#and she told me about the same thing from her side. and she told me about how she loved london because she would walk the streets

[somanyideassolittletime]

crumbs.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Summary: secret marriage just for shit and giggles. crack fic lowkey.

Warnings: language. insinuation to sex. mentions of cheating (not Jack). grammar inaccuracies as usual. have fun hahahaha idk why i write this.

Nobody ever pieced together the fact that both you and Jack are married to each other. Everyone, with the exception of Robby and Dana, that is. Everyone knows that Jack has a wife, whom he never refers to by name. Everyone also knows that you have a husband, who, to everyone’s convenience, is also referred to by you as your husband. 

It was common knowledge that you and Jack are close, eerily close to the point Whitaker once asked Jack if his wife knows you. One time, Langdon even asked Robby what’s going on in your house that you allowed yourself to be really close with Jack. 

Both of which were answered by “Not your business.” – In Robby’s case, he was right, though in Jack’s case, he was just messing with Whitaker.

Shen has a theory that Jack is cheating with his wife with you, and he got smacked by Ellis, saying, “What opposite sex can’t be friends now?” 

Javadi once asked you if Jack is your ‘Utah’, whom you can’t have but are attracted to. You laughed at her, saying, “I’m married” – to him. You should’ve said, but what importance is it anyway? 

When asked about her opinion – by Matteo, in one of their after-shift gossip sesh – Santos only answered with “Abbot? Yeah, no way that dude’s getting side chick. With her nonetheless” in front of Robby, who only scoffs, laughing nonetheless. 

It also doesn’t help with the fact that you two are damn professionals, never leaving any crumbs for others about your relationship with eachother – one time, the both of you had a big debate about patient care, making everyone who thinks both of you are married change their mind. 

(“See, if they’re married, you think Abbot would argue with her?” Mckay once said to whitaker. 

“It’s still weird they’re that close.”) 

It wasn’t like you two were overly secretive about it; if they were to just outwardly ask who it is you are married to, you would’ve answered them. But you know how kids are with their egos. You weren’t planning on making it a big secret anyway, but what started as a fun ‘private not secret’ thing became your source of entertainment. 

So when one of you accidentally leaves some crumbs, they eat them up like a starving wolf. 

| one

The first crumb started out with Jack’s car sweater, the one you insist on leaving in the car since he never outwardly says that he’s cold. It’s not like he planned on wearing the sweater that night, but it was so damn cold he started thanking you for leaving the sweater in his car on his way. 

“Didn't know you both went to the same school, man. Is that why you two are real close?” Shen commented to Jack as the latter peeled his sweater off his body and tossed it into his locker.

“What? Who?” Jack tried to be nonchalant in his response; if Shen were to find out, everyone would find out. Not that he minded, it was just so fun to see everyone trying to piece it together. 

“Y/n, man. Met her last week when she swung by my place,” 

“You met her last week?” Jack questioned him. Though he did remember you saying you’re going to Shen’s to drop something.

“Yeah, I was borrowing her speaker. Mine's busted. Told me that she rarely uses it now.” Shen sipped his iced coffee when a voice joined in behind.

“Whose stuff are you taking again now?” Ellis chimes in between the two men while opening up her locker and putting her stuff inside.

“Y/n. And no, I didn't take it, she kindly gave it to me – or I borrowed it – from her since she told me she never used it anymore.” Shen rolls his eyes, indulging in Ellis's antics nonetheless.

“ah yeah, is she coming today?” Yeah like he didn't just kiss her goodbye before going to work.

“Nah, man, it's her day off. Look, Abbot, you know I have like utmost respect for you, right?” Now this is getting fun.

Jack nodded slowly, unsure, and replied, “what do you mean?”

“Both of you always had like this weird connection, like mad weird. But don’t you think it’s bordering… I dunno like weird?” Ellis explained to him like it was a conspiracy theory they are unraveling.

“Yeah, I lost you,” Jack said. Shen sighed loudly, “You’re married, she’s married, y’know? Boundaries, man, boundaries.” 

“I’ll have you know my boundaries with my wife are perfectly intact,” Jack tried to say it as calmly as possible, but he bit his cheek in order to keep his smirk contained. 

“Okay, whatever.-” Shen sipped his coffee Jack was sure he needed to physically hold back from swatting it from his hand. “-just, respect, man, respect” 

Jack raised his eyebrow. “is there something I don’t know ?” Ellis cut to the chase, asking Shen. 

“y/n wear his sweater,” Ellis gasped, Jack mock offense. “What the hell?”

“You said it like only one exist, you can go to the nearest goodwill and find that shit man.” now Jack and you had promised not to lie if anyone were to ask, but he technically did not lie right now. 

“Oh the college one? Yeah, almost everyone who go there has one.” Ellis shoved Shen for giving her – what she thought – was misinformation. 

Jack huffed dramatically, rubbing his face (in a attempt to hide his grin) “thank you, finally some sense” 

“Nah, still gotta respect them boundaries, man,” Ellis shrugged. Shen still looked at him accusingly. 

“Y’know what? Why do I even listen to you guys? We got work to do, c’mon,” Jack said, clipping his badge to the side pocket of his pants.

Shen points his finger at him, walking away with Ellis “boundaries”. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved him off, before fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

|Jack : you know for someone who thinks this is fun, you keep giving them hints. 

|you : what now? 

|Jack : the damn car sweater. 

|you : Oh HAHA, you know if John just peeked out of his driveway, he would see I was driving your truck. 

|Jack : nah, he’s smart, but not that smart. 

|you : I have zero tolerance on my kid’s slander. How dare you????

|Jack : hon you can pick anyone and you choose him? C’mon now. 

He was called out before he can see your response, quickly he typed in. 

|Jack : i gotta go. Love you, don’t watch the new episode without me. 

|you: Hmmm hard bargain but love you too. 

| two 

The second crumbs were your fault. You were going to do some me time – and you always told Jack to get himself a good thermos for his coffee, he told you that he can always use yours, but when you pointed out to him that your bottles have bizarre colours, he gave in and gave you his card to, in his words, ‘surprise me’ before kissing your temple and walking you to the door – So your plan for the day was to get him a good thermos that can hold his coffee hot for at least his entire shift. 

How hard is it to get it right? Wrong. You’ve been to two target, one walmart, and one sporting store, only to find zilch. Okay, if Jack are okay with pastel yellow you could’ve gotten it in the first store. But you were looking for something more….him. So now here you are in an outdoor store looking for one freaking plain black thermos. 

Finally finding what you wanted to give to Jack, you were just taking it off the shelves when someone called out your name. 

“L/n? Fancy seeing you here.” You turned your head away to the voice, finding Jesse smiling at you. 

“Ugh, Jess, stop calling me that,” you groaned at him. “Habit, sorry-” he looked at the thermos in your hand, jutting his chin out to point at it, “-that’s a different vibe for you” 

You looked at the thermos in your hand, sheepishly, “ah yeah, wanted something neutral. You here alone?” you said, trying to change the topic from said bottle in your hand. 

He nodded, “Yeah, you in a hurry? I kinda need your input on a Jacket.” You shake your head, “nah, let’s see the jacket.” 

You should’ve been thankful that Jesse got himself on a different self-checkout, because if he were queuing behind you, he would’ve seen the card nameholder definitely not stating your name. But you put that encounter in the back of your mind until it was hinted at next time you met him.

It was a few hours into the shift when Jack took out his thermos at his station, sipping on it. Holy shit, it’s still hot. He thought. 

“Fancypants bottle you got over there,” Mckay pointed out at him. Catching the attention of nurses around – Jesse included. 

You heard McKay’s comment the first time, but decided that it’s probably just a chat, so you busied yourself. Looking over at him occasionally. 

“At least my coffee’s hot to keep me sane,” Jack commented to her, seeing the looks the nurses were giving him, he tried to pay no attention. 

Jesse approached him, “Actually, Abbot, can I see? I’ve been wanting to buy one” 

Jack nodded, handing his thermos to Jesse, who looked at the thermos way too thoroughly. He smirked to himself, “Didn’t peg you as someone who uses this,” he said, handing it back to Jack. 

 “Yeah, someone gave it to me. It’s cool, though. Still scorching hot.” 

Hearing that, Jesse looked over to you, who caught your eyes on him, and he raised his eyebrow suspiciously at you. You looked away too fast for someone innocent, and he smirked smugly at you. You shrugged at him, mouthing what? He laughed at that. 

“Why are you laughing, man?” McKay asked him. He shakes his head. “Nah, just reminded me of someone, I’ll put one on my wishlist though,” he said, the last part pointing at Jack’s thermos. 

Jack, who doesn’t understand what’s happening, over his damn bottle nonetheless, decides to continue focusing on the screen in front of him. 

It wasn’t until later that you realized why Jesse looked over at you when he called you “dr. someone.” fuck, he saw me buy that fucking thermos. You were going to talk back at him, but he was long gone. 

“Is it true? You gave him that bottle?” Ellis asked you as you were preparing to go home that day. 

You stopped your action, trying to stay cool. “What? Who?” – it has been a fun couple of years, shame it all go to waste because of a stupid thermos. 

“Jesse told me he saw you buy a bottle similar to one in Abbot’s hand” she explained, pointing at Jack, bag in his shoulder and the thermos in his hand. 

“So what? I gave Abbot a bottle and you act like it’s the end of the world” she looked at you incredulously, exasperated “dude, your husband, remember???” 

You laughed at her, “he won’t be mad. Gotta go bye” you said quickly, jogging over to the exit door. Still holding a grin. 

| three

The third crumb was a joint fault. It was because of a damn phone call. It’s not way too early in the morning, but it was one of those hours when it’s suspicious to be spending it together. 

Both of you just woke up, still trying to fight the sleep from your eyes with a cup of coffee in the silence of the kitchen, when the phone rang from the bedroom. 

Without a second thought, you stand up and walk to the room, looking at the caller. Langdon. You groaned, accepting the call. 

“Frank, I swear-” You looked over the nightstand. Huh, that’s my phone there. Langdon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “y/n?” you stilled. Shit. That’s my phone. This is Jack’s phone. 

You ran through the house, over to the kitchen, ignoring Jack’s confused face, before shoving the phone to his ear. You mouthed to him. Langdon. 

“Abbot. What’s wrong?” his voice gruff, almost annoyed. He looked over to you before listening to what Langdon was asking him. Why are you giving this to me? 

You mouthed back at him. Not my phone. He smirked, holding back a laugh before explaining to Langdon what he needed. 

You decided to go back to the bedroom to get the right phone. You scrolled over the notifications, mindlessly walking back to the kitchen. 

When you get back to Jack’s side, Langdon’s voice is muffled, but you can still hear it from where you’re standing. 

“Is that Y/n before?” he asked Jack, who elbowed your side gently before putting his arm around your waist. 

“What? Who? It’s my day off today. Just let me turn my fucking phone off.” 

“Oh shit. It is-.” Jack disconnected the call as soon as possible. 

He turned over slightly, facing you, laughing. “Remind me again why we still play this stupid game?” 

You stepped closer between his thighs, he leaned his head into your stomach, “because it’s fun-” you said, putting your hand in his curls. “-and god knows we need some fun things to do.” 

He slipped his hands under your shirt, needing the skin contact. You put your hands under his jaw, tilting his head slightly before meeting his lips in a fleeting kiss. 

“Jack, you know I love you, but your hand’s freezing,” you said to him, taking his hands in yours, removing them from your skin. 

He huffed, “You know your kid’s theorizing that I cheat on my wife with you, right?” 

You laughed wholeheartedly, knowing who he meant. “Oh my god, did we just adopt Shen?” he nodded. “Sounds about right.” 

You reached for your coffee before entertaining Jack’s earlier admission. “Matteo told me that Santos said you can’t bag me.” smiling into your mug. 

“Huh. last night’s my only argument” 

You gave him a serious look, “do you think we should tell everyone? 5 years enough for secrets don’t you think?” 

“Love, can i be honest?” you nodded at him, urging him to continue. “I kinda find it fun.” 

You rolled your eyes, “fuck I thought you wanna say somethin” 

“Whoa you kiss your husband with that mouth?” he teased. You shoved him gently before walking away “yeah, my husband ain’t getting a kiss today” 

You couldn’t see him feigning mock hurt, “wait you serious?-” 

“Hon?” you laughed at him back in the bedroom, hearing shuffled footsteps. 

|four 

The fourth crumbs was not a crumb, its a damn cookie being dropped, aka Jack finally tell everyone the depth of your relationship. 

It wasn’t even the worst shift both of you have experienced; it was fairly mild, to quote Shen’s words. But the med student currently on his ED rotation is getting on his nerves with how much he hovers over you. 

“Dr. l/n can I join you?”

“Dr. l/n can you teach me?” 

“Oh I can help you” 

And the worst of it all? Was him asking you, his wife, “dr. l/n, you’re working nights, is your husband treating you right?” 

You handled him like a champ, it’s not your first rodeo after all, so you gently put a hand on his shoulder, “trust me, if that’s what you're asking after joining me on multiple cases, you should reconsider being a doctor. Now take 20, heard there’s some food in the break room.” 

Ellis, the angel that she is, called out to him to join her in the break room, where Shen and Jack – on your insistence to take a break – are eating pastries. 

“What’s he doing here? y/n’s wearing you down, kid?” Shen commented, earning a shake of the head from said kid. 

“She told me to take 20.” Shen whistled, “damn. 4 hours. Record breaker over here.” 

Ellis laughed, looking over at the kid who looked lost. “If y/n tells you to take 20 means either you’re overworking yourself or you piss her off.” 

The kid takes offense at Ellis’ words, “ I helped her. A lot. Not my fault she’s pissed at me.” 

“You literally ask her about her home life, kid.” Ellis shrugged, leaning over to take a plain croissant – knowing the last pain au chocolate is yours. 

“He what?” Shen looked at the kid with a raised eyebrow, waiting for Jack to say something. 

“It’s a fair question, I mean, why would she even be working nights when she should be at home with her husband, y’know?” he said that as if it was no big deal, hand reaching out to take the pain au chocolate. 

Shen and Jack instinctively swat his hand away. “Not that one,” both of them said at the same time. The new kid retracts his hand, scared, before reaching over to the cheese croissant. 

“Hey, Dr. Abbot-” he turns his head towards Jack, “you’re the closest one with her, right?” Jack nodded, still hadn’t said a word the entire time he’s been here. Shen stood up, walking over to Ellis, looking for two mugs, pouring coffee before passing one to Jack.  

“Do you think she’ll go for breakfast with me after the shift’s over?” 

Y’know what? I’m sick of this. “Why would you?” 

“Well, she’s hot-. And smart as hell. Doesn’t help that she’s-” he stopped his rambling when he saw you walking over to the break room. Jack has his back on the door, but he always knows you’re close – a freak superpower, Ellis once told him. 

“Should I say the q word so you guys aren’t bored or what?” you said as you entered the room. 

“Don’t you dare.” “If you can say it faster than my hands,” both Shen and Ellis said, making you laugh. You looked over Jack’s shoulder to see the hot coffee in front of him. 

Without thinking, you walked over, putting your hand on his shoulder, taking the mug in your hand before bringing the coffee to your mouth. Sighing in content. 

“That’s his coffee,” the new kid commented. It was nothing out of the ordinary for Shen and Ellis, both currently thinking about how to stir the pot. 

“I know?” you asked him, unsure what he was insinuating. “That’s dr. Abbot’s coffee. You just drank from his mug.” 

The pot need not be stirred. Ellis and Shen are already liking where this goes. 

“What? My wife can’t take my coffee? Go ahead, ask her for breakfast.” Jack said, his hand shooting up to his shoulder to hold your hand. 

While the kid was flabbergasted, Shen was the first one to speak up. “What the fuck? What about your wife?” Ellis slapped the back of his head. “She’s his wife, you idiot” 

You chuckled, leaning down to give Jack’s curls a peck. “Damn, you said it was fun?” Jack shrugged. “Eh, getting pretty tired.” 

