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flemingology · 2 months ago

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L is for the way you look at me ─ alexia putellas x reader

part 1 of my l-o-v-e miniseries. full masterlist here!

in which: you meet Alexia through your work, but things take an unexpected turn

warnings: nothing i can think of, but there must be something with this being 9k words. so let me know if there's anything worth mentioning lol. fluffy though!

wc: 8.8k

an: put my whole writerussy in this series. it'll come out on a weekly basis, every sunday for the next 4 weeks. will run simultaneously with the rest of my christmas series! i hope you enjoy <3

Your tires kicked up some gravel as your car came to a halt on the parking spot next to the sports complex. You leaned your head back against the headrest and let out a deep sigh, letting the silence overcome you for a second. You bathed in the comfort of your own car and tried to come to your senses, before what would be one of the biggest moments in your professional career as an interior architect so far. Scratch that. Biggest moment, for sure. Nothing had ever been bigger or more important than this.

It was early January when you initially got the call from your boss. You were at home, working on some 3D blueprints for a new apartment complex that was being built in the city centre. Not your most exciting project, but that’s the price you paid for working in a metropolis like Barcelona. Deadlines coming thick and fast, it meant that you were severely overworked, but clients weren’t waiting. Residents weren’t waiting, either. So you worked. You worked early, worked late, worked at home, worked in the office. You’d always been career-oriented, though, so you were never going to complain, not with the opportunities your perseverance had given you already. But you wouldn’t have dared to dream about this next one, even in your wildest dreams.

Your phone shook you up from your thoughts, head deep in a few finishing touches on an elevator blueprint when your ringtone sounded through your apartment. You rolled and stretched your neck in a futile attempt to release some of the tension there, before picking up the device and bringing it to your ear.

“Y/n, I’m gonna get right down to business. I’ve got an opportunity for you that you’re not going to want to turn down.”

A combination of words you’d normally be very excited about, but with the amount of work you already had on your plate, you weren’t quite sure about that. Endless to-do lists were scattered around your apartment and you were already struggling to meet all the deadlines set, so taking something else up would definitely set you back for a good couple months on multiple projects. You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before you replied, solely a hum.

“Look, I know you’re busy. You have a whole load on your plate right now, but if you take this, I’ll take care of the rest. We will redistribute the work. But this is once in a lifetime. And I want my best employee on it.”

You were taken aback by his words, your boss never one to willingly move work around from employee to employee once a project had been started. Your interest was piqued, so you decided to bite.

“Alright, you got me. Shoot.”

“We’ve been asked to design a new training complex for the Barcelona Women’s team.”

The best part of 8 months later, here you finally were. Sat outside the complex, in your car, taking a couple more moments before throwing yourself in the deep end. You had worked relentlessly on this project. If you thought you were working hard before, you’d found a new gear that left all your previous years in your professional career in the dust. You were the only designer on the project, meaning that a lot of the work fell on your shoulders and yours only in the initial phases of the process.

You were fatigued, from a lack of sleep as much as physically. You couldn’t remember how many all-nighters you pulled in trying to get the design over the line by the deadline. You experienced heightened anxiety and stress over the course of multiple months, only adding to the already overbearingly heavy weight on your shoulders. You got obsessive with it, as you always did, danced on the brink of a burn-out at some points, but you promised yourself it would pay off. Nothing would ever come close to the feeling of professional success. And you hoped, for the love of God, that you could deliver tonight. That everyone was happy with the complex, that your tour would go seamlessly, and that you had another thing to tick off in your long bucket-list of working as an interior architect. You took a couple more composing breaths in the driver seat of your car, checking your appearance a final time and attempted yourself at a pep-talk before you opened the door of your car and stepped out into the heat of the Spanish capital.

You’d seen it before, given the tour to your imaginary guests more often than you could count, but now, in Barcelona’s glistening afternoon sun, it really came into its own. The complex stands tall, but it exudes a sense of openness. It’s large, commanding, but not intimidating. Towering windows scratch across its surface, a feature that you’d grown to love across your visits to the facility. It allows plenty of natural light to pour in, the building strategically positioned so it would catch most of the afternoon sun. The entrance is wide, inviting, but nothing short of impressive. A set of smooth, glass doors that reach high, transparent so they give you a view of the lobby. The first feeling that comes over you is relief. You had seen the structure plenty of times, but with the prospect of having to guide the clients around later, it’s reassuring that you still feel excited and accomplished about your work. You approach the building, deciding to wait for the rest of your clients by the entrance.

You didn’t have to wait long, two black Cupras soon arriving at the facility after you made your way over. You weren’t fully aware how many people of the club were going to be present, but you’d tried to prepare yourself. Nine people though, that was kind of cutting it. Five people exited the first vehicle, another four quickly following short out of the other. Nine. If you weren’t nervous before, you surely were then.

The introductions went by in a flurry, but you tried your absolute best to remember the name and functions of every suited or dressed man or woman that had just shook your hand. Joan, president of the club. Pere, head coach. Marc, financial director. Lucia, facilities manager. There was one amongst them, though, that didn’t need an introduction. Not to you. Not to anyone. And really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you that they brought a player. If anyone has to approve of the facilities, it’s the players themselves.

“Alexia. Nice to meet you.” “Y/n. Likewise.”

She gave you a firm handshake, her eyes holding yours just a second too long, and you swear, you could feel it—that spark, that something. But before you could question it, she’d already let go of your hand and joined the rest of her people. You were well aware who she was, well aware of what she meant in the world of football, but you weren’t taken aback. It was nothing more than a crossover between two people doing their jobs, and you weren’t gonna have someone like her intimidate you and throw you off your path for the rest of the afternoon. Not with the importance of this project for the future of your career.

You clapped your hands when everyone seemed to have taken their first looks at the building from the inside. “Okay! Shall we?” You mustered up the brightest smile you had in your locker, silently wishing that the nerves would settle down as soon as you got into your element inside.

“Okay, so, the main entrance. I didn’t want to have too much going on in here, more going for a calm atmosphere. Reception in the middle, and then there’s really only one hall here, leading you towards the rest of the facility.”

The entrance was, as you described, calm. It had some lounge seats here and there but you couldn’t imagine many people spending lots of time here, so you kept the extras limited. A few acknowledging and appreciating hums from your tiny crowd sent you on your way, your nerves slowly but surely ebbing away.

You slowly guided your guests towards the hallway, letting them take in the interior and space for as long as they wanted until they seemed ready to continue the tour. “On the left, first and foremost, the changing room. I thought it was handy for it to be near the entrance, as most of the players probably come straight here after arriving.”

You push open the double doors to the room, stepping aside and allowing the others to step in first. “As you can see, a large and accordingly illuminated space with rows of lockers, personalized for each player. Each locker has a charging station, storage for gear, and adjustable lighting, because who doesn’t hate bad lighting when trying to focus before a game?”

For the first time during the tour, someone spoke up then, and it wasn’t who you’d expect to take the floor first. “I’ll admit, I’m guilty of using mine as a mini closet sometimes. Good call with the extra storage.” Alexia’s admission caused some lighthearted laughs and chatter to rise from the small group of people, and you almost felt grateful for her comment. “I’m glad.” You mustered up a small but sincere smile, before turning back around and continuing your work.

You gestured towards the wall that wasn’t adorned with lockers. “The screens on here are meant for displaying tactics, team news, and whatever else you guys get up to on a day-to-day basis.” You were really coming into yourself and started to forget about the nerves of the moment. You were in your element, you were doing what you liked, what you had been doing for the past 7 years of your life. You weren’t gonna mess this up.

“Of course, showers are tucked around the corner. Communal shower room, as I’m sure you’re all familiar with. Physio beds, and everything else you would need for pre-activation before training are around the other corner. To integrate some options for relaxation, there are also some sofas in that room. I don’t know to which extent they will be used, but they’re there.”

Right as you were about to lead the group back out towards the next room, Pere spoke up. “I like the adjustable lighting. I think it’s something we struggled with at our previous facility. It was quite bright, and sometimes that’s not the vibe you want to create for your players. They need calm, especially after a training session. Good work on that one.” The man offered you a sincere smile and rested his hand on your shoulder for a split second, and you felt all warm inside at the acknowledgement of your work. You took it in your stride and continued the tour.

“Taking a left outside the locker room and moving down the hallway, it’ll take you into the tactical room. Meeting room, briefing room, whatever you want to call it. This room is more dimly lit, with one singular big screen on the wall for video analysis, powerpoint presentations, and so on. I think there’s about 30 seats, but I wasn’t quite sure on how many there would need to be, so if you need any more I can take care of those too.”

Pere and Alexia shared a look, before letting you know that 30 would be enough. “Now, moving on through the room, I designed a second section with more of a discussion place in mind. I opted for a round table, rather than a rectangular shape, because I feel like it invites more participation. A couple whiteboards here and there, but I’m sure you guys will find your own ways to use this room to your own liking.”

“There’s one thing, though, and I’m quite proud of that, if I may say so myself. One of these walls,” you started, tapping your finger on the back wall of the discussion room, “is a writable wall. You can write, pin notes, whatever you might need to brainstorm about your tactics.”

Pere’s voice sounded through the room as you finished your explanation. “So, Ale, no more scribbling on napkins during tactical meetings, huh?” You finally realized why one of your colleagues on the project was adamant about a certain type of soundproof walls for the room, because you were now grateful for the great acoustics as Alexia’s laugh sounded through the place. Suddenly, you noticed that one of the chairs around the table was slightly out of place. Your need for perfectionism rose up and as much as you wanted to leave it, to not fuss about a small detail like that, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Sorry, this chair is bothering me. Details matter, especially in places like these. Athletes notice more than they think they do.” You didn’t direct your statement towards anyone, but weren’t exactly surprised either when you heard Alexia’s voice in response. “We do? I just thought we used these rooms to throw our stuff around,” the Spaniard said with an amused, infuriatingly attractive smirk on her face. It was your turn to laugh now, and you weren’t the only one grateful anymore for the acoustics of the room.

You answered a couple questions and scribbled down a couple more suggestions from the rest of the staff, before making your way out of the discussion room and moving back towards the hallway. “Now, crossing the hallway, this is the treatment room.” There’s a calm atmosphere in the room, the soft hum of the lights the only sound as your clients take in their surroundings. “Plenty of massage tables in the middle of the room, some more space for pre-activation, shelves stretched across the walls with recovery tools. Around the corner, there’s a multifunctional hydrotherapy pool and an ice bath. These adjustable lights mimic natural daylight to help with recovery. I wanted to create a space where your body and mind can unwind together.”

“I imagine you will spend lots of your time here,” you smiled, gesturing towards one of the women that presented herself as one of the club’s physiotherapists.

“Yeah, this will be my safe haven. It’s great, honestly, better than I ever imagined. I was thinking whether there was something missing, but I can’t think of anything. You did great work.” You shot the woman, whose name you’d already forgotten, a bright smile and thanked her for the compliment. The moment was soon lost on you as you heard someone clear their throat.

“Yes, Alexia?” It was the first time you’d called the Barcelona captain by her first name that afternoon, and you were surprised at the ease it rolled off your tongue with. If Alexia was taken aback, she didn’t show it. “I’m gonna be annoying for a second. Wouldn’t it be tough for someone injured to reach that?” She pointed at the top shelves, where some of the recovery tools were stacked. You took a moment to yourself to think about her comment, before giving her a slight smile and nodding. “You’re right, thank you for noticing that.” You took out your notepad and scribbled something down, adding an exclamation mark or 5 to convey the importance of the task. The rest of the group had already moved back to the hallway, leaving you and Alexia to yourself for a little moment. You didn’t know where the flurry of confidence came from, but you grabbed it with both hands before it could slip away, leading to your next comment. “Good catch, captain.” Alexia grinned, a twinkle in her eyes as she met yours.

“You’re the expert, not me.” “Well, you’re the professional footballer amongst the two of us, so I think I could learn a thing or two still about the design of team facilities.” “You’re doing more than a good job so far. I’m positively surprised.”

You got pulled back to reality when you heard a laugh coming through the door from the hallway, reminding you of the fact that you were still working, still having to uphold a professional persona and make sure that the tour went well. This wasn’t the time and place to be making much small talk, let alone flirting. Could you even call it that? “Let’s move on, yeah?”

You lead your clients down the hall, opening the double doors that would lead to the gym. The space was just as you’d imagined it, and hearing the noises of appreciation from the people behind you, you knew you’d done a good job.

“I think this speaks for itself, really. Not entirely my area of expertise, not really one for dumbbells or barbells, but I think I got everything covered here,” you chuckled. “Resistance machines, cardio equipment, dumbbells, barbells and kettlebells. There’s also an area for stretching and functional training near the back of the room. I wanted this to be big, spacious, allowing lots of natural light in, because I know half of the training days are spent here. People tend to forget that.”

“Dios mio, Pere, if I’m ever missing, just come find me in here. This place is a dream come true,” you heard Alexia say from across the room, letting her eyes rake over the abundance of equipment that was scattered all around the gym. You crossed the room and joined her, following her movements with your eyes as she explored more of the gym. “I think this wall here needs some more Barca colors, no?” You scoffed and shook your head slightly, but pulled out your notepad nonetheless. “Noted, but I think you’re biased. Lucky for you, I like your bias.” Alexia tilted her head at that. “Does that mean I get to say in the rest of the design too?” You knew what she was doing. And it was so wrong for you to be giving into it in this professional context, but the woman across from you was enticing and you couldn’t help but be flattered at the way she seemed to be flirting with you. “Now, don’t push your luck, Putellas.” With that, you turned on your heels and made your way back towards the front of the room, not wanting to give Alexia the satisfaction of seeing the crimson red color your cheeks had turned at the small interaction.

