your hips, shaking your head as you silently mourn the loss of your patient.

“Doctor Abbot, a word?”

Your fingers tighten at your hips, and when you look back at him, you find him already leaving towards the break room, not even waiting for you to follow him. With a scoff, you move behind him, ignoring Mel and Samira’s confused stares.

“What is it—“

“What was that?” He stops as soon as you both are in the break room, pressing his lips into a thin line as he intertwines his fingers behind his neck, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“What was what, Robby? I did what you told me—“ you try to answer as best as possible, but when he turns around, his chocolate eyes overflowing with disbelief.

“Who does a compression like that? They were too weak, not deep enough, and they were not helping! Just a waste of time on a patient we could have saved—“

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You raise your voice, pointing to his chest before fisting your hands and lock your hands next to your body, “They were fine, just as they should have been! Don’t put this loss on me, she had a head concussion and god knows how many wood chips in her bloodstream. We didn’t even get to check that—“

“You are messing up real bad today.”

“This case was supervised by you, Doctor Robinavitch,” you spit the words out, gone the calm girl who would brush his horrible words off, now replaced with a furious woman, “How hypocritical of you to say belittling isn’t a good way of teaching and yet, you are insulting and belittling me, your girlfriend, Robby!”

“This is my workplace, I am your Attending, not your goddamn boyfriend,” he replies, his tone dangerously low, and for the first time, he seems to be taken back by his own outburst, dropping his head as he takes a long breath.

“Fine,” your lips quiver, voice breaking slightly, which makes Robby’s head snap upwards and his eyes widen as he realizes what unbelievable damage he has done, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Wait, honey—“

“Don’t.”

With one last glance, you march out of the room toward the nurse’s station, looking for Dana to see if you can clock out earlier. You cannot stay in this place any longer, it is eating you alive and tearing your sanity apart.

“Have you seen Dana?” As soon as you see her walking with Collins, you approach her with teary eyes, nails digging harshly into your palms, “Dana, I need out.”

“What happened to you, kid?” She asks, putting her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing your arms up and down, “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

Heather only smiles and reaches to pat your back, shaking her head as she watches Dana guide you towards the ambulance bay, turning to glare at Robby, who just stepped out of the break room.

You don’t have the strength to keep your tears from falling as soon as Dana leads you out. You cry softly, wiping the tears as they stream down your cheeks, melting into Dana’s motherly embrace.

“I’m sorry—“

“Shh, you’re okay, kid,” she wraps her arms around you tightly, holding your face to her shoulder as you cry out, “I’m gonna kick his ass, don’t worry.”

You cackle a little, squeezing her before letting go, allowing her to cup your face in her hands, giving you a soft, defeated look before she starts talking.

“You are a great doctor, alright? One of our best residents, don’t let a man fuck it up,” she holds your head straight, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her, “He is a dick, I know that—“

“There’s a but coming and I don’t like it.” You try to move away from her, but she keeps your head locked in place, her gaze turning serious.

“But…” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, but she only cracks a smile and continues, “He is lost. It’s been so long since he has felt like this. The last time was with Heather, and let me tell you it was just as bad in the hospital.”

“So he treats his girlfriend like shit until she gives up?” Your voice shakes again, finally freeing yourself from her grip, pacing in the ambulance bay, “I hate how he says to remain professional, yet all he does is complain and belittle me for my medical decisions and when I bring it up he says it’s all empty fucking words and he doesn’t mean it!”

“He doesn’t mean any of it, I’m sure—“

“I’m done, Dana,” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, looking at her with eyes full of sorrow. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Look at me,” she raises your head with a finger under your chin, her tone dead serious, “I know it must be exhausting, but do you want to know what it is that makes the thing you have so special and worth the effort?”

“What?”

“He is in love with you,” she smiles, bringing you into her arms again, rocking you back and forth as you smell her hospital-induced scent, “I have never seen him like this.”

“It doesn’t make it okay for him to insult me… he said,” you hiccup on your sob, “He said that when we are here he isn’t my ‘goddamn boyfriend’ and… he said it like the word repulsed him.”

“He’s such an idiot,” she groans, watching in confusion as you reach for your phone, pulling it out before you call someone, “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Jack.”

“No, ah uh, nope,” she shakes her head, giving you a disapproving look, but she knows how hard Robby’s words must be, and they definitely have taken a toll on you and your relationship. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid.”

“Too late for that,” you sigh, tapping your feet on the ground as you wait for your brother to answer, “Jack, answer the fucking phone.”

“Hmm?”

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you scoff, throwing your hand up when he groans at your voice. “Be at least a bit excited to hear my voice, Jack.”

“The day I do that you’ll bury me six feet deep,” Jack says on the other side of the phone, voice raspy from the deep sleep he must have had, “Usually texting me fills the hole in your miserable life, sister, how bad is it this time that you needed to call?”

“I…” you try to say it, you really do, but the words get stuck inside your throat, a slow whine breaks past your lips, alerting your brother on the phone.

“Hey, hey! What’s up?” His usual sarcastic demeanor fades away, his voice shifting into unimaginable concern, “Talk to me, kid. Are you okay?”

“I…” you suck in a sharp breath, clearing your throat as you look at Dana smoking a cigarette next to you, “No, I’m not.”

“Are you physically hurt? Do I need to come? What the fuck’s happened, kiddo?” You can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on his pants to bolt through the door and get himself to the hospital.

“No and yes,” you sit on the edge of the pavement, “I think I wanna move back in with you—“

“What the fuck?” He says with so much love, you nearly melt at the spot, “What happened? Did he do something? Do I need to break his nose?”

“You love him more than you love me, so it doesn’t work like that,” you chuckle, sighing softly as you listen to him grumble and put his prosthetic leg on, “But… yeah, I can’t handle it anymore, I think I’ll move back in with you if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course, kid, whatever you want,” you hear him zip up his jacket, walking towards the door of his apartment to come and get you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“He’s so mean to me on our shifts, I can’t bear to be the only person he speaks to like that. It’s affecting my practices and my fucking sanity,” you drop your head between your arms, back hunching uncomfortably, “He acts more lovingly with Collins than he does with me and it upsets me so much.”

“Listen up,” he locks the door and walks to the elevator, “He is an ass for whatever reason he must have, but I know you, and I know him. You don’t deserve to be the one on whom he takes out his frustration, and I know you’ve tried to talk it out with him, but he’s probably too far into his head to listen to the voice of reason. I’m gonna come and get you so we can talk.”

“Okay, call me when you get here, I’m gonna go see a few patients before I clock out, love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo. Stay away from him.”

“Will do my best,” you say and hang up, shrugging when Dana gives you her significant look, “What now?”

“Nothing, just you’re too sweet and caring. Robby better get his head outta the water and see what he’s taking for granted.”

You chuckle, shoving your phone back into your pocket, stretching your arms before getting ready to get back into the hellhole you chose to spend the rest of your residency in, Dana following you after she puts out her cigarette with the tip of her sneakers.

“Let’s hope it’s not too late for that.”

•••••

You barely manage to handle a few patients for the next half hour without running into Robby, stabling, and helping with the triage from time to time until Jack gets here to pick you up.

“I’m gonna go…” You announce to Dana and Collins, sitting down to finish one last report and head out, “I… I think I might take night shifts from now on.”

“What?”

“C’mon, no, that’s a stretch—“ Heather says, sitting down on the rolling chair and moving it to sit next to you, “We need you here. You’re an amazing doctor, besides every shift needs an Abbot at most.”

“Yeah, well, the whole point of getting into the morning shifts was to learn from and spend time with Robby. Now that went down the fucking drain,” you look at Heather, your tone clipped and exhausted, “He is throwing a year and half relationship away for… whatever reasons. I don’t have to tolerate it anymore.”

“Please, reconsider this,” Dana jumps in, leaning over the station, “Go for now, take tomorrow off, and talk with Jack.”

“Will do— and my job’s done here! I’ll see you when I take the night shifts from you,” You smile, hugging both of them quickly before you go to the lockers, grabbing your belongings before you reply to Jack’s ‘I’m here, knucklehead’ with a quick thanks.

You don’t look behind you as you bolt to the exit of the ED, not hearing Robby’s footsteps following you as you make your way to the park in front of the hospital, seeing Jack’s truck waiting for you.

“Wait—“

You don’t. You can’t. If you stay one more minute here, you will lose your mind. You pick up your pace, ignoring the calls of your name as you walk faster, sighing in relief when Jack steps down from his truck, but as soon as you reach him, Robby grabs your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to ground you.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes wide in anticipation, chest heaving rapidly, as if he is imagining all these, “Your shift isn’t over yet…?”

“I can’t continue working on a shift that my Attending has no respect for me,” you turn around, looking at him dead in the eyes but the tears betray you sooner than you expected, “I have already told Jack I’ll switch to night shifts with him and he said he’ll sign it off for me—“

“I did?” Jack whispers, raising his eyebrow at you as he glances between you and Robby.

“Don’t do this, darling, look at me—“ Robby cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“I need time! You clearly don’t like me enough to be a decent human being to me on our shifts! I chose to stay with you, to learn from you and be with you during the hard days but you are fucking unbelievable!”

“Alright, alright,” Jack interrupts when he sees Robby’s glassy eyes, and it is only a matter of time he will breakdown in front of you — something that has never happened before — so he puts his hand on Robby’s back, “I’ll take her home for now, brother. Both of you need some time away from each other.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Robby replies hopefully, gently stroking your arm as he stares into your eyes, waiting for any sign of forgiveness, but when he sees none, he nods and steps away.

You miss the warmth of his grip immediately, but the ache in your chest is far too great to push everything aside and cave in. You need this time off, you must think and come up with a solution. Perhaps the night shift might help you take your mind off him.

“I’m off tomorrow,” you reply, wiping the tear that falls on your cheek quickly, turning your back to the men who are looking at you attentively, “I just need some space.”

“Okay…”

“Alright,” Jack hugs Robby, patting his back, “I think you fucked up big time, brother. Let me talk to her and see what happens, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robby nods, head hanging low as he watches you get inside the truck, sighing deeply before he says his goodbye to Jack and leaves, running a hand through his hair while he walks away.

“Talk, kid,” Jack starts the truck, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you only stifle your sobs and look down at your hands, squeezing your eyes shut, “Only the senior Abbot gets to be the traumatized sad one. So… “

“He is… a lot, but I thought I could handle it,” you wipe the tears, resting your elbow on the window’s edge, watching how Jack starts turning the wheel and drives the car out of the parking, “Hell, I was handling it, but I didn’t know he would turn into such a short tempered and spiteful person only towards me. He even…” you choke on your sob before you continue, “He even treats Gloria better than me, can you imagine it? He criticizes every diagnosis I make, every order I give, every single pill I prescribe, but it’s just me, his girlfriend…”

“I’m sorry,” Jack sighs, stopping the car when the light turns red, reaching to hold your hand, his hazel eyes finding your teary ones. He shakes his head slightly, his heart clenching at the sight of you tittering at the edge of a breakdown before he pulls you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, kissing your forehead as the two of you wait for the light to turn green, “He is being a dick to you because he is scared… he did the same thing to Collins but… It’s pretty different this time. I know it, I can see it, he is afraid of losing you more than losing himself.”

“It doesn’t make sense!” You hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes, “Can’t he see that being so-so harsh on me leads to exactly what he fears? He is losing me, Jack, and I hate it. I don’t want him to lose me, but every day I spend in the ER with him, I feel him slipping away from my fingers slowly. I don’t wanna lose him either.”

Jack keeps quiet, kissing the crown of your head once or twice as he starts driving again, letting you tell him everything, opening your heart to him.

“I saw how he was with Heather years ago before I even began to like him,” you say, no longer crying, just voicing your feelings in a numb tone while your heart aches for some sort of relief, “And I thought we were different, I thought he changed, but… maybe there is no hope for us either.”

“He loves you,” Jack replies, “He loved Heather too, but… he is in love this time.”

“How are you so sure?” You ask, straightening your back as you look at his side profile, watching how a small smile takes over his face.

“I know him better than you do, kid.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you scoff playfully, “My brother knows my boyfriend better than I. Are you sure he’s not cheating on me with you?”

“Please, I’ll never lower my standards to Robby.” he winks at you when you snort, “You bet no one wants him, he’s all yours.”

“Well, I’m not really sure about that anymore,” you shrug, “I don’t think he’s even mine anymore… and mind you, I always wanted my partner to be like you, so take it as an insult with a grain of salt, asshole.”

“You wound me,” Jack chuckles, glancing at your soft, unsure smile, “on the night shift thing… Are you sure you want me to be your Attending? I can be worse than him.”

“I’m used to your horrible attitude, and besides, we don’t have sex, so your chances of hurting me are half as likely.”

“I’m too old to be the victim of your incest jokes,” he reaches for the remote to open the door to the apartment’s parking lot, “And I do have sex, but unlike you, I don’t like shoving it in my sister’s face.”

“I never did that!” You laugh, nudging his side with your elbow when he safely parks the car, “I’m just saying I don’t take your insults as my Attending seriously because we’re blood related and I know what goes through your head.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack sighs, rubbing a palm over his face, “Not maybe, definitely. He can’t say what goes through his head and… it bottles up inside him until he explodes.”

“Then that’s too bad, cause the only person he harms is me.”

••••••••••

Robby has been searching for you all through the ER for the past week. You know it is not the most mature way to go through this crisis, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You start taking the night shifts, meeting with Dana and Collins as night owls take over the floor while you openly avoid Robby at all times, fleeing the scene every time you get so much as a glimpse of his navy blue hoodie in the corner of your eye.

He, too, has been chasing you relentlessly. Making sure to stay a few more hours to just see you and get to tell you a simple hello, but you go out of your way to hide in the bathroom until Ellis comes and collects you, giving you a thumbs up that means Robby’s given up on finding you again.

This is the routine for a good few nights; escaping Robby for the first hours of your shift, having a breakdown in the bathroom, save a bunch of lives and argue with your brother — Attending — until you sneak out of the hospital without Robby seeing you when he comes to take over the floor from your brother.

Jack forces you to take a few days off this week. You have been running through ER every night on caffeine and energy drinks, four hours of sleep, and a broken heart. So, given how much of a great brother Jack is, he tells you to take a few nights off this week.

Home alone, comfy under a blanket with a boring movie playing on the TV, the least you could expect is to hear a knock on your brother’s apartment at such a dark hour — and worse? You recognize the pattern of knocks immediately. Three knocks: one slow and unsure, the second one stronger and confident, the last one shy and anticipating.

You want to disappear, to ignore the knocks and melt through the cushions of the couch. But the very familiar pattern is pulling you in, making your heart race and limbs tingling.

With some courage that is near nonexistent, you push the blanket off, slowly padding towards the door, flexing and relaxing your fingers a few times, a couple deep breaths before you reach for the door knob, twisting it and revealing a very tired and teary-eyed Robby.

Your breath hitches as you take him in; shoulders slumped heavily, eyebags much darker than you remember, his body tense with so much unresolved emotion, and his eyes… his eyes, those pools of chocolate brown that always make your face warm and your heart beat rapidly — they are filled to the brim with shame and guilt. It will only take one push to have those watercolor droplets stream down his cheeks.

“Robby…”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as if hearing his name fall from your lips is the freshest air he has ever breathed. You can see him visibly relax, your voice soothing his concerns about your well-being.

“Hi,” he leans with his hand on the doorframe, looking down at his shoes as he tries to keep his voice from breaking, “Hi…”

“Hey,” you bite your lip, looking behind him as you try to gather your thoughts, “What are you doing here?”

“I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around the wooden frame, dragging his eyes back to yours slowly, letting you use them as a mirror to his soul, “I had to see you.”

“Robby—“

“No, no, let me talk—“ he cuts you off, resting his hands on the bridge of his nose, then sighing and putting them on his hips, “I fucked up, I know that. I-I messed up so bad, I know, I fucking know. You’re a goddamn amazing doctor, my best resident, I loathe myself for how I treated you.”

“You were so mean…” You can feel your own tears stinging your eyes, and it only gets worse when you look up to him, finding him flushed and on the verge of breaking, “Why?”

“Just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought if I pushed you away in the hospital, we could work better together, and then-then the lines blurred and I couldn’t notice how far I distanced myself from you.”

“I was right there, Robby,” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears finally burst, “All you had to do was to give us one chance to work together.”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches to cup your face, his face wet from seeing your tears, “I can’t handle it, I will break beyond repair if I see you cry, please…”

You put your palms on top of his, leaning forward to gently rest your forehead against his, sobbing in his arms. You are quite surprised when you hear him sniff and cry, just as equally pained and sad — he is crying because you are crying.

“No one deserves your tears,” he leans down and kisses the droplets slowly, his chapped lips making a beautiful contrast with your soft skin. First your cheeks, following the wet path down to your chin before he comes up and pecks your closed eyelids, “Much less me.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” you can feel him softly crying as he presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo he so desperately misses, “I can’t function without you on my shifts, I can’t think straight, I can’t… my life is incomplete without you.”

You tilt your head back, forcing him to look at you, but the way you gaze at him only spurs him on to continue, and when those three words fall from his lips, he can no longer control his emotions.

“I love you,” he closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting his beard each passing moment, “I don’t show it a lot, I’ve treated you so poorly, you must be thinking I don’t care about you, but I do, a lot. I love you, and there is nothing nearly as good as you in my life. I hang in there for twelve hours, but when I see you, it feels like my entire life makes sense, like I have a purpose, a reason to come back, a reason to move forward.”

“Oh, Robby…” you cup his cheeks, pulling his face down, brushing your nose against his, “I love you too, so much.”

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his softly, just a taste, perhaps a promise of a better tomorrow. He doesn’t rush you either, he kisses you back with relief, the weight lifting off his shoulders slowly.

He doesn’t deepen the kiss, allowing you to lead him this time, tasting the remaining bittersweet flavor of his nicotine gum. Robby’s hands go to your back, pulling you closer if possible, feeling the heat of your body seeping through the layers of his outfit.

“Robby,” you break the kiss, hovering your lips over his as you speak, “I still need some time. I… I have been getting along with the night shift, and I need some time away.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” he nods, his fingers tightening around your waist, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything.”

“I know, my love,” you pout, stroking his bearded cheek gently, “There are a lot of things we have to work on, but for now… I need to step back.”

“Alright.”

•••••••

Maybe it was a bad decision to listen to your brother and take another night off. You feel useless being home alone without your stethoscope around your neck and those god-awful tight scrubs the hospital gave you.

Now you are sure it was a terrible decision to take the night off, because now you have to explain to a very anxious brother and a much more anxious boyfriend why you and nearly thirty other injured people are being rushed to the PTMC’s ER.

“Abbot?” Shen is in the triage they made of the ambulance bay, rushing towards you with Ellis in toe to help you out of the car, “What the fuck? What happened to you?”

“I was in the same restaurant, fuck, my leg—“ you groan, clinging to the doctors as they sit you on the wheelchair, Shen giving Ellis a look to take you inside, dodging the gurneys and patients left and right until she finds you an empty corner, telling you to wait for someone to come and help you, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Kid?” Dana gasps, jogging toward you as soon as her eyes fall on your face and stretched leg, “Fucking hell, you okay? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to have a nice dinner out, unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that collapsed,” you scoff, trying to pull the sundress you are wearing down to cover at least your mid-thigh. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine! Probably just a hairline fracture on my Fibula and a bunch of bruises on my body.”

“You look like you’ve fist fought a three hundred pound man,” she glares at you, kneeling in front of your wheelchair to take a look at the bruises on your neck and arms, “For whatever’s worth, you look like a piece of candy in this dress.”

“Too bad no one was there to appreciate me,” you crack a smile, hissing when she pushes the sundress’ sleeve further down your shoulder, her fingers stroking the huge purple-ish spot.

“I’m gonna order you a CT, can’t wait to get a doctor here,” she looks at you, noticing the sadness in your eyes, “You look beautiful, don’t worry about him, he’s a moron.”

“I’m more worried about how he’ll lose his shit if he sees me like this—“

“Sister?!”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you groan, tipping your head back as Jack runs towards you, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair as he takes in your state. You look at Dana, giving her a pleading look, “Help me escape?”

“And miss Robby hovering around you like a mother hen? Hell, nah,” she chuckles, caressing your head before she stands up, “You’re in good hands, kid. Dr. Abbot here knows a thing or two about medicine.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Dana,” Jack rolls his eyes playfully before he looks back to you. “How bad is the leg? Did you hit your head? Let’s get you a CT first, then radiology—“

“Nope, I don’t need a head CT, I just need some painkillers and an X-ray. Think I have a tiny hairline fracture in my leg—“

“Can you stand on your feet?” He asks, helping you up with his hands on your waist, watching how you stand up in pain, “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Around my ankle, lateral malleolus,” you hiss again, holding onto Jack’s shoulder as he guides you back on the wheelchair, “Maybe it’s not even a fracture, just a sprain, yeah?”

“Possibly, but you’re not the doctor here.” he fixes you with a stern look as he applies pressure around your ankle, trying to see where it hurts the most. “Let the adults handle this.”

“Then get a responsible adult in here,” you say, laughing when he makes a gurgling noise, pressing on the spot where it hurts the most, making you shrink and pull your feet out of his grasp. “You’re pushing fifty and still act like you’re ten. Grow up.”

“Unfortunately for you your ‘responsible adult’ is Robby who is—“ he turns around, finding Robby stopping midway when he gets a glimpse of you on a wheelchair, “Near freaking the fuck out. Have fun, Miss Abbot.”