The kid stood up, looking at you, “i’m sorry. I crossed a line. Hope you understand.” you offered him a hand, “no hard feelings, kid.” he shook your hand, walking away from the room hurriedly. 

Shen was still lost, and Ellis already had an inkling but never voiced it out – she once saw both of you making out in a bar watching a Steelers game. 

“Any questions, John?” you looked over at Shen, “since when? HR? Why? Who knows?” you laughed at him, sitting down beside Jack. 

“HR’s good, no power imbalance. why? Hmm I don’t know. Was fun, I guess-” you put your hand on Jack’s knee, “was before your time, but who officially knows is Robby and Dana. How long? Well, how long have we been together, Jack?” 

Jack chuckled “fuck if  I know, we both ain’t counting. But married for 5”  putting his hand on top of yours. 

“So when I told you about that sweater, it actually is yours? And Frank’s phone call was actually you? And that damn bottle rumors Jesse said was true?” 

“Do you need them to spell it out for you or what?” Ellis said to Shen. Jack leaned toward you, “told you your kid’s stupid.” You shoved his shoulder, still smiling. 

Ellis points at you. “Hey? What about me?” Shen smiles smugly at her. “I’m their kid. Take the L”

You reached over to Jack’s coffee again, smiling into the cup as you took a sip. Jack groaned “dude, we just outed your main gossip source, and that’s what you guys are concerned about?” 

“Oh no, we don’t care about you. About y/n though, so which one of us you love more?” Shen asked you. You laughed, giving Jack a peck on the cheek – his eyes fluttered, one Ellis catch. 

If this is what it entails when everyone knows of your relationship, Jack would’ve told everyone the moment you guys got married. 

“Not my fault, I’m lovable.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. You both can pester her all you want.” Jack said as he stood up, squeezing your shoulder, looking over at the kids. 

“So, what are you nosy about?” 

[thereosheep]

You were born in the 2000s, so it was interesting to try and tinker with a computer that was even older than you. How fast would it run? What could it do?

Could it run Doom?

In a sense.

It did doom your entire worldview after all.

It used to belong to your mom. One of the few things you had access to now that you were of age and could fish around her storage unit.

Whoever used it, whoever had your name, used the file as a journal of sorts. They would write a date, Year-Month-Day, and then whatever their thoughts were on that day or other interesting stuff that happened.

At first it was pretty innocuous. A gentle hand still unsure of what they were doing.

1998-08-27 - Mom said I can use the computer for school work. I'm doing a journal too. Feeling rebellious :)

1998-08-28 - Saw a male Calico today. Pretty rare stuff :)

But each subsequent entry got more and more complex. Their thoughts more and more elaborate. And each one would bring in new insights about the author. Insights you were starting to find even weirder when taking into account the fact that you were the one reading them.

1998-09-7 - [...] Mom got me red shoes again. Even though I said I don't like them. She keeps insisting that I do no matter how many times I tell her otherwise. I wear them now because she starts crying when I continue to insist on it. [...]

1998-10-31 - [...] Mom got in a fight with Miss Huxley because I didn't get a main role in the Halloween play. Miss Huxley says I got no talent for acting. I think she's rude and has an ugly face.

Mom agrees with me for once. Says she wants to take me to a school that'll actually "appreciate my talents" [...].

1998-12-18 - Mom and I fought again today. She saw me giving Mike a goodbye hug since his family would be traveling the entire break. She asked me about him, but I don't think she likes him very much despite after telling her how great he is at soccer and how he's the strongest and most handsome boy in our class. She said she'd prefer if I was friends with someone like BELINDA GEORGE of all people! Snooty goody two shoes fake blonde and upturned nose Belinda George!

I could tell she was holding back tears as I told her that I'd NEVER be friends with someone like Belinda George.

She's been doing that more and more recently.

Those were all experiences that you've had with your mom growing up. The dates and names were wrong, sure, but it was all uncannily similar.

What really chilled you to your core, however, was the last note. The last thing someone so like you and yet so distant from who you were today.

1999-04-26 - Mom said we were gonna visit a farm today for my birthday. Seems a bit weird, but I get to leave school for the day ;)

Mike's gonna be so jealous.

She did the same for you, back during your 9th birthday.

Thing is, you never really reached that far because a car ran over a red light, hitting her side of the vehicle square on and killing her instantly.

And as you ponder the contents of the journal of a child who had an eerily similar life to yours, you wonder if you ever truly knew your mother.

And how many degrees were you separated from the "real you".

You’re visiting your parents at your childhood home and decide to do some Spring cleaning in the attic. Under a pile of dust, you discover your first 90’s PC and miraculously it still powers on. You check the documents folder. There’s only a single text file. It has your name on it.

[alohajix]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦

Description: [Y/N] signed her son up for soccer to help him feel a little braver. She didn’t expect it to feel like she was the one learning how to start over. And she definitely didn’t expect the coach to start feeling like home.

Warnings: single parenthood, child anxiety, parental guilt, emotional vulnerability, fear of abandonment, slow-burn romance, eventual consensual smut (soft to intense).

Word count: TBD.

author’s note: this little mini-story is actually part of something a bit bigger! if you enjoyed part one, i’m planning to share the four other parts exclusively on my patreon as i write them. there’s zero pressure, of course—just knowing you’re here reading already means the world to me. but if you’d like to support my work even more and follow this story as it continues, you’ll be able to find the rest over there when they’re ready. thank you so much for reading. i appreciate you more than you know! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

Warnings: child nervousness, social overwhelm, parental self-doubt, references to past social exclusion, emotional tension, fear of letting someone in.

Word count: 3,748.

The field is busier than I expected. Parents already staking their claims with fold-out chairs along the sidelines, sipping from oversized thermoses, shouting to each other over the hum of kids in matching jerseys sprinting across the grass like it's the World Cup. My stomach pulls tight as I kill the engine, my hands still wrapped around the steering wheel like I'm not entirely sure if we should even be here.

I glance into the rearview mirror, catching Archie in the back seat, small hands fidgeting with the hem of his jersey again. He's been doing that since we left the apartment—rolling the fabric between his fingers like it might unravel if he stops. It's bright red, way too big on him. He'd wanted it that way. Said the bigger one felt safer. Like armor, he told me, with the kind of serious little face only a six-year-old could pull off. But looking at him now, all I can think is how small he really looks in it.

I let out a slow breath and glance toward the field again, already feeling the weight of every other parent who looks like they've done this a hundred times before. Like they belong here. Like they belong together.

I climb out of the car, shut my door gently, and walk around to his side. He doesn't move when I open it, just looks up at me with those wide, worried eyes I know too well. The same eyes I've seen every time we try something new. I crouch down so we're level, resting my elbows on my knees.

"Alright, champ... you ready?"

His feet swing nervously over the edge of the seat. His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

"Do I have to go with them by myself?"

God, how many times have I heard that question in one form or another? First days of school, new babysitters, birthday parties where he doesn't know anyone but me. The same fear, every time. The same knot in my stomach when I have to lie just a little to make him believe this time will be different.

I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I tell him quietly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. "But remember what we said? About trying? About being brave enough to see if it feels a little better once you get started?"

He bites his lip hard enough to leave a mark, glancing toward the field. I follow his gaze, taking in the kids already spread out in messy clusters, parents shouting encouragement like this is the most important thing in the world. My throat feels tight just looking at it.

"I'll be right here," I add softly. "The whole time. You can look for me whenever you want."

His chin wobbles just a little, but after a second, he nods. It's barely there, but it's enough. I press a quick kiss to his temple, breathing him in like it might settle something in me, too. That familiar scent of shampoo and syrup and him. My safe place, even when I'm the one who's supposed to be his.

I hold out my hand.

"Come on. Let's go check it out."

He slips his hand into mine without saying another word, holding on tight. Tighter than usual. We start walking toward the noise. And even though I've already promised him it's going to be okay, I'm not sure I believe it yet.

The closer we get, the more it feels like my skin's been pulled too tight. Like every step drags me further into a place I'm not convinced we belong. Archie's fingers are sweaty in mine, small and tense, and I can feel the tiny tremble in them with every squeeze. He's walking slower now, half a step behind, like if he keeps dragging his feet long enough, maybe I'll turn us around and call the whole thing off.

I want to. God, I want to. But I don't.

We stop at the edge of the field, just shy of the first line of folding chairs. I shift my weight, standing tall enough to look like I know what I'm doing, even though the truth feels like it's unraveling by the second.

Parents are everywhere—chatting over the hum of thermoses being popped open, stretching their legs out toward the grass like they've claimed this territory a dozen times before. Some of them are wearing team hoodies. Some already know each other's kids by name. You can tell by the way they laugh like it's nothing new.

I tuck Archie in a little closer to my side, scanning the field until I find the group in red jerseys forming near the far goalpost. A man's standing in front of them, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose from his neck. His sleeves are already shoved up to his elbows, hands gesturing casually as he calls the group to attention.

"All right, Red Rockets, let's bring it in!"

The way he says it catches me off guard—not sharp, not impatient, not the way I expected someone to rally a group of six-year-olds on a cold Saturday morning. It's... soft. Confident, but not loud. Like he already knows they'll listen without needing to shout.

I feel Archie flinch just a little beside me, his body shrinking closer to mine like the sound spooked him. I glance down, smoothing my thumb across the back of his hand.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though I have no idea if that's true.

When I look back up, the man's moving. Walking toward the group of kids gathering into a loose circle in front of him. I catch the edge of his voice again—lower this time, more focused on the ones who haven't settled yet.

Archie stiffens all over again, frozen like he's deciding whether to bolt or hide. And all I can think is please don't shut down. Not yet.

I'm already running through my backup plan in my head—how to peel him off the sidelines gently if he refuses to move, how to keep my voice from cracking when I tell him it's okay, we can try again another week—when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. He's walking toward us. Steady. Unbothered. No clipboard this time, no whistle in his hand. Just easy steps like he's done this before. Like he's not in a rush to fix anything.

Archie stiffens even more, his little body locking up next to mine like he's bracing for impact. I lean down toward his ear, lowering my voice to that quiet, steady hum I've learned works better than anything else.

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe. I'm right here."

He stops a couple of steps away, leaving space like he knows better than to crowd us. His hands are loose in his jacket pockets, his mouth tipping into the kind of smile that feels... patient. The kind that makes it look like this isn't a problem to solve—it's just a moment to walk through.

"Hey there," he says, nodding once like it's the most normal thing in the world to approach strangers this way. "First day nerves?"

I shift my weight, pulling Archie a little closer to my side.

"Yeah," I answer softly, my voice rougher than I mean for it to sound. "We just moved here. Still trying to find our place."

He nods like that makes perfect sense. Like he's heard it before.

"'S a lot, isn't it?" he murmurs, glancing toward the field again like he remembers exactly what it feels like to stand on the outside of something. "Is that your little one, then? Number five?"

I look down at Archie, who's still clinging to me, eyes wide but curious now.

"Yeah. Archer. We... we call him Archie."

Harry crouches down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't reach for Archie. Doesn't try to pull him out of hiding. He just lowers himself to his level and lets his voice drop even softer.

"Hiya, Archie. I'm Harry. Coach Harry, technically, but that feels a bit too serious for six-year-olds, don't you think?"

Archie doesn't answer, but his grip on my sweater loosens just a little. His eyes flick to Harry's shoes, then to his face, then back to me like he's checking if I'm still here. Harry keeps going, easy as anything.

"Y'know, we've got a job open today," he adds with a quiet grin. "Someone needs to help me set up all those cones over there before the team comes in. Think you might be able to help me with that?"

Archie shifts his weight, biting his lip, and for a second I'm sure he's going to shut down again. But then—so small I almost miss it—he nods. Just once. Harry doesn't make a big deal out of it. Doesn't whoop or cheer or make it a moment bigger than it needs to be. He just leans back on his heels, pushes to his feet, and tips his head toward the pile of cones on the grass.

"We'll just be over here," he says to me softly. "Promise I'll bring him right back."

I stay frozen where I am, arms wrapped tight around myself like I might actually fall apart if I move too fast.

Archie follows him. Slowly, yeah—but he follows. Two tiny steps at first. Then one more. He's a full body length behind, but he's moving. Moving toward something without me. My throat feels like it's closing up just watching it happen.

I hover at the edge of the chairs, not daring to sit down. My eyes flick to the other parents spread out along the sidelines, already swapping stories about school pickups and carpool schedules like this is just another weekend. Some of them aren't even watching the field. Some are already halfway through their second cup of coffee, shouting out names like they've done this a hundred times.

It's strange, standing here alone. My arms wrapped around myself like I'm bracing for something, like I'm waiting for a punch that never comes. I glance up at the sky for no reason at all, noting the gray clouds stretching low and heavy over the trees at the far end of the field. One gust of wind, and it'll probably rain.

Of course, I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't think that far ahead. I'd been too busy worrying about Archie. About whether or not I could even get him this far.

I shift again, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth to stop myself from calling Archie back. My fingers itch to reach for him, to pull him out of the spotlight and hide him somewhere safer. Somewhere smaller. Somewhere where he doesn't have to try so hard. But I don't. I stay planted. I watch Harry kneel beside the pile of cones, picking them up one by one and laying them out on the grass like he's got all the time in the world. He doesn't even glance back to see if Archie's still following. He just... waits.

Archie shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking back toward me like he's asking permission without saying it out loud. My chest tightens, but I nod once, small and steady, like I'm not terrified he's about to fall apart in front of everyone. And then he moves again. Steps right up to the pile and crouches awkwardly, his little fingers fumbling to grab a cone. Harry leans in a little, points to a spot on the field, and Archie starts walking toward it, arms stiff like he's afraid to drop it.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My throat stings with it. Like I've been holding that breath for longer than just today. It's small. So small. But it's more than I expected. I've seen people give up on him before. I've watched them get impatient when he freezes or takes too long to answer or hides behind me when they try to pull him out of his shell too fast. I've heard the tight, strained "it's okay, some kids just aren't social" more times than I can count. Always laced with that disappointed edge like they've already decided he's too much work.

I've seen the way they check their watches. The way they glance toward me with that half-frown, half-smile that really means "he's slowing us down." I've walked Archie back to the car more times than I can count with his head on my shoulder, whispering it's not his fault even when I know he doesn't believe me.

And every time it happens, I feel that weight in my chest. That bitter little voice in the back of my head that says see? This is why you keep your circle small. This is why you don't expect people to stay.

But Harry doesn't flinch. Doesn't push. He just lets Archie take his time, moving one cone at a time like there's nothing else to do today but wait for him to figure it out.

I glance down at the ground by my feet, kicking at the grass with the tip of my shoe like that might ground me somehow. It doesn't. All I can do is watch. All I can do is hope. I feel my heart catch in my throat because I already know I shouldn't let myself get used to that. He's just doing his job. And it's nothing. But the way it feels settling in my chest tells me I'm lying to myself already.

The rest of practice passes in a blur. I barely register what the other kids are doing. I don't hear a single word the parents around me say. I'm too locked in on Archie. On the way he stays close to Harry, watching every move like he's afraid he might miss something important.

And somehow, somehow, he stays. He doesn't run back to me. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't quit.

By the time Harry claps his hands together and calls the team in one last time, Archie's cheeks are flushed, curls sticking to his forehead, his little hands tugging on the bottom of his jersey again—but his shoulders aren't hunched the way they were when we got here. He's tired, but he's still standing.

I push off the fence and start toward the edge of the field, hugging my arms around myself again like it's going to hold me together for the next thirty seconds.

Harry crouches down to Archie's level again, says something low that makes Archie nod. Then he stands, turns toward me, and starts walking over with that same easy pace like we aren't two strangers standing on opposite sides of a life we haven't figured out yet.

"He did great," Harry says when he reaches us, nodding toward Archie like he means it. "Took a little warming up, but he stuck it out."