“Well, I think we’ve got one final room, then.” You lead your guests back through the doors of the gym. “Taking a right here, you’ll end up in the team lounge. A cozy space for bonding, relaxing, whatever you guys want to do here. There’s a coffee station, entertainment options like games and a big screen, beanbags scattered around the room, but you can fill it in the way you want, really. There’s lots of flexibility with this space.”

“A coffee station? That’s going to make you a lot of friends around here,” the ever-familiar voice behind you commented. “Honestly, the caffeine might be the most important design element in this building.”

You pointed at the seating arrangement. “I went for modular sofas so you can switch between team bonding sessions and personal space. As I said, I went for flexibility here.” Pere caught up to where you were walking and put his hand on your shoulder, just as he did earlier during the tour. “You thought of all the details, huh? Most people wouldn’t notice things like that.” You shrugged off the compliment. “It’s all in the details, I bet you know that just as well as I do.” The coach let out a warm laugh and you couldn’t help but feel accomplished, it meant the world to you that him and one of the most important players in his team felt right within the facility and were impressed with your designs.

“As for different rooms, that was it for the tour. The pitches are outside, but there’s nothing special about those. Feel free to check them out if you want. I’m gonna let you all wander around a bit now, and if you have any questions or remarks, please come to me. I’m all ears and I’m very open to feedback. I hope you’re all satisfied, though, because this project meant a lot to me and I can’t begin to express how grateful I am to have received this opportunity.”

What happened next, was the last thing you’d expected. The room went silent for a second, until you could hear a couple slow claps sounding through the room. They came from Alexia, who was ushering the other people in the room to give you an applause. Her colleagues followed shortly, and soon the room was filled with the sound of their clapping, all smiling brightly at you and sharing laughs with one another. You felt grateful, overwhelmed by your emotions, but you felt a huge weight fall off your shoulders at the acknowledgement.

It wasn’t until a couple minutes later, that Alexia found herself next to you again. Most of the people had wandered back through the corridors, checking out the rooms at their own pace. “So, how long did it take you to design this?” Alexia fell in step with you as you walked through the gym, mustering up ideas for the remark the Spaniard gave you earlier. “Uh, about 4 months for the main sections, and then a few extra weeks for the final touches. And then, a waiting game while it was being built. It’s a bit of a balancing act, you know?” Alexia smiled faintly at you before responding. “I imagine. It sounds like a lot, but it seems like you’ve got everything under control.” “I try to.”

It was about half an hour later, when you all found yourself back at the entrance. You received another couple compliments from several staff members that had come along, and it felt like every single one bolstered your outside a bit more and more, upping your confidence with each one, taking them all in your stride. You’d been nervous for this, had worked countless hours, days, weeks on this project, but it all felt worth it. It was the biggest project you’d ever worked on, but it turned out perfectly and you couldn’t have wished for a better outcome.

The sun had started to set over Barcelona now, golden hour casting the building in rays of orange. It felt symbolic, a perfect ending to what had been a greatly successful afternoon. Alexia had noticed your passion for your work throughout the tour, and it was safe to say that she admired it. “You care a lot about getting things right, don’t you?” “Of course. It’s important.” “It feels right… you being here. You doing this. I feel like you understand this place.”

Alexia’s words came right from the heart, her voice growing soft as she uttered the final couple words, and you felt a fuzzy feeling coursing through your body at the admission. You raised your eyes at her, curious where the sudden comment had come from. Alexia picked up on this, explaining herself further.

“Your dedication to your work, it just resonates with my dedication to mine. The team’s dedication. It feels good, this.” You weren’t sure what she was talking about anymore, whether that be the building, your commitment, or just this–– the situation you two found yourself in at the moment. You’d tried to keep up your professional demeanor throughout the tour, but the more heartfelt comments Alexia threw your way, the harder you found it to keep up the snarky remarks or shrugging off whatever she said.

“I don’t know the word… it’s like when you do something that makes sense, like…” “Purpose?” “Yeah, purpose.”

Alexia grew bashful quickly, a shy smile covering her face. “Sorry, my English isn’t quite there yet.” You waved away her apology and were grateful for the change of tone in the conversation, not quite sure you would be able to keep up your persona had she gotten much more open with you.

“Look, I have to go now. I can sense Pero is growing impatient in the car. But, look, uhm, I like how you understand this place. Would you maybe,” she clears her throat and looks down to the ground before finishing her sentence, “want to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

You should’ve expected it, really. The way she was throwing not-so-subtle flirty remarks at you throughout the tour, her demeanor growing in confidence the longer time went on, you should’ve known this was coming. Still, it swept you completely off your feet, and quite frankly, speechless. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that thought of denying her request. But somewhere, in the back of your mind, a little rational voice sounded, saying that you had to be professional. This was your work, her work, and mixing work and dates was never a good idea. So you took a deep breath, meeting her eyes again before you gave her the answer she probably wouldn’t have expected.

“Alexia, I’d love to. But, this is a professional work context.” Alexia cocked an eyebrow at you, a small smile hinting on one corner of her mouth, and you couldn’t help the confusion that came across you. “Guapa, you are the one assuming that we are going on a date. I proposed it just to, you know, discuss insights about the building.” Your cheeks burned bright red at her words, and there was no way to escape the situation now. The taller woman in front of you let out a laugh, throwing her head back and if it weren’t for the twinkle of adoration in her eyes when her gaze met yours again, you would’ve thought she was laughing at you. “No, I get you. But look, I’ll make it worth your while. Just give me one chance, okay? You can’t deny the… how do you say, chemistry?” You nodded bashfully at the Spaniard, knowing she was completely right. You had tried your hardest to remain professional, but it grew harder and harder not to open up more of yourself to the footballer. “Look, if you don’t want a coffee, how about you come to the game tomorrow? You’ve done so much for us, you should come see what you’ve worked for these past couple months. My family can’t make it this week, so I’ve got plenty of tickets for you and anyone else you want to bring.”

That sounded like a better suggestion, all in all. If anything, you could now paint it down as just a friendly invitation to thank you for your work, and you didn’t have to think of it as a date. Although, even with what you said, you weren’t opposed to that idea either. “That sounds fair. You owe me a good performance, though” you quipped back, not letting her off the hook that easily. She had made you blush, but you weren’t gonna let her walk over you like that. “Only if you come to dinner after.” And just like that, she’d turned the whole situation around again. Infuriating. Infuriatingly attractive. “We’ll see.”

You struggle on deciding what to wear that day. Torn between trying to look put-together and not wanting to look like you’re trying too hard, you eventually settle on something practical but nice– enough to look professional, but not too casual. Because in the end, it’s just a game, right? Just Alexia Putellas casually inviting you to see her in her element, no big deal. And dinner. Maybe.

The journey to the stadium went smoother than expected. You’d left more than early enough, and had just about beat the flurry of afternoon traffic, as you arrived at Estadi Johan Cruyff. This is as far as outsides of comfort zones went. This was not your usual surroundings. You were a homebody, either working or relaxing, you weren’t one for the big events. Let alone sporting events. You weren’t at home in this setting, but you couldn’t help but feel an excitement bubbling up inside you as you noticed the heaps of fans dressed in blaugrana jerseys, waving flags and scarves, all coming to see their idols on a sunbathed afternoon in the Spanish capital. Nerves bubble up the closer you get to the stadium, and you tried to ground yourself by taking a couple deep breaths before taking the plunge.

You’d remembered the instructions Alexia sent you over text on how to get to her friends and family box. She asked for your number at some point that day before, and brushed it off as practicality for today’s game, but you knew somewhere that that wasn’t the last time you’d hear of her. The moment you arrive in her box overwhelms you. There’s a couple other people, and you get a sudden burst of nerves thinking about having to introduce you as… well, as what? The interior architect of her new team facilities? You were well aware of how weird that sounded. But they paid you no mind, so you thanked your lucky stars when you found your seat without all too much fuss and settled down for the next couple hours.

The crowd, the noise, there was a buzzing atmosphere around the stadium and it was such a stark contrast to the environment you’d been in yesterday. The stadium felt alive. As much as you weren’t a football or sports fan in general, you finally understood why people liked going to games. You took in your environment, scanning the crowd. A man singing at the top of his lungs, seemingly the person that needed to get the chants going. A little girl in a jersey three sizes too big, on her father’s shoulders, holding a sign that said: “Alexia, mi heroina”. A group of teenagers finding their seats right underneath the box, faces painted with stripes, yelling things you didn’t quite understand, because God forbid you were consistent with your Spanish classes. A mixed smell of popcorn, churros and questionable hotdogs suddenly hit you like a wall. It was chaos, but it seemed like the people here thrived on it. Suddenly, you couldn’t believe having missed out on this element of the city for so long. Of course, you were well aware that Barcelona had two successful, thriving first teams. You just couldn’t be bothered. Now, though, it felt like your whole world had turned upside down at the revelation of how fun this was.

As much as Alexia insisted on you bringing someone, for your own company, you didn’t. It felt too much like using her, not wanting to overstep boundaries on this first meeting. Second, in theory. But now, as you were sat here in the stadium, crowd so loud their hum vibrated in your chest, maybe you wouldn’t have minded someone else here to share the experience with. Then again, bringing someone would’ve made this feel more like a… thing. And you didn’t know whether you were ready to accept this being a thing, yet. Your thoughts circled back to Alexia, the woman you were here for in the first place. Would she be nervous now? Of course not. She was in the locker room right now, already zoned in and focused. Professional. Unlike you, who was sitting here, overthinking what a stupid invitation to a game might mean. Still, there was something about being here– her stadium, her world, that made you feel closer to her. Like it was a glimpse into the pieces of herself she didn’t give away so easily. They were all here for her, but you were invited by her. It felt different.

What you didn’t expect, at all, was your phone to chime with a message from her.

From: Alexia You here yet?

You quickly typed back a response, figuring she didn’t have much time to be on her phone. They were due for warm-ups anytime soon now.

To: Alexia: Yeah, just found my seat. Thank you :) It’s chaos out here, damn

From: Alexia Good chaos. You’ll see. Enjoy it, I’ll find you after

It’s as if Alexia’s words had a soothing effect on you, because as soon as you tucked your phone back away you relaxed, sitting back against your seat and letting the experience roll over you.

The Barca girls came out for warm-ups, and you couldn’t help but admire them. The players moved across the pitch with this kind of effortless precision that made it all look simple, though you knew it wasn’t. You couldn’t tell who was who at first, not even you lack of football knowledge, but there were so many of them, a blur of navy shorts and bright orange bibs weaving in and out of each other as the ball zipped between them.

You weren’t looking for her. At least, you told yourself you weren’t. But somehow, your eyes kept finding her anyway. You caught a flash of blonde hair and noticed the distinctive way she carried herself on the pitch. She wasn’t doing anything else than the others– passing, moving, stretching. But she stood out. There was something about her, even from a distance, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. It was like your eyes gravitated towards her naturally, without you guiding them.

The Alexia you’d walked the tour with, who’d thrown you teasing smiles and leaned a little too close when you said goodbye, was gone. Out here, she was something entirely different– serious, focused, untouchable. She hadn’t looked up once, her eyes not searching yours, and you would feel apprehensive about it if you didn’t remember the look she had in her eyes when she invited you. After all, why would she? She had a job to do. This was her thing, as much as yesterday was yours.

You weren’t the only one watching her, obviously. You could hear little bursts of her name from the fans sitting nearby, the occasional shriek of excitement when she touched the ball during a drill. She was theirs and they were hers in a way I couldn’t quite wrap my head around, but it was beautiful. Alexia is Barca and Barca is Alexia, right?

It wasn’t long then until the game started, you got lost in your own thoughts a little bit and you were now mere seconds away from kick-off. The pitch looked impossibly green under the floodlights– that were turned on way too early, but you guessed it was better to be safe than sorry. Players were scattered around it, waiting for the signal from the referee that they could get their game going. The energy of the crowd built like a wave, rolling through the stands. People were on their feet, clapping, yelling. You didn’t know the chants, but you felt a tingle inside of you urging you to clap along, the energy of the crowd too enticing not to.

As the whistle blew to signal kick-off, the energy in the stadium shifted. You didn’t expect it to hit you like that, the way the crowd seemed to breathe, shift, move as one organism. It was overwhelming in the best way. You weren’t here to watch anyone in particular, you told yourself. You were just going to enjoy the experience, the place, to see it all in action. But once again, as soon as the ball was in play, you found yourself watching her. Tracking the way she moved, the way she gracefully handled the ball, the way she always seemed two steps ahead of everyone else.

Out here, she was undeniable. There was a precision to the way she played, a quiet authority that made it impossible to look away. It wasn’t just that she was good– and realistically, that played a huge part, it was the way she made everything look so effortless, like she’d orchestrated the entire game in her head before anyone else knew what was happening.

You were deep into the first half when the play stalled, and for the first time all game, the noise of the crowd dulled in your ears. Alexia was in the middle of the action, barking instructions to her teammates– sharp, no-nonsense commands you couldn’t hear from up there but you could feel all the same. Her gestures were deliberate, decisive, and when she pointed towards the flank, her teammates took off without hesitation.