“Wait— no! He can’t treat me, he can’t handle it, I swear, Jack, if you take one more step—“

Your words die in your throat as you watch Robby walk your way quickly, his hands shaking and his eyes — his sad fucking puppy eyes that have your heart running miles an hour — scanning your entire body in a hurry.

“What happened?” Robby’s voice shakes as he reaches to hold your cheek in his hands, his touch hesitant and trembling, “What did Jack say? Do-do you need to go up? Are you okay—“

“Robby, I’m fine,” you reply gently, smiling as he keeps on bombarding you with several questions you have already answered, watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head when he sees the huge bruise on your shoulder, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to my very energetic ER resident in a few days. I can even help now—“

“No, absolutely not,” he purses his lips, ghosting his knuckles over your bruise before he sighs and looks back to your face, “You gonna go home, take some painkillers, you know which ones help you the most, and rest. What were you doing there anyway? What happened?”

“I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner, got ready and all,” and you smile shyly when his eyes finally drag on your body, taking in the way the sundress clings to your chest and stomach.

“Fuck,” he huffs out a laugh, “Bad timing, darling. Now I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”

“Good,” you reach for his hand, stroking his fingers as you explain what happened there. “There was some construction work on the building next to the restaurant. One second, everything was fine, but then something dropped on us, half of the ceiling came down, and we ran out. I fell down while I was trying to get past the exit.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” his tone grows serious, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, “But what if you did? You should have told someone you were there, you have to stop being so reckless and—“

“Robby—“

“What if something worse happened to you—“

“Robby—“

“What if you ended up like one of these people, I wouldn’t be able to live—“

“Michael, stop!” The way his first name falls from your lips freezes him immediately, his eyes widen in terror, but when he sees you smiling at him, he melts down instantly, “Look at me, I’m fine! Nothing a splint and Tylenol can’t fix, besides, I have two doctors hovering around me all the time. I’m fine and I will be fine, okay?”

“Okay…” he nods, clinging to your hand as he fights a few unshed tears, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’d be worse if you were in my position,” you sigh in annoyance when you see Whitaker coming your way, squeezing Robby’s hand to get his attention, “Go, they need you now. I’ll buy the splint on the way home, I just need to find my bag.”

“I have it!” Dana comes with Jack on toe, “Checked for keys, phone, credit cards, a bunch of lipsticks, and your necklace. All in there and good to go.”

“Thank you, seriously!” You say, resting your arm around Robby’s shoulder as he helps you up by one hand on your ribs and the other on your waist, “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safely, alright?”

“You need a key? I can hand you mine,” Jack says, and raises an eyebrow when you hesitate and bite your lip, looking back at Robby before you shake your head and grab your purse, “What?”

“I think I’ll go back home,” you utter softly, looking into Robby’s eyes as his pupils blow in surprise, “If it’s okay with you?”

“You wanna come back?” He asks, his voice no louder than a whisper, his grip tightening on you as he waits for an answer.

“Yeah…”

“Okay then,” Jack interrupts, “Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news, but we've got patients and you need to rest. So go back to your place and sleep.”

“Do you…” Robby clears his throat, “Do you have the keys? Or should I grab mine—“

“No, I have mine,” you smile, leaning up as best as you can on one foot to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back home.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say your goodbyes to others as well, giving Dana and Jack a halfway hug, limping over to the back door of the floor before you call for an Uber and drive back home.

•••••••

You take the advice and rest. You don’t know what time it is when you hear the quiet jiggling of the keys and the front door being pushed open, but the familiar sound of footsteps is enough to calm your racing mind.

“Hey,” you say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up on the bed, watching how Robby relaxes immediately when he spots you.

He takes off his hoodie and scrubs, sitting on the edge of the bed topless as he takes off his socks slowly, sighing contently when you scoot closer, rubbing a hand over his warm back, kissing his broad shoulder.

“How are you?” He asks, turning around so he can take a better look at your face, “Anything hurt?”

“No,” you reply, gently running your fingers on his neck, caressing his collarbone, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Honestly?” He scoffs, looking down at your exposed thighs, under one of his worn-out t-shirts you have on, “Exhausted, but… I’m very happy you are back.”

“I’m happy to be back too,” you lean down to kiss his shoulder again, “Go take a shower and come back to me. It’ll help you relax.”

He nods and leans down to peck your lips, sighing in relief when he rests his forehead on yours. Robby nods again and, with a deep breath, he forces himself to stand up and let your hand fall from his skin.

He comes back ten minutes later, hair towel dried and another one hanging dangerously low on his hip bones. He lets out another tired sigh, smiling when he finds you sitting up against the headboard.

“I missed having you here.”

“I missed being here,” you point to the empty space next to you, extending your hand so he knows what to do, watching as he slowly crawls on the bed, carefully resting his head on the soft podge of your stomach, circling his arms around your waist.

“You’re okay, Michael.” You thread your fingers through his soft hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he hums and buries his face further into your belly, “I got you, my love.”

“I thought I was losing you,” he tears up, biting his tongue in order to stop himself from crying, but it is in vain because the second you lean down to press a kiss on his head, he is breaking, “I did, for a few days… and it was the worst time of my life. I wasn’t alive, I… I just existed. I breathed, but I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that I let my insecurities get this far, that I had to let go of you.”

“But I’m here now,” you wrap your other arm around his shoulder, holding him close as he cries silently, his shoulders shaking, but not a sound coming from him, “I’m here to work on these things. I never left to begin with, I… I should have knocked some sense into you when you told me my CPR pose was bad.”

“That was a low blow, I’m sorry,” he holds on to you tightly, one of his large palms starting to caress your hips to your knees, letting his fingers follow the path of your thigh, “You’re a magnificent doctor, and I’m sorry that you had to endure months of suffering because of me. Fuck, I should have been the one to stop others not to be the one to give you a hard time.”

“It’s over now, Robby.” You watch him sit up slowly, his much larger body cornering yours to the headboard without even trying to, “We gonna figure this out. I’ll stay on night shifts until we sort out everything, but for now, I just want my boyfriend.”

He nods, closing the gap between your face until he reaches your lips, pressing a soft, experimental kiss before you grab the back of his neck to deepen it. Robby keeps himself up by one hand on the headboard and the other on your hip, moving his lips with yours in sync.

“I don’t wanna hurt you more—“

“Shh,” you nibble on his bottom lip, gently lowering your back on the mattress before you pull him on top of you, your free hand playing with the edge of the towel around his hips, “You will definitely hurt me if you deny my request.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I need you, Robby.” You frown when he doesn’t immediately get rid of the towel, and his eyes lock in on your face. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you: “You don’t want to… have sex?”

“No! I do, I really do!” He chuckles, lowering himself on top of you after he pushes the covers off your body, grabbing your hand gently before he brings it to the very evident bulge under the towel, “See what you do to me? I need you too, so so badly, but I will hate myself if I make you uncomfortable more than you probably are.”

“Stop overthinking and fuck me already!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he leans down again, kissing you passionately while you untuck the towel and drop it on the floor, making him hiss in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his aching lenghth, “Fuck, I missed this.”

“Me too,” you reply breathlessly, letting him pull off your — his — shirt and pushing your panties to the side, “If you don’t do anything, I won’t let you sleep on this bed for another week.”

“Bossy,” he kisses you quickly before he grabs your thigh in his hand, mindful of your other foot being in a splint while he makes home between your legs, his heavy cock resting on your hip as he tries to adjust your positions, “Jack’s wearing off on you.”

“Don’t talk about my brother when you are about to fuck me,” you wrap both of your arms around his shoulder and your good leg around his waist, “Unless you two have something for each other that I don’t know about.”

“Have some faith in me, I have a good taste in Abbots, and he is not the one,” you both laugh, and he nudges your nose with his, his warm brown eyes filled with pent-up lust and longing, “I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance, easing himself into you slowly, careful of your bruises.

Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, clinging to the other with every fiber of your being as Robby stretches you out, pushing his cock until he has nothing to give. His dick’s snuggled tightly between your velvet walls, your cunt gripping him like a vice and never wanting to go.

He gasps when you clench around him, resting his forehead on yours as both of you begin to pant, your chests heaving with each breath.

“You feel so good, Robby,” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, making your breath hitch as his cock reaches deep inside you.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” his lips fall open as he picks up his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “The most perfect human ever.”

“Oh, fuck—“ you throw your head back, tangling your fingers in Robby’s soft short hair, tugging at it as he slams himself inside you with a newfound desire — his movements tactical enough not to hurt you but just the right amount of roughness to make your leg shake around his hip, “I’m not gonna last long!”

“Me neither, darling,” he groans, the sound of squelching filling the room, nearly tripping over the edge when he sees you reaching between your bodies to rub on your clit, “Fuck, baby…”

“I’m gonna come—“ you release a loud moan, spilling around his girth as you reach your peak, your heel digging into his butt as you writhe beneath him.

“There you go, sweet girl,” he beams at you, watching as your face twists in pleasure; lips swollen with all the kissing, eyes shut and lashes kissing your cheeks, “I’m so close…”

“Inside,” you open your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand while caressing his face, “Come inside me, Michael.”

“Fuck, fuck—“ he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you a few more times before he begins to tremble, biting down on the skin of your neck as he comes, his cock twitching inside you, filling you up to the brim.

He comes for an embarrassingly — in his opinion — long time, just holding you close and panting into your skin while he shoots thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

You pull him down until he rests the majority of his weight on you. You have to force him, though, because he thinks it would hurt your bruises and put you in pain, but his weight grounds you.

The proximity makes his head spin in warmth, but you can feel how worried he is, so you don’t keep him caged on top of you, allowing him to pull away until he can get a better look at your body.

“Please be careful next time,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the large bruise on your collarbone, then the one on your arm, then lower on the side of your stomach, “Or better, I keep you locked up so I know you’re safe.”

“You can’t even get me locked up in a surgery, good luck with doing it for the rest of my life,” you chuckle, thanking him when he helps you sit up.

“I think I need another shower,” he says, standing up, naked as the day he was born, before he turns to you, extending his hand for you to take, “Care to join me?”

“You’re far too horny for your age, Dr. Robby,” you tease him, but take him on his offer nevertheless, resting your weight on his arm as he slowly helps you limp to the bathroom.

“I’m not old,” he scowls, and you laugh at his little frown, smoothing a finger between his brows, “but no, I don’t wanna have sex, I just wanna hold you, sweet girl.”

“Nothing is stopping you, my love.”

#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavich x reader #dr robby smut #jack abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby fanfiction #dr robby fic #dr robby x you #the pitt x reader #robby robinavitch

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formulaonecrumbs · 3 days ago

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Hello :) Could you make one where Lando introduces the reader to two or three of his friends as his girlfriend for the first time? Everything goes well at first, but when he leaves to go to the bathroom, they start making some slightly microaggressive comments about her relationship with Lando. It’s not something obviously bad, but it’s clear they’re doing it to make her uncomfortable like comparing her to his ex or something else

they don’t know about us

Lando Norris x gf!reader

summary: lando introduces you to his friends for the first time.

warnings: uncomfortable reader, weird friends.

A/N: low-key i was gonna give the friends names of lando’s ACTUAL friends like connor or wtv but i didn’t wanna make them seem like bad guys so we got liam and tom 😃 anyways thank u anon!!! ur req is greatly appreciated. i’m sorry for getting to it so late. i have exams going on (until june btw i could be very inactive sometimes) enjoy, beautiful people ❤️

୨�� ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you could tell lando was excited.

he kept glancing over at you as he walked a few steps ahead, practically buzzing with nervous energy, his hand wrapped tightly around yours. “you’ll like them,” he said for the third time, smiling at you. “they’re good guys.”

you smiled back, even though your stomach was tight. meeting your boyfriend’s close friends was a big deal—and he hadn’t introduced you to many people yet, so you knew this mattered.

the rooftop bar he picked was quiet, upscale, and lit by soft golden lights. the two guys were already there, standing by a tall table with half-empty drinks. you immediately clocked the way their eyes flicked to you. curiosity. maybe even a little surprise.

“boys, this is my girlfriend,” lando said proudly, arm wrapping around your waist. “this is her.”

you gave them your name and a small smile, and to your relief, they were friendly. they shook your hand, made a few jokes. one of them—liam—asked where you were from, and the other—tom—complimented your dress. everything was fine. lando was glowing, leaning into you like he couldn’t stop himself.

but eventually, he excused himself to the bathroom, brushing a kiss to your cheek before he went. “be nice,” he teased them over his shoulder.

the silence that followed was just long enough to feel… heavy.

then liam laughed, sipping his drink. “he really does have a type, doesn’t he?” he said to tom, not even looking at you.

tom raised an eyebrow. “yeah, remember sofía? same kind of vibe.”

liam nodded. “just quieter, i guess.”

you blinked, unsure what to say.

“not a bad thing,” tom added quickly, smiling at you in that way people do when they’ve already said something loaded. “you seem sweet.”

“lando usually goes for girls a little more… out there,” liam added, like it was helpful. “big personalities, you know?”

“maybe he’s maturing,” tom joked.

you laughed politely, but it didn’t reach your eyes. something about the way they kept circling back to comparisons made your skin crawl. like they were trying to measure you up. like they weren’t just talking to you—they were sizing you against some invisible scale.

“he’s really into you though,” liam said, almost like it surprised him. “must be something special.”

you forced a smile. “he’s pretty special too.”

they exchanged a quick look, and you caught it—just a flash of something. doubt? amusement?

but then lando came back, slid his arm around you again, and everything changed. they laughed louder. tom made a joke about lando’s old haircut. liam brought up a karting story. it all smoothed over so quickly, you almost questioned what had just happened.

almost.

later, when lando drove you home, you were quiet. he glanced at you, brow furrowed.

“they liked you,” he said softly.

you smiled, nodding. “yeah. they were… interesting.”

he didn’t say anything right away. but his hand found yours again, fingers lacing together, and he held on like he knew.

and maybe he did.

you watched the city blur past the window, the lights streaking like watercolors. lando hadn’t let go of your hand since you got in the car. his thumb brushed the back of it slowly, over and over.

“you okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.

you hesitated. the kind of silence where you could either swallow it down or say the thing that’s been pressing against your ribs since the rooftop.

“they were a little weird,” you said finally, still staring out the window. “your friends.”

lando didn’t say anything for a second. just kept driving. “weird how?”

you turned to look at him. he glanced at you, then back at the road, and you could see the tension creeping into his jaw.

“just…” you sighed. “i don’t know. they said stuff about me being like your ex. and that i’m not as loud. or outgoing. or whatever. it wasn’t mean, exactly, but it felt like they were trying to figure out why you’re with me.”

lando’s fingers tightened around yours.

“i didn’t want to make it a big deal,” you added quickly. “but it kind of stuck.”

he pulled into your street and parked, the engine still humming. the dashboard lights painted his face in soft orange.

“i’m sorry,” he said quietly. “i had a feeling. i saw the way they looked at you when i introduced you. like they were surprised.”

you nodded, suddenly unsure if you’d said too much. but then he turned to you fully, hand still holding yours.

“look, they don’t know shit,” he said. “and honestly? they’ve always had this thing where they act like i’m not serious about people. like they know better than me.”

his voice was steady, but you could tell he was angry underneath.

“you’re not like anyone i’ve ever been with,” he said. “not because you’re quieter or whatever bullshit they said. because you make me feel… real. grounded. like i’m actually where i want to be.”

your throat felt tight.

“and if they can’t see that, that’s their problem. not yours.”

you gave him a small, grateful smile. “i didn’t want to ruin the night.”

“you didn’t,” he said instantly. “you were the best part of it.”

he leaned over and kissed you then—soft and sure, like a promise. and when he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, “next time we hang out with people, it’ll be with the ones who actually deserve to know you.”

you nodded, heart a little lighter.

maybe the night hadn’t gone perfect. but this part—him, choosing you over the noise—meant more than anything else.

THE END :>

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seitmai · 19 hours ago

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Many thoughts

The team thought Bucky was just being extra welcoming since he always found an excuse to be around you. If you offered to cook for the team, he was beside you in the kitchen ready to help. If you wanted to spar, he dropped what he was doing to go to the training room. And if you suggested a movie night, he sat next to you with your favorite snacks ready to go and a blanket in case you got cold.

Just a nice gentleman if you ask me 🤭

Everyone noticed that Bucky smiled more when you were around. He laughed more, too. Turned to you for advice and didn't mind staying up late to chat or exchange books. Your room also happened to be beside his and he spent a lot of time in there, more than a regular teammate should.

Let the man be happy!

“You know me. Just being a good teammate,” he replied, holding you close the way a boyfriend would and not at all like a teammate. Yeah, they should’ve seen it coming.

Whoops 🤭👀

Bob stumbled upon you by accident. He had forgotten his hoodie in the common room after one of the movie nights and froze when he spotted you and Bucky making out on the couch. He stood there for a full minute torn because he wanted to get his hoodie back, but he didn't want to interrupt. He ultimately decided against it when Bucky pushed you back on the cushions. On top of his hoodie. “I’ll just… I’ll get it tomorrow. And I’ll wash it. Yeah, yeah. I'll do that. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” he mumbled as he went back to his room.

Hahahah poor Bob 😅

Yelena caught the two of you in the training room. For a moment it looked like Bucky was trying a new move on you and she almost asked him to show her how it was done. Tilting her head after a few seconds, she realized what she was seeing wasn't a defense move at all. If there was any doubt, the grunt he let out and the moan you gave him in response when some clothes were moved aside told her very loud and clear what was happening. And it would've been rude to stay and watch.

Not her almost wanting to try that move too 😂

Ava didn't catch the two of you doing anything. She phased in the kitchen one day while Bucky was eating and making a mess. The exasperated look on your face when you tossed him a paper towel was adorable, as was the smile you two exchanged. Bucky never looked that soft around anyone else. “You eat pussy like that?” Ava asked to get a rise out of Bucky when another drop of sauce hit his shirt. “Yeah, he does,” you said without skipping a beat. Ava laughed, thinking it was a joke at first, before she caught Bucky staring you down and licking his lips. You bit your lip and Ava almost phased out of the room to give you two some privacy.

Ava probably was to stunned to speak but luckily not to phase away haha

“Thank you for not using the counter since we eat here!” Ava called out after the two of you.

Valid haha

Alexei found the two of you in his limo tangled up in each other. You couldn't explain why you and Bucky decided to fool around in there, but you wanted to have some fun and the limo was there. And it was clean. The Red Guardian wasn't at all upset. In fact, he felt honored that the Winter Soldier wanted to have sex in his limo and blasted “Pony” to set the mood. “That’s what I talk about!” he cheered before Yelena dragged him away.

Well, he is all about protecting fron a boring evening 🤷🏻‍♀️😅

“Are you guys…” John trailed off since the rest of the group didn't seem at all surprised by the display. “Wait, did everyone know? Was I the only one who didn't know?” “Yes, dime store Captain America.” Ava rolled her eyes. “Everyone knew.”

This is so fitting 😂

“Limo!” Alexei shouted, hitting his chest. “My limo.”

And he couldn't be more proud 😅

Bob shrugged. “I think they make a good couple.” “Of course, you do,” Yelena said, a small smile forming on her face as you and Bucky carried on. “I think so, too.”

Of course he does 🥹🥰

I loved all of this so much!👏🏻

Miss Navy! What if the reader joined the thunderbolts and fooled around with Bucky?

Bahaha. I have a thot, nonnie.

Not Exactly a Secret

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Kissing, implied smut, humor, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Using this beautiful @nixakimbo edit for reasons (you know why if you've seen Thunderbolts!). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

In hindsight, they all should've seen it coming.

You were the last to join the team and easy to get along with. You could roll with the punches and keep up with Alexei, put John in his place when he stepped out of line, sympathize with Bob, and have a blast with Yelena and Ava. Hell, you even congratulated Bucky on his six month stint as a Congressman and swore he made a difference. He admired your kindness. He admired you.

The recent movie night you snuggled against him and started to doze off. If anyone else had tried to snuggle with him there was a chance they'd lose a hand, but not you. “Mmm. You're so good to me, Bucky,” you said when he picked you up.

“You know me. Just being a good teammate,” he replied, holding you close the way a boyfriend would and not at all like a teammate.

Yeah, they should’ve seen it coming.

“I’ll just… I’ll get it tomorrow. And I’ll wash it. Yeah, yeah. I'll do that. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” he mumbled as he went back to his room.

You were kind enough to wash it yourself the next day and offered to buy him a new one, but he declined. It was nice that you offered. And he was happy because he saw how happy you made Bucky.

“Oh, I'm not sparring on that mat again,” she muttered.

She did spar on it again after Bucky cleaned it twice.

“You eat pussy like that?” Ava asked to get a rise out of Bucky when another drop of sauce hit his shirt.

“Yeah, he does,” you said without skipping a beat.

Ava laughed, thinking it was a joke at first, before she caught Bucky staring you down and licking his lips. You bit your lip and Ava almost phased out of the room to give you two some privacy. You beat her to it by sauntering out of the room with a smirk, the super soldier hot on your tail and leaving his mess behind.

“Thank you for not using the counter since we eat here!” Ava called out after the two of you.

Bucky had you on the counter the next day so he could eat, too.

“That’s what I talk about!” he cheered before Yelena dragged him away.

She also decided then and there that she’d always ride in the front seat of the limo.

John was the last to know, which surprised no one. After a successful mission, he realized neither you nor Bucky had answered a question he asked. Whatever smartass comment he began died in his throat when Bucky unashamedly kissed you. There was nothing gentle or chaste about it. It was a deep, filthy kiss and he felt like a perv watching.

Bucky must've thought something similar since he gave John the finger all while he continued to kiss you and you gripped his hair.

“Are you guys…” John trailed off since the rest of the group didn't seem at all surprised by the display. “Wait, did everyone know? Was I the only one who didn't know?”