I swallow the knot in my throat, brushing Archie's hair off his forehead again.

"Thanks for being patient with him. I know he's... a lot sometimes."

Harry frowns a little—just for a second—like he doesn't like hearing that.

"He's not a lot," he says quietly, like it's a fact. "He's a kid. Kids move at their own pace."

And just like that, something in my chest pulls tight again. Because no one ever says it like that. Not without sounding like they're trying to convince themselves. But Harry says it like he actually believes it.

I shift my weight, blinking hard to keep my expression neutral. My mouth opens to thank him again, but nothing comes out. I chew the inside of my cheek instead, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Before I can embarrass myself further, he clears his throat, rocking back on his heels.

"Listen, uh—would it be alright if I grabbed your number? Just in case we have to reschedule or... if Archie forgets anything?"

I freeze for a second longer than I probably should. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. That little voice in my head kicks in fast, warning me not to blur the lines. Not to give anyone even an inch closer than they need to be. But he's looking at me with that same steady patience I've watched him give to Archie all morning. Like I have a choice. Like he'll back off if I say no.

I nod. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, already unlocked to a blank contact screen. I take it carefully, fingers brushing his. His skin is warm. Calloused, like he works with his hands for real. I feel it all the way down to my wrist, like something I shouldn't notice but do anyway.

I stare at the screen longer than I need to. I could fake it. I could type a number off by one digit and let this stay exactly what it is. Professional. Detached. Easy to forget.

But my thumb moves before I can stop it. I type my real name—[Y/N]. My real number.

When I hand it back, Harry glances at the screen, then up at me again with that easy, unreadable smile.

"Perfect. Thanks [Y/N]." God help me, I don't trust myself not to read too much into it.

Archie shifts beside me, tugging lightly on the hem of my sleeve like he's working up to something. He's got that scrunched-up little look on his face—the one he gets when he's thinking too hard. His cheeks are still flushed from running around, curls sticking to his damp forehead, but his eyes are darting between me and Harry like he's trying to figure something out.

Harry tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket and gives Archie one last ruffle of his hair, starting to turn back toward the rest of the kids when Archie blurts it out—loud enough for half the field to hear.

"Mama... can Coach Harry come to dinner sometime?"

The words hit me like a slap to the chest. Quick. Sharp. Immediate. My stomach drops. My throat closes. I freeze.

Harry doesn't. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink, really. His smile doesn't falter for a second. He just crouches down to Archie's level again, his voice dropping low and soft, like it's just for him.

"Maybe one day, little man," Harry says, reaching out to tap two fingers lightly against Archie's tiny fist. "Gotta keep practicin' those kicks first, yeah? That's the deal."

Archie beams like he's just been promised Disneyland. I, on the other hand, feel like my face is on fire. My heart slams so hard I swear I can hear it in my ears. I glance around like I'm half-expecting someone to be standing there listening, but no one is. No one's paying attention to us at all.

Except me. Except Harry. Except Archie, who's already moved on like it's the most normal thing in the world to invite a complete stranger to dinner.

I clear my throat, tightening my grip on the strap of my bag.

"Alright, bud... let's grab your stuff."

Harry stands again, brushing his palms against his thighs like he's shaking off the grass. His eyes meet mine for one last second, and there's something there I can't quite name. Not teasing. Not pity. Just... something steady. Something that feels like he already knows I'm going to overthink this all night.

"See you next week?" I ask before I can stop myself, my voice tighter than I mean for it to be.

Harry nods, rocking back on his heels again.

"Wouldn't miss it."

And just like that, he's gone—turning back toward the pile of equipment like the last five minutes didn't knock the air clean out of my lungs.

Archie talks the whole walk back to the car. Little bursts of excitement tumbling over each other—how he kicked the ball once, how Coach Harry let him carry the cones, how next week he's going to run even faster. He's out of breath before we even make it across the parking lot, his tiny hand swinging in mine like all the fear from earlier never happened.

I keep nodding, making all the right noises, but it feels like my head is full of static. Like I can't get my feet back under me, no matter how many steps I take.

I get him buckled into his booster seat, double-check the straps even though I know they're fine. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his temple like I always do, breathing him in for just a second longer than necessary. He giggles, pushing at my face with one small hand.

"Mamaaa," he laughs, like I'm embarrassing him. Like it's funny. Like his heart isn't still tangled up in my hands the way mine is in his.

I shut the door quietly and lean back against the car, staring out at the emptying parking lot. Most of the families are gone already. The folding chairs are packed up, the chatter's faded, and the breeze is colder now than it was an hour ago. I wrap my arms around myself, digging my nails into my sleeves like that might stop the way my chest feels like it's caving in.

I don't know what I expected today to be. But it wasn't this. It wasn't the way Archie actually stayed. The way he looked—pink-cheeked and almost proud—for the first time in God knows how long. And it sure as hell wasn't the way Harry spoke to him. Or to me. Like we weren't some charity case. Like he wasn't performing patience for points. Like he actually... saw us. Both of us.

I shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone before I can stop myself. My thumb hovers over the screen for half a breath too long before I swipe it open and scroll to my contacts.

Harry.

I lock the screen again and stuff it deep into my jacket like I can hide from it if I don't look too long.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, pushing off the car and moving toward the driver's side.

I'm already overthinking it.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Heating Up |

18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing(s): Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Steve Rogers

Warnings: A/B/O Themes, Heat, Polyamory, Oral (F), PinV Sex, Knotting, Two sickly sweet alphas who adore their baby — if I’ve missed any let me know.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: Well hello enjoyers of my work I’m so sorry I abandoned you but life came at me fast. Having a puppy is hard work and before I knew it he was almost a year old and I hadn’t posted in a long time. I had surgery also so with everything going on I haven’t had time to write but hopefully I’ll get back to it. For now please enjoy a lil snippet from my drafts you beautiful souls.

This has not been looked over thoroughly forgive my mistakes!!

Your mates were concerned to say the least. You’d spent all but the better half of this week avoiding them, choosing to spend most of your waking hours cooped up in your room instead—only leaving to eat when both men had vacated the house or were tucked up in the much larger bed in the master bedroom.

“Steve have you seen my shirt?” A half naked Bucky stomps in, a scowl marring his perfect features. His bonding mark on perfect display above ropes of muscle that rippled and stretched at each little movement he made.

Steve only hummed, jutting his chin out in the direction of the closed door, your separate little bedroom.

“Thought I couldn’t hear her sneaking out while you were showering, I saw her come back with it not even five minutes ago.” Steve tossed the contents of his frying pan into the air, making sure to catch everything again effortlessly.

This hadn’t been the first time Bucky or Steve’s clothing had vanished into thin air this week. Just the other day Steve and Bucky had gone to training, each of them discarding their clothing in a pile before showering. When they finished the pile was nowhere to be found. They’d tried to question you, Steve pulling on the handle of the closed door but it was locked.

They both had a sneaky suspicion about what was up but you hadn’t had anything since dating the Alphas. It would be strange for it to happen now, right?

They let your strange behaviour continue, you weren’t harming anyone but Bucky was chomping at the bit to see you again. The more reserved of the two had become quite smitten with you, his bonding mark itched when you weren’t joined at the hip and the itch was becoming too much to bear. He waited until Steve was distracted before picking the lock of your room and stepping in.

The first thing that hit him was your scent, heavy in the air, its cherry undertones strong and almost overpowering, he could almost taste it. His alpha brain clicked instantly and told him to leave you alone but his human side craved your contact.

You weren’t in the bed, the shower running let him know exactly where you were. The perfect cover for him. The white sheets had been thrown on the floor, the bed littered in Steve and his shirts and other discarded clothing. It took him only a second to realise that the arrangement was intricate and thought out. A nest.

“What? Get out!” You snarled from behind him, teeth bared and eyes crazy, your body wrapped in a little towel. He blinked at you for a second before promptly apologising for the intrusion and slinked out of the room, jumping lightly at the loud slam and click of the lock.

“She’s in heat.” Steve groaned from his spot in the hall. Your sweet scent had wafted throughout the house, alerting Steve of your vulnerability. His cock hardened in his pants as his pupils dilated, matching the same look Bucky had.

Both of your poor alphas went to bed painfully hard, trying to ignore your soft yowls from the other room. You tried to hold off, deal with the feeling on your own but you couldn’t, you needed them.

-

Steve awoke instantly at the creak of their door, his nose twitching at your smell. He glanced over to Bucky who clutched your pillow, still fast asleep.

Your whimpers grew closer, the bed dipping under your weight as you crawled onto the mattress, until you straddled Steve.

“Stevieee,” you moaned weakly, your hips grinding into his brief covered crotch, your pussy hot against him. You whined as his length twitched against you, hardening easily.

“Oh angel, you’re in heat?” He asked, his large hands helping you move. When you nodded he snarled, flipping you both over until your head made contact with the pillow in Bucky’s arms, Steve’s head nuzzling into your neck, his teeth nipping and licking at your bonding mark. The ministrations had your sweet scent flowing from you in waves. The scent woke Bucky up, his hot breath on the side of your face as he growled lowly.

“Babygirl, you finally come around?” He chuckled at the pathetic sound that fell from your lips, your hand carding through Steve’s dirty blonde locks as he kissed down your almost naked body. Your panties clung to you as another wave of slick fell from you.

“Don’t k-know why…mm Stevie…just felt hot and needy,” you babbled, tears pooling in your water line as you looked up at Bucky. He thought you looked absolutely ravishing, your lip petted and swollen from your lip biting, your body flushed and glistening already.

“You shouldn’t have held back from us omega, you know we live to serve you.” You cried out at his words, nodding before leaning up slightly to slot his lips with yours.

Steve’s chuckle vibrated against your core as he watched how desperate you were. Steve didn’t mind that you and Bucky had such a close relationship, you were his first after all, but he knew you loved him too. Especially when he suckled on your sweet scent through your cotton panties.

“Mmm Stevieee,” your head fell back onto the sheets, your mouth gaping as your eyes fell shut, the fingers in his hair tugging tightly.

“You like that angel? Like your Alpha tasting you? Taste so sweet omega, so fucking sweet.” He growled, hooking a finger into the gusset of your panties before devouring your pussy.

Your sweet moans and whines were like music to your Alphas ears, your hips grinding up and practically riding Steve’s bearded face. You came undone when his nose nudged your sensitive little bud, your cunt gushing over his bearded face. You didn’t even know you could leak that much.

“Oh pleasepleaseplease Alpha, need your knot so bad, so so so bad,” you sobbed, uncaring of who’s knot you got, you just needed to be filled.

“Ok babygirl, alphas got you ok? We’ll let Stevie fuck that weeping cunt first alright, since he was such a good boy and made you cum” Bucky moved so he was sitting behind you, his arms holding your hips while Steve slipped your panties off before moving each of your feet to rest on his bulging thighs, spreading you out for the blonde haired man.

You keened at the sight of Steve’s long length, the curve of his cock decorated in thick, rope like veins leading to a fat tip. He might not have been as thick as Bucky but he still stretched you out nice.

You both moaned in tandem with each other as Steve sunk into you, his head grazing the rigid skin of your sweet spot making you clench around him almost painfully.

“Ohh fuck angel so tight, mmm relax lemme breed that sweet pussy ‘mega” he was panting already, balls slapping against you as he fucked you deeply, making sure you could feel everything. Your soft noises mixed with the slick slapping sound and wet squelching filled the room, your pussy gushing all over the sheets. You must’ve looked pathetic, wailing for your alphas cock to breed you full.

To both of them though, you were the sexiest fucking thing ever. Bucky lipsed down your neck, whispering sweet nothings to you as Steve picked up his pace.

“Ohh there we go babygirl, taking it like a fucking champ. Stevie gonna breed you full of his pups yeah? Look at how soaked you’ve got him, such a good little omega”

Bucky’s filthy words paired with Steve’s swelling knot sent you over the edge, your screams reverberating off the walls—neighbours be damned. Steve followed suit, pressing as deep as he could into you before spilling his seed, his knot swollen to full size to prevent anything from slipping out.

You might’ve blacked out, you don’t know, the only thing you could vaguely register was Steve’s teeth biting down on your dark mark, causing another shockwave of your orgasm to shoot through you.

“There we go babygirl that’s it took it so well, ohh my fucking god” Steve’s chest rumbled with laughter as he settled, grabbing the water Bucky handed him and gulping down gratefully before helping you take a drink yourself.

Both of them moved so that you lay on top of Steve, waiting for the swell of his knot to settle. Bucky’s fingers brushed through your locks, his head laying on Steve’s other pec so he could kiss you gently.

“Take a little nap babygirl ‘cause once Stevie’s knot is gone I’m gonna fucking ruin that cunt, ok?” Despite the sweet way he spoke you knew Bucky meant every single word of it. And your pussy throbbed with excitement.

“We are never gonna survive this” Steve joked after you’d fallen asleep, his hand running up and down your bare arm. Bucky laughed in agreement before speaking,

“We’ll give it our best shot.”

-

[anonf1writer]

can u make a masterlist pls

(i PROMISE one day i'll work on something aesthetically pleasing, but for now this is what i can offer)

🔞 DISCLAIMER: please, please, please, do NOT interact with my content if you're a minor. 🔞

it makes me uncomfortable.

I hope you'll understand and respect that.

──────────────────

✽ SINGLE PARENT UNIVERSE

drivers: max, charles, oscar, lando about it: this universe was originally created from the concept "reader being a single parent and the driver spending time alone with the child alone for the first time". then, we collectively decided to keep adding more and more to it! lol they're mostly text aus, but not exclusively.

drivers spending time alone with reader's kid for the first time

driver gets called dad/daddy by the reader's kid for the first time

reader’s kid steals their phone to text the driver

driver calls reader's kid their son/daughter in an interview

EXTRA:

but please shut up (written)

summary: from the same single parent universe and based on THIS request, I present to you 2k words about the moment Yn first said the three words to Lando, and then told him to shut up (or something like that). reader x lando norris (use of Yn, yes) word count: 2k

──────────────────

✽ FOR REAL UNIVERSE (TEXT AU)

driver: lando summary: he promised he'd be there. she saved him a seat. then, for the 100th time, waited for him to show up. smau (mostly texting) +18 please

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

──────────────────

✽ STAND-ALONE TEXT AU

drivers: max, charles, oscar, lando all of these but one were based on requests.

texting them “I need help” (because you actually do)

texting them “you kissed me last night”

texting them about wanting a baby (and they say you already have one)

they text about wanting a baby (and then freak out when you say yes)

texting them because it’s been “too long” since you’ve last seen them

when there’s a new pet at home

pregnancy cravings when they just came back from the store

thinking they hate you when it’s just the opposite

accidentally texting them🌶️

there’s always the classic jealousy

when you can’t sleep without them by your side

──────────────────

✽ A POSITIVE SURPRISE (LN4 SMAU)

driver: lando norris. summary: a trip to visit her best friend after a break up leads to lando norris asking for her number, and that’s just the beginning. smau (mostly texting) +18 please

part 1

note: first thing i posted here !! i was supposed to keep working on it, but i got distracted with the single parent universe + for real universe... 😬i'll get back to it eventually!

──────────────────

✽ WRITTEN

Scene 1: “I Only Came Because of You” (ln4)

summary: something written around the prompt “You know, I only came here tonight because I heard you’d be here. How ridiculous is that?”. ofc + lando norris friends to lovers. lowkey angst. word count: 1.4k note: i have no idea guys i just needed to write something and wrote this lol

──────────────────

[pazzi5351]

Ivy

Paige x Azzi

Pt 1: i thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me

AN: Ok so someone said this and I immediately had to get to work. ALSO THE BEGINNING IN ITALICS IS PAIGES DREAM IF IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE!!! ALSO ALSO, the beginning is timed in Covid when Paige stayed with the fudd’s!

Word count: 1.2k

————————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi were walking around the Minnesota state fair. A little tradition they’d picked up during their first year being friends.