There was something magnetic about it, about the way she owned the field without ever raising her voice too much, the way her team fell in line like clockwork because she was the one pulling the strings. Captain’s armband snug around her bicep, confidence looked good on her. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but it was undeniable.

Your eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should have, when play resumed. The way her jersey clung to her shoulders and arms wasn’t helping either. You shifted in your seat, tearing your gaze away, but the thought was already there, uninvited and impossible to ignore. You’d listen to whatever she told you to do too.

Heat rushed to your face at the realization so quickly it nearly made you feel dizzy. Nope. Absolutely not. You took a deep breath and focused back on the game, on the fluid football that was being portrayed by the girls in blaugrana. Professional. You are professional. And you are definitely not thinking about what it would be like to hear that voice closer. Louder. DIrected at you.

Saved by the bell. Or the half-time whistle. Saved by something, thank God. That’s what you thought. As the players made their way toward the tunnel, your eyes found her again. She was talking to one of her teammates, gesturing animatedly about something, but just before she disappeared into the tunnel, she glanced towards her box. It was quick, so quick you almost missed it, but your heart skipped a beat anyway. You told yourself she wasn’t looking for you. Why would she?

During half-time, a kid sitting a couple rows in front of you caught your eye. He was shouting all of the players names, his little voice full of excitement. He was waving a jersey, one with the number 4 on the back, and even though they couldn’t hear him right now, tucked away in the building, it struck you how loved they all were. How much they all meant to these people. You caught yourself smiling at the kid’s enthusiasm. At the player’s impact. It was hard not to feel drawn into it.

The second half went by quicker than the first. You’d settled, and you were starting to feel more like yourself the more time went on. Barcelona scored thrice in the second half, effectively beating their opponents 3-0. Alexia hadn’t scored, but she’d assisted the final goal and you felt a weird sense of pride overcome you as her cross was headed in by one of her teammates. The final whistle pierced the air, and with it came an eruption of cheers from the stands. Another win, another three points, and they deserved every ounce of the applause raining down on them.

Alexia didn’t jump into the celebration like some of her teammates did, instead staying composed as she clapped for the fans along with her friends, her captain’s demeanor shining through even in victory. For a second, she looked toward the family box, her gaze skimming across the seats. You thought to yourself that she might be looking for you, but as soon as it arose, you brushed it away, even though your stomach fluttered at the thought.

And then, like she’d heard your internal thoughts, answering the unspoken question, she lifted a hand in a small wave. Subtle, unnoticeable for anyone that wasn’t watching, but it was definitely there. You gave her a small wave back, and you wondered if anyone had noticed the small interaction between the two of you. This wasn’t the time to raise any suspicions, and even though no one’s eyes were on you, you felt like a spotlight had just been shone directly on you. You thought that was gonna be it, but then she stepped away from the group of her teammates for a second, and made a phonecall motion with her hands. You gave her a thumbs up in response, in hindsight probably not the most flattering thing, but it would do the job.

It wasn’t long after the team disappeared back into the tunnel that your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jacket.

From: Alexia I’m gonna get a quick shower, but I want to see you :) Meet me outside by the parking lot in 20 minutes?

A bashful smile grew on your face as you read her text, the casual tone doing little to mask the effect it had on you.

To: Alexia Yes, of course! Just gotta tell me how to get there

Alexia sent you on your way with a couple directions and off you went, not bothering to wait another 20 minutes in your seat, trying to avoid any possibility of you being late in the parking lot. The chill of the evening air hit you as you stepped outside of the stadium, as if inside there was a personal bubble of warmth created for the team. You crossed the main parking lot, that was surprisingly quiet. Most fans still lingering inside or making their way out through the main exits.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the meeting spot, a secluded parking are for the players. It was even quieter there, and every little sound seemed amplified in your ears.

Alexia took 17 minutes after sending you her post-match text. Not that you had been counting, or anything. She stepped out of the building, freshly showered and dressed in a Barca tracksuit. Her confident and vibrant energy from the pitch faltered slightly, but you still warmed up at the sight of her. Her hair still damp from her shower, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, walking over to you with an easy stride, as if she’d done this a thousand times before. She broke out in a wide smile as she approached you.

“Hey,” she started, her voice low and warm, “thanks for waiting.” You chuckled and waved away her comment, a little awkward silence forming between the two of you that you tried not to get in your head about, before making a remark about the game. “You played well. All of you, really. It was… impressive to watch. Thank you for the ticket.”

“Are you saying that because you mean it, or because I’m standing here?” Alexia teased. She hadn’t changed a single thing from her demeanor yesterday, still as flirty and making teasing remarks. “Maybe both.” Alexia let out a soft laugh, and even without soundproof walls and good acoustics, it still wrapped around you like a warm blanket in the chilly evening air.

She grew sincere then, her eyes softening a bit. “Hey, thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.” You were taken aback a little by her words, a little sense of insecurity creeping through her voice. “Honestly, for a long time I wasn’t sure either, but I’m glad I did. It just… didn’t know if I should.” The Barcelona captain frowned at that, tilting her head slightly. “Why not?” You knew the question was coming, so you shrugged and gave her your response with a small smile on your face.

“Maybe because this feels… I don’t know, different? You’re… you.” “I’m me?” “You’re Alexia Putellas. Everyone in that stadium was looking at you tonight. And now here I am, standing in a parking lot with you, wondering why you’d want to see me of all people.” “And yet, here you are. Doesn’t that say something?”

You locked eyes for a moment, a brief pause in the conversation and the air between you both changed with unspoken words. Alexia’s expression softens further, her confident demeanor giving way for something vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen about her yet.

“Maybe I don’t want to be Alexia Putellas all the time, you know? It gets quite tiring.” Alexia said quietly. You were caught off guard, but composed yourself quickly. “That’s not an easy thing to ask with your career, captain.” You chuckled quietly, but grew quiet as you noticed the sincerity in her voice. “Look, I know we barely know each other. But I think you’re the kind of person who could see me for who I am, not just the name, the number or the captain’s armband. I feel drawn to you, and that doesn’t happen often. And I know you feel it too. I can tell by the way you look at me.”

“That’s… a lot, Alexia.” You hesitated, meeting her eyes again. “Thank you for being so open and honest with me. You’re right, I feel it too. But I don’t know if I’m the kind of person you think I am. I mean… you’re you, and…” you trailed off, but you were sure she understood what you were trying to say.

“And you’re you. That’s exactly why I’m standing here right now. Why I invited you today. Why I asked you to come to the parking lot.” Her words helped you ease a little further, but not all the apprehension had worn off and she could tell. “Tell you what, let me prove it to you. Dinner? No pressure. Just food, conversation, and maybe some embarrassing stories about my teammates.” A hopeful smile grew on her face after her words and you couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped your lips as you listened to her. “You know how to sell an offer, don’t you?”

“I’ve got plenty. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” “Hmm, I don’t know. Feels like you’re trying too hard to convince me.” “Trying too hard? I thought I was being charming!” “Debatable.” “Come on, let me in tonight. That’s all I’m asking for.” “Fine. But only because I’m curious about these embarrassing stories.” “Fair enough.”

The restaurant is small but elegant, tucked away in a quieter part of the city. Twinkling string lights frame the windows, and a gold sign with cursive lettering displays the name. It was perfect, really, and you could see why Alexia liked coming here, especially after busy days like today.

The warm lighting inside created the perfect cozy atmosphere that would allow you both to unwind from the day. There were candles on every table, casting soft shadows on the walls, and there was a tinge of jazz to be heard in the background. It’s intimate but not overly formal, just right for a dinner that was toeing the line between casual and romantic.

“You’ve got good taste in restaurants,” you said, after hanging your jacket over your chair and sitting down. “Good food is one of the few indulgences I allow myself during the season. Though I have to be careful not to overdo it.” You smirked, deciding that you could tease her a little further. “You mean you don’t carb-load on patatas bravas before every match?” Alexia laughed at that, throwing her head back slightly. “I wish. I’d run for ten minutes and then need a sub.”

You indulge yourself in the menu for a second, eventually settling on and ordering a seafood risotto and a glass of white wine. Alexia ordered grilled chicken with roasted vegetables, paired with a glass of red.

You feel hyper-aware of every small detail about Alexia while you wait for your food. The way she leans forward when she speaks, the gestures she makes with her hands, the warmth in her eyes. You’re overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

“So, Putellas, do you always bring strangers here, or should I feel special?” You challenged, taking a sip from the glass of wine that was just brought to you by one of the waiters. Alexia feigned annoyance, placing a hand over her chest where her heart was. Nonetheless, her face turned into a grin soon.

“Special. But don’t let it get to your head. I needed to bribe you into liking me somehow.” “Oh, so this is a bribe?” “What can I say? I’m better with my feet than my words”

Dinner goes by smoothly, and your conversation flows easily from one topic to the other. You cover your family, Alexia’s way into football, what she’s thinking of doing after football, your hobbies, your youth, but it’s when the topic of your work is being brought up that you grow apprehensive. Alexia noticed the unease that came from you after she brought it up, and tried to reassure you.

“You know, I like hearing about your work. It’s part of who you are,” she tried. If there was one thing that you’d not gotten over yet, it’s that you met Alexia through a work context. Deep down, there were more than rational thoughts telling you that that was completely okay, it happened all the time, but with how focused you are on your image and your professional career, you had a hard time dropping the apprehension. So you paused for a second, and then spoke up softly. “But that’s the thing. I feel like I need to keep it separate. Like if I start talking too much about it, I’ll ruin this… whatever this is.” Alexia leant forward at that, like she had the tendency to do quite often you’d grown to learn. “And what do you think this is?” You met her eyes, trying to feign indifference by shrugging. “I don’t know. Something new, something unexpected.”

“Well, maybe unexpected is good. You don’t have to keep everything separate, you know. I like knowing more about you. All of you.” “Careful, I might start talking about zoning laws and blueprints.” “I’ll risk it. Besides, more fuel for me to tease you with.”

There’s a little more hesitance in your eyes, and Alexia wants to get rid of it. “Tonight, I’m not Alexia Putellas. I’m Alexia, Ale. That’s all I want to be now.” And really, how could you stay professional with someone who looked at you like that, as if they’re seeing something no one else ever had?

“I don’t usually do this either, you know? Going for dinner with someone I barely know.” Alexia speaks up after a while of comfortable silence. “Then why now?” You asked, not sure whether you really wanted to hear the answer, knowing it would only put your further into a pit of unfamiliar feelings that was growing deeper and deeper with each passing minute of sitting across the infatuating Spanish captain. “Because you feel different. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I feel like you see me. Not the player, just me.”

The night went on without too many hiccups from then on. It was only when the time came to pay, that some more teasing was thrown around. “You’ve got that look on your face. You’re going to pay, aren’t you.” You cocked an eyebrow at the women across you who was sporting a bright smile. “You caught me.” You sighed, rolling your eyes briefly. “At least let me cover dessert.”

“How about this; you get dessert next time.” “Next time? You’re confident.” “Maybe. But I’m not doubting anything.”

As you step out the restaurant, Alexia offers you her jacket when she notices you shivering in the chilly air of Barcelona. Your fingers brush as she helps you into it, and for a moment, they linger. “This was nice. I’m glad you said yes.” Her voice barely above a whisper, as if the intimacy of the evening had softened her voice. “Me too. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but… I had a really great time. Sorry for my apprehension.” “Don’t apologise. And good, because I’d like to do this again. Soon.”

For a moment, Alexia looked at you, her eyes lingering on yours like she was memorizing something important. And then she leaned in, so slowly that you could feel your heart pound in anticipation. Her lips brushed your cheek, featherlight and warm, lingering just enough to make your breath hitch. It wasn’t hurried, it was deliberate, full of quiet meaning.

Your skin tingled where she’d kissed you, and a rush of warmth spread from your chest all the way to your fingertips. It was a simple gesture, nothing more than a small brush of her lips against your cheek, but it left you feeling all kinds of ways. Ways that you weren’t prepared for, and your growing adoration for her hit you in the face once more.

When she pulled back, Alexia’s eyes searched yours for a reaction, her own cheeks tinged pink in the glow of the streetlight. Your voice felt caught in your throat, but your heart spoke louder. You knew then, without a doubt, that this was more than just a fleeting connection.

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barca femení x reader #barca femení

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spokenforyou · 2 months ago

Text

sylus x fem reader

PERSONAL TRAINER

synopsis: sylus is your new personal trainer, but he’s only a man with needs ;)

warnings: spanking, vulgarity, nsfw, dirty talk, f! oral receiving, mirror and wall intercourse, unprotected intercourse, cream pie

wc: 3k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

Elevate your training.

You’ve recently hired a personal trainer for the gym, helping you get leaner and more toned. You’ve been working out for years, feeling empty without it. However, you figured it’d be nice to hire someone to help you elevate your training and take you to the next level.

Elevate your training, elevate your training.

While entering the gym, you chant manifestation forms. You’ve recently hired a personal trainer for the gym, helping you get leaner and more toned. You’ve been working out for years, feeling empty without it. However, you figured it’d be nice to hire someone to help you elevate your training.

You walk towards the automatic doors and greet the front desk woman before heading to your favorite section. Today was the day you met your trainer.