“Yes, dime store Captain America.” Ava rolled her eyes. “Everyone knew.”

Whether it was the insult of being the last to know, John looked offended. “Even Bobby? And since when did the two of them become a thing?”

Bucky broke the kiss to glare at the blonde. “Yeah, asshole, Bob knew,” he replied.

“And it wasn't really a secret. We just hadn't officially announced it,” you said, giggling when Bucky’s lips found yours again.

Apparently the display was the official announcement.

“I really did know,” Bob smiled before he cleared his throat. “I, uh, found them in the common room.”

“Training room,” Yelena said.

Ava nodded. “Kitchen.”

“Limo!” Alexei shouted, hitting his chest. “My limo.”

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered.

Bob shrugged. “I think they make a good couple.”

“Of course, you do,” Yelena said, a small smile forming on her face as you and Bucky carried on. “I think so, too.”

Yeah, lovelies. Loved the film. Not at all sorry. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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flvvffy · 2 days ago

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. ۫ ꣑ৎ . ❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄...𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 ❞

concerned sukuna x reader who doesn't wanna eat. ooc sukuna.

you noticed that you were eating a lot. anytime you felt even a little bit hungry, you ran to your beloved fridge. your time spent in the kitchen was probably more than your screen time.

it didn't really bother you until you stepped on the scale. you had gained a lot more weight than you thought you had. you recalled every single moment you stuffed your face with food, and you heart sank. and you were determined to loose weight.

though, your method was not approved by your boyfriend. you never told him how you felt and he didn't know that you wanted to start a diet. but he did notice that something was going on.

he loves your curves and every part of your body really, and the extra fat was a much appreciated bonus and it just made him go crazy. but your current eating habits were annoying him.

for one, whenever he gets food, he has to ask you twice if you want it. you end up saying no, but once it arrives you're eating his food together. as much as he expresses how much he finds it annoying, he can't bring himself to say no.

but now, you just outright say no and you mean it. he raised a brow at you, confused. "are you sure about that? you really don't wanna try this delicious hotdog, hmmm...", you only stare at him and shake your head no.

this continues on. everytime he offers you his food, you refuse. his heart clenches as he watches you. there's something that's not right. and especially when you barely eat half of your food and offer the rest to him. giving him the excuse "i'm not really that hungry", millions of thoughts are running through his mind. especially since you always finish what's on your plate and he offers more.

the final straw was when you had made dinner for the both of you when he was over at your place. you prepared food on his plate and on yours but your portion looked like the amount a five year old would eat.

"what's going on? are we rationing food now?", he asked not wanting to touch his food.

"no...but this is all i wanna eat now-"

"bullshit! you used to complained about small portions in restaurants and now you're doing this.", his brows furrow in concern and places his rough hand gently on yours. "if there's something wrong you can tell me"

you swallow thickly not wanting to meet his gaze. he only looks at you, waiting patiently for you to tell him what's wrong. you breathe out and open your mouth. "i've just been eating quite a lot lately...and i've gained quite a bit of weight so i'm going on a diet"

he's quiet for a moment and looks down. "starving yourself is not the answer", he responds and you look up. " i don't like seeing you like this. you haven't been yourself and it was killing me on the inside. i thought for a second you didn't love me anymore", he lets out a shaky chuckle and you look at him apologetically.

"i'm sorry i made you feel that way..."

"that's not the point. i will always love you just the way you are, even if you do gain a little weight. i don't love you because i love your body. i like your body because i love you", a wobbly smile is etched on your lips, your eyes getting teary.

he switches his plate with yours and takes a spoonful, placing it infront of your lips. "say ahhh"

you giggle and open your mouth as he feeds you. you're lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘

#°𝐅𝐋𝐕𝐕𝐅𝐅𝐘 #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna oneshot #sukuna headcanons #sukuna angst #slight angst

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mia-maybank · 2 days ago

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I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted: Part 2 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Fem!reader ( 2.2k words)

The sidemen charity match , a gorgeous ex-boyfriend with a mullet and his entire friendgroup scattered around the stands to avoid ... what could ever go wrong?

warnings: angst (they will get their happiness eventually I promise), hints of poor mental health but it's not a heavy focus, arguing.

series | masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on the first part! I hope you enjoy this part just as much <3 (also why is trying to write a breakup where both people come out of it looking like a good person so hard help)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time feels like it stands still as I shrink under the gaze of the very people I had been intending to avoid at all costs today. I felt like a deer in headlights, a child caught in the act of doing something I wasn't meant to, although I had technically done absolutely nothing wrong, except miss my ex-boyfriend.

The awkward silence stretches on, until Chris, seeming to realise that nobody is eager to be the one to break the silence, clears his throat and turns to look at the crowd of boys behind him.

"Uh, are you guys okay to give us 2 minutes?" he asks, and my stomach drops with a mix of relief at the thought of not being under the scrutinous gaze of all 6 guys any longer, but also dread at the thought of watching George walk away. Again.

2 Months Ago

I sit on the edge of my shared bed with George, picking at my fingers nervously whilst he paces the length of the bedroom, hands intertwined in the ends of his mullet. Usually, when my anxiety heightens and my tendency to pick my fingers raw and red takes over, George is straight over to cradle my hands and soothe my nerves with soft kisses to my knuckles and gentle whispers. Now, however, he can barely look at me, eyes darting around the room restlessly, never landing on one place for too long.

"I just don't like what's happened to us lately" I continue on with the half-conversation-half-argument that has seemed to go around in circles for the last hour, with neither one of us willing to back down, both too stubborn and passionate. It funny, the way the world works; the two traits that once brought us together in the beginning, when times were simpler and we could still dance around the pressures that life threatened to impose, are now the very qualities that may destroy our relationship entirely.

"We've been fine" George argues, sighing from across the room like he's tired of this argument. Usually, he would always hear me out and respect my opinion with the utmost tenderness and follow up with action to prove that he listened to me, however the strain that has loomed over our relationship for the last 2 weeks has taken a toll upon him just as much as it has me. "I've just been busier because I've had shoots with the sidemen - you know I would never avoid you on purpose."

"I know you haven't meant to George, but you have to understand how shit it feels to be pushed to the side suddenly because of work opportunities!" My voice rises now, frustration taking over the rational side of my brain as I felt like I wasn't being heard - something I wasn't used to with George, who was usually so attentive.

"Well maybe you need to understand how shit it feels to be trying to balance constant work commitments, friends, family and a girlfriend when everybody expects you to be perfect!" he snaps back, his face dropping when I flinch back. He tentatively takes a step towards me, and when I don't flinch again, he kneels in front of the bed, grasping my hands in his own and gazing up at me with a look so tender that my heart nearly wrenches straight out of my chest.

"Look, I think we’re trying to love each other in ways the other person doesn’t need.” his voice is tender, so tender that it almost doesn't match the cruel words he had previously uttered. "I think maybe we just need a break."

My heart drops at the dreaded words, tears springing to my eyes. But then I look at George's tear-stained, earnest face and know in that instant that I will do anything for this man, even if it involves ripping my heart straight out of my chest over and over.

"Okay" I whisper, my voice cracking. "We'll take a break." He knocks his forehead gently against mine and I close my eyes, savouring his warmth against mine. I don't open my eyes when he kisses my forehead, slow and lingering, like he doesn't want to let go, and finally look up just in time to see him leave.

A day passes. I mope in bed. Then comes a week. I finally give up hope of any of our friend group reaching out to me. Then a month. I decide to leave the house for the first time since the breakup but can't find the motivation to make it out of the door. Then two months. And I give up completely.

One by one, the guys take Chris' not so subtle hint and leave. Simon looks between the two of us with poorly-concealed curiosity before turning away, patting George on the shoulder reassuringly as he leaves. Ethan and Max follow quickly, muttering between themselves, whilst Tobi offers me a reassuring smile and Harry a small nod before they continue up the stairs.

George doesn't move.

He finally unfreezes, relaxing his posture and turning towards Chris, his facial expression still irritatingly unreadable.

"Are you okay to give us a minute, mate?" he asks Chris, his voice taking on that gentle tone again that takes me back to the last time we spoke. Chris nods, stepping towards George and whispering something into his ear that makes his face crumple in concern before Chris turns back to me. "We will catch up later properly, alright?" the hopeful tone of his voice chips at the cage I've built around my heart the last two months and I nod, watching him break out in a relieved grin before he heads in the direction of what I guess is the changing rooms.

The silence lingers for a moment , both of us unable to stray our eyes away from each other or form a coherent sentence.

"Hi" I finally settle on. Hi? You've fantasised about this moment for the past 2 months and the best you can come up with is hi? I mentally scold myself, but to my relief his face breaks out into a soft, almost fond smile. God, I've missed that smile so fucking much.

"Hi" he echoes, and I melt inside as the sound of his voice greets my ears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you on your big day" I apologise, suddenly self-conscious of how psychopathic sneaking around a football match that my ex-boyfriend is playing in seems. "I was planning on just coming to watch quietly and then slipping out without causing a scene, I guess that didn't really go to plan though".

He laughs softly, the sound a soothing melody to my lingering anxieties. "Yeah, you never were the plan maker for good reason". The past tense hurts more than I care to admit, but I force myself to brush it off as he continues to speak. "I'm sorry that you felt like you had to hide from everyone though, we all would have been really happy to see you."

He lets that statement settle for a moment, sitting on a step before patting the spot next to him. I sit down, close enough that our knees knock, and when he doesn't pull away I feel like a teenager with a crush on the boy sat net to her in class. He keeps his gaze steadily trained on mine, continuing with a much more raw, vulnerable edge to his voice now. "We all really miss you, y'know. I miss you".

I can't help the flame of anger that sparks in my chest at the clearly false sentiment, because if they missed me, why did nobody call?

"But...but you didn't call me George" I can't disguise the plain sadness that fills my tone, avoiding his eyes. "Two months and not one person called or text me ... not once."

When I finally dare to look up, I'm surprised to see tears in his eyes and a flare of panic jolts through my chest at the thought that I might of upset him. I apologise quickly, but he shakes his head softly, his expression only saddening further.

"Don't you dare apologise" he finally utters, causing me to blink in surprise. "Chris told me about how you haven't left your flat since the breakup".

The concern and tears in his eyes suddenly make sense. "That snitching bastard, so that's what he whispered to you" I groan in exasperation and embarrassment, hiding my face in my hands.

He giggles gently, tugging my hands slowly from my face, the sudden contact sending shockwaves of electricity through my body, before much to my disappointment he drops my hands and a serious expression takes over his face once more.

"I'm so, so sorry that you felt isolated like that. Everybody presumed you wanted to be left alone and had moved on with different friends and a new life, but that was a fucking stupid assumption to make and we should have known better and reached out. I hate the thought of you all alone this entire time."

I don't know quite when it happened, but one minute I'm staring at him wordlessly as I process his words and the next I'm violently sobbing. He only hesitates for a fraction of a second before pulling me in, shielding me in his toned arms as I weep into his shoulder and dampen his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry" he keeps murmuring, and it's not until my sobs subside slightly 15 minutes later that I feel the dampness on the top of my head and realise that he is crying to.

Pulling back just enough to be able to see his expression and wipe the tears gently from his cheeks, I take shuddering breaths and he continues to hold me soothingly, one hand rubbing my back whilst his other thumb draws circles on my waist.

"I missed you" I finally feel brave enough to whisper into the air between us and he instantly pulls me back into a tight embrace.

"That argument two months ago" he murmurs into my hair, rocking us soothingly back and forth. "I've regretted every word I said every single day since. Every. Single. One."

I sniffle into his chest, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"I wanted to reach out so badly" he admits, continuing to rock me slowly. "I thought you were better off without me, so I didn't. But I know I fucked up now. I carried on with living and filming with our friends like you hadn't just vanished off the face of the earth since our argument and that was so, so fucked up of me to do" his breath hitches and we slowly pull away from each other, assuming our much less intimate positions sat side by side on the steps.

I already missed his warmth, so I knocked my leg against his own, relieved when he pressed his skin against mine like he needed the contact just as much as I did.

"I did miss being a part of everything" I admit into the quietness of the corridor. "My youtube career, my friendship, me and you ... it all felt like it fell apart that day." I can barely stand to look at him, for the amount of guilt and pain his expression holds is almost unbearable.

"I'd like to prove to you again that you still have all that" he mutters almost shyly.

"Huh?" I furrow my brows, not understanding his statement.

"Your channel. Your friends. Me.. we are all still here if you want us." he lets out softly. "I know I sure as hell don't deserve your forgiveness but-".

"George" I interrupt softly before he can fall too far into his self-internalising guilt-fuelled spiral. "I messed up too. I could've reached out and I didn't."

His brow furrows. "Still not your fault" he counters, so familiarly stubborn that I almost giggle giddily despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Want to come say hi to everyone?" he asks almost sheepishly. "I know they all want to see you.. and we are going for drinks after.. only if you want to come, no pressure of course" he tacks on quickly at the end.

"Are you sure? I don't want to make it awkward or weird" I hesitate, doubt clawing at my insides.

"You won't, I promise" he sticks his pinkie out and I smile fondly at his childishness, linking my pinkie with his and allowing him to pull me up towards the lions den.

Well, here goes nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 will be out in the next few days wehehe ... also I feel like I suck at writing dialogue so I do apologise

Tags:

@the-internets-girlfriend @madforgeorge @happyclifford @sidemenslver @heyitsmefall @bbygrlllllll @mothersversiononly @dopeysunflowers @kwonhoeshi @ooostarwarsfandom501st @liz140569 @artvscvntymullet @livvymd

Also everybody who asked to be on my tag list in the comments of part 1 is it just for this series or for any george fics/ ukyt fics in general? Just so I know what to tag you guys in :)

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c4tluver02 · 2 days ago

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locket

wc: 1.6k

summary: Steve is the best boyfriend who gets you gifts and takes you on late night drives!!!!

warnings: u have long hair, hes taller than u (?) but nothing! flufffffyyy

“Were you able to go shopping with Rob?”

“Yeah, I helped her with some stuff and I actually got you something.” He says mumbling the last few words together.

A laugh escapes you at his antics. It's your nightly call with Steve where you ask each other about the day even though you will probably see him sometime tomorrow.

“You what? Sorry, say that again?” You heard him but Steve spoils you too much which you've told him time and time again he definitely doesn't need to do.

“I did get you something but I immediately thought of you when I saw it so I just had to get it for you.”

Your heart can't help but flutter at how thoughtful your boyfriend is. “That's very sweet of you Stevie.” He can tell you're smiling as you say it. “I actually made cookies for you, I was gonna bring them over tomorrow.” You say factually, lucky that you had a gift in return.

“Well I could always come over now and we could have a gift exchange? Maybe a little late night drive after?” He knows a late night drive is your favorite. Not always accessible since he can't just teleport to you.

“It’s 9pm my love. I will see you tomorrow I promise.” You would feel so guilty if he drove all the way over here for some cookies. Despite wanting to see the gift he got it wasn't worth wasting gas over.

“Exactly, it's only 9 I know you won't be asleep for another few hours. I'll come through your window and I'll be so silent like-.”

“Like a ninja I know.” You copy him with a laugh. “I’ll unlock my window, okay? See you soon.” He makes a hard bargain and you honestly would love to see him, waiting till tomorrow felt so far away.

–

You lay on your bed reading a book but it only takes a few minutes for him to arrive. When you hear a soft knock on your window you jump.

“Sorry I thought knocking would help not scare you.” Steve says as he opens the window.

You close the book and walk over towards him. He’s getting his leg in and you have your hand on his back holding him steady.

“See? Like a ninja.” Steve says smiling at you.

You beam back at him. Only a handful of times that Steve felt through your window prepared you to have a hand ready for him to grab on incase he falls.

“Very graceful.” You say quickly before giving him a kiss. “I have your cookies, do you want one right now?” Stepping down from your tippy toes you walk over to your bedside table that the cookies rest on.

“I mean it wouldn't hurt to try one to make sure it's not poisonous.” He shrugs, taking his shoes off to lay on your bed.

“You think I'd poison you Stevie?” Your eyes are big and glossy, lips a little pouted and Steve wishes he could kiss the look off your face. You are wearing a sweater of his and sweats that also might be his based on how long they are on you.

“Course not, but any good baker needs a taste tester right?” He teases, eyes scanning you up and down. Steve goes to bite the cookie in your hand and you're too late to swipe it away.

“Mmmm. So good.” A deep moan comes out of him as he lays his head back on your pillow.

You take a bite of your own and nod to yourself. It actually is very good, maybe you should go pro. It makes you smile to yourself that Steve would probably back you up on it. When you finish the cookie you lay down next to him and his arms wrap around you immediately.

A soft hand goes under your hoodie to rub your back and you snuggle your face in his neck. He smells heavenly and even better he's like a burning hot furnace. The sweat pants and hoodie is only doing so much for you during the winter.

Before you both accidentally fall asleep you lift your head up. Steve's eyes are closed and he's waiting for you to say something.

“So are you gonna give me my gift or what?” You ask as you rest your chin on his chest.

“Hmm, aren't we eager?” His eyes are still closed but a smile is spreading on his face. You wish you could stare at him a little longer, he looks so pretty right now.

“I just gave you your gift. I thought we were having a fair trade off.” Now you're fully off of Steve and laying on your knees with arms crossed.

“Okay, okay let me get it.” There's a small bag at the end of your bed, it's got tissue paper in it and you can tell the store wrapped it for him.

“Steve.” You say nervously. “Please tell me whatever’s in there is not expensive, that looks expensive.”

He gives you a small kiss to your temple before sitting back on your bed. Simply handing it to you for you to open. He feels giddy and extremely excited to see your response.

Gently opening it, scared to break it in any way, you see a small box at the bottom. It’s a dark blue velvet case and when you open it there's a locket.

A gasp comes out of you as you pull it closer to get a better look at it. “Steve oh my gosh.”

“I haven’t put anything in it yet. I thought we could look through some pictures together and I can fit it in there.” He quickly says. “Do you like it?” Eyes searching for yours in confirmation.

“Do I like it? I love it. I've never gotten anything like this, it's so beautiful.” You wrap your arms around him and he falls back onto the bed. Giving his cheeks a ton of kisses till you finally meet his lips and give him a deep kiss.

“Thank *kiss* you *kiss* so *kiss* much.” And by the end of the sentence he's in a fit of giggles.

“Of course baby, want me to help you put it on?”

“Yes please!” You turn so your back is facing him and lift your hair up.

He puts it on with ease and gives you a gentle kiss behind your ear.

Turning back to him you give him one more hug. “I can't believe you got me this and all I did was make you some cookies.” It comes out just a little muffled because of how you hold your head on his shoulder.

He laughs still rubbing your back and giving your hips a squeeze. “The cookies are a great gift. I love your cookies.”

“You really didn’t need to get me this Stevie.” You say letting go of the hug. Your hands finding their way to his jaw.

“I know I didn’t need to but I wanted to so let me spoil you, okay?” He says putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek.

“Okay.” You melt at the touch, leaning into his hand.

“Now how about we go for a quick ride and then you can get some beauty rest.”

You giggle and get up, opening your window as he slips his shoes back on. The way you flawlessly get out with no issue isn't lost on Steve. He has just as much trouble getting back out as he did getting it, maybe because he's taller than you he thinks.

As you close your window you turn around to see Steve ready with the passenger door open. You step in and get buckled up as Steve gets in to do the same.

“What type of music are we thinking?” You ask.

“Probably something soft if you’re gonna fall asleep.”

You roll your eyes playfully and hit his arm. “I won't fall asleep.” You state standing your ground.

“Okay, put on whatever then.” Steve decides not to bite back instead he rests his hand on your thigh and rubs soft circles.

Youre only about 7 minutes into the album you played, with his warm hand on you and the soft melody of his voice your eyes can't help but flutter close. It’s an extremely cozy moment and it lulls you to sleep within minutes. Steve decides to go around once more before he decides to take you back.

A soft rub on your cheek wakes you up and you let out a groan. You were so comfortable and now Steve has to leave. Possibly the worst thing ever?

“Can’t I just go home with you?” Too tired in your sleepy state.

“M sorry baby, but then your parents won't know where you went.” His hand is still holding your head for you.

“I’ll still see you tomorrow though right?”

“Yes you will see me tomorrow.”

Finally giving in, you get up and give him a hug goodbye. “Thank you again for the locket.” You say before kissing him.

“Mhm no problem angel.” He says it so softly and the way his hands linger tells you he doesn't want you to go either.

But alas you get out of his car and he waits for you to safely get back into your room before he waves his final goodbye to you. There's a tired grumpy look on your face that makes him laugh as he drives away. He couldn't wait to see you tomorrow.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things au #writing #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #blurb #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 days ago

Text

Unhinged Tech Support

Pairing: No Goggles!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Hurt/comfort, fluff & comedy

Word Count: 565

Synopsis: Your laptop breaks, and your heart goes along with it. Who better to comfort you than your psychotic boyfriend?

a/n: really needed to write this for a little bit of comfort amidst this tragedy i’m facing 😭

You didn’t even notice the broken sound that came out of your throat until it echoed off the walls. Your laptop screen was black, the keys unresponsive, and everything—everything—was gone.

Your writing. Your stories. Your worlds. Just… deleted from existence.

You sat frozen in place, shaking. Then—click—you heard the sound of your bedroom window sliding open.

You didn’t turn around. You already knew.

Mark slipped inside with the kind of casual stealth that should’ve been illegal. No knocking, no warning. Just a dark blur and the creak of floorboards as he stalked into the living room like he owned the place—or like he was casing it for fun.

“Baaabe,” Mark drawled, voice casual and lilting with mock concern. “You look like someone just ran over your cat. Twice.”