Unlike the first time they visited the fair, where their hands brushed as they walked side by side, they held hands. Interlocked. A silent vow..

While they walked, Paige noticed a “pop a shot” game booth. In the booth, the thing that caught her eye the most was the big unicorn plush that just screamed Azzi. She rushed over to it, pulling Azzi’s arm with her in the process.

“Hey Az, play me in pop a shot! If I win, I’ll get you the big unicorn.” Paige said, excited knowing this is a time where she could be extra competitive if it meant Azzi gets something out of it.

“Fine, but if I win I’m still getting the unicorn. You just won’t have the satisfaction of winning it for me.” Azzi replied, smirking at Paige, squeezing her hand once.

Their game flowed. Their trash talk fueled. But eventually, Paige won.

As soon as her final ball went through the hoop, she was pointing the game worker to the unicorn. As soon as the worker handed her the unicorn, she handed it off to Azzi.

“For you m’lady.” Paige laughed, as she bowed dramatically, handing over the plush.

Azzi rolled her eyes as she reached for the unicorn. “My knight in shining armor! How can I ever repay you?”

Paige laughed and smiled softly. Only looking at Azzi, trying to burn her image in her brain. “Hm, maybe a ride on the Ferris wheel will suffice.”

Azzi reached for Paige’s hand. “Let’s go then bighead!”

Letting herself be pulled along, Paige could only smile. She had Azzi. Her best friend. Her ride or die. The love of her life.

On the way to the top of the Ferris wheel, Paige and Azzi talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Paige loved learning Azzi.

The way she loves to read. The way she grins a little when she’s excited. How in the quiet moments, the way she looks at Paige like she’s the best thing in the world.

When they stopped at the top, Azzi looked over at the sunset. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Paige was already looking at Azzi. Not the sunset the brunette was referring to.

“Yeah, it is.”

Azzi turned around, seeing Paige already looking her, and smiled. She gently cupped the side of Paige’s face, leaning in just enough so their noses were slightly brushing.

“Have I ever told you I love you? I feel like I haven’t.” Azzi said, her voice just above a whisper.

Paige gasped, lips parting slightly. Breathlessly. It’s not like she didn’t know Azzi loved her. It was in all the lingering moments. The late night one on one. Talking until the sun came up. And everything good between them.

“I love you too Az.”

Azzi leaned in, fully closing the gap between them and—

Paige’s eyes shot open as she woke up.

She blinked a few times then sat up slowly, trying not to wake Azzi, her heartbeat still racing from the dream.

It had felt too real. The fair, the unicorn, the Ferris wheel. The way Azzi said I love you like she meant it with every part of her.

And the *almost* kiss.

That part nearly broke her.

Paige blinked hard, wiping a hand across her face. She turned to her side and saw Azzi—peaceful, tucked into the comforter, one arm slung over Paige’s waist like she belonged there.

And that just made it worse.

Because she did belong there. At least in Paige’s head. In her dreams. In that secret place where everything was soft and honest and safe. Where Paige didn’t have to pretend this wasn’t the most important relationship she’d ever had.

But here? Now? In the real world?

Azzi was her best friend. Nothing more. Nothing ever.

Paige grabbed her phone off the nightstand, trying to breathe around the pressure in her chest..

Don’t be weird. Don’t make it weird, she told herself. You guys are just best friends.

She scrolled mindlessly, refreshing Instagram, switching to Twitter, trying to drown out her thoughts. But it was too quiet. Too present.

Behind her, Azzi stirred. Then groaned dramatically.

“Why are you up? It’s too early for you.” Azzi mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. She rolled over, flopping her entire body on top of Paige with zero hesitation, her weight familiar and grounding.

Paige stiffened under her. Then softened a bit, guilt pooling in her stomach.

Don’t make it weird, she told herself again.

Azzi lifted her head just enough to meet Paige’s eyes.

For one second, everything froze. The eye contact—barefaced, close, intimate—felt too much like her dream. Paige could feel the heat rise in her neck.

Azzi blinked, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a lazy grin and a face Paige didn’t recognize.

And then—

“YO!” Katie’s voice rang from downstairs. “Breakfast! Eggs are getting cold!”

Azzi jolted up. “Let’s gooo, I’m starving,” she said,hopping out of bed like she hadn’t just laid on top of Paige with her whole chest.

Paige stayed still. She listened to Azzi’s footsteps fade down the hallway, then let her head fall back against the pillow.

Her chest ached in that strange, quiet way. They way she couldn’t quite put a name on. The way it always did when she remembered that loving Azzi the way she really wanted to? Wasn’t something that was allowed.

Downstairs, the kitchen was already buzzing. Jose was finishing his first plate of pancakes. Tim and Jon were talking over each other about a TikTok they were trying to recreate. Katie was humming at the stove.

Azzi was already sitting, scooping eggs onto her plate and stealing a piece of bacon off Tim’s.

Paige walked in a minute later, slower, trying to calm herself. She offered a sleepy “morning,” then sat in her seat. The open seat next to Azzi.

The moment she sat down, Azzi lightly hit her knee under the table.

“What’s up with you?” She asked. “You’re like brooding.”

Paige forced a laugh. “Nothin’s up. I’m good.”

Azzi tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at Paige like she didn’t fully believe her, but she didn’t press. “Ok. Anywhoo—” she perked up, excited to change the topic, “Michael invited me to a party tonight and I think he might like me!”

Paige nearly choked on her bacon. “Michael?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said casually, still picking at her food. “He’s cool, I mean I have a few classes with him. But yeah, I think I might go, if I’m allowed.”

Paige’s throat dried. She focused on her plate, not really eating off of it anymore, tried not to let her face show anything. “Cool.”

Paige’s throat dried. She focused on her plate, tried not to let her face show anything. “Cool.”

“I mean, I don’t like him-like him,” Azzi added quickly, then shrugged. “But he’s kinda cute, and it’ll be fun.”

“Totally,” Paige said, voice too flat. “You should go.”

Azzi smiled, already moving on to some story about how Michael complimented her shoes in the hallway like it was the biggest news of the day.

And Paige just nodded along, trying to pretend her heart hadn’t just fallen out of her chest and got stomped on.

Because it didn’t matter how real the dream felt.

Azzi didn’t love her like that.

And Paige would never be the one Azzi woke up dreaming about.

[soulofnations]

First off, I think you didn't read my reblog right, I said "Eden didn't get hate ONLY for being Isreali", implicitly, this means that she faced hate for her country for sure, but by just addressing it's only for that reason it's a minimisation that Zionists do a lot

She is considered as an enemy for Ukraine, even if the ukrainian myrotvorets center isn't exactly trustful on certain things, since even just singing in Crimea (something she did) after the occupation is considered anti-ukraine, it's written she participated in anti-ukrainian propaganda activities from Russia against Ukraine

In the instagram story it's written "prepare your curses" or smth like that, I swear they were everywhere a year ago it seems like they disappeared, but, yk, I think it's obvious what she's talking about, also I've never read the stuff you said, just "they spoke negatively against Israel" as if it's a crime

Also, this is the definition of bullying, since you like this word: "seek to harm, intimidate, or coerce (someone perceived as vulnerable)"

Now, something like saying "I'm pro justice, pro peace" (said by Bambie Thug) and having written "ceasefire" on your face isn't bullying

Nor it is bullying asking "why not?" when somebody told Eden that she didn't need to answer the question "do you think your presence here is a threat", because seriously, why not answer it? It's a provocation, but not bullying

Eden expressed disappointment about allowing Palestinian flags last year, Idk, that sounds a bit against Palestine, my russian friends don't get bothered if they see the Ukrainian flag

3) Did you read what I said? I said she was allowed to change lyrics, Belarus wasn't.

Israel contestants are facing double standards because Israel itself did, Russia is banned because countries threatened to not participate in case that one did, Israel didn't face the same thing when it is killing thousands of people

Also, this is something Israel did:

By your logic, this is bullying too

4) Lmao, Georgescu did the same shit in Romania for his political campaign and wasn't able to rule for that, but yay let's consider this totally legitimate for Eurovision!!

5) You're a bit behind, Joost Klein was being made fun of for being an orphan by the reporter, did a gesture and the reporter made up bullshits, it was his dream since he was a kid to be part of Eurovision and made the song for his parents, a bit of empathy for god's sake..

6) They're idiots, N4zis are indeed a problem, but trust me they're a really loud minority

Kanye is able to do whatever he wants for the same reason Israel can do a genocide without sanctions unlike Russia: They both are rich

"Bringe them home" Allow them to have food lmao, wtf

Palestinians aren't Hamas, they're just people who want to survive, since 7 October 50.000 palestinians died, 38 more than the one on Israel's side (18% of the palestinians were kids, and most of the adults were women)

Last thing: I didn't blame Jewish People, I've never said the word "Jewish", in my tag I wrote "Anti Zionism" to make it clear I'm against THAT

Enough said

[residentwordsofaffirmationdealer]

hi guys. i keep seeing posts about damian talking about how he's kill-happy, or is he the most likely to break bruce's no-kill rule and here's my comprehensive reply, as a damian scholar:

damian has already made the conclusion that killing is bad (and has adhered to that for over ten years). he does not kill anyone anymore. he is not a "feral demon/gremlin". his (current) morals are very similar to his allies + family but in total, i'd say most like cass & bruce.

he is a very complex character who is NOT a remorseless, violent killer but rather a child who was trained to be a warrior (and arguably a weapon as well). he DOES feel very intense remorse and guilt for his actions, and is also very genuinely compassionate and cares very deeply for other people and animals!!

main themes that are often emphasized in works centered around damian are redemption, acceptance (from his family & allies), atonement, and forgiveness. damian will work to redeem himself not because "bruce told him to do it" but because he knows it is the right thing to do!! anyway, not to understate bruce's role in making damian who he is, as of course damian does look up to bruce a lot, but ultimately, damian made his own choices about who he is and what he stands for.

i know he makes a lot of statements about killing and violence but it is a facade he puts up -- often times he will mock or ridicule dick (whom he has mockingly called the angel on his shoulder) because damian will say something like "i'm going to kill x person" and then dick will reprimand him but they both know damian would not have done it anyway -- in the 2016 nightwing, there's a scene where damian says he will kill dinesh, a robin impersonator, but when dinesh is killed, damian gets mad at his attacker, lunging at him while yelling "he was just a kid!"

also, i stated earlier how he is a lot like cassandra in terms of morals. this is because she, like batman, truly believes in redemption and seconds chances. i'd argue that one of "the batman's" defining value is his belief in redemption, not his obsession with vengeance. a fundamental part of his character is the belief in second chances. he will always be there to help the people of his city -- whether it be saving kids or defusing bombs or providing support for the rehabilitation of villains -- think of the BTAS scenes of two face saying "good old bruce, he was always there for me" or how many times bruce has supported harley quinn in her journey to redemption or in general how many times he's rescued the joker instead of let him die out or how many times bruce has forgiven jason. cass is also very obviously similar to bruce. in the batgirl (2000) series, there's an issue where she tries to "rescue" a man who was sentenced to death. she rescues him because she truly believed he was capable changing -- even if he was a murderer. she, too, was one but has learned and grown, but he'll never get that opportunity. similarly in shadow war (2022), damian has a similar crisis where brion markov (geoforce), pretending to be deathstroke, assassinates ra's al ghul. in the major confrontation scene, damian lunges at him, yelling "you killed my grandfather!" as they fight, brion compares himself to damian and tries to manipulate him into disliking the al ghul side of his family. brion says "i was also trained to be a weapon. but i did it out of love for my country. but you? what your mother and grandfather did to you. how they tried to kill you. and here you are defending them. seeking revenge? protecting killers?". damian's response to that is "it doesn't matter who they were. you killed people. your actions led to the death of others. people who never had a change to change." this is especially interesting because it shows his growth -- he understands that people will always have the chance to grow, and he wants to encourage that, not take lives -- it's also almost exactly the same conflict cass had like 20 years ago!!

also, its super interesting from the point where one of his major inecurities is people not thinking he's good enough -- and good as in pure/moral etc. he (for a long time) has hesitated to call himself a hero, and has had nightmares about dick thinking when damian died, he went to hell, and so on. all damian wants is to redeem himself and be accepted, and he's scared that the people he loves the most do not think he is capable of that, and he's especially scared that they think he belongs in hell. more than anything, he wants to prove himself to them, and he tries and he tries and he tries. he'll never stop trying, even when bruce tells him that he's selfish, uncompassionate, and untrustworthy. even when he's hurt that tim puts him on his hit list. even when he thinks dick is replacing him by having his a new kid.

in all, he, like cass and bruce, very strongly believes that everybody is capable of redemption and he worries that him killing maya's father (a supervillain) means that he took away any possibility for her dad to turn his life around. most importantly, as much as he believes in forgiveness for everybody else, he does not believe he deserves forgiveness -- he is not a heartless killer/feral demon child etc etc.

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑇𝑜 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠

Pairing- Uchinaga Aeri (Giselle) x fem reader

Genre- Angst, (some fluff)

Word count- 4137

A/N: This fic is based off the song ‘Back to Friends’ by sombr

“We’re back to being friends but it’s never just that”

The lights in the practice room buzzed overhead, fluorescent and far too bright for how dim everything felt inside you.

Aeri sat across from you, laughing—too loudly, too easily—at something Ningning said. Her voice, warm and familiar, laced with that same lilt that used to curl around your name in the dark. Now it wrapped around everyone but you.

You laughed, too. Because that’s what friends do.

It had been three months since the night she ended it. Not with anger, not even with tears. Just quiet, tired resignation.

“I can’t keep doing this… not when it could ruin everything.”

Everything. Her career. Her image. SM’s precious doll couldn’t be tangled up in something so messy. So real.

So you let her go.

Well—no.

She walked away.

You just stood there and didn’t chase her.

Now, things were “normal.” Which meant you were back in the same room, the same group chat, the same proximity where nothing ever felt the same.

She glanced at you then—only for a second. Long enough for your eyes to meet.

Long enough for your chest to tighten.

Long enough to remember.

But she looked away first.

And that’s when you knew: she remembered too.

She just chose not to say anything.

Like always.

The ride home was quiet.

You sat by the window of the company van, earbuds in but no music playing. Just static silence and the occasional murmur of the others behind you. Aeri was a few seats back, talking softly to Karina, her voice muffled but unmistakable.

She used to sit beside you.

Your shoulder used to be her pillow on the way back from late-night rehearsals. You’d tilt your head, just enough to feel the weight of her hair against your cheek, and she’d mumble about how sore her legs were, how she hated SM’s mirrors because they made her look tired.

“You never look tired to me,” you told her once, eyes closed, fingers brushing hers beneath the shared blanket.

She had smiled—sleepy, soft, and so in love.

“That’s because you’re looking at me like that.”

You blink, the memory washing over you with a sting that feels almost physical.

When the van stops outside the dorms, you’re the first one out. The air is cold and damp, Seoul’s late spring drizzle soaking into your hoodie as you wait by the door for the others.

Aeri steps down last.

You hear her behind you, her footsteps slowing when she sees you standing alone. For a moment, the only sound is rain. You think maybe she’ll say something. That she’ll break character—just for a second—and let you see her.

But instead, she walks past you.

You catch the faintest whisper of her perfume—vanilla, musk, and something uniquely her—and the way her hand tenses by her side like she wants to reach for yours. Like she almost does.

Almost.

You don’t turn around.

You just whisper to yourself,

“You used to hold my hand like you meant it.”

_____

That night, sleep doesn’t come.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling of your shared dorm room, listening to the hum of the air conditioning and the distant rustle of someone getting water in the kitchen.

It’s probably her.

You hate that you know her habits that well. That your body still reacts to the sound of her steps, to the rhythm of her breath in the silence. Like it remembers what your mind keeps trying to forget.

Eventually, the ache becomes too much.