Only have been chatting through text to schedule when to meet, no idea who it is. But you know it’s a man.

You certainly could’ve been more comfortable with a woman, but he has good credits and reviews. Where you work out is exclusive and very expensive, so whoever you hired certainly has money and experience.

You put your bag in a locker and grab your water, heading to where the equipment is.

As you step foot inside, you scope the room for the mystery personal trainer. Seeing multiple men, you’re not sure who it may be until one locks eyes with you.

He has silver hair, what looks like being red eyes, sharp features, an insane body, and tall. At your height, he’d tower over you like a skyscraper.

Might as well see if this is who it is… You think to yourself as you walk over to him; he smiles as you do so, confirming it’s your trainer.

You stand in front of him and smile, “You’re Sylus, right? The personal trainer?” I look over his form, a black compression shirt hugging his muscles perfectly.

He nods “Sylus. You must be Y/N?”

You nod back and reach a hand out, his returning in your shake. Hands much bigger than your own, and what seems to be colder.

“I’m glad to be working with a personal trainer; I hope we can work well together.” You smile.

He smirks as he looks down at you. “Oh, I’m sure we will.” I don’t overthink his words, and I nod. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

Sylus leads me over to the mats, where he motions with his head. I step on them and look at him. “Stretches first, right?”

He nods, his gaze dropping to your body. Your light blue set contrasts perfectly with your tan skin, almost making you glow. He licks his lips and looks away, trying to keep professional.

You do some quick shoulder and arm stretches, before moving to your leg stretches, repeating both and ending with a neck roll.

“Good. Now today we’re gonna work on legs and glutes.” He smiles down at me. “Let’s start with a warm-up barbell hip thrust.” Sylus walks over to the hip bench and motions for me to sit down. I do as instructed, and he grabs the barbell, hovering it over my hips. My eyes follow his arms as he lowers it, setting a good weight on it.

He catches my eyes and smirks; “See something you like, sweetie?” I shake my head in denial and place my hands on the bar. Sylus only chuckles and pats your hip as he backs away.

“10-15 reps, go.” He stands as he watches me. I lift it with ease, my body accustomed to lifting. After about a minute and a half, I finish and lower myself back down to the floor.

“Good girl, now one more set.” Sylus smiles and you get back into position, pushing through a second set. You finish that one and he nods before pulling the barbell off you.

He has you run through lunges, cardio, deadlifts, and kickbacks. By the end of the exercises, you’re panting and nearly about to collapse. He’s certainly a damn excellent trainer.

Sylus watched you intensely, his red eyes never leaving your body as you pushed through every exercise. His gaze particularly stuck on your ass, the shape of them in your set, and how it moved. Occasionally he joined in on the workouts, just to keep you going and stare at you. He was star-struck.

“So, Y/N… Last thing I’m gonna have you do.” He speaks up as you down your water. You sigh, but know you have to finish.

“Yeah?” You look up at him as he stands before you, your eyes running over his face.

“Weighted squats. Think you can do it?” He has a grin on his face and you lift your brows.

“Not sure, but I can try.” You stand up from the bench you were sitting on, legs wobbling, and Sylus grabs you quickly. His hand rests around your waist as he chuckles.

“Here, let me help you, sweetie. I’ll help you with the squats, too.” You nod at his words and he walks you over to where the weights are.

Grabbing a 35-pound dumbbell, he places it in your hands and moves behind you. You breathe deeply as you hold it, the weight not being an issue, but your legs.

“15 reps sweetie…” He whispers in your ear, shivers running down your body. His words flow through you and you don’t even notice how he’s pressed himself against you, his hands on your hips.

“Sylus, what are you doing?” I turn my head to look at him.

“Gonna help you, now go.” He pats your hips and you immediately squat down, the dumbbell weighing you down. You pull yourself back up with an exhale and he rubs your hips before you repeat it.

You get through five reps before your legs wobble. Sylus catches on and moves even closer, his body now fully pressed against you. Feeling him, your eyes widen but you try to not pay mind to it, hoping to stay professional.

He smirks as he feels his growing arousal press against your back. Each time he squats with you, it rubs him the right way, increasing his need.

After three more reps, you finally speak. “Sylus, do you have something in your pocket or something?” At your words, he chuckles darkly.

“No, that’s just me, sweetie. Problem?” He wraps his arms around your waist, head sneaking down to your neck. He gently bites your ear lobe and you nearly drop the dumbbell on your feet.

“I…” is all you whisper out as he lowers the dumbbell to the floor; he kisses your neck gently, smiling against your skin.

“Sylus… There are people around.” My eyes flutter as I look around the gym, people scattered throughout as they exercise.

“So what? Let them see how bad I want you.” He practically growls against your neck, biting down on it. You let out a quiet whine and he smirks.

Sylus pulls away after leaving a few marks where he pleases, his eyes looking around the gym. “Mmm, on second thought…” He moves from behind you and takes your hand, dragging you to the bathroom. He finds a singular bathroom and allows you to step in; walking in behind you, he closes the door and locks it.

“Sylus, I don’t think.” He cuts you off by pushing you against the wall and kissing you hungrily. Your eyes widen and you flutter them shut as you accept him. Sylus smiles against your lips before he pulls your leg up to him; you wrap your arms around his neck and he lifts you with one arm.

Holding you in his grasp, his hardness presses against you through the fabric of his shorts, and he groans. Pulling his lips away from yours, he stares into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N… I’m normally strictly professional, but fuck, I’ve gotta have you.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb along your thigh.

“You’re suppose you’re cute too.” You giggle, teasing him. Sylus lifts a brow and flashes a cocky smirk.

“You suppose?” He asks and grinds his hips up towards you to make you change your wording. “Hm?”

You giggle, and he hides a smile. “Yeah, I suppose. Seems like someone’s pretty excited?” Finishing your sentence, he grinds up against you again, pressing his face in your neck with a groan.

“Mmm, fuck… I need you so bad, wrapped around me.” Sylus bites down on your neck and you moan quietly.

“Have me.” You moan in his ear, the music in the gym playing loud enough to block our sounds out.

Sylus smiles against your skin before he sets you down, his hands immediately going to your sports bra, yanking it off. His eyes drop to your chest and he flutters his eyes before squeezing them together. Thumbs brushing against your nipples.

You let out a breathy whine, and he smiles down at you. “Everything about you is perfect.” He leans down and pulls you closer, his mouth attacking your breast, tongue swiping and swirling around your nipple.

“Sylus…” You moan and cover your mouth, the other hand tugging at his silver hair. Sylus pulls away and yanks your hand from your mouth.

“No baby, let me hear your pretty moans.” He whispers before biting your nipple.

“Sylus, people…” you whine and he chuckles.

“Sweetie… I own this gym, if they have a problem they can come to me.” Sylus purrs against you before switching to the other peak, giving it the same attention.

Your eyes widen, and now it all makes sense. Snapping you out of your thoughts, he kisses down your stomach and tugs your shorts down, the cold air giving you goosebumps.

“Lace panties for the gym? You had a feeling, hm?” He chuckles and kisses your clothed clit.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a playful smack to the cheek.

“No, shut up.” You giggle and he spreads your legs, pulling you off the wall a bit to access you more easily.

“I’d like to have you make me…” Sylus kisses up your legs until he reaches his destination. The smell of your vanilla lotion filling his senses, his favorite scent. He finally gets to the middle of your legs, his tongue licking a stripe up your panties, your breath catching in your throat.

He looks up at you before sliding his fingers along the sides and pulling them down your legs. You look down at him as he does so and you watch as his eyes nearly pop out of his head. He groans at the sight and runs his fingers along your wetness.

“All this for me?” Sylus whispers, his shorts tightening almost painfully. Crimson eyes meet yours and you nod. He rushes to you, tongue running along your folds.

“Ah…” Your eyes close shut and you moan quietly; he dives in deeper and focuses on your clit. His tongue worked expertly on you as you expected it would.

Sylus lifts a leg to rest on his shoulder so he can feel you deeper with his tongue, his groans vibrating against you, pushing you closer to the edge.

After about three minutes of his attention, you feel your legs shaking and he pulls away. You groan, holding back a whine as he stands back up.

“Sorry baby, as much as I want you on my tongue, I want you to cum on my cock even more.” He smirks and slides off his shirt, his muscles bulging and his abs catching your attention.

You run a hand along his body and he chuckles.

“Nice huh?” Sylus slides his shorts down, followed by his boxers, his leaking cock springing out. He smirks for the millionth time today and wraps a hand around his length, stroking it. You gasp under your breath.

“Sylus… Is it gonna fit?” You watch him and he moves closer to you, his length bobbing against your stomach.

“Mmm, we’ll make it fit, sweetie. Now where do you think we should do this?” He growls, running his hands along your sides.

“Against the wall should be fine?” You look down at his body once again and he nods, your stomach glistening with his pre-cum.

“Come here, then…” He squats down a bit and lifts you, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. Holding you with one hand, he hovers you over his cock before rubbing the swollen head against you.

He groans and drops his head into the crook of your neck. Leaning back, he looks into your eyes and whispers, “Ready?”

You nod and breathe deeply to prepare yourself for the insane stretch to come. Sylus leans in and connects your lips as he lowers you down on him. Keeping your lips intact, you both gasp together before he lets out a long groan. The tightness squeezing him like a glove.

“Fuck Y/N…” He continues to slide into you; he finally bottoms out and holds you with two hands now as he waits for you to relax around him.

“Relax for me, baby… Breathe.” He kisses you gently and you finally loosen around him. “Good…” Sylus smiles softly and lifts you before sliding you back down. Letting out a string of groans, he presses you against the wall and bounces you.

“Sylus…” You let out the whiniest moan you’ve ever made. No man has ever made you feel so good and he knows that.

“Feels so good, baby. Made for me…” He moans and attacks your neck as he bounces you. Neither of us cares who hears us; all we care about is us, and how we feel together.

Sylus growls and pulls you off the wall, bringing you to the sink. He slides you off him with a groan and lets you down, spinning you to face the mirror.

He stands behind you and runs his hands along your body before placing a hand on your back and bending you. You let him lean you over and he slides back into your heat with ease and a new angle.

“Shit…” you both mutter and he pulls out enough to leave his tip in before slamming back inside you. Your eyes lock with his and he nods, hands cupping your breasts.

“Look at you… So cock drunk.” Sylus pulls his hand away before spanking your ass, leaving a red and stinging mark.

He picks up speed as he watches your expressions change and the moans fly out of your mouth.

“Anyone fuck you like this before?” He growls and you shake your head frantically. “Mmm, that’s what I thought. You’re mine now baby…” He spanks you again and feels his body heat.

“Fuck… I’m close.” He pulls you back up and stands you up, your back against his chest as he continues to thrust inside you. His enormous arms wrap around your stomach and he presses kisses to your neck.

“Me too…” You let out a whisper and he bites down on your neck, leaving a mark.

“Birth control?” He feels his orgasm quickly approaching, the squeezing of your walls not helping.

“Mmm…” You moan out, nodding and he feels a weight lift off his shoulders, not wanting to pull out.

“Cum with me, princess,” Sylus whispers in your ear and reaches down to circle your clit. Your back arches against his chest and he squeezes you as you cum. He finishes right after you, he moans your name, and you feel wetness slip out of you as he fucks you through your orgasms.

His cock kisses your cervix, begging for entry as he shoots inside your womb. Sylus’ arms lose their tight hold on you as he finally stills.

“Fuck…” You drop your head while you pant, his cock softening inside of you. He chuckles and lifts your head up and to the side so he can lock lips with you.

Sylus kisses you tenderly for about a minute before he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Quickly wiping your lip, he slides out of you with a groan.

Your eyes flutter and you clutch your stomach, missing the feeling of him. He chuckles, and he gets down onto his knees; your eyes widen as he moves his head between your legs. You feel his tongue wiping along your cum soaked pussy and you nearly collapse.

He cleans you with his tongue before standing back up and wiping his lips. “We taste so good together.” He smirks and leans in to kiss you once more, the taste of both of you on your tongue filling your body with warmth.

You pull away and chuckle. “You’re so filthy.”

He shrugs and nods; “Yeah, I am.” He then grabs your clothes and hands them to you. “You know… I’d like to keep you. I know we just met, but god you’ve already got me wrapped around your finger.” Sylus chuckles as he watches you slide on your clothes; he follows your movements.

“I’ve never fucked someone after meeting them. I’m never normally that type. So, I wouldn’t mind keeping you, either.” You giggle and put back on your shoes.

His heart warms at your words. He was never really the type to hook up with random people either, but there was something about you he couldn’t get enough of.

“Good, then it’s settled. You’re mine and I’m yours.” He pulls you closer as he finally slides on his shoes as well. “Now let’s pretend that we didn’t just fuck in here, yeah?” Sylus leads you to the door.

“Fuck it.” He looks down at you, your wide eyes looking up at him in horror as he opens the restroom door. Leading you out, no one even bats an eye; all busy working on themselves, and you let out a breath of relief.

“See, no one even noticed, now let me take you home.” Sylus smiles down at you and you grab your water bottle quickly before heading out of the gym.

“All mine…” He whispers, kissing your forehead in front of the receptionist as he leads you out.

“Yours…”

#lads sylus #lads x reader #lads smut #love and deepspace #smut #l&ds #l&ds sylus #lads #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus smut #qin che

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menagerofmischief · 4 months ago

Note

I rarely indulge in these kinds of things but I love your diner and I have to place my own order!!