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. The heat of him was enough—simmering chaos wrapped in bloodstained knuckles and a half-cocked smile.

“It’s gone,” you said numbly.

Mark tilted his head, slowly. “Define ‘it.’”

“My writing. My laptop crashed. All of it. Everything I’ve written for years is just… erased.”

Silence.

Then: "Damn."

He whistled low. “That’s cold. Multiverse gets shredded like paper mâché every other Tuesday, but God forbid your Word doc doesn't survive a power surge.”

You glared at him through the blur of tears. “Glad you think this is funny.”

He plopped down beside you, legs splayed out like he owned the floor, picking up your dead laptop with a look of exaggerated reverence. “Oh no, baby, I’m devastated. Really. This... this is your magnum opus, gone up in smoke. It’s like watching Rome burn. Except if Rome was about hot vampire detectives and gay pirates.”

You threw a pillow at him. He let it hit him square in the face.

“I’m serious, Mark!”

And suddenly, so was he.

In a blink, he was closer—leaning in, grin gone, replaced by something sharp and steady.

“Yeah. You are. And I get it.”

You blinked. That caught you off-guard.

“I know what it’s like to build something that matters. Something that feels like you. And then one day, it’s just… gone. Like it never existed. Except it did. And now you’re stuck in the wreckage, looking around like, ‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’”

Your breath caught.

“But here’s the thing,” he went on, tapping your temple with two fingers. “It didn’t come from there—” he jiggled the dead machine in his other hand, “—it came from here. You can do it again. Better. Weirder. With more violence and unnecessary smut.”

You laughed, watery and surprised.

Then he held the laptop out. “Want me to kill it?”

You blinked. “What?”

“This little traitor. Let me rip it in half. I’ll do it. Right here. Therapeutic destruction.”

You snorted. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He grinned.

And then—CRACK.

The sound was horrifying. Metal bent like taffy. Plastic split. Wires sparked. One half of your laptop flopped to the floor like a dying fish.

“MARK!”

“What? You said it was dead!”

“I didn’t mean literally destroy it!”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Too late. Can’t go back. Welcome to the healing process.”

You stared at the wreckage, stunned. Then, slowly, you started laughing. Really laughing.

And Mark just leaned back with that smug, unhinged smirk like he’d just solved grief itself with raw strength and poor impulse control.

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #variant mark grayson #no goggles mark x reader #lensless mark x reader #variant mark x reader #mark grayson drabble

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dannyriccsystem · 2 days ago

Note

Hey sweetheart!💕

Hope you have a lovely day! ✨

I‘d love to read something about George with 24, 34 and 35, please!

Take your time, thank you already!🫶🏼

I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE MY BABY ALONE

1K SPECIAL - GR63

Semi-public sex + “Feel that? It’s just for you.” + Size difference

SUMMARY: George can’t seem to hold himself back during your date.

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: Semi public, P in V, size difference, reader is implied to be short, doing it in a bathroom, dry humping if you squint

FEATURING: George Russell x Reader

YOU LIKED TO KEEP THINGS CLASSY, even when it came to your boyfriend. He was an old money type of guy, dressing in fancy suits with his hair slicked back. He was a gentleman at heart— George Russell was the type of guy to pick you up and drop you off at the exact times he said he would, not a minute too early or a minute too late.

He loved you meticulously. It was in his nature to be ten steps ahead when it came to love, keeping you under his control. It wasn’t corrupt, it just kept him satisfied. He liked knowing what to expect, and he liked that you’d never confuse his intentions.

Tonight was an important gala for your line of work. It was meant to be a high end event, meaning all guests were required to dress to the nines. With George as your plus one, this wouldn’t be an issue for the two of you. If you weren’t serving at all times, then were you really being true to yourself? Surely not.

Neither one of you went too out of the way. Sure, you like to look nice, but you didn’t want every pair of eyes on you. Just one pair, preferably from the tall brit you so adored. You found him adjusting the cuffs of his simple, smooth, black suit. He paired it with a navy blue tie to match your dress, connecting your outfits in a way that was both discreet and cute.

He pivoted on his heel; George shot you a slow, crooked grin that lingered as your eyes locked. He straightened out his lapels before gracefully stepping towards you, taking one hand and raising it to his lips. The taller man kissed your knuckles whilst maintaining sultry eye contact. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You beamed back at him, showing off all your teeth. He was one of very few people you felt comfortable with— At least enough to bear your vulnerable joy. “You’re quite dashing yourself.”

YOU COULD FEEL HIS EYES ON YOU THE ENTIRE NIGHT. He was watching from afar, waiting for the proper moment to strike. You looked too damn good in that dress— It was a floor length, off-the-shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline. It hugged your body until it flared out just below the knee: a mermaid embellishment.

You chatted to your colleagues with such ease. At the start, George stood proudly at your side as you introduced him to all the individuals you worked with. He was eager to be shown off, finally stepping up to fulfill the title of a man you nonstop talked about. Everyone in your department knew about him, whether it be just from personal accounts or from his own success. George Russell was not an unfamiliar name. But as the night progressed, he slinked back into the shadows, idly sitting at tables pushed into corners of the large ballroom, staring at you fiercely.

You dismiss yourself from whatever boring conversation had been occupying you. The bottom of your dress lightly drags against the pristine flooring of the room whilst you glide over to wear the much taller brit sat, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He cocked a smile at you, tilting his head to the side ever so innocently. You occupied every corner of his mind, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Sorry this event is so boring,” You say in a hushed tone. George rises to his full height, somewhat towering over your smaller frame. Your eyes shifted around the room before you grabbed his hand. “Come on.” He didn’t know where you were taking him, but he was willing to follow. He was always willing to follow you, even to the ends of the earth.

The idea started to form when you hurriedly ushered him into a family bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. He didn’t have to ask questions, because there was only one thing that shoving him into a single stall bathroom could lead to. The one thing he had been craving all night.

You.

You acted so nonchalant as you stood in front of the sink, briefly fixing your hair. His hands slithered around you from behind, flesh born tools resting on your stomach layered in navy blue fabric. The peak of your head barely hit his chin as he rested it atop you, shamelessly staring.

One of George’s sky palms slid back to your waist, pulling your hips back against him, and pushing your upper body forward. Gasping with surprise, you gripped the sink for support. Your boyfriend hunched over your form, his nose buried so deep within your hair with the intent of breathing in the intoxicating smell of shampoo.

He moved his hips, and you groaned almost instantly. Your pleasured sound was stifled shortly after, and all it took was a quiet, “Shhh.” The acoustics within the small bathroom were impeccable for a singer, but when two bored guests at a gala they were forced to attend were looking to get at it, the sound quality was rather poor, in their expert opinions.

“If you’re too loud, someone will hear us,” He explains in a low whisper, moving your hair aside to press a series of sincere kisses to the back of your neck. You look up into the mirror, mouth drawn into a look of surprise at the sight. He looked like he was starving for you. His attention traveled to your exposed shoulders, which was his last stop before he pulled back.

His slender digits tugged at the zipper on the back of your dress, until it jolted to a stop at your hips. As considerate as ever, George took his time with you. He slipped the item off painfully slow, leaving you in just a pair of frilly panties and the matching bra, your beautiful gown crumpled up at your feet carelessly. Not that you cared about anything right now.

You were damn near stark naked for him, but George wasn’t ready to finish with his relentless teasing. It all had purpose— To dive in without first preparing you went against his moral conduct as your boyfriend. You deserved proper foreplay, even if proper foreplay implied a bit of grinding and groping on his end.

His slacks were visibly tight, a tent forming at his crotch. He held your hips steady, pressing his growing erection against the curve of your ass, squeezed softly into your panties. He shuddered, eyes slowly closing as he savored the sensation. It was hard to keep quiet, which is why a quiet groan managed to slip past his parted lips. He inhaled shakily, reeling his hips back just to press them against you once more. “You feel that?” He murmured like filth into your ear, “All for you.”

He pulled at the waistband of your underwear, before letting it snap back against your unsuspecting skin. Choosing to be nice, given the rush to finish up quietly, George pulls your underwear down to your ankles, letting them settle at the straps of your heels. He, in comparison to you, is adorned with a lot more coverage as he slips his own clothes off just enough to make room for his large dick. He’s long with an impressive girth that stretches you good as he pushes his way into your fluttering cunt.

He can’t fit himself in entirely, about an inch of his poor cock unable to squeeze its way inside. You’re barely holding yourself up as is with your forearms pressed tightly against the cold tile of the sink, sending a chill down your spine.His thrusts are slow, allowing you time to get used to his inhumane size. He knows he��s big, but thankfully he also knows how to handle it. With ease.

George presses his hands against your stomach, unable to hold back the grin that flashes across his lips. There’s a large bulge visible, outlining his length as he thrusts in and out, quickening his rate with every other thrust. “Look at that,” He muttered, hypnotized by the sight he was observing in the reflection, peeking out from beneath your breasts in your hunched over pose.

You wanted to, but it was damn near impossible to open your eyes when he was hitting every sensitive spot imaginable. You wanted to hold out, trying to stifle and settle the sensation of your rising orgasm. It was damn near impossible; you could feel the moan bubbling in your throat, waiting for its time.

“You feel so good,” He groaned into your ear. You loved when George praised you, because his tone was always so soft in comparison to the harsh hammering of his hips. He loved pounding into your tight cunt, stretched around his girth, all while telling you how good you were for him. Anything to woo you, his beautiful girl.

It didn’t take much to make you come, because George knew what he was doing at all times. He was an expert when it came to your body, and he wouldn’t dare disappoint in his area of expertise. His long fingers rubbed circles into your clit, lips attacking your neck to decorate it in hickeys.

Yeah. You two were going to have to get out of there real fast.

“I’m-” He didn’t get much of a warning before you suddenly squeezed him, your walls closing in as your body spasmed. You caught you at the hips, keeping you steady back against him as you finally reached your peak. “Coming!” You squeaked out afterwards, nearly choking on your words.

“Good job, sweetheart.” He pulled out slowly, his still erect cock slapping against your ass. He gave it a few delicate strokes, coating your backside in the sticky substance. He raised a brow at your reflection. “Did this make the night more enjoyable?”

You used the paper towels in the bathroom to clean up your mess. He wiped down your back with a towel soaked in water, and then patted it dry before helping you shimmy back into your elegant dress. Despite his filthy acts, George held his arm out for you, allowing you to intertwine your limbs.

“Shall we?” He smirked, bowing his head politely.

“We shall.”

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heathsuii · 19 hours ago

Text

yearner!suna whose feelings lingered in his chest like a whistle that never blew, a game that never ended.

he just finished training, towel draped over his shoulder, scrolling through tiktok when a notification popped up.

buzz from a group chat, chatter from college friends' he never bothered to answer.

he was about to swipe it away, until your name caught his eye.

you: hiii, who's still around ___? and won't mind if i catch a ride.

his fingers paused, hovering over the screen.

you: my car's in the shop. it's really pouring out here 😭

the ache he buried, no matter how hard he tried, returned so fast he didn't bother pretending it ever left.

he was already standing. and without thinking, without planning, he typed.

suna: i’m in the area. i’ll pick you up.

a lie. of course.

because what was the truth, if not something he'd be willing to bend for you?

he was at least thirty minutes out, across the city. maybe fifteen if he blew past every red light.

carelessly tossing his duffel bag into the back seat, slamming the door shut, turning the ignition.

rain tapping the windshield, the city unfolded ahead in smeared lights, and he drove as though the ache in his chest might ease if he were to outrun it.

yearner!suna despised how it lingered—haunting the narrative—his heart was yours, completely.

it was there in a way he could never let his heart settle to anyone that came after.

it was there when he realized that even after all these years, he still didn't know how to stop loving you.

an ache of unspoken words, of dreams left unshared.

yearner!suna arrives in record time, breaking a few traffic laws in the process. tires hissed against the drenched pavement as he pulled up with hazard lights already flashing.

yearner!suna spots you immediately through the rain-streaked windshield. standing beneath a bus stop awning, arms tucked around yourself, eyes flicking between puddles and passing cars.

yearner!suna who could only think about how cold you must've been.

and then, he's out the door.

grabbing the umbrella, the rain swallowing him whole in an instant.

yearner!suna runs, shoes splashing, hoodie clinging to his frame before he reached the curb.

you looked up, eyes widened.

yearner!suna stopping in front of you, chest heaving, clothes soaked, arm raised as he positions the umbrella above your head.

he didn't say anything.

there were so many things he wouldn't say.

like how he would've driven across cities for, across years, across words left unsaid.

like how he hated how you always looked like you belonged with him.

like how he wondered, late at night, if you were thinking about him too.

rain was dripping down his sleeves.

you stepped closer—just enough for the umbrella to shelter him. droplets slid down the side of his face, your thumb brushed it away.

you both stare at each other. in the rain. in silence. in peace.

yearning boyfriend!suna whose ache did not vanish. it had found its place, softer now. no longer a heavy burden.

maybe that's all he ever wanted. to not rid of the ache, but to carry it like this.

with you.

#suna rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #hq #hq suna #haikyuu drabbles #suna fluff #haikyuu suna #suna x you #not proofread #late night thoughts

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heartyluv · 2 days ago

Note

love your blog so dang much 🫶🫶🫶 may I request protective Sylus who is there to prevent reader from harm in a sticky situation? (circumstances completely up to you) 💕

Note: Ahhhh, I can’t thank you enough. Making you happy makes me happy! I wasn’t too sure how to go about this, but I think it ended up coming out pretty decent. I hope you think so. It’s actually longer than I anticipated, too. Enjoy!

Warning: Shooting, Sylus kills someone, Gross man touches and hits you. Sylus arrives in time so nothing graphic happens, but please, still read with caution.

Word Count: 2,333

Sylus/Reader

“It’s not too late to change your mind. I can figure out how to get what I need another way.”

“I know you can. But I know I can do this for you.” You take hold of your worrying boyfriend’s hand, caressing his knuckles gently with your thumb.

“In and out, do you understand?” He says gruffly, concern etched in his tone. You look to Sylus with full attention, comprehending and digesting all of his words. “Do not compromise yourself and do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“Just because I don’t care to do something a certain way, doesn’t mean it won’t be done in order to keep you safe,” he says firmly before taking your hand and sliding a small ruby red ring onto your thumb. “Do not hesitate to press this should you need me.”

When you offered to help your boyfriend complete a job, of course his first and immediate response was no. You weren’t trained, nor did he want you to be apart of this kind of aspect of his life. He was the one who got his hands dirty, who lied and manipulated who he needed to in order to get things done—not you. But you begged him.

You begged him so much, promised that you could help. You just wanted to feel useful. You wanted Sylus to know how much you really had his back, how dedicated you are to him. You wanted to prove yourself.

But he didn’t need you to do that because Sylus knew how much he could trust you and how much you cared for him. He was your protector and letting you do this goes against everything he stands for when it comes to keeping you safe. It was with complete reluctance when he finally caved and said yes to letting you enter a party undercover. It was only because he truly saw how much you were bothered and came to understand how important it was to you to be useful despite it being unnecessary in his eyes

It’s a fairly simple job. You’re to retrieve documents relating to the operations of an arms dealer trying to climb the ranks to surpass a top businessman like your boyfriend.

He wasn’t a threat, but Sylus handled his business in a way that never allowed something with potential to solidify. Knowing what this man was going for, who he was working with, and his plans, was all he needed to squash his business before it could really get off the ground.

You look down at the short tight black dress you put on, feeling slightly uncomfortable because not only did you not tend to wear clothes like this, but you were wearing it to flaunt yourself in order to gain the arms dealer’s, Mikael’s, attention.

Sylus’ main reason as to why he was allowing you to do this because he would be out here waiting for you with Luke and Kieran, ready to wreak havoc if necessary. Admittedly, if you were able to go in and obtain the information he needed, it would make his life incredibly easy, but difficultly wasn’t a foreign concept to Sylus. If anything happens to you, going in with guns blazing wasn’t above him, even if it would cause some hiccups that he’d have to deal with. He had no other plan at the moment and you were his best shot, but in the end? You were coming home with him unscathed.

You look out the window of the SUV you’re in and gaze at the large mansion with obnoxious strobe lights and loud music. Luke is parked right beside you in a sleek red sports car, ready to drive you to the front door so that you can have a flashy entrance. It’ll draw Mikael’s attention and unfortunately, that’s exactly what you need. Bringing your eyes back to Sylus, you softly smile and hope your nervousness isn’t so evident.

“I got this Sy, I promise. In and out.” He nods curtly, reaching over the center console and kissing your lips before sighing. He gives you the okay to go, watching you climb out of the passenger seat of the black vehicle and into the backseat of the expensive one. Kieran sits up in the backseat, patting his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay, Boss. She’s smart and we’re here for her if anything.”

But Sylus doesn’t speak. He simply watches the car turn onto the road and head to the house whose backyard he’s about to wait in while you’re inside. For their sake, you will be okay. Because no one will be able to control the man he will become if you aren’t.

When Luke drives off, your body buzzes with uncertainty. There’s no guards or anything, but you know they’re around. That incognito feeling and uncertainty of their placements has you on edge, but Sylus assured you that he had it covered. Slowly, you climb the marble steps and walk into the lavish home, feeling the beat pulse through your body as dozens of people gyrate against each other in any open space available.

And just as you thought, Mikael has been staring at you since the moment you came in. You know he heard the loud music Luke played, know he’s curious about the lone woman who’s come to his party.

Sylus showed you several images of him, so you’re not mistaken about who the older man is. Short, stubby, balding, and in his 50s.

Two women sit on his lap in the little VIP section he’s created from himself and he roughly squeezes their thigh, saying something before they stand up. Mikael is next, pushing past them with two cups of what you assume is alcohol, in his hand as he makes his way to you.

“And what is a pretty lady like you doing, coming here alone? Come to see me, hm?” His grin is mischievous and it makes you want to cringe as he hands you the drink of what smells like whiskey. But you promised Sylus. You promised yourself.

You smirk, stepping closer and looking him up and down, biting your lip to make him believe that you want him. What you really want is to vomit.

“And if I did?” you tease, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes fall to your mouth.

“I’d say you’re a smart broad.” He steps closer, his overpowering cologne washing over you as he whispers in your ear.

“I gotta say, ain’t been no girls as sexy as you in here tonight. Come to the VIP and we’ll see how lucky you get.”

Disrespectful and full of himself. Every single part of you wants to kick his ass.

You simply smile and nod, taking his sweaty hand and letting him guide you to the booths he has in the corner of what seems to be the living room. Sylus said his office is upstairs and that’s where he has the documents.

You’re so close. You won’t fail, you tell yourself.

It feels like hours go by as he gropes your body in ways that makes you want to have his hands shot off. From your ass to your thighs, he just keeps touching. But you need to get into that office. You refused to drink, trying to keep him talking and distracted with monotonous conversation.

And finally, finally he says what you’ve been waiting for.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs? Show you around?” He grabs himself through his pants, and the urge to hurl continues to grow. Your anxiety spikes as well, because this is exactly what Sylus said not to do, but it’s the only way you have.

“Don’t let yourself end up alone with him. If you can’t a way to the office by yourself, leave. I’ll be there for you.”

But you can’t leave. You won’t.

People continue to party as Mikael brings you upstairs and down one of many halls, showing you several different rooms. He’s flaunting his wealth clearly, as well as his status while he gloats on and on about how he doesn’t know what to do with all the space.

He passes a door though, and that makes you stop.

“What’s in here?” you speak up, and he turns around with a sly smile.

“Curious thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “My office. Nothing in there you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Mm, I’m not worried. But I do like offices. I like them a lot,” you let your words end in a flirtatious tone.

“Yeah? Tell me what you like.”

“Why don’t I show you?” He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Easy. Of course he is.

He pulls a key out of his pocket, using it to unlock the door. Paranoid too, it seems.

When you’re in the office, you look for the safe. Sylus mentioned that would be behind a painting and how convenient that there’s only one in here with Mikael sitting on a throne. Pitiful.

Before you can try and say anything, Mikael wraps his arms around your waist and your body tense as he kisses your neck.

“Wait—” You try and speak but he’s tugging at your dress.

“No wait,” he grumbles, his breath like lava on your skin. “You don’t get to tease me all night and try and take it slow, doll. Show me what you like about offfices so much.”

You try and push him back, but he just starts getting more aggressive. The more you pushback, the angrier he becomes. So much so that he hits you because of your resistance.

You fall to the floor due to the impact, your eyes widening with fear at what he might try and do. Is he going to kill you? Worse? You don’t want to find out.

You’re way in over you head. You hate that it took you this long to realize that, but you need help. You need Sylus and you need him now.

It’s as soon as you press the button on the ring that you start hearing gunfire. Mikael looks at you with accusatory eyes.

“You bitch!” he snarls. “What did you do?! Who do you work for?!”

He starts to snatch you up, griping your arm tightly, but the door kicks open, wood splintering and flying through the room. Sylus doesn’t even give him a chance to let you go. He simply shoots him in the knee, causing Mikael to fall to the floor in agony.

“I’m so sorry,” you mewl, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Sylus squats down next to you, his eyes raking over your body. It’s the sight of your disheveled clothes, the red print on your face and arm, and the fact that you pressed the button in the first place, that makes his blood boil. He’s fueled with rage, but he refuses to scare you more than you already are.

“You’re okay,” he promises you. “I’m taking us home.”

Mikael looks at Sylus with shock and fear, still disoriented from the pain.

“S-Sylus!” he shouts and your boyfriend stands, giving him attention and tilting his head.