You swing your legs out of bed and pad barefoot into the kitchen, hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

She’s there, of course—leaning against the counter, sipping water like this is normal. Like the air between you isn’t heavy with everything you’ve both left unsaid.

Aeri turns, startled. Her eyes widen, then soften.

“Hey,” she says quietly, like it’s the first word of a song you used to know by heart.

You swallow. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She nods. “Me neither.”

You both stand there, the space between you only a few feet but it might as well be a canyon. Her fingers tighten around the glass.

You open your mouth—then close it. And she sees it. Of course she does.

Her voice breaks the silence. “Do you hate me?”

The question slams into your chest.

You stare at her, startled. “What?”

Aeri doesn’t look at you. Her eyes are fixed on the floor. “I mean… I would. If I were you.”

You take a breath, shaky and sharp. “I don’t hate you, Aeri.”

She finally looks up. And there it is—everything she’s been holding back. Regret. Fear. Love. God, it’s still there.

“I didn’t want to let go,” she whispers. “But I was scared. Of what people would say. Of losing everything I worked for.”

You laugh—dry and bitter. “So you let go of me instead.”

She flinches.

You step closer, just enough for her to feel your warmth. Not touching—never touching.

“I would’ve waited for you,” you say, voice low. “I still am, if I’m honest. But I can’t keep doing this if you’re going to pretend it never mattered.”

Her eyes shine, and you see the crack forming in her armor.

“I never stopped loving you,” she says, almost like it hurts to say it.

You smile, but there’s no joy in it. “Funny. You’re really good at acting like you did.”

Silence settles again. Thick. Heavy.

She opens her mouth—maybe to apologize, maybe to beg—but you shake your head gently.

“Goodnight, Aeri.”

And you walk away, not because you want to. But because you have to.

She doesn’t follow.

You turn your back to her. It should be final. It should feel like closure.

But then her voice cuts through the quiet—cracked, raw, the way you’ve only ever heard when she’s breaking.

“How can we go back to being friends,” she whispers, “when we just shared a bed?”

You freeze.

“How can you look at me and pretend that I’m someone you never met?”

Each word lands like a blow. You can feel the memories rising, thick and unwelcome—her hand curled around yours under the sheets, the way she said your name like it was a secret, like it meant something sacred. The warmth of her skin. The way she kissed you slow, like time didn’t matter.

She shared everything with you.

And then she walked away.

You turn around, and she’s crying now—silent tears slipping down her cheeks, but she’s still trying to stay strong. Still trying to act like the truth doesn’t ruin everything.

“You think I haven’t asked myself that every single day?” you say, voice trembling. “You think I don’t lie in bed and replay every second we had, wondering how the hell you can pretend it didn’t happen?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

Because it did happen. And no amount of pretending can erase it.

You take a slow, shuddering breath. “You made me feel like I was something worth breaking rules for. And then you decided I wasn’t.”

Her knees buckle a little, like your words hit her physically. But she doesn’t stop you when you step back.

“I can’t keep being your almost, Aeri.”

Her lips part. Maybe she’s going to say your name. Maybe she’s going to say stay.

But she doesn’t.

And that silence?

That’s the loudest answer you’ve ever heard.

_____

You don’t see her the next day.

Not really.

She’s there, of course—at rehearsals, at meetings, beside you during makeup. But there’s a new kind of silence now. One that wraps around you both like barbed wire. Every glance you catch feels like a wound reopening. Every touch not given, another wall built higher.

You wonder if she’s avoiding you.

Or if she just doesn’t know how to be near you now that the truth’s cracked the surface.

You try to focus on the choreography, on the beat of the music, the count in your head. But your mind keeps flicking back to the kitchen. Her voice. The look in her eyes when she asked:

“How can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed?”

You remember the night she meant.

It had been a week before she ended things.

You both knew it was coming—the tension from the company, the fear in her eyes every time your fingers brushed in public. But that night… you let yourselves forget.

You let yourselves be soft.

Her arms around you. Her lips against your throat. Her voice breaking as she said, “Stay, please—just for tonight.”

And you did.

You stayed.

Now, every moment since feels like a betrayal of that night.

Later, in the dorm hallway, you hear her behind you again. The silence that always comes before her voice. But this time, you don’t walk away.

“Aeri,” you say quietly.

She stops mid-step. You don’t turn, but you feel her gaze burning into the back of your neck.

“I meant what I said,” you continue, fingers curling at your sides. “I can’t keep living in the ghost of what we were.”

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, broken.

“Then why do you keep haunting me?” you ask. “Why do you keep looking at me like I’m still yours, if you don’t want to be mine?”

The silence stretches long. Too long.

Then—

“I do want to be yours,” she says. “I never stopped.”

You close your eyes.

“Then why didn’t you choose me?”

Another pause. Then, even quieter:

“Because I didn’t think I was allowed.”

The honesty in her voice makes something inside you collapse.

You finally turn around. She looks like she hasn’t slept. Like maybe she’s been asking herself the same questions every night that you have.

You could run to her now.

You could forgive her.

But something holds you back—because loving her has always meant losing parts of yourself, and you don’t know if you can afford to keep bleeding for someone who won’t fight.

So you say nothing.

And she doesn’t push.

You both just stand there—bathed in hallway light, drowning in everything unsaid.

The hallway feels too bright. Too sterile. The kind of place where nothing raw is supposed to happen.

But you’ve reached your limit.

You look at her—really look. Her arms folded across her chest like she’s holding herself together. Her eyes rimmed red, mouth parted like she wants to explain, to beg, but she’s too scared to say the wrong thing again.

So you speak for her.

Quietly. Bitterly.

“How can we go back to being friends…”

Her head jerks slightly—recognition in her expression. You’re repeating her own words. But you’re not done.

“When we just shared a bed?”

You take a step forward. She doesn’t move.

“When you kissed me like I was the only thing in the world that felt real. When you cried into my chest and told me you were scared, and I said I didn’t care—I just wanted you?”

Your voice is cracking, but you keep going.

“How can you look at me and pretend that I’m someone you never met?”

She flinches.

Tears rise in your throat before they fall.

“How could you do that to me, Aeri? If you actually loved me?”

That’s the moment her walls finally collapse.

She takes a step toward you—just one, hands trembling, eyes wide with grief. “I didn’t know how to choose you without losing everything else.”

“And I was what, collateral damage?”

“No!” Her voice sharpens with panic. “You were everything. That’s what made it so hard.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough?”

It slips out before you can catch it, the truth naked and trembling between you both.

She doesn’t answer. Her face crumples.

You step back. The tears are falling freely now—hot, bitter, unforgiving.

“You broke my heart and then asked me to be your friend,” you whisper. “Like that would be easier. Like I’d forget everything you gave me just because you’re too scared to keep it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she chokes out. “I swear to God, I never wanted to—”

“But you did.”

Silence. A final blow.

And this time, when you turn away, she doesn’t stop you.

She just stands there, tears streaking her cheeks, hands limp at her sides, watching the one thing she said she loved walk away—again.

Except this time, it might really be the last.

_____

It’s a few days later when it happens.

You’re backstage at a music show, sitting stiffly in the corner of your group’s dressing room. Earbuds in, head down, pretending to scroll through messages you haven’t answered. You’ve kept to yourself since that night. Let the silence stretch. Let her live in the space she created.

You didn’t expect her to fight for you.

But part of you had hoped.

You glance up when you hear her laugh—bright, that specific octave you used to think she saved only for you. Aeri’s standing a few feet away, near the hallway connecting to the other dressing rooms.

She’s with another idol—someone from a popular boy group. Someone tall and golden and easy.

They’re standing too close.

Her arm brushes his.

He says something that makes her laugh, and she tilts her head just the way she used to when you whispered something against her ear. Playful. Intimate.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it’s probably fan service. Just another planned interaction. SM is good at orchestrating chemistry where there is none. You know that.

But she looks too comfortable.

And he’s looking at her the way you used to.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until Karina nudges your shoulder.

“You okay?”

You force a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But your throat is tight. Your eyes are burning. And it feels like something’s clawing its way up from inside your chest—raw and sharp and loud.

Because maybe it is just for show.

Or maybe it’s not.

Either way, she’s still smiling for someone else.

And all you can think is:

How could you hold me like I was the only thing that mattered, and then laugh like that with someone new?

The jealousy isn’t even the worst part.

It’s the betrayal. The quiet ache of knowing she still hasn’t come to you—not to explain, not to fight, not to say she regrets letting you walk away.

She just moved on.

Or maybe she’s pretending again. The way she pretended not to love you. The way she pretended you could be “just friends.”

You turn your head and blink away the tears before anyone sees.

But inside, it feels like someone’s driving a blade straight through you—slow, deliberate.

And the worst part?

You still love her.

Even as she’s breaking you.

You don’t talk to her that day.

You don’t even look at her.

But she notices.

You can feel it in the tension of her body when you pass in the hallway. In the way her laughter falters when she realizes you’re in earshot. In the silence that follows her when she walks into the dressing room and sees you curled up in the farthest corner, earbuds in but no music playing.

She doesn’t approach.

She just watches.

And for once, you let her.

Let her see what she’s done—what you’ve become in the aftermath of her choices.

_____

It’s late that night when you finally break.

You’re alone in the bathroom, the fan humming above you and your hands gripping the sink so tightly your knuckles ache. You stare at your own reflection, and you don’t even recognize the girl looking back.

Tired. Dull. Hollow.

This isn’t who you were when she loved you.

This is who she left behind.

You whisper it at first, just to yourself.

“I hate you.”

Your voice cracks.

“I hate that you let me go. I hate that you kissed me like you meant it and then left. I hate that I still check every room just to see if you’re in it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. The tears come too fast, hot and familiar.

“I hate that you looked at him like that.”

Your voice breaks entirely.

“I hate that it still feels like you’re mine.”

You slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the cold tile floor, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself because there’s no one left to do it for you.

Because she’s not here.

Because maybe she never really was.

The next morning, she tries.

Not with words—Aeri has never been good with those, not when it matters—but she lingers beside you in the kitchen, opening the fridge even though she doesn’t need anything. She brushes past your shoulder when you’re tying your shoes. She laughs a little too loud when you’re nearby, like she’s trying to recapture something lost.

And you snap.

You stand up. Loudly. And when she looks at you, startled, you finally say it:

“You don’t get to smile at me like that anymore.”

The room goes silent.

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“You don’t get to act like we’re okay. Like this is okay.” Your voice is shaking, but the anger steadies it. “You let me fall apart while you kept performing like nothing happened. Like we didn’t happen.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No. Stop.” You step forward, and her back hits the counter. “You don’t get to mean anything anymore. Because you watched me drown, Aeri. And you chose not to jump in.”

She looks like she’s about to cry.

Good.

Because for once, she should.

She’s still on the floor, her head buried in her arms, her sobs quieter now. A dull hiccup here, a shaking breath there.

You should walk away. You want to walk away.

But you don’t.

Because no matter how badly she hurt you, no matter how sharp the words she left behind, she’s still Aeri.

And you still love her.

You crouch down beside her slowly. “Come on,” you murmur, gently brushing hair from her face. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

She blinks up at you, eyes red and glassy. “Why are you still so kind to me?” she slurs, voice thick with guilt. “Why do you still… care?”

You avoid the question. “Let’s just get you into bed, okay?”

You help her up, and her body folds into yours like second nature. Like muscle memory. Her arms come around your waist clumsily, and she leans her head against your shoulder.

And then—barely audible, breath warm against your neck—she says it:

“Baby…”

Your whole body goes still.

She used to call you that only in the quiet. In the spaces between kisses. In the breathless seconds after laughter and before sleep. It was yours.

And hearing it now—drunk, broken, fragile—it shatters something in you.

You swallow hard. “Don’t call me that.”

But she doesn’t hear you. Or maybe she doesn’t care.

“I miss you,” she murmurs. “I miss you so bad, baby. Please don’t hate me…”

You guide her to her bed gently, ignoring the way your hands tremble as you pull the blanket over her. She clings to your wrist like a child.

“Stay?” she whispers.

You pause. You should say no. You should.

But she looks so small like this. So not the composed idol the world knows. Just Aeri—messy and drunk and terrified of being alone.

So you sit beside her, careful not to slip under the covers, careful not to give her the wrong idea.

She turns her head toward you. Her voice is quieter now. “I loved you first, you know.”

You close your eyes. “Then you should’ve fought for me.”

A long silence.

And then: “I still want to.”

You don’t answer.

Because wanting and doing are two very different things.

You sit there until her breathing evens out, until her fingers go slack on your wrist. Until the weight of everything you’ve been holding in settles like ash over your chest.

You brush a tear from her cheek before you even realize your hand’s moved.

And then, quietly—like a prayer—you whisper:

“I still love you too.”

But she’s asleep.

She won’t hear it.

Maybe that’s for the best.

_____

The room is quiet, sun bleeding through the curtains in soft gold. You’re still sitting in the chair beside her bed, arms crossed, head tipped back against the wall. You hadn’t meant to stay the whole night—but your legs felt too heavy to move, and maybe a part of you needed one last night close to her. Just to remember.

Aeri stirs.

You glance over as she groans quietly, hand pressed to her forehead, already wincing at the hangover. Her eyes flutter open, and the moment she sees you—really sees you—everything on her face shifts.

Regret. Confusion. Then shame.

She sits up slowly. “You stayed…”

You nod once. “You were a mess.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, then rubs her face. “I remember… some of it.”

“I figured.”

Her hands tremble slightly in her lap. “Did I say anything… awful?”

You look at her for a long moment, and when you speak, your voice is soft. “You called me baby.”

She freezes.

“And you told me you loved me.”

Silence stretches thin between you.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally, voice hoarse. “That wasn’t fair.”

“No,” you agree quietly. “It wasn’t.”

Aeri looks at you like she’s searching for something—maybe a crack in your armor, maybe a reason to hope. “But I meant it. Even drunk. Especially drunk.”

You nod again, slowly. “I know.”

She opens her mouth to speak again, but you hold up a hand. Gentle. Final.

“You can’t keep doing this, Aeri. You can’t keep breaking me open every time you feel broken.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she says, desperate now. “I want to fix it. I want—”

“You already lost me,” you say, and it’s the first time you let the words come out. Really come out.

Her face crumples.

You inhale slowly, steadying yourself. “I’ll always love you. But I can’t keep waiting for the version of you who’s brave enough to love me back.”

She nods, tears falling freely now.

You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It’s not a promise. It’s a goodbye.

“Take care of yourself,” you whisper.

And then you stand.

You walk out the door with your heart in pieces—but your head held high.

Because sometimes love isn’t about holding on.

Sometimes it’s about knowing when to finally let go.

_____

Alternate ending:

You wake before she does.

Your neck aches from where you’d slumped against the edge of her bed, but you don’t move right away. Instead, you just sit there, watching her sleep.

She’s curled toward you, face soft in the morning light, tear tracks still faint on her cheeks. Her hand rests near yours—not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth.

You should leave.

You meant to leave.

But something about last night still lingers. Not just the apology. Not just the pain. Something deeper.

When she finally stirs, her eyes flutter open—and panic sets in almost immediately.

“I—” Her voice is rough. “I didn’t mean to show up like that. I was just—God, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment.

Then: “Do you remember what you said?”

She hesitates. Nods. “Some of it.”

You meet her gaze. “Do you mean it?”

She sits up straighter. Her fingers tremble as she reaches for yours but doesn’t quite take them. “I do. I meant all of it. I just… didn’t know how to say it sober.”

You watch her carefully. She looks raw. No defenses. No mask.

“I let fear control me,” she whispers. “I thought loving you meant losing everything else. But it didn’t. It just meant being brave. And I wasn’t. Until now.”

You swallow hard. Your heart’s thudding in your chest, loud and hopeful. But cautious.

“What do you want, Aeri?” you ask softly. “Really.”

She takes your hand in both of hers now—firm, sure. “You. Only you. And not just in secret. Not for a night. For real.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever—you believe her.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you slide your hand into hers and pull her gently forward until her forehead rests against yours.