Served by Lando Norris

Starter - artichoke dip (thinking Fewtrell reader cause Lando had been WANTING reader)

cold appetizer

Main dish:

Sausage rolls

Sushi

Ceasar Salad

Veggie Burger

Drinks:

Fanta

Apple cider

Vodka soda

Dessert - yes

Fav GP is Singapore or Vegas was fun last year! (Im a whore for a good night race)

Dia's Diner Menu

artichoke dip brother's friend cold appetizer rough sex sausage rolls "I'll make it fit" veggie burger "Feel how hard you make me" sushi "Better quiet down you don't want them to hear us" ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" fanta size kink apple cider spitting vodka redbull squirting dessert aftercare + moussaka "You look your best covered in my cum"

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader

TW: unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, spitting in mouth

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I kid you not, I screamed when I got this request. I was so happy to write something for you, hope you enjoy it!

❀

“You’re like a fucking dog, Norris!” I say, bringing my hands up to shield by face as Lando shakes his head, droplets of water from his wet hair spraying onto me.

Lando has been best friends with my brother, Max, for practically as long as I can remember. He was always there and he was everywhere. From family dinner to family vacations, you name it, he’s attended it with my brother.

He’s been around for every awkward phase of my life and every especially embarrassing moment. I wasn’t blind, I’ve always thought he was attractive and it would be a lie to say I’ve never had feelings for him.

But I never dared to say anything. He was Max’s best friend which meant he was off limits or my brother would throw a hissy fit. And I’m sure he had received a speech about how I was off limits from my brother as well.

Not that it ever stopped him from letting his gaze wander over my body, studying every curve and looking way longer than he should have. Or giving me one of his infamous smirks whenever I caught him doing it.

We were currently on a summer vacation with Max and his girlfriend Pietra. It was summer break for Formula 1, so Max insisted on taking a trip with Lando and dragging me along. Summer trips meant warm places with beaches and beaches with Lando meant getting sprayed with water while I was laying on the sunbeds.

Lando laughed, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Should I bark then as well?” He asked, his lips stretching into a smirk.

“You try that and I’ll call animal control to pick you up.” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I moved my eyes back to the book I had laying open in my lap, trying my best to focus on the words on the page instead of him.

He was still wet from the water and I couldn’t decide which part of him I wanted to look at more. His chest, with drops of water sliding down and catching along his happy trail. Or his thighs, the way his wet swim trunks hugged his muscular thighs, making them look extra delicious.

Not only that but the outline of his dick was very clear and practically begging me to look at it.

“You like what you see?” Lando asked, the tone of his voice teasing. Slowly I dragged my gaze back up to meet his, feeling my cheeks heat up a little from the embarrassment.

“The only thing bigger than your ego is the iceberg that sank the Titanic.” I told him, quickly returning my attention back to my book. Lando only laughed in response.

✿ ✿ ✿

Later that night, back in the hotel, I was laying in my bed bored out of my mind. I scrolled Instagram enough for a warning to pop up that I spent too much time on the app and then scrolled TikTok until the videos became repetitive.

At first I thought I’d go to Max’s room and annoy him but then decided against it in favor of giving him and his girlfriend some alone time. After another five minutes of fatal boredom I dragged myself out of the bed and set my way towards Lando’s room.

The door swung open after only one knock, leaving my hand still in the air as I faced Lando. He was shirtless, with a pair of shorts low enough on his waist to show just a hint of the waistband of his boxers. His hair was damp and his room just a bit steamed up - he must have showered recently.

“Expecting someone?” I asked, giving him a smirk.

“Yes,” he said, a smile stretching over his lips. “I was expecting you.”

He moved to the side to let me get into his room and closed the door behind me. I hummed, “I’m sure you were.”

“I was actually,” he said, throwing himself onto his bed. He put his hands behind his head, stretching himself and the muscles in his arms flexed.

Lando may not be the tallest guy, but he was taller than me, that’s for sure. And his build, along with all the muscles that his extensive training had formed on his body made him look even more deliciously bigger.

I was staring, my gaze fixated on his movements. This time I didn’t even have the courtesy to look ashamed of doing it.

Lando moved so quickly I barely saw it coming. One of his hands grabbed mine and pulled me onto the bed, making me land right on top of him. I gasped, bracing my hands against the mattress and looking at him with wide eyes.

In this position he was so close, closer than he’s ever been. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open as I breathed, my breath mingling with his. “Lando,�� I whispered, not daring to speak at full volume, afraid the moment was just going to disappear.

His gaze went down, his eyes fixated on my lips. I didn’t allow myself any time to overthink, knowing I would end up chickening out - so I leaned down and tentatively brushed my lips against his.

Lando groaned at the contact, his hand grabbing the back on my neck and forcing me towards him even more, crashing my lips against his in a bruising kiss. His tongue stroked mine and I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, unaware of the fact that I was grinding against him.

We finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air. My cheeks felt like they were burning and there was a hint of redness on Lando’s as well.

“Fuck,” I whispered, the curse rolling off my tongue. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong -”

Lando cut me off by thrusting his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing against my clothed core. “Feel that?” Lando asked, his breath hot against my face. “Feel how hard you make me? Feel how good it is to have me rubbing against you?” I nodded breathlessly, unable to form words. “Something that feels this right, definitely can’t be wrong.”

And he’s right. It feels good, it feels right. I like him and for once I stop thinking about what everyone else wants and what they’ll think and focus on myself.

I find myself nodding along, leaning down to kiss him again. It’s desperate, passionate, full with need and longing that it seems both of us have been trying to suppress.

“Let me take this off, yeah?” Lando asks, pulling away and reaching for the hem of my top. Wordlessly I lift my hands up, making it easier for him to slide it over my head.

I’m not wearing a bra, so the second my top is off my tits are bare for him to see. My nipples harden and I hiss when Lando palms my breasts and teasingly runs his thumb over my nipple before pinching it.

“Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles, not wasting a second longer before he’s diving down, his lips wrapping around my nipple and rolling the bug with his tongue. A moan slips past my lips and I wrap my fingers around his locks, keeping his head in place.

“Lando, please,” I whine, my voice breathy and desperate. “Want you to fuck me.”

He doesn’ need to hear more than that, suddenly he’s flipping us over, towering over me. He presses a quick kiss to my lips before going down and taking my shorts and panties off with one go.

He blows air on my pussy, making me whine and playfully slap his arm. “Stop teasing, it’s mean.”

He chuckles, his fingers slipping through my arousal and circling my entrance. “Tell me baby,” he whispers against my skin, his lips pressed to my collarbones. “How many times did you touch yourself just like this, imagining it was me instead.”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit the truth. “Didn’t,” I manage to murmur out.

He huffs, and then his fingers pinch my clit, making me buck my hips and moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. “Lie to me again, and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His voice leaves no room for argument and I know he really means it. “Now, I think I asked you a question.”

“Too many!” I admit, a moan slipping out when his fingers begin to rub my clit in fast, harsh circles. “I don’t know! Don’t keep track of how much I do it.”

“There we go,” Lando hums, the expression on his face looking satisfied. “See how good you can behave.”

He slips two fingers in me, sliding right in with no resistance, thanks to how wet I am. Through the whole process he keeps rubbing my clit, and suddenly the pleasure doubles when he starts to thrust his fingers into me, grazing my G-spot every time.

“Lando, so good,” I moan out. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I wish I didn’t say them because the pleasure that was building up is instantly gone as Lando pulls his fingers out and away from my clit. I’m left gasping, looking at him with a glare.

“Fuck sweetheart don’t look at me like that,” he says, his voice is hoarse. “I’ve thought about this so many times. The first time I make you cum I want it to be around my cock.”

He lifts his hand, his fingers covered in my arousal, and pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. “Taste so good, sweetheart, come on open up.”

Instinctively I open my mouth, thinking he’s going to push his fingers into my mouth for me to taste myself. Instead he leans over me and spits into my mouth, and though barely, I can taste myself.

I moan when it hits my tongue, and lock my eyes with his before swallowing. He groans, his fingers grabbing my chin, “God, you’re such a good girl. Perfect little slut - and just for me.”

“Just for you,” I repeat, nodding my head. “Now please fuck me, Lando, it’s too much!”

Lando takes off his shorts and boxers, leaving himself bare in front of me. My eyes are instantly drawn to his cock, standing proud, the tip leaking pre-cum. My eyes widen at the size of it, he’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with before.

He must see it on my face because he cups my cheek with one hand while nestling himself between my thighs. “Don’t worry, sweet girl, I’ll make it fit.”

He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size, pushing inch after inch inside of me until his hips are flush against mine. He looks at me for confirmation and I give him a nod to go ahead.

While he was really sweet by starting gentle and going slow until I was ready - now that he’s fucking me, he’s anything but. Lando’s thrusts are rough, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back, deep inside, his hips hitting mine over and over again.

“Lando, so good, fuck!” I moan out. My voice is high pitches and my moans are becoming louder as I am unable to control them, or think anything much in general.

Lando’s hand presses down against my mouth, instantly muffling the sound of my moans. “Better quiet down,” he growls into my ear. “Max and Pietra are in the room next door. You don’t want them to hear us do you?”

I shake my head no and Lando removes his hand. Without his hand covering my mouth it’s much harder to keep the moans and whines coming out of my lips down.

“Lan, I’m gonna cum, please!” I plead, feeling the pleasure build up, unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

“Go on,” Lando says with a groan and I feel him twitch inside of me. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my dick.”

His words topple me over the edge and I come harder than I’ve ever cum before. It’s not until I look down and see Lando’s abdomen and half of the bed wet that I realize I squirted. Lando groans, his fingers rubbing through my fold for a moment before he brings them up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“That was so hot baby,” he says. He thrusts into me a few more times and then pulls out, cumming all over my stomach and tits.

He looks down at me, trying to catch his breath and his eyes sparkle with a hint of something. “You always look so damn gorgeous,” he says, his fingers rubbing gentle comforting circles into my hip. “But you look your best covered in my cum.”

I stared at the ceiling, still a bit out of breath. “That was the best orgasm of my life,” I said, with a laugh.

“Guess I’ll have to give you many more then,” Lando said.

“I don’t how you’ll survive,” I teased.

“I’ll make do,” Lando replied, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. He reached for his suitcase that was next to the bed and got a what I assumed was a dirty shirt and used it to wipe his cum off my body.

After that he got another T-Shirt, this time a clean one and helped me put it on. He put his underwear back on and then crawled into the bed, next to me. He wrapped one of his arms around my stomach and placed lazy kisses on my cheek and neck.

“Want to watch a movie and order room service?” He asked, rubbing his nose against my neck.

“God, you’re perfect.”

“Thanks, I know!”

“Just play the damn movie, Lando.”

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aaronsguccitie · 4 months ago

Note

And another!!

hotch playing tea time with his daughter and he’s forced to wear tiaras, sit in a small chair, and drink his imaginary tea with his pinky up and mom!reader is just laughing and sneaks a picture to send to the team

- 💗

💗 anon, you shall get a hundred kisses <3

Tea time

Cw: fem!mom!reader, fluff, girl dad Aaron, no use of yn, Aaron being a complete pushover

Word count: 1.2k

----

His knees ache.

Come to think of it, so does his back. Sitting cramped in a plastic pink chair, folded nearly in half will do that to him, Aaron thinks.

His stuffed companions don’t seem to suffer from the same fate. They’re happily drinking their tea and enjoying their biscuits, much like Aaron is supposed to be doing. He almost envies the way their furry legs rest comfortably on their matching pink chairs.

“Purple or pink?” Olivia asks him, holding out two tiaras.

Aaron eyes the sharp combs at the end of them with mild terror. He opens his mouth to decline—he almost does, really—but Olivia’s eyes are wide and impatient, exactly like yours.

The protest gets trapped in his throat.

“Uhh, don’t you have a blue one?” He asks, mentally kicking himself. “I seem to remember buying you a blue tiara.”

“Nope! Purple or pink?” Olivia asks again. Her own tiara rests lopsidedly on her head, its purple jewels catching the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window. The color matches with her Princess Rapunzel dress he’d gotten her at Disney World.

Well, at least nobody else is gonna see him in it.

“Purple,” Aaron decides. “So I can match with you, won’t that be nice?”

“But you won’t be the princess, too,” his daughter says. A small frown pulls her brows together, exactly the same as his—and way too stern for a four-year-old. Aaron gently touches the scrunch until it fades. “I’m the only princess.”

“Of course,” Aaron agrees softly. He adjusts her lopsided crown. “I’ll be the prince, is that okay?”

“No.” Olivia giggles, two of his dimples appearing in her cheeks. “Silly Daddy. You’ll be the king!” She says as she grabs the purple tiara and rises on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head.

Aaron bends his neck down, a hand going to her waist to steady her until her heels touch the ground again. “How could I have forgotten,” he murmurs, his small smile turning into a wince when the combs of the tiara dig against his scalp. He bites down on his tongue to trap the hiss in his throat, forcibly stretching his lips into another smile as he looks up at Olivia with mildly watering eyes.

“How do I look?”

“Kingly.” His daughter giggles. Aaron blinks back the blurriness in his vision, smiling as Olivia picks up her purple fairy wand and waves it around theatrically before she clears her throat, “And now I dec—del…delcare—”

“Declare.”

“—declare it’s time for teatime!”