“I mean, Mr. Sylus! I didn’t know—I swear, she came onto me! I would never—“

“Your attempt to excuse your actions only angers me more than I already am. For her, I will make your death swift.” He takes a step forward. “Had I not been so determined to make sure she remains okay, you would have felt more pain than the result of a bullet. You’re a poor excuse of a human being and there is no such thing as redemption for you. Maybe you’ll do better in your next life.” Sylus shoots Mikael so that one bullet is all he needs to end him, point blank.

You jump, tears falling down your cheeks. You’re embarrassed and shaken up. Sylus has killed in front of you before. That’s not what scares you. It’s just the intensity and reality of it all. You weren’t ready, and Sylus was right to be hesitant.

But he doesn’t think any of that at all.

“Come, sweetie,” he gently grabs hold of your hands. “I’m here. Can you stand?”

You nod, letting him help you up as he rests his suit jacket on your shoulders. He guides you out of the barren home and back into the SUV, throwing orders to the twins to get everything cleaned up and to get the files.

The drive is silent, all the way until you’re back home. Sylus helps you out the car when you arrive, taking you inside. He brings you to the grand bathroom and begins to undress you, then runs a hot bath with your favorite bath salts and soaps. He undresses himself next, letting you step into the tub first before climbing in and sitting behind you.

“I’m sorry…” you finally speak, only to apologize again.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I failed—”

“I failed. I knew better than to let you go in there, yet I did it anyway. But you’re safe now, kitten. As long as I’m breathing, you will always be safe. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you say just below a whisper.

“Put all your faith in me. I won’t make the mistake of putting you in harms way ever again.”

Your eyes water again and you turn around, taking advantage of the large tub to sit in his lap. You wrap yourself around him, holding him close as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sleep, sweetie,” he kisses your cheek. “I have you. I’ll take care of everything.”

You listen to him because you trust him as much as he does you. Had he not been there… you don’t even want to think of it anymore. All that matters is that he was. He will always come to your rescue because a life without you is not a life Sylus will ever experience. That, he is sure.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus

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yungistiny · 2 days ago

Text

ruin me

[ S. Mingi ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your boyfriend wants you to ruin him

warnings: pegging, power play, switch mingi, switch reader,anal, light bondage, dirty talk, oral, degradation, overstimulation, choking, fingering, possessive mingi, slight mirror kink

genre: smut

pairing: mingi x afab reader

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi didn’t even flinch when he asked.

It was late, both of you still tangled in post shower laziness. You were straddling his lap, a towel wrapped loosely around your chest, his lips trailing lazy kisses up your neck when he murmured, “Have you ever thought about fucking me? Really fucking me?”

You froze, just slightly. Enough for him to pause.

He leaned back, watching your expression. “I mean it. With a strap. I want to feel what it’s like.”

Your heart pounded, not out of hesitation but something sharper, darker. You’d never done it. But the idea of Mingi, your gorgeous, cocky, six foot something boyfriend, spread out, vulnerable, begging for it?

You swallowed. “You want me to fuck your ass?”

He smirked, but his voice was low, husky. “I want you to fucking ruin me.”

And that’s how you found yourself now, weeks later, tightening the cuffs around his wrists, securing them to the headboard, while Mingi lay on his back, naked, flushed, already hard and leaking, eyes glassy with want.

“You trust me?” you asked.

“Completely,” he said, voice rough.

You’d practiced. Studied. Bought the harness, the lube, the plug to warm him up. You’d prepped him slow, first with your tongue, watching him fall apart as you rimmed him open, then with your fingers, coaxing him to relax around the toy now inside him, stretching him perfectly.

By the time you slipped the harness on and ran your hand over the slick silicone cock, Mingi looked ruined and you hadn’t even started.

“You’re such a fucking mess already,” you teased, stroking him once, slow, from base to tip. His hips jerked. “Look at you, my mess.”

He groaned, eyes rolling back.

“You like being my good boy, huh?” you whispered, lining up at his entrance after removing the plug. “You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes…. please, fuck, do it, baby, please”

You pushed in slowly, watching every inch disappear, watching his body shudder as he stretched around you.

“Holy fuck, Mingi…” you gasped, voice wrecked. The sight alone had you soaked, you could feel your slick arousal leaking down your thighs.

You hadn’t expected it to feel this good, not just physically, but the power of it. The sight of him beneath you, so big but so undone, trembling for more, eyes wild. It lit something in you. Possessive. Addictive.

You began to move.

Slow at first. Rolling your hips. Watching his cock jerk with every thrust. His moans got louder, deeper, shameless.

“God…. you’re so deep…. please, harder”

You grabbed his hips and fucked him.

Rhythmic. Deep. Relentless.

The sound of skin slapping, the wet squelch of lube, the way he strained against the cuffs, all of it sent you spiraling.

“You were made for this,” you smirked, leaning over to slap his inner thigh. “Such a pretty hole. You’re my little fucktoy now, huh?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “I’m yours… yours to use… please, don’t stop”

You gripped his jaw, made him look at you while you pounded into him, faster now, angle brutal and unforgiving.

“You gonna cum for me?” you taunted. “Gonna make a mess without even touching yourself?”

“Fuck… I’m close…. I…. fuck”

And then he did.

Hard.

Spilling across his abs, untouched, crying out your name like a prayer. His whole body trembled beneath you. And you didn’t stop.

You fucked him through it, hips slamming into his overstimulated body, cock still twitching while he moaned helplessly.

When you finally slowed, easing out, both of you were soaked in sweat, shaking, breathing like you’d run a marathon.

You unclipped the cuffs gently, massaging his wrists before curling beside him, stroking his cheek.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes dazed. “I’ve never felt that good in my life.”

You grinned, heart pounding. “I liked that,” you confessed. “I want to do it again.”

His eyes met yours, dark, full of promise. “You can have me whenever you want.”

He was still panting, chest rising and falling like he’d just crawled out of a dream, but even wrecked, there was something simmering in the way Mingi looked at you. Hungry. Dark. Dangerous.

You were about to get up when he pushed up on shaky elbows and caught your chin between his fingers.

“That turned you on,” he said voice low, gravel and rough. “Watching me fall apart like that.”

You blinked, dazed, throat dry. “Of course it did…”

He smirked.

“Then let me return the favor.”

Before you could reply, he surged forward, dragging your mouth to his, all tongue and teeth and filth. His kiss was demanding, reclaiming, as he rolled you flat onto the bed.

You were still wearing the strap on.

Mingi’s eyes dropped to it. He chuckled, soft, amused. “Cute,” he murmured. “But you’re not the one fucking anyone this time.”

He unbuckled it slow, dragging it off you with calculated ease, before tossing it off the side of the bed. Then his hands were on your thighs, spreading them open as he settled between them, shoulders wide and body flushed, lips swollen from the kiss.

“You’re already soaked,” he muttered, dragging a thick finger through your folds. “You liked seeing me lose it, didn’t you? Got off on the power.” He started licking at the excess arousal on your inner thighs.

You whimpered when he slid two fingers inside, curling them just right. “Yes… fuck, yes”

“Well now you’re mine.”

He pulled his fingers out, held them up, glistening, and spit on them before sliding them back in. The stretch made you jerk, hips bucking.

“You’re gonna come so many times you forget your own name,” he whispered. “Gonna have you crying for me, baby. Think you can handle that?”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

Mingi leaned down, sucked your nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to sting. You moaned, hands fisting the sheets.

“I said” he growled, thrusting his fingers harder, “can you handle it?”

“Yes… fuck, Mingi, please”

Satisfied, he kissed a trail down your stomach, breath hot against your inner thighs before his mouth met your cunt. He didn’t start slow, he devoured you like he needed it, tongue flicking over your clit while his fingers moved faster, rougher, like he needed you just as ruined as you made him.

Your back arched.

“don’t stop”

He didn’t.

He dragged you closer to the edge, locked eyes with you while he tongue fucked you like he had something to prove. And he did, he wanted you as ruined as he had been. Wrecked. Dumb on pleasure.

You came fast, thighs shaking, hand tangled in his hair as you ground helplessly against his mouth.

But he didn’t let up.

Even as you trembled, even as your overstimulated clit throbbed, he kept licking, sucking, moaning into you like you were his last meal.

You tried to close your legs. He forced them open with a growl.

“No,” he snapped. “You don’t get to tap out after one. You made me fucking scream, baby, you’re not getting off that easy.”

He slipped up your body, gripped your throat, not tight, just enough to feel the weight of him. “You look so fucking pretty when you’re ruined,” he whispered.

Then he flipped you over, dragged you to your knees, and knelt behind you. His hand snaked between your legs again, teasing, circling, never quite touching where you needed it most.

“Beg.”

You whined. “Mingi, please… touch me… I need it… need you”

He leaned in, licking the shell of your ear. “You’re dripping down your thighs and you still want more? Filthy little thing.”

Then, finally, his fingers found your clit again. His other hand gripped your hair, pulling you back just enough for your spine to arch.

He fingered you hard and deep from behind, rutting against you with his own cock now, the tip sliding against your ass, leaking with precum, still sensitive but hard again.

You were too far gone to tease. You wanted everything. And he gave it.

“Mingi….fuck…. I’m cumming”

“That’s right,” he growled, thrusting his fingers harder. “Let go. Cum for me. Make a mess.”

You screamed.

Collapsed under him, body twitching, soaked and shaking as you clenched around nothing, his fingers pulled out, and he groaned at the sight.

You barely registered when he hauled you upright again, dragging you into his lap on the edge of the bed, both of you facing the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, mouth at your shoulder. “Look at what a mess I made.”

You did.

Flushed, swollen, lip red from biting, eyes glassy.

He kissed your neck. “You ever let anyone else see you like this?”

You shook your head, voice gone. “Only you.”

He smiled. Not smug, something deeper. Like you’d given him the only answer he ever wanted.

He tucked your hair back, pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Good girl.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies

#thank you so much for 900 followers 🤭#mingi #mingi smut #song mingi #mingi x y/n #mingi x reader #ateez

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kathlare · 16 hours ago

Text

heatwave

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the middle of the sun-soaked chaos of race weekend, they share something intimate, soft, and grounding, all while something unspoken pulses between them, just waiting for the right moment to be said.

Wordcount: 7.5 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

May 3rd, 2025 - Miami, FL

Traffic in Miami could burn in hell.

Amelie had changed outfits three times, lost her earring once, and forgotten her lip gloss twice. She’d FaceTimed Lando in the middle of her chaos, wearing only her robe and asking which heels he liked better. He’d groaned at the sight of her, muttered something about her doing this on purpose, and picked the strappy white ones while calling her a menace.

She ended the call with a smirk, already twenty minutes late.

By the time she made it to the restaurant — a rooftop overlooking the glittering water and the chaotic buzz of pre-race Miami — the sun was starting to melt into the skyline. She spotted the table immediately. Laughter, wine glasses, and the unmistakable sound of gossip being passed around like candy.

—Jesus, I’m so late— she muttered, approaching.

—You’re always late— Lily Muni He chimed, eyes twinkling as she stood to give her a hug. —At this point, it’s your brand.—

—I had a wardrobe malfunction— Amelie defended herself as she kissed everyone hello, slipping between Carmen and Kika at the long table. —Also, I hate Miami traffic. I should’ve walked.—

—In those heels?— Alexandra Saint Mleux laughed, already pouring her a glass of wine. —We’d have to fish you out of the sidewalk.—

—At least I’d look hot.—

Everyone groaned.

—Anyway, tell me everything I missed— Amelie said as she settled in, brushing her hair over her shoulder. —Who’s crying, who’s cheating, who’s secretly eloping?—

—Honestly? No one’s cheating this week— Lily Zneimer shrugged, sipping her drink. —Kinda boring.—

—Pierre has been suspiciously nice— Kika raised an eyebrow. —That usually means he’s done something dumb.—

—Or he’s about to— Lily Muni added with a knowing smile.

—I swear to god, you all terrify me— Alexandra giggled. —If I were one of your boyfriends, I’d never sleep.—

—Who says we let them sleep?— Amelie said with a smirk.

That earned a round of gasps and laughter. Carmen nearly choked on her wine.

The conversation flowed easily after that. Talk of dresses, beach plans, who had the best hospitality suite (apparently Red Bull had an ice cream machine now?), and what the hell Charles had done to his hair this time. There was a warmth to these dinners — a kind of glittery solidarity only the WAGs really understood. Cameras, rumors, jet lag, late-night flights, early morning paddock call times — they got it.

And then, out of nowhere, Carmen said:

—I still can’t believe you’re finally moving to Monaco!—

Amelie blinked. —Huh?—

—I mean— Carmen continued, totally oblivious —it’s gonna be so fun to have you close. We can do beach days, wine nights, everything.—

—Wait, what?— Amelie’s voice went up slightly.

The table fell into a beat of silence. Lily Muni’s eyes widened. Alexandra pressed her lips together like someone holding in a secret. Kika looked at Carmen like she’d just stepped on a landmine.

—Oh my god— Carmen blinked, covering her mouth —you don’t know?—

Amelie tilted her head. —Know what?—

There was a long pause before Lily Muni He groaned.

—Fuck— she said softly.

—Carmen, you dumb bitch— Alexandra added, though not unkindly.

—Okay— Carmen whispered, eyes wide. —So like. Maybe Lando’s been… prepping a bit? Before asking you?—

—Prepping what?—

Lily Muni finally broke. —He’s been getting his Monaco place redone for you. Like, new closet space, skincare shelves, hair tools, new sheets you actually like—

—...a whole section in the kitchen for your matcha shit— Alexandra added.

—He made a mood board— Carmen said under her breath.

Amelie stared at them.

Her heart was doing this weird, skippy thing in her chest, as if it had missed the fucking memo.

—A mood board?— Amelie echoed, blinking. —Are you fucking serious?—

—Yes— Alexandra said, grinning into her wine glass. —And it was disgustingly cute. I saw it. He had, like, paint swatches and Post-its and photos of your kitchen in New York. There was a literal picture of your pink kettle, Ames. It had its own Post-it that said “non-negotiable.”—

—Shut up— Amelie whispered, suddenly feeling a little warm in the face.

—I’m not joking— Lily said, her smile softening. —He’s been asking us what makes a space feel like you. Like, actual questions. “What kind of lighting does Amelie like?” “Would she want a vanity here or here?” It’s been going on for weeks.—

—He even asked me to find the brand of those candles you love— Carmen chimed in, clearly trying to redeem herself —you know, the ones that smell like that fancy-ass hotel in Milan?—

—Oh my god— Amelie said again, quieter this time.

Her wine glass hovered in midair, untouched, her heart thudding against her ribs like it was trying to stage a jailbreak. Lando hadn’t said a word about this. Not even a hint. Not a single offhand comment. And now, here she was, in the middle of a table surrounded by half-drunk, glowy WAGs, finding out that her boyfriend had basically been quietly nesting.

For her.

—He hasn’t asked me— she said, her voice coming out a bit breathless, a bit shocked.

—Yet— Lily Muni said gently.

Kika leaned forward, both elbows on the table. —Honestly, I think he’s just nervous. He wanted everything to feel right before bringing it up. You know how he gets.—

—Obsessive— Alexandra muttered with a grin. —Meticulous. Slightly deranged.—

—In love— Carmen added, shrugging. —Let’s call it what it is.—

Amelie let out a laugh. A kind of stunned, disbelieving sound.

Her face was warm. Her chest was warmer.

Her stomach flipped. She reached for her wine, took a long sip.

—He’s such a little shit— she said eventually, voice fond. —Doing all this without telling me.—

—You love it— Lily Zneimer smirked.

—I do not love being ambushed with life news during dinner— Amelie said, narrowing her eyes. —But I might let it slide this once.—

The girls laughed again, and the conversation began to move on — someone brought up Hailey Bieber’s new weird baby name rumor, and Kika nearly spilled her drink laughing. But Amelie stayed quiet for a moment longer, her mind spinning a little too fast.

Lando wanted her to be there.

Not just in Monaco. With him.

And not in a vague, “you can crash at mine” kind of way. No, this was effort. Thought. Intention. He was making room for her in his world, literally and figuratively. He was building a place for her — and not just a physical one. A life.

God. He was so annoying.

So thoughtful. So annoying.

She was never going to recover from this.

-------------

liked by lanmelieorleave, f1gfdiaries, and others

amelieupdatee: Amelie Dayman via Instagram Stories — serving Miami heat in an orange dress on a balcony tonight 🍊🌆✨

She really said “Lanmelie orange core” and we’re eating it UP

View all 56,187 comments

lanmelie4life: orange dress??? miami??? balcony??? she’s not a wag she’s a WITCH → f1wagwatcher: @lanmelie4life she cast a spell on lando and ngl i support her

f1gfdiaries: amelie in orange is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT → trophygfenergy: @f1gfdiaries lando’s fav color + legs out = global peace

gridsidegossip: she ate and left no crumbs… again → lanosexylando: @gridsidegossip crumbs? she burned the whole table down omg

pitlaneprincess: not her hanging out with the WAGs like she hasn’t been main character since DAY ONE 😭

landosdelulu: lando seeing this story and running home IMMEDIATELY

girlsontrackkk: imagine showing up to dinner and AMELIE DAYMAN walks in dressed like THAT → mclarenmama: @girlssontrackkk i’d simply evaporate

lanmeliebrained: this isn’t even an outfit this is a THREAT

gridgf6969: SHE IS THE MOMENT. SHE IS THE GRID WIFE. → lanmeliecore: @gridgf6969 realest orange flag i’ve ever seen 🧡

wagsuniteplz: can we talk abt how she walked into that wag dinner and everyone else turned grayscale??

lanmelieorleave: orange dress?? balcony?? miami skyline?? we are DEEP in wag era → formulaglam: she’s not just a wag, she’s THE wag

f1itgirlies: this isn’t a dress, it’s a cultural reset → ameliestrut: @f1itgirlies miami was not ready for this level of serve 😮‍💨

wagsupremacyy: amelie and the wag dinner is like avengers assemble for hot girls → pitlaneprincess: @wagsupremacyy someone get them a reality show PLSSSSS

chaoticlanmelie: if this is what she wears for dinner i fear race day is gonna END US → miamigirlhot: @chaoticlanmelie the paddock ain’t surviving tmrw i’m telling u

spicygridtea: rumors who?? she showed up glowing, giggling, and gorgeous → lanfan321: @spicygridtea that’s the “my man’s obsessed w me” glow

-------------

The sky had already gone navy when Carmen pulled up in front of Amelie’s hotel.

The drive back had been mostly quiet, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and Carmen’s subtle glances from the corner of her eye. Amelie had been staring out the window, the golden glow of Miami’s nightlife flashing against her skin, her mind still swimming in mood boards, candle scents, and the image of her stupid pink kettle being labeled non-negotiable by the boy she loved.

—I’m sorry,— Carmen finally said, fingers tapping against the wheel. —I really didn’t mean to say it like that. I thought he’d already told you.—

Amelie blinked, then smiled softly. —It’s okay.—

—I just...he’s been planning this for months. He’s so excited. Like, he keeps checking delivery dates like a maniac. He wants it to be perfect for you.—

—I know,— Amelie said, voice quiet. —And… you don’t have to worry, Carm. I’m not going to say anything.—

Carmen blinked. —Wait, really?—

—Yeah,— Amelie nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. —I’m gonna wait until he tells me. Properly. Whenever he’s ready.—

—You sure?— Carmen asked. —You don’t seem like the ‘wait patiently’ type.—

Amelie smirked. —I’m not. But I don’t want to ruin his plans. If he’s doing this whole thing, then I want to see it through his way. Let him have his big gesture moment.—

Carmen stared at her for a second, then grinned. —You’re disgustingly in love.—

—Tragically,— Amelie said as she opened the car door. —Thanks for the ride, Carm.—

—Anytime. And… sorry again for spilling the beans.—

Amelie shrugged playfully. —I’ll just blackmail you with it later.—

She shut the door, tugged her orange dress into place, and began walking toward the hotel entrance. A few fans stood nearby — some holding phones, others hesitating like they weren’t sure if it was really her.

When she smiled, it confirmed everything.

She took pictures with the ones who asked, signing a few notebooks, complimenting earrings, and laughing at a shy boy’s awkward compliment. Her heels clicked elegantly against the marble as she finally stepped into the lobby, nodding politely to the concierge who greeted her by name. She looked like she belonged here — in this city, in this chaos, in this exact moment. Radiant. Steady. Buzzing just under the surface.

The elevator ride was quiet, save for the faint hum of pop music leaking from the speakers. When the doors opened to the suite floor, she stepped out and walked straight to their door.

Key card. Beep. Click.

She opened the door to their suite and stepped inside.

The low lights inside the suite cast a warm golden hue across the space. It smelled faintly like her perfume and something clean—Lando’s cologne, probably. Her heels clicked softly against the hardwood as she crossed the living room, slipping them off by the couch with a sigh of relief.

Then she padded toward the bedroom, fingers already tugging at the back of her dress.

And there he was.

Lando, propped up against the headboard, still in his Quadrant hoodie and sweats, a tablet in his lap. Data charts glowed on the screen, his brow slightly furrowed, hair fluffy from a shower and the kind of relaxed focus he only ever wore when he thought no one was watching.

He looked up at the sound of the door creaking.

His gaze snagged on her immediately—and his expression changed like someone had punched the breath out of him.

—Fuck,— he muttered, setting the tablet aside. —You look hot.—

Amelie tilted her head, smiling slowly. —I always look hot, darling.—

Lando grinned, biting his bottom lip slightly, eyes trailing shamelessly over her figure. The orange dress hugged her curves like it had been painted on, dipping low in the back, stopping just short of indecent. Her hair was tousled from the breeze, her skin glowing from wine and laughter and just… existing.