“Then be brave,” you whisper. “Because I’m not doing this halfway again.”

She nods, eyes wet, smile trembling.

“I’ll fight for us,” she says. “Every day. If you let me.”

You press your lips to hers—soft, careful, but real. And when she kisses you back, it feels like coming home.

_____

The both of you step offstage after a joint performance. She’s sweaty and beaming, breathless from the adrenaline. You start to turn away—to keep it professional—but her fingers brush yours, and then she quietly, quickly laces them together.

A small gesture.

But this time?

She doesn’t let go.

And you don’t have to hide the smile that rises to your lips.

Because finally—she chose you.

And this time, she’s not afraid.

[nerdyscouttribute]

Annie x Smoke

Summary:Smoke helps Annie relax after a long day.

Warnings: smut, brief mention of breast milk, brief mention of c*ck warming, brief mention of losing a baby.

An: I barely proof read this so bare with me . You can imagine this set in any time as I didn't mention much with the settings. This is mostly smut with no plot and slight fluff. Enjoy!

As Annie was cleaning up her area she felt somebody somebody staring at her . When she looked up she saw her husband Smoke with a mug on his face. “ Why you looking like that Smoke?”Annie asked in a hushed tone. Slowly walking in, Smoke walks behind her ,and bends down to her ear, “ What I told you about being out of bed”, he says in a stern voice. Annie rolls her eyes at his dramatics.”I'm not on my feet or helping customers, why do I gotta stay in bed?” Smoke looks at her with a knowing look. They've discussed this more than once. When Smoke found out Annie was pregnant again he started to get even more protective. Annie understood why , she felt the same way ,but she felt more stress not being able to do things.

Smoke sighs relaxing a bit seeing the look on her face, “ I understand you don't wanna just lay down all day but I'm scared”. Annie's eyes soften, turning around Annie standing up looking into Smoke's eyes, “ Look I get being scared, shit I am too ,but I get bored and stressed out not being able to know what's going on”.

Smoke nods with understanding. Annie always liked to make sure her community was good, but ever since Smoke found out she was pregnant, he made her close the shop most of the week.So it's harder for Annie to stay connected. With a sigh Smoke says, “ how about this you can open your shop back up full time ,but please Promise me that you'll stay off your feet”. Annie throws her arms around his neck and gives him a peck .”Deal”.

Smoke gives her a smirk, pecking her lips again. Which turns into them making out. Smoke pulls away,”How about I help you relax”, he says in a ragged voice. Panting with a smile on her face, Annie nods. Without warning Smoke picks her up wrapping her legs around his waist being careful of her pregnant stomach, carrying her to their bedroom.

Carefully laying her on the bed , he admires this woman-his wife, the mother of both his kids. He slowly starts to undress her . Hypnotized by her full breast ,that would soon nurture his baby, and him.

Smoke stands there ,lip between his teeth. Taking Annie in ,not knowing where to start. So he leans down, taking her lips into his. Inserting his tongue into her mouth , taking his time to feel around. Starting to feel Annie reach up to hold his neck- he shakes his head ,”relax, this is about you ,not me”.

Sitting her arms by her side, trailing kisses down her neck on the way to her breast. Taking a nipple in between his fingers, twisting them -dragging moans from his wife. Startled, he feels a warm substance on his fingers. Stopping his movements he looks down to see a white substance drip from her breast. No longer shocked he bends down, taking one in his mouth.

Overwhelmed by the taste that hits his tongue he sucks harder ,as he had been starved. Switching to the other one, Annie holds his head to her chest, arching her back-urging him to continue.

Finally having enough Smoke leans up ,about to lick around his mouth for the spilled milk until Annie stops him, “Come here Elijah “. Without hesitation he leans down, letting her lick up her milk , and plunge her tongue into his mouth, so they can taste together. Letting off moans, Smoke trails his fingers up and down her slit collecting the liquid substance on his fingers.

Bringing his fingers up ,he separates the kiss smearing it all over Annie's lips. Staring at him with lust she lick her lips, moaning at the taste of herself. Can't take it anymore, Smoke slides down her body ,propping her legs onto his shoulders. Breathing her in , admiring how wet she is. Leaning down he takes her clit in to his mouth.

The taste of her , makes him moan against her clit. Annie gasped, feeling herself getting close. Smoke licking like his life depends on it. As if he was a dehydrated man In the desert and this was his only source. Leaning down plunging his tongue into her whole ,while he takes his thumb rubbing her clit in a circle motion.

Without realizing Annie lets out a loud moan reaching her climax. Smoke doesn't stop ,slurping up all she has to give. Stopping, he raised up to her face. Annie admires him, her essence all over his chin. She grabs him by the neck , and pulls him into a kiss tasting herself. Slob and cum all over their mouths. Loud moans escaping both of them.

Smoke stops , getting up rushing to peel off his clothes. Once he's done he hovers over Annie. Looking in her doe eyes, trailing down seeing how the moonlight hits her dark skin. Annie pecks his lips , bringing him out of the trance she put him through. “What's going on in that head of your”, Annie questions with a soft smile on her face. “How beautiful you look, lying beneath me, tears staining your cheeks from pleasure “, Smoke says before taking her lips into his. As they kissed he reached his hand down taking his length into his hand. Rubbing it up and down her slit. Slowly inserting it inch by inch. Trying to distract Annie he starts to kiss down her neck leaving hickeys all over her chest .

Arching her back off the bed once he finally fills her up. Sitting still ,trying not to cum at the warm feeling of his wife. Struggling as Annie starts to grind against him ,urging him to move. Smoke lets out a quick whimper, stomach quivering. “ Wait baby”, Smoke says, holding Annie's hips still. Annie understands, slowing her movements.

Finally, composing himself,Smoke sits up positioning Annie's legs around his waist. At a slow pace he starts to thrust in and out. When Annie let out a whine , he knew what she wanted . “I got you baby”, Smoke says ,as he starts going faster, immediately hitting her spot. Not needing to find it , knowing her, knowing her body.

Annie legs, tightening around him every thrust. Smoke looked down seeing how her breast moved every time he hit her spot. Leaning down he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, not losing his rhythm. Moaning loudly Annie held his head to her chest, not wanting him to stop. Smoke continued drinking up her sound and her.

Annie let's go, sitting her hands on his shoulders, feeling herself get closer. Smoke, feeling her tighten around him , raises up taking her lips back into his mouth. Annie scratches his back ,while she comes undone. Smoke bot far behind her, fucking her through her orgasm. Finally he cums, filling her up ,tucking his head into her neck. Pecking her neck softly as they come down from their high.

Slowly pulling out her seeing himself drip out of her, he gets an idea. Rolling over laying down , taps Annie ,” come sit down”, he says with a serious look in his eyes. Annie's face shows confusion for a second, but realizes what he meant, as he licks his lips. Taking the little energy she had she straddles his face. Scared to put her full weight on him she slightly hovers over him .

Smoke looking up , seeing their cum mixed together, forces the rest of her down. Tightening the grip he has on her thighs. Moaning at the taste like a starved man. Loving the taste of them both on his tongue. Feeling Annie slowly grind down on his face. Moaning in pleasure as he takes her clit into his mouth.

Annie now realizing her whole body was relaxed on to his face tries to raise up a bit ,until Smoke stops ,and say, “ Stop doing that. I'm willing to be suffocated by your thighs, drowning between them”. With that he pulls her back down fucking her with his tongue. Annie getting brought closer with just those words. She grips the headboard, grinding on his face , feeling how he was tasting her. Without warning she comes undone . Smoke licking her up ,not stopping until he feels satisfied. Until Annie forcefully pushes against him ,telling him to stop. As he does she climbs down laying beside him on the bed looking down seeing that he was still hard. “ You want me to take care of that “, Annie questions as she tries to catch her breath.

Smoke shakes his head ,” Remember this is about you”, Smoke says as he guides Annie onto her side. Kissing up her shoulder ,as he lifts up her leg onto his hip. Tapping the head of his length against her clit ,which yanks out a loud gasp out of Annie. He slowly inserts himself into her until he couldn't anymore. Stilling there ,feeling himself about to come from how warm and tight she is. Without warning , she starts to move back against him. Drawing a small moan out of her. Gripping her hip, trying to keep himself together. Annie knew what she was doing. She recognized how close he was , and she wanted him to come. While Smoke was to calm himself, Annie to over pushing him onto his back. Getting up ,straddling him.

Smoke now in a daze, watches as she grabs a hold of him , moving her head up and down , using her cum , spreading it all over. She slowly lowers herself on to him . Smoke no longer able to contain himself cums. Annie not caring continues to grind up and down , coaxing him through his orgasm. As Smoke was coming down he looked at the image in front of him. His beautiful wife was bouncing up and down . Her beautiful brown skin shining bright by the moonlight. Her breast moved with every bounce. Smoke leans up, taking one into his mouth. Feeling her tighten around him , he grabs her waist, making her still. Planting his feet he starts to thrust from below, which brings Annie over the edge. Fucking her through her climax,feeling his stomach clench, his thrust getting sloppy. Annie Leaning down kissing him . Moaning against his mouth as she feels his cum slowly feeling her up.

They lay there, skin sticking together laying lazy kisses against each other's mouth. Smoke, starting to move himself out of her , stops when he hears her whine, “What's wrong “, he says with worry over his face. “ I just wanna feel you for a little longer “,Annie says with her eyes closed, a content look on her face. Wanting to please her wife , he moves her to her side, before she starts to protest, he gets behind her ,inserting himself back in. Wrapping his arm around her waist, rubbing his hand around her pregnant belly. Sitting his chin on her shoulder, “Are you relaxed now”, he says, setting a small kiss on her cheek. Annie nods,” I'm still scared though, what if I fail them too”, tears filling her eyes.

Slipping himself out of her, he turns Annie over , now facing each other. Seeing the tears running down her face , he reaches up, wiping them away. Cradling her face in his hands,” That wasn't your fault baby, I will never blame you for our baby dying”, Smoke says watching Annie nod her head slowly. Speaking again Smoke says,” Think positive ,don't speak out evil things. Our baby will be safe ,and so will you”, with that he leans down placing a soft kiss on her lips. Passion, grief ,and hope flowing between them. Annie knew he was scared too ,but he didn't want to say it. Pulling back he places a kiss on her forehead.

“How about you go use the bathroom while I run you a bath?”, Smoke says, rubbing his hand up and down her waist. Annie nods ,pulling Smoke in for another kiss,” Do you know how much I love you “, Annie says with a soft look in her eyes. Smoke nods,” Yes, and doesn’t even compare to my love for you, but you can try and show me in the bath”, Smoke says with a smile on his face. Annie sprouted a huge smile on her face pulling him in for yet another kiss.

[mrsgarciatorres]

all the way || mickey garcia

a/n: i’m watching *look both ways* and his character (gabe) is so HELLO??? like??? im crying… (yes this is a pregnancy fic)

your eyes lock into the stick that was in your hands. two lines. mickey won’t even be back in 2 months, how are you going to do this alone? you breathe in and you breathe out very slowly and grab your phone. this would have to be dealt with a phone call, you didn’t wanna scare mickey when he came home just to see your big belly.

your fingers shakily press each number on the dial screen, putting in your boyfriend’s number and then pressing call. you’re expecting it not to be picked up, so you already have a message sent out to him saying 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬.

you pressed the green call button ay the bottom, your hands slightly shaking as you bring it up to your ear. it rings four times, and the line finally went off. “hey it’s mickey.., or fanboy. i’m either on duty or somewhere busy, please leave a message after the beep.” the line went dead with a long beeping noise, and your mouth opened up. “hi mickey, it’s me. please let me know when you get the chance to talk to me. it’s urgent, like… life or death urgent, i guess? anyways.. just let me know.” you and the call, and you look up to the ceiling. “what am i gonna do?” you whisper to yourself, closing your eyes.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

it was 20:30 when mickey got done with his 500 push ups, being the second to last done. his chest went up and down, sweat all over him. “that was easy as making cake,” he chuckled out. hang-man took his sweet time this round, and laughed from the floor.

“okay man.” he stood up from his spot, “i know i can do 500 push ups but the middle really does get to you.” jake ended. “what i meant was that i can’t make cake, hang-man. i always burn it.” jake understood the meaning now. “yeah, well… let’s hit the showers. man you smell,” he laughed, the back of his hand slapping mickey in the chest lightly. “says you,” mickey spoke back.

the two men walk their way towards the showers, talking about the day they had and how far it is until both of them could go home with their loved ones. “how is theodora by the way? she walking now?” mickey asked, asking about jake’s daughter. “oh man she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. yeah she’s walking and it’s a nightmare to be honest. one minute she’s there, and the next thing you know she’s trying to go upstairs by herself.” jake laughed.

“talking about babies makes me want to have one, but honestly? i feel like i leave too much to actually see them grow up. what if i miss the child birth as well? miss everything?” mickey questioned, his head spinning in circles with every thought about leaving his future ‘what if’ kid. “oh yeah that’s the down side of working in the military, leaving your wife and kid to defend themselves and grow up with out you. it breaks my heart every time i’m called back to station.. which now it’s nothing since i have them both in miramar now.” jake shrugged.

mickey hummed. “you thinking about getting your girlfriend pregnant or what?” jake laughed, shoving the shorter man. “no.. no, plus we haven’t really thought so far into our lives. i told her if she were to be with me all the way i’d be gone from time to time, the first time i left she left messages every day or even close to every hour. like yes, i love her man but i can’t be there all the time you know?” he shrugged, taking his clothes off casually and putting them on the wooden bench, hang-man doing the same as well. “yeah i get that. the first chick i was with was texting me 24/7, got my phone confiscated because of that. clingy people just don’t do me, man. i feel like people in the military in general don’t do clingy.” mickey nodded at that.

they’re done with what they’re doing, going to the lockers to get changed into brand new clothing. mickey’s phone is on his bag. as he wraps the white towel around his waist, he grabs it and taps on the screen to load the phone on. “oh shit.” he muttered, as he saw two missed notifications. “what?” hang-man asked, “i just got a man’s worst nightmare text and then voicemail.” mickey gulped, his other free hand going through his wet curls. “which is…” jake moved his hand, signaling to mickey what the message was. “we need to talk,” mickey showed him his phone, and what jake saw he whistled. “good luck man,” hang-man walked out of the locker room, shutting the door on his way out.

mickey walked over to a cold grey metal bench, sitting on it as his tags hung from his chest. he pressed the call back button, as he waited for his lover to pick it up. three beeps went on until the other line could be heard, “hey mickey.” he sucked in a breath, “hey mi alma. what’s up?” he asked, a soft smile planted on his face. “uh.. so you know how.., a month ago before you left we did the big bang and well, you left?” you stuttered. his eyebrows knot together in confusion, wondering why that was important for him to know now.

the door that opened to the locker room could be heard, rooster, bob, payback, rueben, and coyote all came in laughing with whatever was said by them. their eyes immediately landed on mickey, who’s only pair of clothing was covered by a towel with a hand in his phone looking dead on serious. an emotion never seen with their teammate. bob hushed them, quietness was heard again in the locker other than the clanging of opening the lockers and stuff being moved around. “mhm,” could be heard from mickey. “well.. uhm. how— i don’t want to say it but,” you stumble. “mi vida?” he breathed out, waiting for whatever it is you needed to tell him.

“i’m pregnant..” you whisper out, still seeming as tense on the other line to mickey. “what?” he asked in disbelief, “i’m..pregnant, did you hear me?” you whisper, hoping he didn’t hear you and not getting mad. “no.. no i heard you, god i’m sorry mi amor, give me a minute.” he pressed the mute button on the call after you said ‘okay’, as he put the phone down on the bench besides him.

he stared at the floor with wide eyes, thoughts flowing into his head. “but we were safe.” he mumbled. bob was the only one who could clearly hear him since his locker was right near the bench, the others far away on the other side of the room, still trying to eavesdrop into the conversation. bob’s eyes went wide, and he looked back behind him to tell the group to ‘quit it out.’ “i used a.. a condom, she was on the pill. we were safe,” he whispered. “mickey?” a girl’s voice could be heard through the locker room. he unmuted himself, “m here mi chica,” he mumbled. “okay. okay. i have two months left,” he spoke. “wh-when did you find out? how long have you known?” he asked you.