She sets down her wand and pours the very strong concoction of tap water into Aaron’s teacup, her tongue peeking out as she holds the lid of the teapot to keep it steady. Some of the faux tea spills over the rim and splashes onto his sweatpants, turning the fabric into a darker gray as Olivia hands him a plate of plastic cake when she’s done.

Aaron accepts it graciously. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He places the plate next to his tea and fumbles for the teacup, struggling to hook his finger through the handle.

“Y’welcome,” Olivia mumbles, too busy with pouring the rest of her guests’ tea.

Did they poke the hole with a needle? Aaron resigns himself to picking up the teacup from its sides. It gets swallowed up by his hands, his fingers overlapping around its circumference.

“Being a hostess is hard work, isn’t it?” He asks as he watches her hand out cake slices to their stuffed companions.

“Mommy does it an’ she’s good at it.”

“She is,” Aaron chuckles, “guess you got that from her, huh?”

“Mhm.” Olivia finally plops down onto her chair, tilting her crown again as she reaches for her own teacup with a deep sigh.

“So how have you been ruling over your subjects?” Aaron asks seriously. He turns to the stuffed animals lining the table; her teddy and Jack’s orca and a battered unicorn from Penelope, “Are you all satisfied with the way Princess Livvy is treating you?”

“Princess Olivia, Daddy.” She corrects, frowning a little and continuing again before Aaron can remedy his mistake. “They say we go t’bed too early,” Olivia pouts.

“Do they? Well,” he brings the teacup to his lips again, pretending to take a sip, “I say—”

“Daddy, y’have to do this,” Olivia interrupts, picking up her own teacup and sticking out her pinky. She looks at Aaron expectantly.

“Oh, forgive me.” Aaron says and sticks his out, too. “Is that better?”

A muffled laugh catches his attention. That in itself makes him smile, but when he hears the not so subtle click of a camera, his eyes flick to you.

Caught.

You bite your lip and throw him a wink, disappearing behind the door frame with your phone held in your hand.

Aaron turns back to Olivia as he sets down his teacup. “I’m so sorry, your highness, may I be excused for a moment?”

“You’ll come back?” She frowns, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Aaron stifles a laugh; his daughter through and through.

“Yes, baby.” He promises.

Her frown clears. “Okay.”

Aaron eagerly gets up from the cramped chair, his knees cracking when he straightens. He stifles a wince and leaves Olivia’s bedroom, immediately finding you in the hallway just outside. There’s a grin on your face as you look down at your phone, thumbs flying over the screen.

You hear him and look up, your smile turning sheepish as you click your phone shut and slide it into your back pocket.

He crosses over to you, his arms wrapping around your body, hands dipping into your pockets to search for your phone.

“Delete that.” Aaron murmurs.

You slap his hands away. “Delete what?”

“The picture.” He lifts his brow. Your mouth drops open, no doubt to deny it, and he cuts across you, “I know you took one, honey, don’t play dumb.”

The corner of your lip pinches as you try to hold back a wider smile. “That’s a cute crown. But sorry, your majesty,” you bow, “it’s already been sent to the group chat.”

“Jesus Christ.” Aaron groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

A grin splits your face in half. You pull his hands away from his eyes, gently holding them in your own. “So does that make me queen now?”

“It makes you a traitor. I’ll call Garcia about this.”

You blow a raspberry in his face. “Please. She’s the first one to back it up on all her devices. You’re too late, bossman,” you straighten his tiara.

Aaron winces as the combs dig in deeper. He gently holds your wrist, his scalp just shy of weeping blood.

Your eyes shine as you press your lips together, the corners of them turning up as you try in vain to hold back a smile. “You look very kingly, your majesty.” The edges of your voice quiver with a laugh.

Aaron sighs. “Your daughter said the same.” He drones flatly.

You can no longer hold back your laughter.

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months ago

Text

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #the team names are ridiculous on purpose #and I put this in college instead of high school because I felt like it #if anyone wants to continue please do #I’m so sleepy and can’t possibly

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Text

the croissants

buttercup, chapter one

a/n: i was actually working on something else, but then one night i got the desperate need to rewatch daredevil yet again and then this just kinda accidentally tumbled out. oopsi i guess.

summary: he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, lowkey love at first sight (for reader)

word count: 2415

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

“Do you wanna make the call or would you like me to do it?”

Turning to look at the robust and inked visage of your uncle, your face crinkled up slightly as you asked in a hesitant tone, “…would you mind doing it? Please?”

“Sure, hon,” Howard nodded before blinking down at his phone and dialling the number, “what kind? Margherita?”

“Yeah, and with some arugula on top, please,” you spoke as you squeezed by a tower of messy moving boxes to enter the open kitchen of your new apartment, “thank you!”

Hearing his footsteps carry him deeper into the new home, his voice soon rumbled, muffled behind your bedroom door. Opening up the cardboard box that half blocked off your empty fridge, you dug through it till you found a glass, swiftly straightening back up and filling it up with water.

“How are you doing, cupcake?” you heard the soft voice of Walter, your uncle’s husband, as you turned off the tab, “you gonna be okay tonight? Because if you don’t want to be alone, we can stay.”

“No, it’s alright, I think I’m okay,” you took a tiny sip before placing the tall glass down on the counter, “you both gotta get up early tomorrow to open the bakery anyways.”

“It’s never stopped us before. Do you remember when you were 11 and you watched that terrifying movie at some slumber party?” a smile twitched at the bald man’s lip from the memory, “I don’t think any of us slept for a whole week straight and the bakery still kept on running. If we could get through those sleepless nights of trying to convince you that our apartment wasn’t haunted, then we can get through this.”

Stepping up closer to him, you caught his hand in yours and said, “I think I’m gonna be okay, but thank you, Walter, really, for everything, for this, for letting me move back home and letting me stay there for over a year.”

“Hey,” he squeezed your palm and ushered you to meet his gaze, “you do not need to thank us for that. It’s–…” he dropped the heavy comment he nearly uttered and instead let out a low sigh, “we love you. It was the very least we could do.”

“I love you too,” you heard your voice threaten a tremble of vulnerability, “so much.”

As the bedroom door then swung back open, out stepped Howard with an exhale, “alright, the pizza is on its way. You gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a nod before walking them out.

Peeking back at you over his shoulder as he swung his bright red scarf back on, Walter raised his brows tenderly, “promise that you’ll call us if anything happens, yeah?”

“Promise,” you breathed as you watched them creak open the front door and step out into the cold hallway, “love you, goodnight!”

“Goodnight, hon!” Howard waved over his shoulder at your visage in the doorway as the couple reached the stairs, “see you tomorrow! Try and get some rest, just head in whenever you get up.”

“Okay,” a soft smile warmed your features. Lately, or the past year actually, they’d let you cut down on your work quite a bit so that your hours at the bakery were significantly less and the only days you were to get up before the sun did was on weekends.

“Bye!” they both called out loudly as they disappeared from your view before your own echo rang throughout the hallway.

“Bye!”

You didn’t manage to unpack much, only half of your books, before the buzzer rang obnoxiously, causing your feet to scramble to let the delivery guy up.

Swiftly locating your backpack, you fished out your wallet just before a knock boomed at your door.

“That’ll be twenty bucks,” the pimply-faced pizza guy spoke in a monotone voice as soon as you opened up.

Catching the shadow of another figure ascend the staircase just before you began to dig through your wallet, his handsome and scruffy features were adorned with a pair of glasses that had a darkly crimson tint to them.

“Yep… uh… do you have change for a fifty?”

“Nope,” he impatiently blinked before loudly popping his bright blue bubblegum.

“Oh, alright…” you felt your palms begin to sweat, “do you mind just waiting here for a second? I might have some more cash in a jacket… somewhere…”

But just before you could duck back inside, the suit-clad man who had stopped to unlock the door directly opposite yours, whipped his own wallet out and handed off the needed bucks, “here.”

Satisfied, the pizza guy accepted the change and shoved the wide box into your arms before dashing off.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blinked over at your generous, new neighbour, “I can pay you back–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he offered you a polite smile that sent a swarm of butterflies soaring within your belly, a sensation that you hadn’t felt in ages, “welcome to the building,” he added as he tugged his door open.

“Thanks,” you uttered, slightly windblown in your threshold as he disappeared into his apartment.

Slipping into your sneakers and hastily fastening them with sloppy bows, you slugged your jacket on and grabbed your bag. As you exited your apartment, the neighbouring door opened just as you locked up your own.

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked over your shoulder as you turned the key, “good morning!”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned to face him fully, shoving your bundle of keys into your pocket. Did he look even better than you remembered? Now no longer obscured by the terrible excuses this hallway had for lighting, the frosted window to your right illuminated every detail of him that you’d missed the first time around.

“Morning,” he replied as he too locked his door behind him.

Waiting a moment before you began to move your feet, you eyed his polished attire, “are you off to work?”

“Yep,” he nodded and fished out a folded-up cane from the inner pocket of his jacket, “you?”

“Yeah,” you sucked in a breath, “I’m Y/n, by the way, forgot to introduce myself the other night.”

“Matthew,” the bespectacled man extended his hand out for you to shake, “nice to meet you.”

After ignoring the tingle his touch sent down your spine, the two of you began to descend the stairs.

“Thanks again for what you did with the–, oh! I should pay you back!” you reached into your deep coat pocket to locate your wallet, “I’m pretty sure I have–, how much was it?”

“You don’t have to, it’s fine, really,” he politely declined.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, your brows flew up, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he then held the front door open for you to get out onto the street first.

“Thank you, Matthew,” you slipped out, waiting a moment before you began to head off, “have a good day!”

“Yeah, you too,” he said, flicking out his cane to its full length, just before you both began to walk in the exact same direction.

“Oh, wait,” you slowed as a giggle bubbled out of your lungs, “you’re also heading this way?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.”

“Do you–, uh… I can wait for a little bit and let you get a head start if you–”

“Or you can just walk with me, if you’d like,” he suggested with a gentle smile that made your brain forget for just a split second where your destination was in the first place, “it’s fine with me, I don’t mind the company.”

“Okay,” you agreed in a quiet voice, returning to a brisk pace beside him. You didn’t take too many strides before a casual question nervously fell from your lips, “so, have you lived here long?”

“In the apartment or Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Oh,” your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “both, I guess.”

“I’ve been in the apartment for a while,” he told you, “but lived here in the neighbourhood pretty much all my life.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, maybe glancing over at him a bit too much for it to be safe as you walked, “that’s nice.”

“You?”

“Uhm, grew up in Brooklyn, moved here to live with my uncles when I was nine, after my parents passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” his low tone emanated an air of kinship.

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid... anyways! Enough about me before I spill all of my childhood trauma to you,” you gracelessly changed the subject, “you are in a suit.”

“I–,” a faint laugh tumbled out past his lips before he joked, “I’d sure hope I am and didn’t accidentally change into something else.”

“No–, I mean, yes, obviously,” you felt heat begin to rise in your cheeks, “that was just a very weird and backwards way of asking what you do for a living.”

“Ah,” his dark brows lifted in comprehension.

“Let me guess…” you fiddled with your fingers as you thought, “accountant? No… politician? No… funeral director?”

“Funeral di–,” Matthew chuckled, “no.”

“Do you work on Wall Street? Oh, please tell me you don’t because here I was just starting to think you were super cool.”

“No, I don’t work on Wall Street, but good to know that you think I’m cool,” he smirked, making you regret letting that information slip, “I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” your eyes grew, “seriously?”

“Yep.”

“That’s–... that’s–… waow…” you uttered, completely dumbfounded by the imposing nature of his profession, “well, now I don’t wanna tell you what I do, because it’s so not as impressive.”

“Oh, come on,” he tilted his head, “now you have to tell me.”

“…I’m a baker,” you finally said, “actually,” stopping your stride, you briefly brushed his arm for him to do the same, “this is where I work, right here.”

“Really?”

“It’s called Buttercup Bakery,” you glanced up at the familiar storefront, “have you ever been in there?”

“No, never,” his head shook lightly as a small smile warmed up his features, “funny, my office is just a few minutes further down the street, I must have walked passed this place a thousand times but I never noticed it before.”

“Well, you know of its existence now…” you turned your head to gaze at his striking visage once more as he raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “do you wanna get a coffee or something? My treat, as thanks for the pizza.”

“I’d love to,” he sucked in a breath, “but I really have to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded lightly, “well, thanks for the walk, have a great day. Hope you win a bunch of cases and–, uh… I don’t know, help make the judicial system better,” you couldn’t help but physically cringed at your clumsy words.

But your new neighbour didn’t seem to mind as he just chuckled before wandering off, “bye, Y/n.”

The small bell above the glass door to the bakery chimed softly as you pushed it open. The interior was simple, both in colour and design, but had a rustic charm to it that gave it a sense of home. Behind the counter, and the mouth-watering baked goods lined up and displayed behind the clear glass, stood Walter. Facing the long shelves adorned with various loaves, he grabbed a crusty baguette and slid it into an appropriately long brown paper bag.

Handing it off to the little old lady on the other side, he said, “here you are. That’ll be four dollars,” before she placed the money on the counter beside his half-read newspaper and strolled passed you, out of the bakery, “have a good day!”

Leaning back down to return to his paper, Walter didn’t glance up at you as he greeted, “hi, honey! You wanna hear your horoscope for today?”