He held out a hand, and she crossed to him, turning around so her back faced him.

—Help me untie it?— she asked.

He was already sitting up straighter, fingers gentle as they worked at the delicate ties along her spine.

—You really do wear these to torture me, don’t you?— he murmured, voice low, warm against her skin.

—Maybe,— she hummed, tilting her head to the side.

Once the knot was undone, his lips found her back, soft and slow. A trail of small kisses up her spine. One on the nape of her neck. One on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes briefly. Let herself melt for a moment. Then...

—I’m gonna wash my face before I crawl into your lap,— she said over her shoulder, stepping away.

Lando let out a dramatic sigh. —Tease.—

She disappeared into the bathroom, flicking the light on and getting to work. The usual: double cleanse, toner, serum, the lavender moisturizer Lando claimed “smelled like sleep.” She changed into one of his old t-shirts, brushed her hair back, and took a breath before turning the light off.

When she returned, Lando was still there—legs stretched out, shirt slightly rumpled, that same soft look in his eyes when he saw her again.

She climbed into bed beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then she curled into his side, one hand splaying against his chest, the other dragging lazily up under the hem of his hoodie. Fingers tracing the faint ridges of muscle, the smooth skin just above his waistband.

—Someone’s handsy tonight,— he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

—I just missed you,— she said, voice quiet now.

But the truth thudded inside her louder than she could bear.

She loved him.

So much it almost hurt. She felt it in the way she touched him, in the way she couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop reaching. It was bubbling just beneath the surface, raw and bright and real.

And he noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Lando turned a little, shifting so he could look at her properly. His thumb brushed her cheek. Her lips. Her jaw.

—You okay?— he asked softly.

She nodded, smile blooming slow and real. —I’m really happy.—

His brows lifted just slightly, amused and tender. —Yeah?—

—Yeah,— she said, curling into his chest again. —I just… can’t believe we’re here. Finally. Like this.—

Lando wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

She could tell him. She could say it right now.

But she didn’t.

Not yet.

Because this was enough. This closeness. This bed. This ridiculous hoodie that smelled like home. This love she hadn’t even fully spoken out loud yet but was already living in every day.

She could wait.

She wanted to see what he had planned.

She wanted to say yes to all of it when he finally asked.

But tonight?

Tonight she would fall asleep wrapped in him, heart racing, lips smiling, knowing she’d never loved someone like this before.

And that she never would again.

-------------

liked by chaoticwags, f1teaparty, and others

f1wagsupdates: Amelie Dayman has officially entered the paddock for the final time this weekend — and she’s ending it with a silk baby blue slay 💎✨

The long dress, the wind in her hair, the soft glam?? It’s giving Old Hollywood at the Grand Prix and we are obsessed.

gridgfmaterial: she said ✨final boss energy✨ and meant it

pitlanepeaches: someone get security she’s about to cause incidents on and off track → landosnumberone: @pitlanepeaches FIA needs to ban her from looking this good tbh

lanfanclubbb: baby blue silk??? miss girl really woke up and chose ✨wifey aesthetic✨ → wagsupreme: @lanfanclubbb she didn’t dress for the race she dressed for the afterparty 😮‍💨

chaoticwags: lando locking in p1 just bc he saw her walk in like that 😭 → norisimp: @chaoticwags he’s manifesting podium kisses and i support him

paddockbaddies: lanmelie forever got the paddock in a chokehold → daymanlvr: @paddockbaddies if this is her last look of the weekend she went out SWINGING

formulafairytales: i can’t even joke anymore like she’s actually breathtaking bye

lanmeliefanclub: baby blue for the baby girl 😭💙 → pitlanebaddie: @lanmeliefanclub lando’s gonna propose with that color in mind WATCH

softlaunchsupreme: she said “last look of the weekend” and SERVEDDDD → drsdiva: @softlaunchsupreme the other wags had to move aside sry

gridgirlera: lando when he sees her: “guys my engine’s overheating” → lanmeliebrainrot: @gridgirlera not the ONLY thing overheating

f1teaparty: “baby blue silk dress” is now my entire personality. thanks amelie. → ameliesimpact: @f1teaparty she’s the reason miami humidity spiked be fr

norrisbabywife: he’s 100% pacing in the garage like “do NOT let me fumble this woman” → gridgossipgirl: @norrisbabywife mclaren gotta duct tape him to the seat fr 😭

pitlaneangel: the dress. the glow. the hair. i just know lando’s breathing different rn

-------------

The Miami sun was merciless, but Lando didn’t care. Not today. He was still riding the high from the absolute chaos that was the drivers’ parade—LEGO cars this time, for some goddamn reason, and honestly, it had been hilarious. Charles had crashed into Carlos, Carlos had swerved into George, and Lando had done at least three unnecessary donuts just because he could. The fans were loving it. He was loving it.

Now, walking back toward the McLaren hospitality with Jon at his side and his bodyguard trailing just a step behind, he was still buzzing. Sunglasses pushed up his nose, hair sweaty under his cap, his suit unzipped halfway down his torso, Lando kept a grin on his face as fans called out to him from behind the barriers.

—Lando, can you sign my cap?— —Can I get a quick video for my brother?— —Landoooo, you're gonna win again, baby!—

He stopped here and there, signing autographs as he walked, never fully stopping, just doing the multitasking dance he’d perfected over the years. His team kept him moving, but he made eye contact, smiled, even complimented someone’s bucket hat that looked suspiciously like one he’d lost in 2021.

But then—he looked up.

And his whole mood shifted.

Amelie.

She was sitting outside McLaren hospitality, right in the shade of one of the massive umbrellas, legs crossed under the table like she belonged there—because she did—but it wasn’t her being there that threw him. It was who she was with.

Mick fucking Schumacher.

Lando’s jaw clenched so hard Jon noticed, shooting him a brief side glance, but didn’t say anything. Mick had his sunglasses perched on his head, leaning just a little too far across the table, laughing at something Amelie had said. She was laughing too—head tilted back slightly, hand to her chest, her golden brown skin glowing in the Miami sun, hair pulled up in a messy bun that Lando knew she hadn’t put any effort into but still looked unfairly perfect.

He felt it. That small, stupid, primitive flare in his chest. Jealousy.

He didn’t even try to rationalize it. He didn’t care that Mick had a girlfriend for ages, or that things never happened between them beyond that one date back in 2021, or that Amelie had never once said anything remotely flirty about Mick. All Lando could think about was how Mick used to beg him—beg him—to set them up, back when Amelie and Lando were just friends and Mick didn’t know that every time he looked at her, Lando wanted to rip the goddamn sky in half.

Now he was newly single.

And sitting with his girlfriend.

Fuck that.

He was supposed to go inside, back to his driver room, get water, debrief, whatever. But instead, he changed direction with zero hesitation, heading straight for them like a magnet being pulled. Jon didn’t question it—just kept up—but Lando heard the slight shuffle of his bodyguard adjusting position, aware of the trajectory change.

Amelie spotted him first.

Her face lit up the second her eyes landed on him. That smile—her real one, not the press one—spread slow and wide across her face like it couldn’t be helped, and her hand shot up to shield her eyes from the sun as she called out, voice teasing.

—You finally done crashing into your coworkers, Lan? Or are they still picking up the LEGO bricks you left behind?—

Lando smirked, his jealousy softening but still prickling beneath the surface. He came to a stop right by her chair, eyes flicking briefly toward Mick with a polite-enough nod, but all his attention honed in on her.

—Carlos started it, for the record,— he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head like it was nothing. Like it was normal. —I was an innocent bystander in the great LEGO massacre of 2025.—

—Innocent?— she snorted, leaning back in her seat with that amused glint in her eyes. —You literally did donuts in a plastic car, Lan.—

—They were strategic donuts. Psychological warfare.—

Mick laughed, but it sounded awkward now. Lando didn’t look at him again. He was already tugging a chair from the next table and dropping himself beside Amelie, legs splayed, one arm resting behind her on the back of her chair like he’d been invited to sit there—which he hadn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind.

If anything, she leaned into the arm a little.

—You looked good out there,— she added more softly, brushing something off the collar of his fire suit. —Sweaty. But hot.—

—You telling me you’ve got a thing for melted Brits in race suits, Ames? That’s your type?—

—Mm-hmm. Melting, dramatic, chaotic. And a little possessive,— she added, glancing sideways at him knowingly.

Busted.

Lando raised a brow. —Possessive? Me? Never.—

Amelie turned to Mick then, and bless her, because she did it with such perfect timing and casual grace that Lando could’ve kissed her right there.

—Mick, thanks for the drink. I’ll see you around the paddock?—

Mick looked between them—between the casually territorial arm draped behind her and the way she was looking at Lando like he’d just hung the moon—and gave a tight-lipped smile.

—Yeah, sure. Good luck today, mate.—

—Cheers,— Lando said, all polite teeth.

They watched him leave, Amelie sipping what was left of her iced tea, and only when he was far enough did she speak.

—You gonna mark your territory next by peeing in a circle around me?—

Lando tilted his head toward her with a dangerous smile. —Don’t tempt me, baby.—

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder, and he pressed a kiss to her temple without thinking. It was natural now. Normal. They weren’t hiding anymore.

—So… Mick, huh?— he said casually, but his tone betrayed him. He didn’t mean to sound like a jealous dick. It just slipped.

Amelie lifted her head, raising a brow. —Seriously? Lan. It was just a drink. He was already sitting there when I arrived. I was literally killing time while you LEGO-ed your way around the circuit.—

He made a face. —You two went on a date once.—

She narrowed her eyes. —In 2021. And it was one date. Nothing happened. You know why? Because I spent the whole dinner thinking about someone else.—

That got his attention.

—Yeah? Who?—

Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lifted again—slow, deliberate. Her voice dipped just slightly, teasing but honest.

—This British guy. Really annoying. Always made me laugh when I didn’t want to. Had a stupid cute smile and a god complex in a go-kart.—

Lando’s smirk returned, lazy and triumphant. —Sounds like a catch.—

—He was also really fucking oblivious,— she added, tipping her chin up. —Like, criminally dense. Took him three years to date me properly.—

—Oi,— he grinned, —I was playing the long game.—

—No, you were playing FIFA.—

He laughed, the kind that shook his shoulders and made her grin back just from the sound. God, she loved that sound. And maybe he knew it, because his hand dropped from the back of her chair to the small of her back, fingers splaying wide like he needed to be touching as much of her as possible now that she was there.

They sat there a moment, the Miami paddock buzzing around them, heat radiating off the asphalt, the scent of sunscreen and fuel lingering in the air. But for a second, it was just the two of them, tucked into this little pocket of calm.

Lando tilted his head to the side as he watched her. The noise of the paddock seemed to dim under the weight of her stare—the way she looked at him like he was the only one here, even in the middle of a Grand Prix weekend. He hated how much he still got butterflies when she did that. Hated it and loved it.

She leaned forward, fingers brushing his knee beneath the table. Her voice was quieter now.

—You okay? You’ve gone all serious on me.—

He exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the hospitality doors like the answer was hidden somewhere behind them.

—I’m nervous, Ames. Like... proper nerves. I know I shouldn’t be. Won last year, know the car’s strong, I’ve done the prep and the sim runs and all that, but... fuck, it’s Miami. It’s all eyes on us now. On me.—

Amelie didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded slowly, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit near his thigh like she could ground him with just that small point of contact.

Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Soft and lingering. Not rushed, not performative. Just... full of everything she didn’t need words to say.

—Lan,— she whispered against his skin, —no matter what happens out there today... we’re already so proud of you. You hear me? Not because of a trophy. Just because you’ve made it here. You’ve done all of it. And you’re still this good, this kind, this ridiculous little chaos man I love. So, yeah. We’re already proud.—

He closed his eyes for half a second, just breathing her in. Sunscreen and iced tea and the faintest trace of her perfume, like vanilla and orange blossom. It was grounding. Centering.

And then he kissed her.

It was quick, not because he wanted it to be, but because they were still in public, still surrounded. His hand found the side of her face, thumb brushing her jaw, and he kissed her like it was the only thing that would keep him calm.

She smiled against his lips.

But before either of them could say something cheeky—or worse, sappy—a familiar voice interrupted with full, theatrical volume.

—Oi, Christ, I leave you two alone for five minutes and now you’re snogging like it’s your last day on Earth. Again.—

Alex Wolff slid into the chair Mick had been in earlier, plopping his coffee cup on the table like he hadn’t just been gone for two hours on the world’s longest caffeine hunt. He smirked at both of them, dramatically adjusting his sunglasses.

—Honestly, you two are like horny teenagers. Have some shame.—

Amelie laughed, rolling her eyes. —You’re one to talk. You once made out with someone in a Starbucks bathroom, remember?—

—It was private property! — Alex pointed out, completely unbothered. —Also, you two were dangerously close to eye-fucking each other when I walked up, so don’t even.—

Lando groaned but smiled, standing up and brushing off his race suit. He glanced at his watch. Time to go.

He looked at Amelie one last time, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with that stupidly soft look in his eyes that still made her insides twist.

—Thanks, baby. For being here.—

—Always.—

He dipped down, gave her one last, quick kiss—this one to the corner of her mouth, because he knew it made her giggle—and then jogged off toward hospitality, heat still radiating from his cheeks, heart pounding not from nerves anymore, but from love.

And behind him, Amelie sat with Alex, watching him go.

God, she fucking loved that man.

-------------

liked by lanmeliecore, wagswithwifi, and others

f1gossipgrid: SPOTTED: Amelie Dayman & Mick Schumacher seen chatting one-on-one at the McLaren hospitality today in Miami. Fans at the paddock say the convo looked "very smiley, very friendly" — just old friends catching up? Or something more to it? 👁️👁️

View all 97,014 comments

f1loverr22: Omg Lando, we SEE you. Mick's gotta go, babe! 😂

lanmeliecore: i just KNOW lando saw this and teleported through 3 walls and 2 interns → mclarenjawn: @lanmeliecore he was halfway into an ice bath and SPRINTED → wifeyforlando: @lanmeliecore "mick. hi. bye." ☠️

lanmeliecore: not the 2021 one-date tension resurrecting in 4k 💀 → amelieslashes: @lanmeliecore lando better be breathing deep rn bc I would start a scene → gridgirlera: @lanmeliecore imagine ur bf walks in and sees u giggling w mick schumacher i’d fake an engine failure

tracksidegossip: be fr if lando saw this he’s in the gym lifting tractors rn → pitlaneclownery: @trackisdegood 😭 crying in creatine and jealousy → ameliesrings: @trackisdegood he already posted a thirst trap on close friends i just KNOW it

wagsupreme: ok but what if mick just wants styling tips like leave my girl alone 😭 → lanmelie4eva: nah bc she’s so mother she got mick in a side quest

debriefanddestroy: lando watching that convo like it’s VAR footage

lanmeliebrainrot: lando seeing this and suddenly driving 10x faster 😭 → gridgf: @lanmeliebrainrot bro’s fighting for pole and his girl 💀 → mclarenfeminist: @gridgf he got that jealousy boost 😭

micksbabyblueeyes: y’all it was ONE date in 2021 pls be serious 😭 → ameliedefensesquad: @micksbabyblueeyes fr and she never went back 💅

f1slayupdates: no bc why is this giving high school hallway tension → sydneyplsleak: @f1slayupdates tell me they didn’t just say “long time no see” omg

wagswithwifi: lando’s abt to “accidentally” crash into the mclaren hospitality tent 😭 → crashingforclout: @wagswithwifi mclaren gonna have to issue a statement 😭

lovewins24: anyway lando’s still the one going home with her soooo 💅 → chaoticblonde: @lovewins24 AND he got her name tattooed, mick could never 😭 → lanmeliedaily: @chaoticblonde exactly. that tiny “A” holds more power than my degree

-------------

The celebration was loud, chaotic, and bursting with orange and papaya pride. McLaren’s hospitality buzzed with champagne corks and team shouts, a sea of proud engineers and media swirling around Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris after a spectacular 1-2 finish. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in his face, and questions flew like sparks from a fire.

But Lando felt... nothing.

He smiled through it. Said the right things. Thanked the team. Congratulated Oscar—who had driven brilliantly, he couldn’t deny that. But somewhere deep in his chest, under the weight of his fireproofs and adrenaline crash, something had started to ache.

Because it wasn’t just today.

It had been happening for a while now—subtle, quiet moments where Oscar’s side of the garage got the newest upgrades first, where his setups were prioritized in briefings, where even the race strategies felt just slightly tilted. He was Lando fucking Norris. He’d been loyal. He’d bled McLaren for years. And yet... sometimes he felt like he was fading into the background.

Second place should’ve felt good.

But it didn’t.

Not when you were constantly wondering if you were second in more ways than one.

By the time he ducked into his driver room, the applause behind him was muffled. He shut the door. Locked it. Then stood there in silence.

Helmet still in hand. Jaw tight.

He didn’t speak. Just peeled off his race suit like it weighed double today, stepping under the shower with water so hot it bordered on punishment. The steam filled the space, fogging the mirror, hiding the disappointment etched into his face.

He didn’t bother styling his hair or fixing the towel properly around his neck. Just threw on a black tee, McLaren logo barely visible in the dim lighting, and jeans. Backpack slung over one shoulder, cap pulled low over his eyes.

When he finally stepped out into the paddock again, it was nearly empty. The Miami heat had cooled into a humid haze, the sun dipping low. The team had moved on to debriefs or bars. All that remained were a few F1 employees sweeping up confetti and folding chairs.

And that’s when he saw her.

Amelie. Sitting at a plastic table near the McLaren trucks, legs curled under her, hair in a loose braid. She was with Alex and Minnie, the three of them sharing what looked like leftover tiramisu and laughing at something on Minnie’s phone.

But a few meters away, at a nearby table, were Max Fewtrell and Pietra.

Lando’s stomach turned.

They hadn’t talked properly in weeks. Not since the Comporta gossip blew up. Amelie had kept her distance—polite, but distant—whenever Max or Pietra showed up. And now here they were, just... there.

Lando gave Max a small, stiff nod. Max returned it without a smile.

He walked straight to Amelie.

She looked up and instantly, her expression shifted. She saw it. Whatever this was on his face—quiet, low, off—she saw it like a flashing light.

—Lan,— she said gently, pushing back from the table. —Hey. What happened?—

He didn’t answer. Just dropped down beside her, letting his body fold into the chair like it weighed more than usual. She laid a hand on his thigh, rubbing small circles with her thumb.

Alex and Minnie made awkward eye contact across the table.

—You okay?— she tried again, quieter now.

Still, nothing.

She knew that look. He wasn’t angry. He was shutting down. Too many thoughts. Too many questions he wouldn’t say aloud. Maybe he thought saying them out loud made them real.

She leaned closer, tucking a strand of his hair back under his cap. —You wanna talk about it?—

Lando shook his head once. Barely.

—Did Oscar say anything? Or Zak?—

Another shake. His jaw clenched. Her thumb paused for a second, then kept moving. Gentle. Warm. Anchoring.

She glanced toward the nearly empty pit lane, then back at him. And her brain clicked into gear.

Fine. If he wouldn’t talk, she’d do something.

Amelie straightened up, a glint sparking in her eyes. She turned to Alex.

—Hey, Al, how fast do you think those stupid Lego parade cars go?—

Alex blinked. —Uh… fast enough to break a toe, slow enough to avoid jail. Why?—

Amelie grinned. —Perfect. Let’s steal them.—

—What?— Minnie said, already laughing.

—Come on,— she said, grabbing Lando’s hand and standing. —Let’s break every single FIA rule about off-track behavior and grand theft tiny automobile.—

Lando looked up at her, confused. —What are you talking about?—

—We’re going for a drive,— she declared, yanking him up. —Come on. You, me, Alex, Minnie. Max and Pietra too.—

His eyes flickered. —You serious?—

—Deadly.— She kissed his cheek. —You drive. I’ll scream encouragement. Maybe some Taylor Swift.—

Alex was already on his feet. —Oh, this is the best idea you’ve had since putting vodka in Capri Suns.—

Minnie cackled. —I still have a scar from that night.—

Amelie turned toward Max and Pietra’s table. Her stomach gave a little twist, but she shoved it down. Time for olive branches, even if they were made of plastic and racing decals.

—Oi, Fewtrell,— she called. Max looked over warily. —You two coming or what?—

Pietra raised an eyebrow. —Coming where?—

—To steal the Lego cars and drive them around the track like idiots. Let’s break something.—

Max glanced at Lando, then back at Amelie. A pause. Then he stood, brushing off his pants.

—Only if I get Red Bull. I’m not driving a Ferrari like a peasant.—

—You wish you were that fast,— Alex quipped.

They were moving before Lando could fully process it. Somehow, a minute later, he was sitting behind the tiny plastic wheel of the McLaren parade car, Amelie climbing in beside him and draping her legs over his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world.

—You okay with this?— she asked softly, hand on the side of his face.

He blinked at her. And then—finally—his mouth twitched.

—Only if I get to crash into Max.—

—That’s my boy.—

Max revved the Red Bull car beside them like he was in a Fast & Furious reboot, Pietra already filming him with her phone, hair whipping around. Alex and Minnie were arguing about whether the Ferrari had a working horn.

—Let’s go, papaya princess,— Amelie whispered, and Lando pressed the gas.

The electric motor made the saddest whirring noise. The McLaren inched forward.

—This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever done,— Lando muttered.

—But are you smiling?—

He looked at her. The wind pulled her braid loose. Her nose was sunburnt. Her eyes were nothing but warmth.

And yeah. He smiled.

They made it halfway down the straight before Alex tried to sideswipe them. Minnie screamed like she was in a rollercoaster. Max cut them off dramatically at Turn 4, yelling, —Eat shit, Norris!— before losing a wheel on a curb.