“for three hours. told you as soon as i could.” you answered back. “okay.. okay. when i get back, we’re gonna get through this okay?” mickey told you. “you’re.. not mad?” you asked him, a bit surprised. his face looked offended on the other line, but you couldn’t tell.

“mad? sweetheart, i’m… i’m a bit concerned, scared even. but i’d never be mad about any of this, we cannot control this. it’s.. it’s life.” he breathed. “i wish you were here right now..,” you mumble. “i know, i know me too. but as soon as i’m home, i’m all yours. all the way.” mickey said. “all the way?” you repeated, he hummed. “m sorry my love, i wish i could stay on the phone but i gotta go. i’ll try to check in every chance i get okay?” he told you, you nodded but forgot he couldn’t see it. “okay. call you later?” he hummed. “call you later amor. i love you, bye.” the call ended, and he stared up ahead in disbelief.

the gang behind him stood, all wanting to know what happened. “so like… you gonna spill the secret?” coyote’s voice broke the silence. “dude,” rooster stared at him in shock. “what? we’re all thinking it.” rueben said. “she’s…” mickey’s voice broke them up and had their attention on him in an instant. “she’s..” most of them repeated.

“she’s pregnant.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

a/n: AHHHH i love this movie sm. i loved that lili reinhart played in it, she was so good! but other than that here’s my take in a pregnant fic, pls lmk if yall need a part two cause this can turn into a tiny series if you want!! i could see it coming into something more. please remember to like and reblog and comment your feelings about it! <3 years

[p2pecleanerwitheyes]

Lilia's Venus

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: You were feeling insecure and Lilia would do anything in her power to make you feel better.

Warnings & content: insecurity, anxiety, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fingering, nipple play, self doubt, smut.

A/N: thanks again, @aggieharkness for being an excellent beta reader!!

Ao3

The day had started out like any other, you woke up buried under colourful patchwork textiles, hand-crafted and worn over time. The warmth that had encompassed you throughout the night was no longer there as Lilia’s side of the bed sat empty with the lingering smell of vanilla and cinnamon. Lilia had to pry your hands off of her to get out of the bed and make breakfast, she always woke up earlier and liked to make sure you weren’t hungry at any point of the day - even the crack of dawn. She had a routine, and the most important part of that was making sure her girl had her chocolate pancakes, and that’s exactly what she was doing.

As you became more aware of your surroundings and eased back into consciousness, the smell of Lilia’s baking flooded your senses, sending low grumbles straight to your stomach as saliva all but seeped from your lips.With one labored stretch and a long groan, you had Lilia’s attention immediately. She turned to face you with a warm smile and her spatula in flour covered hands

~ Well good morning sleepyhead, how are you feeling?

You let out another low groan, too tired to form coherent sentences, and shoved your head into Lilia’s pillow, inhaling the comforting scent.

~ Looks like someone doesn’t want any of the breakfast I have just put so much love into making?

Lilia’s smile only grew wider as you shot up, you would never turn down anything she made and she knew that threatening to take away your breakfast would get you to do anything. You tore yourself from the blankets and made small steps in protest of having to get up.

~ Uh why can’t you just take my breakfast to me and then we can both eat in the comfy and warm bed

You moaned as you approached the chair Lilia had pulled out for you at the coffee table and sat, picking up your knife and fork. Lilia put down your plates and a jug of maple syrup as she replied

~ Because…

Lilia finally sat down opposite you, picking up your hand and stroking your knuckles as she spoke softly.

~ Then I would wake up to chocolate chips and crumbs in my cleavage, when I would much rather just have you there.

You grinned and let go of Lilia, picking up the maple syrup and tucking in to your pancakes as she watched and did the same. She always told you that you drowned her wonderful cooking with the amount of maple syrup you used, but it was never out of judgement.

Lilia was happy to cook for you whenever you needed and she had no care about calories or numbers. She loved how your body was sculpted like a goddess and would make a big parade about how perfect you were, and god, did she show that in bed. She would kiss you on every spot she could get her mouth on and she would happily stare at you all day if you both didn’t have your respective things to do.

Despite this, the past few days had taken a toll on you - you were beginning to grow out of all of your favorite clothes and had spent a lot of time in front of the mirror. Taking note of all the things you would change about yourself if you could, and worrying about when Lilia would finally see how ugly you are. These thoughts were never ones you let Lilia in on, and you sure as hell didn’t plan to.

However, this breakfast, Lilia noticed how you didn’t have the same joy on your features as you usually did, and you weren’t so eager to eat. She wiped her hands on a napkin and spoke with concern.

~ Honey, are you okay?

You were pulled from your string of thoughts and quickly put a smile on your face.

~ Yeah! These pancakes are really good, Lilia.

Lilia thanked you for the compliment but still carried a sense of unease about your unusual demeanor today. She would get to the bottom of this, she had to know what was up with her sweet girl.

The day continued like this, you were closed off and Lilia’s worry only grew. You were tending to the plants in your small garden when Lilia approached you, with a furrowed brow and a heart full of concern.

~ Y/N…

~ Yah?

You turned around and put down the rusty metal watering can at your feet, wiping the soil that coated your hands onto your trousers.

~ You know you're going to have to change those and wash your hands if you want to come anywhere near me.

Lilia joked but your smile faltered slightly, with all the negative thoughts whirling around your head, you actually believed her.

~ Hey…I’m only kidding.

Lilia gave you a sad smile and pulled you into her warm embrace, she didn’t mind getting a little dirty for the sake of hugging you.

~ What's going on in that pretty head of yours?

~ What do you mean?

~ Y/N, I’m not blind, there's something…off about you recently. I just want to understand what you’re thinking so I can at least try to help you.

~ Lilia, there’s really nothing.

You tried to convince her but she noticed the way your bottom lip wobbled slightly as you pulled away and your eyes found everything apart from her own.

~ How about we get you cleaned up. What do you think about a nice shower?

If your thoughts were bad before, they just got a million times worse. Lilia would see you… all of you. The scars, the stretch marks, the extra pounds you had added to your frame. Tears threatened to spill as you thought about the arrangement more, pooling in your eyes, but not falling. You never did that in front of Lilia - she had enough on her plate with her visions, the shop, her own trauma…Her visions were ghastly things and were often brought on by stress, if she knew the storm that was raging in your heart, she would feel and see it as much as you did.

~ Oh, it’s fine, you can shower without me.

Your voice was hushed as you looked down, playing with your fingers and chewing on your lip. Lilia’s warm palm found your face as she lifted your head up and stroked your cheekbone.

~ Darling…what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours huh?

~ I don’t want you to see me.

You walked away from her and entered the shop again, slouching down on the pillows of the couch, huffing and hiding your face in your hands.

~ What do you mean by that dear?

~ Lilia, have you not noticed? I’ve been putting on weight. How are you not repulsed by me?!

Your tears now spilled, as did Lilia’s as she listened tentatively, you knew she loved every part of you, but something fucked up in your head was screaming otherwise. You knew she would kiss every inch of your skin if you wished, but your brain pushed the idea that she would leave as soon as she saw you, the real you.

~ Oh, honey. I love you so much, every part of you. The scars, the stretch marks, all of it…they give you life, they show that you're human and you’ve had human experiences. So what if you've put on weight! It only gives me more of you to cuddle…and it means you love my cooking.

Her last sentence came out as more of a whisper as you both chuckled at Lilia’s egotistical remark. You knew all of what she was saying was true, but there was still some hesitation. Your tears stopped flowing and you looked up to see a mischievous expression painted on Lilia’s features.

~ Lilia?

She got closer to you now, her breath traveling over your neck as she left small pecks over your pulse point. Her lips moved higher and she approached your ear.

~ Maybe i need to show you how much mama adores her girl.

All you could do was let out a pathetic whimper and nod as her lips returned to your pulse point, this time nibbling and sucking on the sensitive flesh. Lilia’s hands found the hem of your shirt, not minding that it was covered in dirt, and lifted it over your head. You felt her hands on your own, moving them away from your stomach. You hadn't realized that you moved to cover it until Lilia whispered in your ear.

~ Mama wants to see all of you.

She reached around to unclasp your bra, with eased and practiced skill. You let out another small whimper as you felt her hand on your sternum, pushing you deeper into the pillows on the couch . Her lips left your neck and travelled down, along the top of your breasts and eventually to your nipples, taking them into her mouth one after the other and eventually grazing her teeth along the sensitive buds. You let out a gasp when you felt her bite down slightly, your hand moving to the back of her hair and pulling her closer to you. Her kisses travelled further, peppering delicate smooches all over your stomach. Lilia’s smile grew as she heard you giggling softly.

But as she got closer to where you wanted her, you became needy, erratically pulling down your trousers and underwear and showing her your glistening folds.

~ Someone’s eager.

~ Please, look how wet I am for you, mama.

~ I just want one thing from you first, do you think you can do something for mama?

~ Yes…anything…please.

~ Tell me you’re mama’s beautiful girl.

Your words got caught in your throat as you heard this. Was she really mocking you right now? You looked down to see Lilia’s genuine and knowing expression, her eyes locked onto yours.

~ I…

~ Darling, you can do it. Believe it for me.

~ I am mama’s beautiful girl.

Before you could even take back any of what you said, Lilia’s tongue was on your pussy, licking a strip up your folds and swirling around your clit - making you moan slightly.

~ Mama is going to reward you now sweetheart.

Her lips latched onto your clit and sucked hard as she pushed two fingers into you, slowly thrusting them in and out and curling them ever so slightly. She knew the exact things to do to make you feel good and she could feel how each thrust made you clench and drip with fresh heat. She doubled down on her efforts as your moans grew in pitch and your hips struggled to match the rhythm of her thrusts.

~ Does mama’s pretty girl want to cum?

~ P-please…I..Fuck.

Lilia’s free hand moved to stroke a single tear that fell from your eyes as you came undone, she remained looking up at how magnificent you looked when you came. Her fingers inside you slowed but didn’t stop, prolonging the pleasure you deserved to feel.

As your high flowed out of you, the thoughts returned. Not as bad as before, but still there. Lilia got off the couch and stood before you, slowly stripping down to her yellow, matching bra and knickers. You were too much in awe and in the afterglow to even make a noise, you just sat with your mouth hanging open. Lilia gently took your hand and guided it towards her crotch, you gasped as her wetness seeped through the fabric and coated your fingers.

~ That’s all from seeing you, my love, do you feel how my body responds to you, to how perfect you are.

Lilia sat down once again and spread her legs slightly, making a show of removing her ruined panties. She then unclasped her own bra and sat there, all spread and opened for you.

~ Can mama’s good girl make her feel good now?

You didn’t need any further instructions - your mouth was immediately on her breasts, suckling and nibbling slightly on her nipples, Lilia threw her head back and closed her eyes, you always were talented with your mouth. Your fingers soon found her clit, rubbing softly with the pads of your fingertips, making her almost growl.

~ G-god, you're so good for mama.

Her words only spurred you on, grazing your teeth along her nipple and speeding up the movements with your fingers, Lilia’s high was approaching quickly.

~ Fuck…mama’s gonna cum for her perfect girl.

You held Lilia in place with a hand on her stomach as she came hard. Both of you were now shaking and covered in each other's juices, but you were right where you wanted to be. You both got cleaned up and ended the night in each other's arms, you may not have believed you were beautiful, but Lilia sure did and she would remind you every chance she got.

[erindrinkstea]

You're dead to me

Fully Masked! Mark "Invincible" Grayson x F! Reader

TW: Violence, Death, Murder, and Mental Health Themes.

Description:

When Angstrom sent those variants of Invincible through a portal to a wasteland, he accidentally sends Fully Masked! Mark Grayson to a different world.

A world where Mark Grayson dies but you still live.

Main Masterlist | Invincible Masterlist

Note: Don't worry Mark, I love your Mom too.

"We'll just torture you instead. Duh."

"..."

Seeing all these twisted versions of himself made him sick to his stomach. But he understood. He truly did. They didn’t have you. They didn’t have her. And without his mom… without you by his side, he could’ve ended up the exact same way.

That’s why he had done the terrible things in this world. Why he’d committed atrocities he never thought himself capable of. Because he was alone. Because the two people who grounded him—his mom and you—weren’t there.

He didn’t care about the crown.

He didn’t want a throne.

The Viltrum Empire meant nothing to him.

All he wanted was his family.

The only two constants that ever made him feel human. Made him better. Happy.

So when Angstrom came to him and whispered about another world—one where his mom was alive, and you were too—how could he not listen?

But it was a lie. A cruel, soul-crushing lie.

His mom was nowhere to be found. And you… you were dead. Crushed. Torn apart. Just like in that nightmare he could never wake up from. Just blood and broken pieces of the only person he loved.

Tracking down the version of himself responsible was easy. Killing him was even easier.

Painfully so.

"What…?!"

He recoiled, startled as multiple green portals suddenly bloomed in front of them. His jaw clenched as Angstrom's devices flared and sucked each of them into their own vortex.

When he blinked next, he wasn’t in his world anymore.

But he wasn’t with the others either.

Wherever he landed, he doubted this was part of Angstrom’s plan.

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Today marked three years since Mark Grayson died.

You gave Debbie a soft smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

She had always been so kind to you, even with everything she’d suffered.

“How are you doing? And how’s Oliver?”

It hadn’t been easy—Omni-Man going rogue. Nolan killing his own son. And then, months later, coming back with a baby in his arms, begging for forgiveness.

Debbie hadn’t forgiven him. But she had agreed to raise Oliver. Because the boy had no one else. His mother was gone, and Nolan couldn’t stay.

Debbie had hesitated. But the moment that baby reached out with curious little hands and cooed at her, she melted. He reminded her too much of her own son—the one she lost too soon.

“Oliver’s growing so fast. Just yesterday, I could still carry him. Now he’s already got friends at school.” She sighed, tired but proud.

“Mom! Is that sis?”

Oliver’s voice rang out as he raced into the room. He had started calling you ‘sister’ after all the time you spent caring for him. You never minded.

“Oliver,” you smiled, catching him in a hug as he tackled your waist.

“I CAN FLY!” he announced, eyes wide. “I tripped on the stairs yesterday and floated instead of falling!”

Your breath caught. “Really?” You looked up at Debbie, who nodded with a small smile.

Just like his brother.

You remembered the first time Mark floated instead of falling—he’d looked so proud, so thrilled. That memory felt sacred now.

“That’s amazing,” you told Oliver.

“I know, right?” he grinned, puffing up with pride. So much like Mark.

You swallowed the ache in your chest. God, please don’t let him turn out like Nolan.

“How about you help your mom clean the house with your powers? I’m just going to take a quick walk.”

A lie, of course. You just didn’t want to cry in front of him.

“Okay!” he chirped, bouncing off with Debbie, who caught your eye and gave a subtle nod. She understood.

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

Mark drifted above the unfamiliar skyline.

This wasn’t his world.

It wasn’t the one from before, either. Somewhere new entirely.

Strangely, no one tried to stop him. No heroes. No threats. Just… wide-eyed stares and hushed gasps as he flew overhead.

People weren’t afraid. Just surprised.

He wasn’t a villain here, it seemed. Not yet.

Maybe this version of him had done something right for once.

He stayed in the air, keeping low, keeping quiet. He was tired—sick of the bloodshed, of the failures, of chasing ghosts.

He just wanted to go home.

But this world… something about it felt different. Warmer.

And he had a gut feeling he wasn’t here by accident after all. Maybe it was fate.

He could’ve missed it. Could’ve flown right past, too focused on his goal—too desperate to find a way back home.