Tugging down the zipper of your jacket, you joked self-reflectively as you began to shed your layers, “does it say that I’ll miraculously turn into a charming and charismatic adult instead of whatever this is?”

“…uh… no,” he furrowed his brow and finally shot you a brief glance, “it says that you're energized and creative. This new moon initiates two weeks of growing work, health and strength. Put your heart into your actions. Practice makes perfect. Oh, and it also says right here that the spelt flour bin needs refilling and that there are about a billion cardamom buns that need to be shaped.”

“Oh, it says all of that, does it now?”

Letting a tense breath go, you apprehensively let your fist meet the dark door in three shy knocks.

As soon as it swung open, the sentence, “do you like croissants?” sputtered out passed your lips.

Head reeling back slightly at the unforeseen and sudden question, Matt blinked, “what?”

“Do you like croissants?” you repeated as if it wasn’t strange to just blurt out something like that out of the blue.

“Uh,” a smile then crept up on his lips, “hello to you too, Y/n.”

“I mean, I’ve personally never met anyone who doesn’t care for them, but I’m sure they exist.”

“Sure, I like croissants.”

“Oh, great, wonderful!”

Leaning against his door, his head tilted as you failed to continue, “…did you just have a burning desire to know that fact about me?”

“Right, no, I–, uhm, there were a bunch leftover today that we didn’t sell, so purely just to not let any go to waste, I thought you’d like some,” you held up the crinkly paper bag for him to hear.

It had been a lie, but he didn’t have to know that you’d set some aside for him before they all sold out, just to have an excuse to talk to him again.

“Oh, thank you,” he held out his open palms, “that’s so nice of you.”

As you handed the bag off into his grasp, you felt as if your heart might beat straight out of your chest.

“…alright, well…” you stumbled slightly, “I should probably head off to bed. Weekends are always the busiest, so my shifts are usually really long and I have to get up like super early, so... goodnight then!”

And with that you awkwardly whirled around and scurried the short distance into your own apartment, only faintly catching his warm chuckle as you disappeared.

“Night.”

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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cl6teen · 1 year ago

Text

affection, ln4 ❀ chapter i. clueless

masterlist || chapter ii

in which everyone can’t believe that a certain mclaren driver and f1’s resident rich girl aren’t dating already

contains: smau, oblivious lando & oblivious reader

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 223,211 others

yourinstagram a much needed vacay

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landonorris im still offended by the lack of an invite

yourinstagram thailand is for the girls, not sorry!

bsfsinstagram there was a strict no lando norris rule for yn

user i have gyat to go to thailand

liked by yourinstagram

carlossainz55 the book is upside down dummy

yourinstagram i’ll turn you upside down

oscarpiastri what an informative post yn

yourinstagram hehe, can’t wait to see you

user omg yn at the next race???

user literally what are all these f1 boys doing in her comments

user shes a nepo baby i think

user her dad is mclaren’s biggest sponsor so she’s able to attend a lot of f1 events

user my fav honorary f1 wag

yourinstagram wag?? i’m very much single thank you

daniel ricciardo 🌚

yourinstagram don’t give them things to read into daniel.

lanny

i miss you

hey yn

miss youuu

when are you coming back

thailand can’t be that fun

y/n/n

thailand is totally that fun

in fact we’re about to go on a boat

lanny

you can go on a boat over here

y/n/n

it’s not the same 🙄

i don’t know why you’re so hung up about me taking a vacation

monaco gets boring sometimes

lanny

yeah but the second i get back from racing around the world you’re already gone

y/n/n

well i’ll be in the uk just in time for silverstone

lanny

you’re going back home?

y/n/n

my father said it’d be good to be around for a home race

so i’ll be in the uk for some time probably, it’s been a while since i’ve been back

lanny

okay good

i better see you cheering for me

it’d be embarrassing if my best friend was rooting for someone else

y/n/n

i’ve got my mclaren 4 cap ready to go

cant wait to see you ❤️

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 533,444 others

lando.jpg home dump

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yourinstagram and it’s all just a bit too much…for littol lando norris

lando.jpg im hiding in your walls

yourinstagram creep

maxfewtrell stream time? 🤔

lando.jpg let me race first bro

user not lando feeding yn pasta and lobsterrrr

carlossainz55 aye, was this a date??

yourinstagram he wishes, he got me from the airport & we went straight to eat

danielricciardo who’s that cutie?

yourinstagram i’m right here!

danielricciardo oh..i meant lando

oscarpiastri 😬

user im so confused, are they dating??

user no, but they’ve been like best friends since lando’s rookie year in mclaren

user shes better than me, i would have fallen in love…

liked by mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 745,234 others

yourinstagram couldn’t be prouder of my boys!!

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

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mclaren loving the love from our papaya girl 🧡

yourinstagram mwah

user yn ate today on the paddock

user she’s wearing lando’s hat im gonna cry

bsfsinstagram ugh get these men off my feed and show me ur pretty face

yourinstagram i was held at gunpoint and told to post this :/

landonorris the 6th photo…

yourinstagram ikr can you believe that loser got p2?

landonorris not too much now

oscarpiastri i look crazy

yourinstagram you look so cute??

oscarpiastri you shoved a camera in my face while i was eating

yourinstagram i did nothing wrong 🥰

user who was the man you were with on the paddock though?

yourinstagram my father!

user girl your daddy fine

liked by bsfsinstagram

bsfsinstagram user you have great taste

maxfewtrell send me that lando photo please

yourinstagram will do 🫡

45 likes

onlyyn i luv a good arfter prty

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danielricciardo me when i’m on the hennessy

onlyyn hehe

landonorris im looking for you

bsfsinstagram please don’t do anything crazy babe 😭

onlyyn i’ll try

lanny

y/n

where are you?

i thought you were with oscar

y/n/n

i let oscar leave! he looked tired

lanny

you should’ve told me that then

i would’ve kept an eye on you

are you drunk

y/n/n

i’m not a child oscar

lanny

*lando, but i’ll ignore that

and i’m not saying you are yn

there’s just people here that can be like

weird is all, who knows

are you drunk??

y/n/n

i don’t know, i’m not sober

are you drunk

lanny

i’m not sober

y/n/n

i thought you hated alcohol?

lanny

carlos convinced me to do some shots with him and max…

i regret it a little

do you wanna go home

y/n/n

yea

my feet hurt

lanny

i’ll carry you until we get to an uber

so can you tell me where you are now??

y/n/n

i’m in the bathroom

lanny

don’t move, i’ll come get you

y/n/n

god you’re the best ever lando

lanny

yeah i know 😁

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 smau #f1 x black!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is.

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away The blues walked in and met me Oh, yeah if he stays away Old rocking chair’s gonna get me All I do is pray...’

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you.

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones.

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent.

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue.

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight.

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line.

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized.

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides.

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive.

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang.

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness.

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here.

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward.

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?”

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily.

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top.

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America.

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses.

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly.

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm.

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.”

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place.

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right?

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs.

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?”

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.”

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow.

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?”

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.”

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint.

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?”

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek.

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl.

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.”

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?”

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction.

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.”

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him.

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.”

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers.

“Sure, it’s three.”

“Number?”

“310.”

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign.

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him.

“It’s unlocked,” you say.

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table.

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly.

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through.

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.”

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.”

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you.

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath.

“You okay?” He turns the question on you.

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile.

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance.

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...”

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.”

“Right,” you work more diligently.

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity.

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?”

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are.

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial.

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?”

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach.

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut.

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.”

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand.

“You must be pretty far along,” he says.

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.”

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?”

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.”

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack.

“So, you want some?” You ask.

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.”

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.”

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--”

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say.

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.”

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.”

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...”

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods.

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #roads untraveled #silverfox au #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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nutsackx · 22 days ago

Text

POKÉMON X THE OUTSIDERS AU

info under images lol

if anyone reposts these like the cowboy or scientist au I’m deleting my whole account watch your bakc

I’m gonna preface this by saying I haven’t played or even really indulged in Pokémon for like… 7 years so forgive me if any of this is off or doesn’t make sense…

ANYWAY!!

Original gang is just the Curtis brothers. Ponyboy, after years of putting it off to put time into school, decides he’s finally ready to try being a Pokémon trainer (he’s a bit of a late bloomer, starting at 14 instead of ten…yikes). Usually, their father would’ve helped him on his journey….but he’s, dead, so.

Darry agrees to help him, eventually Soda gets dragged along too because he’s worried Pony and Darry fighting 24/7 will ruin the experience for Ponyboy. And, Soda, being a Pokémon ranger, has a lot more knowledge than even Darry about how to safely go about this.

First they come across Steve. Soda and him are already besties, of course. And they have kinda a rivalry going on where they are constantly tryin to one-up each other (all in good faith lmao). It’s not until Steve starts talking about how he started with Pokémon that Darry realizes just how different it was than when he was starting out. Steve agrees to come along, mainly saying he thinks Pony’s gonna get himself killed cus’ he SUCKS!!

After all the yada yada and defeating his first gym leader, Pony finds a dead Radicate and REFUSES to move on until they give the poor creature a proper burial. Since they’re already relatively close, Darry redirects the group to Lavender Town.

While inside Pokémon tower, they come across a decrepit, old, decaying black-belt class trainer (Mr.Miyagi ((yeah I put him in here, what are you gonna do about it?)),sorry for all the mean adjectives) who of course starts being an old man and going on and on about the boy he fosters there and how weird he’s acting lately (Darry refuses to interrupt because he RESPECTS HIS ELDERS!!!).

Mr.Miyagi admits that not being around people his age has probably messed with his development, practically calling the boy a hermit, and asks the guys to bring him along in exchange for a very strong Gengar (for Pony, ofc). Darry, upon hearing that the boy is a strong fighter and MUCH quieter then the rest of the freaks he’s dealing with, agrees.

They go from floor to floor looking for him, eventually finding a cloaked figure on some fuckass floor idk. It takes a minute but they’re like, damn, this hoe possessed! And they battle him, he’s hard to beat but they do it eventually, yada yada. Johnny then takes the hood off, apologizes profusely, and explains that he’s a channeler but not really good at his job yet. (also imagine him with the most fuckass stutter, like Shaky from rdr)

The guys inform him about their promise to Mr.Miyagi, Johnny’s upset for t-minus two minutes before he’s just like “whatever okay” and joins them. (Quickly becomes the favorite, ofc, because he can actually shut his damn mouth).

They move on to the next gym, yk how it goes…but yeah they come across a traveling circus. And you’ll NEVER GUESS WHO IS A CLOWN!!

So anyway, Clown-bit, we love him. They come across him, agree to fight so he’ll give them some food and pokeballs, and Pony beats his ASS.

They don’t really invite Two-Bit along (they think he’s annoying…who doesn’t?) but he just joins anyway. Imagine like constant clown puns. Also he and Johnny quickly take a liking to each other cus’ they’re both kinda outcasts of the group (Johnny’s known the guys for like, a week…and Two-bit Just showed up. Also, we need more Johnny and Two-Bit friend content so).

They keep going, Pony defeats a few more gym leaders, and takes notice that a lot of them seem to recognize someone on their team. When he askes, Johnny admits to being the son of one of the elite four. At first, Pony is thrilled by the info, until he pries a little more and realizes Johnny’s father was an abusive asshole and pretty much sent him away to Pokémon tower to force him into becoming a trainer. Yikes.

Anyway, on their journey they come across some UGLY blonde guy, like one of those biker trainer classes yk..? Anyway yeah it’s Dallas, shocker. He kinda just gets in their way and refuses to move until they ALL battle him. Obviously, they don’t wanna do that, a lot of work for some ugly freak (did I mention he’s ugly?).

They agree to let Ponyboy fight him, but he uh…loses. After a bit of back and forth Dallas agrees to let them go if they help him get to the Indigo Plateau in Kanto, so he can face off against the Elite Four there (his bike is old, cus yk…he’s poor.)

Darry at this point has an entire league of teenagers following him around, so he’s like what’s one more? And boom they move on.

I don’t have much planned out from here (this was all pulled from my ass anyway). Maybe the Shepards can be like…the Team Rocket of this AU?? And Soc’s are the gym leaders.

Also, Yeah Cherry and Marcia are both Kanto elite four cus I SAID SO!!! And uh…Johnny and Cherry are dating because it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT!!!! She’s the breadwinner and that’s okay, we love her for it <3

twobit prolly falls in love with Marcia when he sees her but idk if she’d reciprocate with an actual clown. Mayeb Randy lowered her standards???

anyway. That is all. Might flesh this out more if the obsession grows, or it’ll die in a week like the Crazy Scientist stuff. Oh well!

EXPLANATION OF DESIGNS/MORE INFO—

Ponyboy

CLASS: Youngster

Ngl his design took very little time…..oops

his cap hides a really bad dye job, and he refuses to take it off

He chose squirtle as his starter, idrk why but squirtle just suits him. Maybe cus he almost drowned!!