—YOU'RE PAYING FOR THAT!— Lando shouted back, laughing for the first time that day.

Amelie threw her arms up and yelled, —THIS IS FOR THE PEOPLE!!—

They looped the entire circuit. Hit barriers. Bounced over curbs. Someone lost a shoe. Two of the cars were dented. None of them cared.

And when they finally skidded to a stop at the finish line—Lando dragging the McLaren sideways just for flair—he dropped his head back, panting and grinning.

Amelie leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then his jaw. Then right behind his ear, where she knew it made him melt.

—Better?— she whispered.

He nodded, eyes closed. —Yeah.—

—Good. You’re not second to anyone, Lando.—

He looked at her. Really looked. Her smile, all mischief and moonlight. Her hands, paint-chipped nails and warm against his chest.

He leaned in and kissed her.

And for the first time that weekend, he felt like himself again.

—Still gonna run Max over on the way out though,— he mumbled.

—Please do. I’ll film it.—

She did.

-------------

liked by pinksuitlando, wagswithwifi, and others

lanmelieupdates: Lando and Amelie were spotted getting on her jet tonight in Miami 👀✈️✨ They’ve been inseparable all weekend and now off to who-knows-where… Lanmelie world tour continues 🧡💛

View all 37,810 comments

glamgridgirl: NOT THE LANMELIE JET OMGG ARE WE GETTING A MET GALA DEBUT??? → pitlaneprincess: @glamgridgirl if lando wears a tux next to her in couture i’m gonna combust → softielan: @pitlaneprincess manifesting her in custom Mugler and him just standing there like 😍

wagsupreme: they’re so unserious for being this hot together → lanfan69: @wagsupreme not a single ugly cell between them. criminal. → f1cupid: @lanfan69 lando be lookin like her security + #1 fan and i LOVE IT

metgalamegafan: IF LANDO SHOWS UP I’LL EAT MY SHOE → cheekypaddock: @metgalamegafan you better start boiling the water then bc it’s happening → paddockslut: @cheekypaddock we feasting fr

lanmeliehearts: imagine the fits. the hand holding. the chaos. → daydreamdri: @lanmeliehearts and the afterparty pics? my soul isn’t ready

lanielovr: he better not skip like last year i’m STILL healing → f1gossipmama: @lanielovr babes they’re literally teasing us i fear we’re NOT surviving this one

pinksuitlando: lando blinking at flashing cameras like a confused labrador while she eats the carpet up 😭😭 → gridwives: @pinksuitlando the duality of man and mother. iconic.

lanlover24: MET GALA MET GALA MET GALA I’M ON MY KNEES → gridgirlgc: @lanlover24 if he shows up in a suit next to her i’m gonna scream into the void → wifeydayman: @lanlover24 bro he’s gonna match her dress colors watch😭

f1hotgirlenergy: lando pls don’t fumble this MET MOMENT

pastelsinz: imagine the hand on her waist. the LOOKS. the PHOTOS. i’m not okay → paddockbarbie: @pastelsinz that man’s already halfway in love, met gala will finish him off 💅

lanmeliedefenseunit: ik damn well Lando would sit thru 5 hours of glam for her → bigdayformclaren: @lanmeliedefenseunit man would get a full facial

f1fangirl203: if we don’t get lanmelie at the Met idc cancel the whole event

-------------

The McLaren hoodie Lando wore was crumpled from sleep, the sleeves pulled over his hands as he slumped deeper into the jet’s cream leather seat. The Miami skyline had long since disappeared behind them, and the hum of the engines was steady, soft—background noise for thoughts too loud.

They were halfway to New York.

Amelie had changed into a baggy matching set—charcoal grey with the words I am so tired embroidered in cursive over her chest. Her feet were bare, curled up under her on the seat across from him. She sipped ginger tea slowly, watching him.

He hadn’t said much since takeoff.

Lando stared out the window, eyes unreadable under the brim of his cap. She knew he wasn't actually seeing the clouds.

His phone was face-down on the table between them, as if he couldn’t bear to look at it. She’d seen it though. Everyone had. The post from McLaren—celebrating the 1-2 finish. Oscar in the center, Zak beside him, mechanics with arms raised, a flood of papaya orange.

And Lando?

Not even cropped out.

Just… not there.

She hadn’t said anything at the time. Just took his hand when he wordlessly walked away from the airport hangar and let him curl up against her on the plane like the weight of his fireproofs had never really come off.

Now, miles above the world, she reached over and gently tapped her foot against his leg.

He glanced over.

—Still mad at the clouds?— she teased softly.

He huffed a laugh through his nose. Barely.

She set her tea down and pulled her knees to her chest, chin resting on them. —You want to talk about it now? Or should I distract you with conspiracy theories about Karlie Kloss at the Met Gala?—

Lando let out a dry, crooked smile. —How do you even know Karlie Kloss conspiracy theories?—

—I have Twitter. I’m terminally online. But I’d rather talk about you.—

His gaze drifted down to his fingers, fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie.

—It’s just…— He hesitated. Voice rough from not using it much. —It’s not just today. It’s everything lately. I feel like... I’m always the one getting pushed back. Priorities, upgrades, briefings. Feels like Oscar’s the shiny new toy and I’m just... comfortably average.—

She straightened, her brows knitting. —Lando, you’re not average. You’re the reason half of McLaren’s success in the past years even exists.—

—Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like that lately.— He looked at her now, properly. Eyes raw. Honest. —Yesterday I won the Sprint, held off Max in Quali, fought back to P2 in the race after being pushed off track. And I still didn’t feel like the story. Not once.—

She moved to the seat beside him, pulling his hand into hers. Her fingers found the grooves between his knuckles.

—Because they made Oscar the face of the win.—

He nodded. —And that stupid post just proved it. It’s like I wasn’t even there.—

Amelie exhaled, slow and controlled. Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand. —I saw it. I hated it. And I’m sorry. You deserve better. From the team, from the people around you, from the fucking internet.—

He gave her a small, tired smile. —Even from the social media interns?—

—Especially them.— Her voice sharpened. —You gave them everything. Loyalty, sweat, literal years of your life. If they can’t even acknowledge that, they don’t deserve you.—

He looked away again. Eyes unfocused.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, voice lower. —But I see you. You hear me? Every corner you fight for. Every time you bring the car home when no one else could. The way you lead that team without even realizing it. I see you, Lando.—

His throat moved as he swallowed.

—You’re not invisible. And if they start treating you like you are... then maybe it’s time to ask yourself whether it’s worth it anymore.—

That landed with a quiet weight.

She let it sit between them.

Eventually, he spoke again. —I’ve been thinking about that. About what comes next. What if they don’t see me the way I thought they did? What if I’m just... not part of the plan anymore?—

Amelie reached up and cupped his face, turning him toward her.

—Then you make your own plan. You're not a pawn on anyone’s board, Lan. You’re the whole damn game.—

A beat.

His eyes closed, just for a second. Like her words sank deeper than they were supposed to. Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers.

—Thanks for stealing the Lego car with me.—

She grinned. —Always. In crime and in chaos.—

He laughed quietly, then leaned back in his seat, finally—finally—looking lighter.

And as the lights of the city began to blink beneath them through the clouds, Amelie curled into his side and whispered:

—You’re not in anyone’s shadow, Lan. Not when you shine this bright.—

And maybe, just maybe, he started to believe it.

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killmeleatherface · 1 day ago

Text

It Had to Be You

Part 1

Warnings: smut, so much smut. P in v, handjob, shower sex, lots of kissing, cheating, age gap relationship (not defined but reader is assumed to be in late 20s and Michael is early 50s) mention of kinks. Pls let me know more!

Established relationship/Engaged.

Dr Robby x F! Attending

Summary: You and Dr Michael Robinavitch started as friends, attendings exchanging information. Until he asked if tou wanted to go to a diner to talk about an especially hard shift. The rest was history. That was years ago and your forbidden fling became an actual relationship, boyfriend and girlfriend. And then the love of your life proposes. Life couldn’t be better, until it comes crashing down. You catch the person you couldn’t be more in love kissing his ex girlfriend in a trauma room when they obviously thought no one was looking. You instantly react with fight of flight instinct and flee home, using all your vacation and sick time. You escape, leaving behind no call or text for your fiance and get the first flight out of there. Now you’re back. And life didn’t wait for your arrival, it just kept on coming like a freight train at The Pitt.

——-

Fuck.

You couldn’t believe you were up at this hour, let alone 2 hours before. It never gets easier, especially after a prolonged vacation. You were on the day shift because The Pitt was severely lacking in staff and you were happy to cover when you could. And you definitely could, because you owed a majority of the day staff a big favor.

You walk through the metal detectors and give Ahmad a smile. He returns after a facial stutter. Ugh. Already?

You pull your bag tighter over your shoulder and keep going. Past the full chairs of the waiting room, past the eyeing nurses seated at intake. You just ignored their looks and said thank you with a smile as they buzzed you through the double doors of the emergency room.

“Well you’re a sight for sore eyes!” Dana immediately beams as she sees you walking in. “It’s good to have you back, kid.” You walk over to the short blonde nurse that is like a best friend and second mother to you. Langdon walks around the corner the same time you’re dropping your bag under the counter and says, “Oh! Didn’t realize you’d finally choose today to be gracious enough to offer us your presence, Spencer” in a very annoyed tone.

Fuck. How many more times were you going to say that today? You really should stop cursing you think, but maybe that habit can die another day. Today was definitely going to be a day where a substitute word wouldn’t suffice. “Hi, Langdon. Yes I’m back and yes I’m sorry. I owe you and Dana and pretty much everyone else in the department on days pizza.” Langdon looks at you still very unamused.

“That’s a start.” He walks away, picking up an iPad and heading away into a patient room. Dana walks next to you.

“Ignore him for now. He’ll forgive you. He’s more annoyed with you know who then he is with you. He’s been let’s say, less cheery than usual.” You pull your long black hair halfway up into a claw clip and turn to your friend, silently eyeing her to continue.

“Look, I don’t want to get into your business, but he’s been a wreck for the past month and a half. He definitely hasn’t been sleeping, I don’t know if he even goes home half the time. I know what he did was and is majorly fucked up and I’m on your side. I’m not saying forgive him by any means but just be warned, he’s not himself without you.” She reaches a hand up to put it on your shoulder.

“Also, you picked a hell of a day to come back because he’s on shift.” She eyes behind you.

————

10 weeks ago

The way Michael Robinavitch kissed you was electric. You’d never felt something so substantially soul taking until you knew his lips on yours. He was a drug you wished you could have more of, always itching for a fix of when you weren’t together.

Right now he was placing soft kisses up your neck, gliding by your clavicle, up to your jugular and finally nipping at your ear and whispering “is that right sweetheart?” When you moan in want. More. More. You could never get enough.

“Michael” you gasp.

“Tell me more” He replies through lips kissing back to yours. He leans back and looks at you in admiration. Like a proud hunter who’s bagged his prey.

You reach up to cup his face. His beard longer than usual, just the way you liked it. You raked your fingers through his facial hair and back to his hair, grabbing a gentle hold and pulling, just a bit of roughness to add to what you were hoping was foreplay.

Robby closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “Oh you’re naughty baby. Okay let’s see.” He says with a wicked smile. His large hand cups your jaw and you manage to suck his thumb into your mouth, causing him to pause momentarily, watching your pink lips wrap around his thumb.

He doesn’t stop long and instead glides his hand down your throat, putting pressure where he knows will make you feel a sort of dizzy but not cause any problems breathing. You moan and he responds by dipping his head to your shoulder, moving your oversized t shirt down. He kissed down your arm and said “I think we should lose this.” As his hands moved from your neck down and head under your shirt. You happily let him and he pushed himself up, straddling your waist. You pulled your shoulders up and he easily lifted the shirt above your above your head, throwing it in a random direction, taking his off and doing the same. Now you both were in your underwear, an obviously hard Robby beaming down at you.

“Beautiful girl. My beautiful girl. I could look at your forever.” He says in a gravely low voice. Sounding like he’s trying not to break. Trying not to rip your underwear off. Trying not to claim you in the most savage ways.

You bring your left hand into both of your views and smile.

“Well good thing you put a ring on it, baby.” You say, eyeing your large engagement ring that he surprised you with 6 months ago.

“Mmm I did, didn’t I?” Robby runs his hand back down your neck to your chest and palms your right breast, holding on to a nipple and twisting it. He eyes you and says “Baby I hate to do this but if we both want to get what we want then we need to have a quickie or you can let me take care of you in the shower.”

So that’s what you do. Immediately pushing him off, simultaneously saying shower and stripping your panties off. You run to the shower, turning it on to a warm temperature and feel Robby behind you. He glides his hand down your stomach and before he hits your most sensitive spot he says against your neck, “Before we get in, condom or no condom?” You crane your neck and close your eyes. You’d talked about going condom free since you guys were going to be officially married soon, but never got around to actually practicing it. You thought about it for a few seconds and you knew you wanted to feel him all the way. As an answer you turn around smile and reach down to his shaft. He’s so thick, your hand barely fits around it. You give it a few strokes and kiss him. Cupping his jaw and slowly waking backwards, into your steaming shower.

Robby senses what you’re doing and smiles through the kisses and moans. He pushes you against the wall and crashes into you. “Fuck baby I’m wound up, if you keep going I’m-” he says as you twist your wrist. He plants a hand against the shower wall and lets the water stream down his head and enjoy the moment. Finally he pulls your hand away him and in one quick motion he’s leaning down and grabs your ass, pulling your legs around his waist. He kisses you hard and walks the 3 steps to sit down. He has a larger shower in his apartment, one made of stone that’s about 10 feet by 10 feet. It’s very spacious and appreciated in activities such as what you’re partaking in.

Robby sits himself down and positions you on top of him. You tease the tip of his hard cock, rubbing yourself on it with your slick wetness. You make small circles with your hips, doing a sort of secret dance to entice your partner. You feel his cock jump.

“Come on baby, you’re killing me.” Robby moans with ecstasy. You don’t listen and keep going, but don’t get far when he puts both his hands on either hip and pulls you down slowly.

“That’s right baby. You know who’s in charge.” He slurs in a sex fueled drunken state.

You start riding your fiancé up and down feeling every inch of him until you hit 100% and you both groan. It’s amazing. He’s amazing.

After just a few more movements of your hips a familiar heat makes its space known in your belly. Wow, this is fast, even for him.

“Fuu-I’m gonna” you moan.

“Good baby, good. Me too. Let it go” he kisses your neck and thrusts up to you. You lose it and your heat spasms around Michael’s cock and you scream. It feels like it goes on forever and then Michael follows suit, finally erupting and filling every spasm of his cock be let go into you. His orgasm is loud and beautiful and you love watching him unravel.

It feels like an eternity has passed when your vision returns to normal and you sit yourself up. Robby hazily looks at you and smiles.

“Let’s finish this shower before we’re both late for work.” He says.

——

You couldn’t believe it. Of all days. Of all fucking days. Ugh! You should’ve checked with Dana about starting today, but you also felt if you called anyone and said anything, you’d lose your gumption and never come back. You still wouldn’t be here today, but you’d ran out of time to take off and you needed a job.

Whatever. If Robby is here, you’ll avoid him. It’s just for a day, you can make sure you’re on opposite shift of him after that. You stay in the back of the group for rounds. You’re an attending, it’s not like a resident who needs to impress anyone.

Mohan slides up next to you.

“Hey stranger.” She whispers as she bumps your shoulder. You look over to your best friend and smile.

“We’ve missed you here.”

You don’t know about that. From what you’ve already heard it’s been almost a shit show, more than usual, at least partly because of your absence.

“Thanks dude, but you’re a bad liar.” You smile.

“Well, I missed you. That’s not a lie. It’s so much more fun working a case with you than it is with anyone else, especially he who may not be named Mr Grumpy Pants.”

She’s talking about Robby and trying to be nice about it, since you’ve told her you don’t want to hear his name.

“Speaking of him, what are you going to do about it? Have you talked to him?” She inquires.

You look past the small crowd and directly at the man you’re talking about. He’s in a black hoodie and his signature cargo pants. He has his stethoscope around his neck and he’s talking with his hands about a case that the previous shift had. He always does that, he’s always doing something with his hands. It’s almost endearing, like a nervous tick. Like he can’t let them sit still or they’ll come off his arms and fly away.

You look at your friend who’s waiting for an answer. “No, no I haven’t. And I don’t plan on it. He doesn’t deserve it.” You say matter of factly.

Robby claps his hands and says have a great shift. Your immediately turn around trying to disperse with the group, meaning to sneak away, and you’re almost successful, until you realize you’ve left your phone in the kitchen on your last coffee run. Ugh. You head that way.

You open the door and you’re looking down at something on your badge when you come face to face with the last person who ever want to talk to.

“What the fuck.” Robby says almost too loud.

You roll your eyes and don’t make eye contact. “Just left my phone in here, that’s it.”

Robby puts his coffee mug down on the counter and says “You just left your phone in here?! You. Just. Left. Your. Phone.” He rubs his hands down his face. Another signature move with a part of his body your body is way too familiar with.

He’s malfunctioning. You don’t blame him. His fiance who he spends almost every waking moment with is right in front of him again. The same fiance who disappeared without warning 6 weeks before. It’s like you’re a ghost. A ghost of all things good that’s come back to haunt him in a way to hint at what a good life you can have. And he could’ve. He could’ve had you as a wife, a partner, a best friend, a confidant that will do anything for him. But he lost that privilege with a loss.

You don’t say anything to him. You try to turn around and he grabs your shoulder. “Come on, Y/N, that’s all I get? You disappear for 6 weeks and don’t answer any of my calls or texts and all I get is some bullshit about forgetting your phone? You show up back here without even an acknowledgement to me and I don’t get a simple explanation? I have to find out from Dana that you’ve gone home to your moms and you’re safe. I even called your mom, you know that? I never thought I’d have to call your parents on you. Like some sick fucking daddy daughter joke because of our age gap. It’d be almost comical if it was another situation. And now you’re here in front of me and can’t even-Youre my fiance and you won’t even speak to me!” He runs his hands over his face and through his hair. He leans his head down on his arms through the counter. He looks up at you. He’s eyeing you as if he’s searching for something. Searching for words you’re not saying, things he can help, anything. He needs something. Hes silently begging you to stop. But you haven’t really done anything. You can’t stop what’s already in motion, no matter how desperately you wish you could.

He’s unraveling. Actually, he’s already lost it. He’s broken. You broke Michael Robinavitch.

But you don’t care. You really couldn’t care less. You cross your arms and for the first time ever you wish someone would interrupt you and the man in front of you at work. Anything to get you out of this situation. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t even want to look at him. You thought your vacation away would allievate the pain you hold in some fashion but you realize now it hasn’t even touched it. Robby has you seething with anger. The man you said yes to spending the rest of your life with. The man you dreamed of getting a house and picking out every little detail with. The man who could say sweet nothings to you as long as he was stroking your hair and laying next to you in bed. The man that at some point became someone who felt like was your missing piece without. Like you weren’t whole unless he was there. Now, standing in front of the tall doctor who’d you’d just decided flower choices for your wedding with made you physically ill. Or actually you were really nauseous. Ugh.

“Please, I’m begging you. Tell me what’s been going on. I’ve been this close to checking myself into the 9th floor. Please baby.” Robby steps closer.

He’s reaching for you. You step back.

“Robby, I’m not doing this now. Or ever. Ya know for a really intelligent guy you’re being a huge idiot right now. Think about it bud.” You point to your head. “And I’m not your baby anymore.”

You turn and head towards the door feeling instantly more nauseous. Fuck. Fuuuck. You cannot puke right now.

Robby again reaches for you. He manages to grab your wrist and flip you around. Your almost toe to toe with him touching shoes and you finally allow yourself to look up at his deep brown eyes. Man, you let your self think for a moment, how truly handsome he is.

Then he cups your jaw as he’s done dozens of times before and you grab his wrist, pulling his hands off of you. Something you’ve never done before. Robby tenses. He closes his eyes. In your relationship, you don’t just take your significant others hands off of you. He doesn’t know what to do. There’s always been such clear boundaries before, something you’ve had since your very first actual date. Where you learned Michael was a dom and wanted his girl to be comfortable being a sub. You weren’t at all unfamiliar with what he was asking for, and something ignited in you to prod him with your extreme interest. You weren’t surprised either. He had to be demanding for his job. He had to be in charge. He couldn’t lose his cool. That’s what a dom is. And right now he’s losing his cool. You know what he wants to do. He wants to pin your wrists above your head and leave tingling bite marks down your neck to claim his territory. He’s wondering how dare you take your hands off what’s his but he’s also tired and confused and seemingly malfunctioning. This is brand new territory for both of you and you wish you weren’t here.

Something ignited in you suddenly and you have the sudden empathetic bone you didn’t know you still had for Robby. You’re fully aware this man was your everything. And you were his. It wasn’t always such a clustered mess.

You step back and look at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry.

You can’t break down. You can’t puke. Your body is fighting so many things at once. You put your head down and meet your match’s eyes. He’s watching you. Waiting. His mind still reeling.

“Listen, just box up whatever’s mine at your place and drop it to the girls at intake. Tell them to let me know it’s there.” You throw your hands up in defeat.

“Y/N, we’re supposed to get married here soon. What do you mean put everything in a box? You don’t want to get married anymore. What a fucking day.” You eye him.

“What a fucking day? What a fucking day? How about what a fucking month? What a fucking life I’ve wasted! Of course I don’t want to marry you!” You scream.

“You disappear for over a month, I almost put an amber alert out on you, I get no information , and now you’re calling off our engagement?” He steps closer to you.

“If you don’t want to marry me, why are you still wearing my ring around your neck?” He inquires. He’s reaching. He’s assuming. He’s calling your bluff. He’s doing anything he can to stop this conversation but still keep you in the room. You reach into your scrub top and pull out the chain, exposing a circle pendant with the letter of your first name. Not your engagement ring that you usually kept on a necklace while working because you loved to show you were claimed even if it wasn’t outright obvious. You reach into your scrub pocket and feel the cold of your engagement ring. You pull it out and hold it out to him.

“Here.”

Robby’s eyes widen.

“Besides I thought you’d be shacked up with Collin’s and my shit would be thrown away by now.” You say coldly.

That was it. That was what truly broke him. He lost it and tears formed in his eyes.

“Collin’s? What?” And then it dawns on him. “You saw that didn’t you? Please let me explain. I, uh, she, she kissed me and I froze. I know I shouldn’t have and I should have pushed her away immediately and I’m so so incredibly sorry.”

You don’t hear the rest of it before you feel bile race up your throat and you sprint to the trash can, pulling your hair back by instinct. You throw up whatever’s left of your breakfast and wipe your mouth.

Robby’s hand is on your lower back, rubbing circles. He’s over you obviously concerned. “Y/N, please let me..are you okay?”

“No. No I’m not okay.” You look up at him. Whatever, it’s not the perfect time but he doesn’t deserve perfect. You didn’t get it.

“But I am pregnant.”

AN: this will definitely be a series don’t worry! Idk how many parts but between flashbacks I have in mind and the future possibilities, it will be at least a few more parts :)

#the pitt #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robby robinavitch x reader #Michael Robinavitch m #dr robby the pitt #Dr Robby t #smut #dr Robby smut #the Pitt smut

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paxaz535 · 2 days ago

Text

The Space Between Us (1)

paige bueckers x black!oc

synopsis :

Best friends since childhood, Kamiya and Paige always thought their bond was unbreakable. But when they reunite at the family cabin after years apart, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur. As the tension between them builds, they must face what they’ve always known deep down: they’ve been more than close all along.

(this contains smut [in next chapter] !)

—————

Kamiya and Paige had always been close—ever since they were five years old, playing together in the sandbox in Paige’s backyard.

Their fathers, Bob (Paige’s dad) and Jonathan (Kamiya’s dad), had been best friends since high school. They bonded over their shared love of basketball and had been inseparable ever since.

That love for the game carried on to Paige, who practically grew up with a ball in her hands. Kamiya, not so much. She was always more into volleyball than anything else. Bob and Jonathan tried getting her into basketball, but it just never stuck.

Still, Jonathan supported his daughter through it all—especially after Kamiya’s mom walked out on them one random Thursday night.

Ever since that night, things had changed. Kamiya didn’t talk about her mom much—not because she didn’t care, but because she had learned not to expect answers. Jonathan picked up the pieces the best he could, and Paige’s family helped fill in the gaps.

Sleepovers became more frequent. Paige’s step mom would braid Kamiya’s hair and pack her snacks for school when Jonathan had to work late. To Kamiya, the Bueckers’ house started to feel like a second home.

By the time middle school came around, Kamiya and Paige were more like sisters than friends. They did everything together—sat next to each other in every class, FaceTimed every night even when they had just seen each other, and had inside jokes that nobody else understood.

People used to say they were attached at the hip. And for a long time, they were.

But then high school happened.

At first, not much changed. They still walked to school together, still sat next to each other at lunch, still sent each other outfit pics every morning to coordinate. But little things started to creep in—new friends, different classes, separate teams.

Paige made varsity basketball her freshman year. It was a big deal. Suddenly, she was surrounded by older teammates, practices every afternoon, and the buzz of school recognition. Kamiya was proud of her—she really was—but it stung a little to see less of her.

Kamiya had joined the volleyball team, and while she loved it, it didn’t get nearly as much attention. Her games were barely half full, and no one was writing about her in the school newsletter. Paige always said, “You’re killing it out there,” but sometimes it felt like she was just being nice.

They were still close. Still best friends. But there were moments—between texts left on read, and the “sorry I can’t, I have practice”—where Kamiya wondered if Paige was outgrowing her.

And then came the real test: boys.

Or at least, that’s what everyone thought. Paige had never really shown much interest. Sure, she’d play along when the other girls gushed about whoever was “so fine” in third period, but Kamiya always noticed how quiet she got when the conversation got too deep.

Kamiya, on the other hand, was trying to figure it all out. She’d dated a guy in freshman year for about two weeks—Derrick, from biology—but it felt more like checking a box than actually liking someone. She laughed at his jokes, let him hold her hand in the hallway, but when he kissed her outside the gym after practice, all she could think was, Is that it?

Meanwhile, Paige seemed perfectly content not dating at all. When Kamiya brought it up once—just teasing, like: “So, when are you finally gonna get yourself a boyfriend?”—Paige had only shrugged, looking away.

“I don’t really like boys like that.”

Kamiya had blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.” She tried to play it cool, but her mind spun.

She’d never thought about it before. Not really. But that night, lying in bed, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not about Paige specifically—at least, not yet—but about how she’d felt when this girl from the volleyball team had called her pretty the other day. How her stomach flipped in a way it never did with Derrick.

Something was shifting.

And even though Kamiya didn’t have the words for it yet, a small part of her—buried deep and quiet—was starting to stir.

It started with the little things.

The way Paige would laugh so hard she’d throw her head back, eyes squeezed shut. The way she always remembered to bring Kamiya extra sour gummy worms on game days, even though she hated the smell of them. The way she always seemed to know when something was off, even when Kamiya hadn’t said a word.

One Friday night, they were at Paige’s house watching a movie. It was some cheesy rom-com they’d seen a million times, but Paige insisted it was tradition. They sat close—closer than usual—legs tangled under the blanket they always shared.

Halfway through the movie, Paige fell asleep. Her head rested on Kamiya’s shoulder, her breathing soft and even. Kamiya didn’t move. She just sat there, completely still, heart thudding in her chest.

She looked down at Paige, her face relaxed in sleep, and for the first time, she realized something terrifying.

She didn’t just love Paige.

She liked her.

Not in a best friend kind of way. Not in the way everyone joked about when they called them “a married couple.”

In the way that made her heart ache a little. In the way that made her scared to say it out loud.

She stared at the TV, not really seeing it anymore. Her throat felt tight.

Because what if this was just her?

What if Paige didn’t feel the same way?

What if it ruined everything?

Kamiya gently leaned her head on Paige’s, trying to quiet the storm in her chest.

She didn’t have the answers yet.

But she knew one thing for sure:

Something had changed.

The next morning, Kamiya acted like nothing had happened.

She cracked jokes, scrolled through TikTok with Paige like usual, and even teased her for drooling in her sleep. But inside, she was spiraling.

She kept replaying the night in her head—the weight of Paige’s head on her shoulder, the soft warmth of her breath, the way her heart had nearly exploded just sitting there.

And it only got worse from there.

At school, Paige was all smiles, greeting people in the hallway, dapping up her teammates, laughing with that same effortless energy that made everyone gravitate toward her. But Kamiya couldn’t stop watching her. Couldn’t stop feeling everything.

It was torture.

Especially when Paige hugged her from behind in the cafeteria like she always did—only now Kamiya felt her entire body freeze. Her brain screamed, Act normal.

She didn’t.

Paige noticed. “You good?” she asked later, brows furrowed as they sat outside during free period.

“Yeah,” Kamiya lied, eyes on her water bottle. “Just tired.”

Paige nudged her. “You’ve been weird all day.”

Kamiya shrugged. “You’re weird every day. Guess it’s contagious.”

Paige rolled her eyes, laughing. But her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

The thing was, Kamiya didn’t know how to say what she was feeling. Didn’t know how to ask Paige if maybe—just maybe—there was something there between them too.

Because if she was wrong, it could ruin everything.

And for the first time in years, she felt like the distance between them was growing—and she didn’t know how to close it.

It happened at a party.

One of Paige’s teammates—Jas—was throwing a huge end-of-season thing. Kamiya didn’t even want to go, but Paige had begged her to come. “Please? Just for a little bit. I’ll even buy you your weird kombucha.”

So she went. Regretted it the second they walked in.

The music was loud. The lights were dim. And Paige? She lit up the second they walked through the door, dapping up her team, laughing, moving through the room like she belonged there.

Then there was her.

Nia. A sophomore who played soccer and looked like she belonged in a Nike ad. She and Paige had a class together—or so Kamiya had heard.

She watched from across the room as Nia leaned in, too close, whispering something into Paige’s ear. Paige laughed, hand brushing Nia’s arm.

Kamiya looked away fast, pretending not to care. Pretending she didn’t feel like someone had lit a match in her chest.

“I’m getting some air,” she mumbled to no one in particular, slipping out the back door.

She stayed out there for a while, letting the cold bite at her skin. Letting herself breathe.

Paige came out eventually, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kamiya said, a little too fast. “Just needed some space.”

Paige nodded, but didn’t push. That almost made it worse.

“I got accepted!” Kamiya screamed, practically launching off the couch as the email loaded on her phone.

Jonathan, Bob, Paige, Drew, and Moe all erupted into cheers from around the living room. Jonathan pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground, his face split into the proudest grin she’d ever seen.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Knew you had it in you.”

Paige was the next to hug her—tight, warm, familiar.

“I told you!” Paige beamed. “I knew they’d want you.”

Kamiya laughed, still in shock. “Guess I’m college material now, huh?”

Paige nudged her. “You’ve always been.”

Kamiya’s acceptance came just a day after Paige found out she was headed to UConn on a partial basketball scholarship. Everyone had celebrated her news too—Jonathan and Bob had cracked open a bottle of champagne, and Moe had baked cupcakes with “UConn” spelled out in blue frosting.

Kamiya had been genuinely happy for her. Paige was going to a school that fit her. She’d be playing the sport she loved, living in a place where she could finally shine. It was perfect.

But there was a part of Kamiya—a quiet, insecure part—that wondered what it would mean for them.

They wouldn’t be at the same school. They wouldn’t walk the same hallways or eat lunch under the same tree anymore. It wouldn’t be FaceTime at midnight after a bad practice—it’d be maybe catching each other’s texts between classes or team meetings.

And what made it worse was… they still hadn’t talked about that night. The party. The way Kamiya had walked off. The way Paige had looked at her, confused, maybe even hurt.

So Kamiya smiled and celebrated like nothing was bothering her.

But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through her fingers.

Kamiya’s three years of college had been everything she hoped for. She made new friends, joined a cultural org that felt like family, traveled for tournaments with her volleyball team, and even landed a sweet internship sophomore year. She was proud of the woman she was becoming—confident, steady, doing things for her.

But this time of year always pulled her back.

It was May now. Finals were almost over. Her junior year was closing out, and soon she’d be stepping into her final year of undergrad. A part of her was thrilled—excited for what was ahead. But another part, quieter and heavier, kept tugging her back to something… someone.

Paige.

She hadn’t seen her in person since last summer. She’d heard about the injury—a torn ligament, maybe? Something that benched her for most of the season. Kamiya found out through Instagram before she heard it from Paige directly. That stung a little.

They still texted sometimes. Liked each other’s posts. Sent the occasional meme. But it wasn’t like before. Not even close.

And maybe that was okay. People grow apart.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

What haunted Kamiya most wasn’t the distance. It was the fact that she never told Paige how she felt. Not really. Not in a way that counted.

She could’ve said it a hundred times. At that party. Before they left for college. At the lake last summer by the fire, when Paige looked at her like she knew.

But she hadn’t. And now, she didn’t know if that window had already closed.

Still… something about this summer felt different.

It was just a feeling—an ache in her gut, a whisper in the back of her mind—but Kamiya knew.

Something was going to happen.

She just didn’t know if it would heal her…

Or break her completely.

Kamiya sat on the edge of her bed, her suitcase open but barely touched. Clothes were piled on the floor around her—sweatshirts she might need if it got chilly, the swimsuit Paige once joked she looked hot in, and an old T-shirt Paige had left behind years ago that Kamiya never returned.

She stared at it now, fingers brushing over the faded cotton.

There were a thousand things she wished she could say. She wanted to tell Paige she missed her. That she was proud of her. That the distance hadn’t changed how she felt—not really.

But those words had stayed stuck in her throat for three years.

Now she was going to see her again.

And it scared her.

Not just because of what she might feel—but because of what she might not feel. What if too much time had passed? What if Paige didn’t even think about her like that anymore—if she ever did?

Still, she packed the shirt. Just in case.

The driveway crunched under the tires as she pulled up, late afternoon sun dripping through the trees. Her chest was tight.

As she stepped out, the smell of pine and lake water hit her like a memory. She heard voices from the porch—laughter, low conversation, the familiar warmth of family that hadn’t changed.

Then she saw her.

Paige.

Sitting on the porch steps, wearing an oversized hoodie, her joggers hanging low on her waist. Her hair was longer now, tied in a messy bun. But her smile—when she looked up and saw Kamiya—was still the same.

Kamiya froze for half a second, unsure what to do with everything crashing through her.

Then Paige stood—slowly, carefully—and walked over.

“Three years and you still pack like you’re moving across the country,” she teased, eyeing Kamiya’s giant duffel.

Kamiya grinned, nerves tangled in her chest. “Some things never change.”

Paige’s eyes held hers for just a moment longer than they needed to. “Some things do.”

Kamiya’s heart skipped.

The words weren’t loud.

But the meaning behind them?

Louder than ever.

Kamiya was woken up by a huge splash of water. She shot up, gasping as the freezing cold soaked through her shirt and bonnet.

Laughter and hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Go! G—go!”

She didn’t need to see them to know who it was—Drew and Paige.

Kamiya sat there for a moment, stunned, water dripping down her face. She knew they didn’t mean any harm by it—but come on. Waking her up with water? When she hadn’t asked to get wet? It pissed her off.

She jumped up with a loud scream, startling Bob and Jonathan, who were casually watching a random Lakers game on the living room couch.

Her bonnet clung to her head, soaked through. Her hair—freshly washed the night before—was completely drenched again.

“Paige! Drew!” she yelled, stomping down the stairs.

The two culprits were lounging on the couch chairs, feigning innocence.

“Why are you screaming?” Jonathan asked, turning his head, clearly confused.

“They poured water on me!” Kamiya snapped.

Paige and Drew exchanged a look. “No we didn’t—” Drew started.

“Don’t lie to me, Drew,” Kamiya cut in sharply.

That’s when she realized what she was wearing.

She looked down and groaned. The white sleep shirt she had on was now see-through, clinging to her like a second skin. Her red bra was very visible, and the soaked fabric hugged her curves like a compression top.

Moe was the first to notice, letting out a soft giggle as she covered her mouth. “Sweetie, you might want to go change.”

Kamiya closed her eyes and sighed, this whole morning already going to shit.

Paige looked up at her—and instantly turned pink.

Her eyes darted away too quickly, like she’d seen too much and wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Moe, you possibly couldn’t have brought weave.. could you?” Moe, already knowing just laughed.

“I have it, sweetie. We can start on your braids when you get changed.”

Kamiya didn’t say another word. She just spun around and stormed back upstairs, muttering curses under her breath.

Upstairs in one of the spare bedrooms, Kamiya sat cross-legged on a stool while Moe stood behind her, parting her hair with practiced fingers.

The soft pull of the comb, the gentle tap of Moe’s rings brushing her scalp—it all slowly started to calm her down.

“I swear,” Kamiya muttered, wincing as Moe gripped a stubborn section, “they think they’re so funny.”

“They’re just trying to get under your skin,” Moe said, amused. “That means they missed you.”

Kamiya rolled her eyes, even though a tiny part of her knew Moe was probably right. Still—water?

As Moe started the first braid, the smell of bacon and toast drifted up through the cracked bedroom door. Kamiya’s stomach growled on instinct.

Moe smirked. “Smells like guilt.”

Downstairs, Paige flipped another pancake, trying to act cool while internally panicking. “Is this too much syrup?” she asked, holding the bottle over a plate.

Drew looked at her, unimpressed. “You’ve poured it like five times already.”

“I just—she’s mad, Drew.”

“She should be! You soaked her like she was in a car wash,” he said, smacking her hand away from the syrup. “Just focus on the eggs.”

“I’m trying, okay?” Paige muttered, cheeks still flushed.

Back upstairs, Moe’s fingers moved quickly through Kamiya’s hair.

“You know,” she said gently, “there’s always a moment during braids where you gotta sit still and let yourself breathe. Might as well use the time to figure out what’s really bothering you.”

Kamiya didn’t respond at first. She stared out the window, watching the lake shimmer in the distance.

“I’m just tired,” she finally said. “And maybe… a little annoyed she looked at me like that.”

Moe raised a brow. “Like what?”

Kamiya hesitated, then sighed. “Like she saw something she wasn’t ready to see.”

Moe smiled to herself, fingers still moving. “Or maybe she saw something she’s just now realizing she likes seeing.”

Downstairs, Paige carefully placed a plate with pancakes, eggs, and turkey bacon on a tray. Drew added a glass of orange juice.

“She’s gonna throw this at us,” he whispered.

“She won’t,” Paige said, unsure.

They started up the stairs, holding the tray like it was a peace offering made of gold.

Upstairs, Kamiya sat quietly while Moe worked through her hair, parting and braiding each section with care. The gentle pull of the comb and the quiet hum of Moe’s voice were grounding—but her mind was still spinning.

She wasn’t even that mad anymore. Just… embarrassed. Caught off guard.

The soft creak of the door broke the silence.

“Uh… Kamiya?” Paige’s voice came gently, almost unsure.

Kamiya glanced over her shoulder. Paige stood in the doorway holding a tray, and Drew lingered behind her, both of them looking a little too nervous for comfort.

“We made you breakfast,” Paige said, her tone lighter now. “Kind of an apology-slash-peace-offering.”

Drew held up a mug like it was a trophy. “And coffee.”

Kamiya looked at them for a second, then at the tray. Pancakes, eggs, turkey bacon. Her stomach growled at the sight—and Paige heard it, a flicker of a smile pulling at her lips.

Moe gave Kamiya’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Smells good. You should eat before I finish the back.”

Kamiya exhaled, her walls softening. “I wasn’t that mad,” she said quietly, eyes shifting between them. “Just… surprised. I had just washed my hair.”

Paige nodded, her face full of guilt. “I know. I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry, Kami.”

Drew nodded too. “Same here. It was supposed to be funny, but we messed up.”

Kamiya gave a small shrug and glanced at the tray. “You didn’t have to do all this,” she mumbled, reaching slowly for the fork.

“We wanted to,” Paige said, her voice soft. “Especially me.”

Their eyes met—just for a second. It held longer than either expected.

Kamiya looked away first, trying to hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, okay,” she said, finally taking a bite. “This is good.”

Paige visibly relaxed, laughing a little. “Thank God. I was one burnt pancake away from giving up.”

Moe chuckled behind them. “And that’s why I stay in my lane.”

Kamiya giggled softly, chewing her food, her mood lighter now. “You’re lucky this is good,” she said, pointing her fork at Drew and Paige. “Next time y’all do something dumb, I’m pouring water back.”

“Fair,” Drew said with a grin.

Paige smiled. But hers lingered a bit longer, watching Kamiya with something more in her eyes. Something gentle. Unspoken.

And for once, Kamiya didn’t look away too fast.

The sun had started to dip behind the trees, casting a golden hue across the lake. The water shimmered, rippling softly from the occasional breeze. It was peaceful—so much calmer than the chaos of this morning.

Kamiya sat on the dock with her feet dangling just above the surface, her braids freshly done and pulled back in a loose ponytail. She hugged her knees to her chest, letting the quiet settle around her.

Footsteps approached, slow and unsure.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was Paige.

“You mind if I sit?” Paige asked softly.

Kamiya shrugged. “It’s your dock too.”

Paige eased down beside her, careful not to get too close. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Just the sound of birds in the distance, water lapping against the wood, and the hush of trees swaying in the wind.

“I really am sorry,” Paige said eventually, her voice low. “Not just about the water. About… everything.”

Kamiya turned to look at her. “What do you mean, everything?”

“I mean… I know we’ve drifted. And I didn’t try hard enough to stop it. I thought maybe I was giving you space, but maybe I was just scared you didn’t want to be that close anymore.”

Kamiya blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.

“I never wanted to not be close,” she said. “But we were growing up. I figured you were just busy. And I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You could never bother me,” Paige said quickly, her eyes locking with Kamiya’s. “Never.”

The air grew still for a moment. Their gazes held, longer this time. Kamiya’s chest tightened, heart starting to beat a little faster.

“I missed you,” Kamiya admitted, the words barely a whisper.

Paige swallowed. “I missed you too.”

There was something hanging in the air between them now—something unspoken but deeply felt.

Paige hesitated, then added, “Earlier… when your shirt was—uh, see-through…” She trailed off, cheeks already turning pink. “It wasn’t just the water that threw me off.”

Kamiya blinked. Her heart jumped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Paige paused, searching for the right words. “I’ve always liked girls. You know that. But with you… I didn’t let myself think about it. Not really. Until today.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was electric.

Kamiya looked out over the lake again, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know what I like yet,” she said honestly. “But when you looked at me like that… it didn’t feel wrong.”

Paige turned toward her, eyes searching hers. “It didn’t?”

Kamiya shook her head. “No. It felt… different. But not wrong.”

A smile tugged at Paige’s lips. “So… maybe this summer’s gonna be different.”

Kamiya finally smiled too, soft but real. “Maybe it will.”

And for a moment, they just sat there—side by side—letting the possibility hang between them, warm and bright like the sunset behind the trees.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #this is what makes us girls #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic

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