Would’ve fought to the DEATH if he didn’t get squirtle. This boy knows what he wants

He has a little pokeball necklace that his mom got him as a joke, will kill someone for it

He deffo has a really nerdy messenger bag that he keeps all of his stuff in

He’s scared of his own Beedrill

He does NOT need those glasses. But he likes them becuase he thinks they make him look more professional (everyone can tell they’re blue light glasses)

Sodapop

CLASS: Pokémon Ranger

LOVES his job and therefore is almost always seen in uniform

he loves electric/steel type Pokémon cus they reminds him of cars, so his hair is usually sticking up because of static electricity

has a whistle, but Darrel stole it and tossed it into the forest VERY early into the journey

yellow is his favorite color cus I said so

Raichu is his PRIZED Pokémon

He’s kinda like Snow White the Pokémon love him

His Flareon and Johnny’s Espeon are best friends

Darrel

CLASS: Veteran

Wanted to be a football player, but couldn’t because that wouldn’t keep the family afloat, that’s why his outfit has the numbers on it.

Lot of scars, some from football and some from his days as a trainer

His outfit used to have sleeves, but he found them annoying and just shopped them off one day

Always keeps the spare pokeballs on him

In highschool he had his hair grown out, but chopped it after their folks died because his father was always trying to get him to cut it

I don’t really have a backstory for his necklace, buts it fire okay

Treats his Pokémon VERY well, if there was a trainer rating website he would be top 5

Picks his Pokémon based on size and strength

Two-Bit

CLASS: CLOWN

Obviously he’s a clown so, that explains the outfit

NEVER seen without the makeup, even when it rains or he’s sleeping…that stuff is ON THERE

He has false lashes on his waterline, and yes they’re pink

He is incapable of being quiet because of all the bells

The hat doesn’t come off. if it did his hair under there would be hella matted

All of Two’s Pokémon are just as annoying as he is, he hides earplugs in his shoes for people (they never take them)

FATASS can and will eat anything in sight

Mr.Mime is his favorite of all his Pokémon….they ate both annoying together and everyone hates them for it

Johnny

CLASS: Channeler

the scar on his eye is from his father 😬 from when he figured out Miyagi wasn’t actually training him to be the next member of the Elite Four…. the eye is blue because of some psychic shit idk

His outfit is from Miyagi entirely, the sleeves used to be connected, but he found it too annoying to fight in those so he tore them (Miyagi was secretly VERY unsettled)

If you look really closely he has purple eyeliner

Johnny refuses to cut his hair, so it’s usually in a braid to be out of his way, he lets it down sometimes

He has the little flower charm connected to his belt…what a cutie

His hood is actually up a LOT, most of the time his face is obscured

There’s flames on his sleeve….wonder why (not the reason you think okay. His father was a fire type trainer…JOHNNY LIVES IN THIS AU OKAY.)

also the metal things around his arm are like…incredibly heavy. Mr.Miyagi put them in originally so he could build muscle while doing everyday things, but Johnny insists on keeping the on forever.

Loves all of his Pokémon equally, and they love him back. Always has atleast one out of their Pokeball so he doesn’t get lonely….my baby

He doesn’t even like the color purple that much it’s just kinda his thing now

Pokémon FLOCK to this man

Dallas

CLASS: Biker

Tore the sleeves off of his jacket as well…they really like doing that

YELLOW teeth and GREASY hair he does not take care of himself

Really likes dog-looking Pokémon

Has an empty slot because one of his Pokémon just DIED LMAO (idk which one. Oh well)

Has rips in his jeans, does not plan on fixing it

Hand-carved his belt buckle. The ‘win’ in Winston is underlined. Ignore the fact that this idiot keeps fucking losing

The bandages are protecting nothing. He thinks it makes him look cool

Pokémon are revolted by him. Like, his own literally hate him.

Steve

Class: Hooligan

kind of an ass, but he looks cool

any cutscene of him he’s making sure his hair is still spiked trust

loves steel type Pokémon because…cars

his favorite color is green, making any green Pokémon his all time favorite

for being a little shit, he treats his Pokémon rather well

has studs ALL over his back, once leaned back on Soda and has never heard the end of the pain he caused

he has a tongue piercing….so….

when the gang is lacking resources, he and Dallas are the first to steal

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checkeredflagggs · 25 days ago

Text

The Story of Us: Chapter 3

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 3 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia

a/n5: I’m pretending that the race schedule is known more then a year in advance so…

Part 1 Part 2

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,284,124 others

y/n: loving the tour, missing the simple days

view all comments

user1: never seen someone so fucking pretty

↳user2: absolutely jaw dropping

user3: adding several things to my bucket list

↳user4: same!

↳user5: I just want to add her cloths to my closet

not_oscar: this is gonna cause so much trouble oh my god y/n

↳not_y/n: 😂🤭😂😉

↳not_oscar: i give it minutes before those losers start posting vaguely similar photos…

↳not_logan: no bet dude. It’s gonna happen

alexandrasaintmleux: Tu es aussi magnifique que les œuvres d'art sur les murs. You're just as stunning as the art on the walls.

↳charles_leclerc: Comme tu l'as dit, mon amour. As you said, my love.

↳user6: bringing in reinforcements??

↳user7: well at least it’s not cheating now I guess 😂😂

pierregasly: On ne devrait jamais avoir à porter ses propres sacs pour faire ses courses! One should never have to carry their own bags when shopping!

↳francisca.cgomes: Je t'ai bien appris. I’ve taught you well.

↳user8: oh boy the desperation…

georgerussell63: what’s you current read? I’ve been looking for some recommendations!

↳user9: How Not to Flirt with Someone Not your Girlfriend and Dumbassery 101

↳user10: 😂😂

alex_albon: do you offer horse riding lessons?

↳user11: don’t…don’t you own a horse???

↳user12: I think the drivers have passed from desperate into just being sad…

landonorris: visiting New York soon — any suggestions?

↳user13: getting a life maybe?

georgerussell63

liked by carmenmmundt, alex_albon, lilymhe, and 1,283,123 others

georgerussell63: Love those London days

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user14: …so this is blatant y/n bait right?

↳user15: absolutely!

↳user16: I think my favorite part of the season so far is how fucking stupid these drivers turn in the face of y/n…

↳user17: it has been funny to watch

oscarpiastri: why are you posting London photos? We’re in Japan?

↳georgerussell63: its call a photo dump Oscar

↳oscarpiastri: I think it’s actually called stupidity…

↳not_logan: 😂😂 please continue to call them out

↳not_oscar: well someone has to and it’s obviously not gonna be you…

↳not_y/n: not yet at least…

↳not_logan: the next part of your plan??

↳not_y/n: 🤭

↳not_oscar: you mean to tell me you actually have a plan for this madness?!???

user18: call him out Oscar!

↳user19: fighting for his best friend really…

user20: you can tell these aren’t recent because it’s still FUCK ASS cold in London right now

↳user21: oh my god I didn’t even notice that…🤣🤣

sargeantnation

liked by not_y/n, user, user, and 834,244 others

sargeantnation: not the weekend that Logan wanted but boy did he look good while he was there

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user22: made it further than his teammate did…

↳user23: barely

user24: you’ll get it next week Logan!

user25: did you see the look on vowles’ face??

↳user26: he definitely need acting lessons

↳user25: right? Like dude can you try and act like you actually like both of your drivers?

↳user26: I fear for Logan…it took so long for his contract renewal and vowles all but said he would have gone with someone else if they were an option…

↳user25: do not even speak that into existence!!!

user27: such a let down after last week…

↳user28: not everyone is max verstappen!

↳user27: going from a podium to last place though…

↳user26: and remember how lackluster vowles congratulations were for it??

↳user25: 😬😬😬 not. good.

Private Messages

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, user2 and 1,928,223 others

pierregasly: Missing those summer days and beach dates 🩷

view all comments

user29: hmmmm…not liking this

↳user30: the blatant attempt to shoot his shot at y/n completely overlooking his gorgeous girlfriend? liked by francisca.cgomes

↳user29: yeah that 😂

oscarpiastri: this is…not it

↳pierregasly: you’re supposed to be Norris’ problem — not mine

↳oscarpiastri: I’ll be everyone’s problem

↳user31: show them how it’s done Oscar!

charles_leclerc: enjoying that sunset? 🌅

↳pierregasly: enjoying the company more 🩷

↳user32: hopefully it’s Kika!

y/n_nation

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad, and 11,124,135 others

y/n_gossip: Weeks into her tour, y/n has brought out multiple new outfits for her highly talked about Eras tour. Here’s a carousel of some our favorites!

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iamrebeccad: she could be a model…

↳carlossainz55: ¡Sabrías hermosa! You would know beautiful!

↳user33: girl go back to your actual boyfriend and leave y/n alone 😭😭

user34: is this a safe space? Can I say something?

↳user35: do it regardless

↳user34: I’m starting to believe user19…

↳user19: HAHA

↳user35: you summoned them

↳user34: brb putting on my clown hat 🤡

alexandrasaintmleux: Des couleurs si magnifiques ! Sur un magnifique modèle 💕 Such gorgeous colors! On a gorgeous model 💕

↳charles_leclerc: Presque aussi magnifique que toi. Almost as stunning as you.

↳user36: …👎🏻

user19: i have more proof for you people if that’s something that you need

↳user53: how??? Neither of them have posted anything even vaguely related to them being in a relationship

↳user19: after all this time you still doubt me??

↳user53: of course not but really?

↳user37: I’m gonna start my own crazy train — you guys are dating

↳user19: I’m gonna block you

↳user37: MORE PROOF

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly, user, and 2,145,924 others

charles_leclerc: I’m laughing on the car ride home with you ♥️

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user38: oh so now we’re blatantly quoting y/n’s songs now?

↳user39: well she’s been ignoring her apparently many boyfriends 😂

alexandrasaintmleux: Toujours, mon amour Always, my love

↳user40: girl he’s trying to cheat on you

this comment has been deleted

↳user41: anyone else catch that?

↳user40: 😑😑😑

oscarpiastri: oh it’s so good you and Alex are taking time together

↳not_y/n: thank you for your service 🫡

↳not_oscar: I expect something for this

↳not_y/n: summer break with me and Logan?

↳not_oscar: sure

↳user42: thank you king for your continued service

alex_albon: going shirtless? For free?

↳charles_leclerc: anything for the fans

↳alex_albon: is that what we’re calling it nowadays?

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

user43: user19 can you give us more proof please

↳user19: I WOULD LOVE TO

↳user53: please stop screaming

Bluesky

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,284,923 others

logansargeant: a full heart and a full living room

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user44: I need more photos of boyfriend Logan in my life

↳user48: I just need Logan as a boyfriend

not_y/n: 🥰🥰🥰 I love you so much Logan

↳not_logan: I love you too. More then I can ever say

oscarpiastri: thanks for the sleeping place

↳logansargeant: it’s always open for you

↳user19: ☝🏻☝🏻 LOVER CODED

alex_albon: when am I gonna get an introduction?

↳logansargeant: soon I promise — but she has a plan

↳alex_albon: can’t argue with that I guess 😂

↳logansargeant: oh I never argue with her…

↳user53: user19 they have a plan???

↳user19: well she’s a mastermind liked by logansargeant

user49: THATS NEW YORK, PARIS, LONDON

↳user19: I TOLF YOJ

↳user19: Welcome to New York, Paris, London Boy, and Lover! All in one post!

iamrebeccad

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, and 2,334,235 others

iamrebeccad: race dates and date dates 🩶

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carlossainz55: Chicas impresionantes! Stunning girls!

↳iamrebeccad: thank you my love

↳user50: 🤮

this comment has been deleted

user51: user12 was right…it didn’t take long at all for the wags to jump on the y/n train…

↳user12: ok but I am seeing a vision

↳user52: is the vision a Carlos-y/n-rebecca threesome? liked by carlossainz55, iamrebeccad

↳user12: yes it is

alexandrasaintmleux: lunch tomorrow?

↳iamrebeccad: sorry plans tomorrow! Day after?

↳alexandrasaintmleux: plans or plans 😂

↳iamrebeccad: plans

y/n_gossip

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 18,234,023 others

y/n_gossip: y/n and y/n_nation has been posting videos and teasers of these vaults — thoughts?

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user54: music video?

user55: merchandise? It’s been awhile since they’ve dropped anything new!

maxverstappen1: new music?

↳user56: car boy I know you’re used to being fast but we don’t demand new music around here

↳user57: we’re gonna have put together a pamphlet on how to act aren’t we…

↳user58: not a bad idea actually…

not_oscar: why do you keep doing this y/n???

↳not_y/n: sorry not sorry 😂

↳not_lilyz: ohhh new music??

↳not_y/n: yes!

↳not_lilyz: oh my god i can’t wait!

↳not_y/n: I’ll send some voice notes for you my love 🩵

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad, user and 1,192,469 others

alexandrasaintmleux: Voir l’art, c’est connaître l’amour. To see art is to know love.

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user59: stunning

↳user60: she really is

↳user61: can charles fight?

user12: user52 ok this or the other?

↳user52: definitely charles-y/n-alex liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: Alors j'ai été béni tous les jours. Then I’ve been blessed everyday

↳user63: i am begging at this point…

↳user64: no I get it 🤤🤤

↳user63: what? Eww no. I’m begging them to realize they’re promoting cheating…

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, williamsracing, and 923,824 others

logansargeant: Not how I expected Australia to go but we preserve — let’s go Alex!

comments have been limited on this post

alex_albon: thanks for the support!

↳logansargeant: of course!

oscarpiastri: mom said to plan on dinner at our place this weekend

↳logansargeant: yum!

y/n

be the first to like

y/n: it’s time to open the vault — and release all the secrets. Tomorrow — 26 new tracks

be the first to comment

Private Messages

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby

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