But then, in a split second, his eyes caught something. Someone.

A figure.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

“...Darling?” he breathed, voice soft, disbelieving. His body stopped mid-air, frozen. He just hovered there, staring at the figure walking below.

God. It was you.

You were alive.

“Darling,” he whispered again—and this time, he didn’t hesitate. His direction shifted instantly, diving toward the one person he had torn worlds apart for.

You didn’t see him coming. You were too caught up in your grief, still walking slowly down the sidewalk, tears silently streaming down your face.

You were wiping at them, frustrated, exhausted.

"My love?"

That voice.

You froze in place.

Not again. You thought the hallucinations had stopped. Thought you were healing.

But here you were, hearing him again—hearing that voice you would have given anything to hear just one more time.

You didn’t turn around.

You couldn’t handle the disappointment.

“I can’t do this,” you muttered, voice cracking as more tears welled up. “Not today.”

Your hands went back to your face, desperate to rub away the hurt.

“Easy there,” a voice said gently, a presence stepping in. “Stop rubbing so hard. Geez, your eyes are all red. What made my lovely girl cry so much?”

You froze again.

Hands—not yours—brushed against your cheeks, careful and warm. Soft thumbs wiped away your tears like they had all the time in the world.

It felt so real.

Too real.

“You, you idiot,” you hiccupped, unable to hold it in. “It’s your stupid death anniversary. You couldn’t even give me one day of peace.”

Your sobs were broken, helpless.

The man—Mark—blinked at you like that was news.

“So… I’m dead here, huh? he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Makes things a bit easier.”

You cried harder. “You’re not real. And it hurts. It’s not fair.”

“But I am,” he said softly. “I’m real. And so are you.”

His hands were still cupping your face with that same gentle care he always had. His eyes searched yours with aching tenderness.

He looked… different.

Worn. Tired.

Hair a little longer. Shoulders a bit heavier.

But still him. Still your Mark.

The warmth. The love.

That unmistakable feeling that wrapped around you like a blanket in winter.

“You’re dead,” you said again, as if reminding yourself.

He hummed, nonchalant. “Not anymore. You were dead too, remember? But now you’re alive.” A dark glint passed through his eyes. “And I’ll make sure it stays that way. No matter what.”

His voice was calm, certain. Steady in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.

“Now,” he said, lips curling into a half-smile, “how about we go see Mom? It’s going to be one hell of a reunion, don’t you think?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Was this real?

It had to be.

“Mark…?”

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Summer Serendipity

Summary: It was the summer break between the races, and Oscar suddenly came across a travel magazine about a quiet town in Northern Ireland on the work desk of someone who had left it open when he was visiting McLaren’s HQ in Woking. Next thing, he was on his way to Belfast, with nothing much on his mind, no worries about the championship standings, the braking mode, the corners or chicanes,... Nothing, just him and his summer getaway in Belfast.

Meanwhile, Edith Ezra, a devoted single mother working at a quaint cafe in Belfast, cherishes her two children, Ivy and Eddie, above all else. Having faced the heartbreak of their father's abandonment, Edith has built a life centred around providing for her family and creating a sense of stability for her children.

When Oscar's path crosses with Edith's in Belfast, their worlds collide in unexpected ways. As Oscar finds himself drawn to the warmth and genuine kindness of Edith and her children, he begins to see a different side of life beyond the fast-paced world of racing.

A/N: I'm so so so so sorry I forgot to add the taglist in the last post!

The date had gone by in a warm, candlelit blur.

Oscar had chosen a little bistro tucked beside the river, lowlights, old music playing from speakers that occasionally crackled like they had stories of their own, and a menu handwritten in looping cursive. They’d shared a plate of something neither of them could pronounce, laughed until her cheeks hurt, and talked about everything from school lunches to the smell of racetracks.

Well. Not quite everything.

He hadn’t brought it up again, the whole being-famous thing. And she hadn’t pressed. Not over the clink of wine glasses or the way he’d leaned in every time she spoke like she was saying something precious. The moment had been too gentle, too full of something new, to fill it with questions.

But she hadn’t forgotten.

Now, back at the flat, the night hummed with quiet. Ivy and Eddie had waited up, of course, and were now pretending to be asleep on the couch, faces squished into pillows, limbs arranged far too neatly to be natural.

“They were out cold at nine,” Angie whispered as she tiptoed toward the door. “But five minutes ago Ivy told me about an episode from Bluey so I don’t trust them.”

Luke was already halfway down the stairs, muttering something about updating his fantasy league predictions now that “McLaren Piastri” had officially entered the group chat of his life.

Edith just stood in the hallway for a moment, still clutching the little brown paper wrap from Oscar’s flowers, not ready to let the evening go yet.

She turned and found him still standing by the door, hands in his pockets, that familiar quiet smile on his face, like he was content to just exist in the air around her.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked, soft.

He nodded once. “I’d like that.”

She led him into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. It was instinct at this point, no matter the hour, tea followed her home like a shadow. She glanced at him as she reached for the mugs.

“Ivy and Eddie are absolutely going to fake-sleep until they think you’ve left.”

Oscar laughed under his breath. “Should I wave goodnight to them and pretend I’m leaving, Mission: Impossible style?”

She smirked. “You’d win them for life.”

They stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to hiss. The soft amber light above the sink made everything feel smaller, cozier. Quieter. Like this moment was wrapped in a bubble.

Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly serious. “Can I tell you something?”

Edith looked up. “Of course.”

He took a breath, and for a second, she saw the same nerves that had danced behind his eyes on their walk over.

“I should’ve told you earlier. About what I do. Who I am.” He paused. “It’s not that I was trying to lie or pretend to be someone I’m not. I just… didn’t want that to be the first thing you knew about me.”

She nodded slowly, waiting.

“I drive in Formula 1,” he said quietly. “For McLaren.”

There it was. Said out loud this time. Not whispered at her doorstep or hinted at in the space between jokes.

“I figured that much out after Luke nearly fainted,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Oscar chuckled, but his expression stayed gentle. “I like you, Edith. And I didn’t want… that part of my life to get in the way. Or change how you saw me.”

Edith looked at him for a long moment. He wasn’t just talking about being famous. He was talking about being seen, the parts of him that lived between travel and pressure and headlines. The parts that came alive not behind a wheel, but across a café table from someone who asked about his favourite book, not his last lap time.

“I’m glad you told me,” she said, stepping closer. “And for the record, I saw you first. The one who listens when Ivy talks about mermaid kingdoms. The one who helps Eddie put syrup on pancakes without making a mess. That’s who I said yes to.”

Oscar swallowed, just once. “That’s the part I wanted you to like.”

“I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Very much.”

The kettle clicked off.

Before she could move, a sleepy voice called from the hallway, “Muuum?”

They both turned.

Ivy stood there, hair sticking up wildly, clutching her blanket like a weary queen.

“Did he kiss you?” she mumbled.

Oscar turned absolutely scarlet.

Edith blinked, wide-eyed. “Ivy!”

“I just wanna know if it’s real,” Ivy said, completely serious. “Angie says she thinks it was.”

Oscar gave her a tiny wave, barely managing not to choke on his laugh.

“Yes,” Edith said with a sigh, cheeks warm. “He did.”

Ivy gave a satisfied nod. “Cool,” she said, then turned and padded back toward the couch.

There was a long beat of silence before Oscar said, “So... that’s your approval committee.”

“That’s not all the members from the committee but I don’t make the rules,” Edith whispered, shaking her head.

He looked at her then, eyes full of something she wasn’t ready to name yet, but wanted to keep reaching for.

“I should go,” he said, but it wasn’t a goodbye. Not really.

She walked him to the door, and just before he stepped out into the quiet street, he turned.

“I’m not great at all this,” he said. “The talking part. The vulnerable part.”

“You’re doing fine,” she said. “Really.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and kissed her, slow, sure, and a little longer than before. Not rushed. Not a question.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, “Walk safe, McLaren Boy.”

Oscar grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving behind only the softest echo of laughter and the faint scent of lilies on her kitchen counter.

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

Oscar stood in the dim glow of his rented bathroom, brushing his teeth like a man who had just survived something emotionally significant. The lilies he’d picked up,  slightly lopsided and vaguely crushed from being clutched too tightly on the walk, were still etched in his memory like a photograph. So was the way Edith had smiled at him. The kiss. The kids. All of it.

He spat, rinsed, stared at himself in the mirror.

“Okay,” he told his reflection. “You didn’t screw it up.”

Mostly.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A little after midnight. He dried his hands and picked it up, expecting nothing. But it was a text from her

[TEXT FROM EDITH]Safe back to your place?Also: I think the committee approved you. Just a heads up.

He laughed aloud, thumb already moving before his brain caught up.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Made it. And thank them for me. I was worried no one had started drafting the seating chart.Tonight was… really good.

A minute passed. Then her reply:

[TEXT FROM EDITH]Yeah. It really was.

He smiled at the screen like an idiot. Then dropped the phone onto the bed, paused, and immediately picked it back up.

Time to text the other person who had way too much investment in this entire situation.

[OSCAR → LANDO]So, she found out.

Three dots appeared immediately.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]About what? That you like crab sandwiches more than most humans?Or that you’re a literal international athlete pretending to be a mysterious bloke from the café around the corner?

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]The second one.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]OH MY GOD FINALLY What’d she say? Did she throw something at you?

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]No. She said she saw me first. Not the driver. That she liked me anyway.

There was a brief pause. Then:

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Okay That’s… actually really nice Ugh. Gross. Feelings.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Did she kiss you?

Oscar hesitated, then sent:

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Yes.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]More than once?

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]I’m not answering that.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]That’s a yes You soft little pancake

Oscar laughed, leaning back against the pillows.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]It’s different with her. I don’t feel like I’m being watched. Or judged. I feel... still.

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Wow. Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my teammate?

[TEXT FROM LANDO]Seriously, though. That sounds good. I’m happy for you, mate.

Oscar stared at the message for a long time. The flat was quiet around him. The lights outside the window blinked across the skyline. And for once, he wasn’t counting laps or corners. He was just... sitting with it.

[TEXT FROM OSCAR]Yeah. Me too.

He silenced the phone and placed it face-down on the nightstand. Then he let out a quiet breath, ran a hand through his hair, and turned out the light.

In the dark, his mind flicked through the night like a slideshow, Edith in that blue dress, laughing with her eyes crinkling at the corners. The kids. The committee. Her saying she liked him anyway.

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

Sunday mornings in the flat usually smelled like maple syrup and felt like slightly controlled chaos.

Edith had barely tied her hair up when Ivy came bounding into the kitchen wearing mismatched socks and a pair of sunglasses that had definitely been pilfered from the lost-and-found basket at the café.

“Mum,” she said with the seriousness of a detective mid-investigation. “We have questions.”

Eddie followed behind her, dragging his stuffed polar bear, his mouth already stained faintly with jam. “Very important questions.”

Edith raised an eyebrow as she flipped the pancake on the skillet. “If this is about how many syrup bottles we can use at once, the answer is one.”

“Nope,” Ivy said, plopping into a chair. “It’s about Oscar.”

Edith blinked. “Oscar?”

“He’s on the internet,” Ivy announced, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper with what looked like printed screenshots. “Like, a lot. There’s videos. Of him driving. Really fast.”

Eddie nodded gravely. “Faster than that scary taxi we took last winter.”

“You Googled him?”

“Auntie Angie did it because we wanted to know if he was famous-famous like uncle Luke said” Ivy said. “Turns out? Super famous.”

Eddie held up one finger. “There’s a picture of him on a podium holding a trophy. And another one with a fireproof suit. Like a superhero!”

Before Edith could respond, the buzzer rang.

She froze, spatula in hand, and tried to hide the immediate smile that rose to her lips. “That’s probably him.”

Ivy and Eddie squealed like puppies and bolted down the hall before she could stop them. She heard Ivy shout, “WE HAVE QUESTIONS!” through the intercom.

By the time Edith opened the door, Oscar was standing there with a bakery bag in one hand and an expression that said he’d been greeted more gently by the Monaco press.

“Good morning,” he said cautiously. “I bought croissants and also fear.”

Edith bit back a laugh. “They found Google, didn’t they?”

“Oh, they found Google,” Oscar said, stepping inside. “I think I’ve been fact-checked.”

Ivy immediately grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the couch. “Why didn’t you tell us you were a race car driver?!”

“I didn’t want to make it weird,” Oscar said, letting himself be pulled.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a fireproof suit?”

“Technically I have five,” Oscar said, sitting down.

The twins gasped.

“Can we wear them?”

“No.”

“Can you drive us in a race car?”

“No.”

“Can you name a race car after us?”

Oscar smiled. “I’ll consider it.”

Edith stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the scene unfold. There was something so strange, and lovely, about watching someone like Oscar, someone who spent his life in roaring engines and press rooms, sit here calmly answering questions about whether Formula 1 cars had cup holders.

He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t showing off. He was just in it, open, real, and somehow still a little shy, even as Ivy tried to convince him to autograph a cereal box.

When she finally stepped in with a plate of pancakes, Oscar looked up at her with quiet gratitude, like he wasn’t just grateful for breakfast, but for the whole morning.

“Coffee?” she asked, setting the plate down beside him.

“Always,” he said.

Ivy leaned into him dramatically. “You’re famous-famous and you drink coffee. You’re basically a grown-up.”

Oscar grinned. “Don’t tell anyone.”

As the kettle whistled and the twins argued about whether “Team Oscar” sounded better than “Team Pancake,” Edith felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves.

It was ease.

And watching Oscar laugh, head tilted back, cheeks slightly flushed, as Eddie tried to feed him a bite of syrup-drenched waffle, she realized something:

Maybe he didn’t just fit into this little life of theirs.

Maybe, just maybe, he belonged.

The sun was dipping low, the kind of late-summer evening that made everything feel softer. The flat smelled like shampoo and the lingering sweetness of strawberry ice cream. The twins had collapsed into a post-playdate heap on the couch after watching two full episodes of Bluey, giggling until they were sleepy-eyed and tangled in the same blanket.

Oscar helped Edith gather up the toys and stuffed animals scattered across the living room floor. Eddie's polar bear had ended up half under the kitchen table again. Oscar retrieved it without question, like it had become part of his unofficial duties.

“Do they ever stop moving?” he asked with a laugh, tossing the bear back onto the couch.

“No,” Edith replied, smiling as she flicked off the TV. “They just recharge for twenty minutes, then start again.”

She moved toward the kitchen, rinsing two tiny bowls in the sink, her motions automatic, practiced. Oscar stood nearby, leaning against the counter, watching her with quiet admiration.

“They like you,” she said over the running water. “A lot.”

“I like them too,” he said. “I mean, they’re chaos. But they’re... really good chaos.”

There was a brief silence, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable, just waiting for one of them to push through it.

Edith dried her hands on a towel and glanced his way. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Her voice was soft. Not accusing, just... uncertain. “The pancakes, the park trips, watching Bluey three times in a row?”

Oscar shifted his weight, unsure how to say it out loud. “Because I want to. Because I want to be around you.”

She looked down, then up again. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not,” he said, more firmly this time. “I just... I like this. I like you. I like them. I like how it all feels when I’m here.”

Edith studied him for a second, and then stepped back, leaning against the other side of the counter. She crossed her arms lightly, more for warmth than defense.

“Their dad left before they were born,” she said quietly. “Found out I was pregnant and decided he wasn’t ready. Or didn’t want to be ready. I haven’t seen him since.”

Oscar didn’t say anything right away. He knew not to rush the silence.

“They’re turning five in November,” she added. “And not once have they asked why he’s not around. I don’t know if that’s good or sad.”

“It’s not sad,” he said. “They have you. And... maybe they’ll have someone else too. If you let me keep being part of this.”

She looked at him, a mix of something careful and something hopeful in her expression. “You’re younger than me, you know.”

“Only barely.”

“Still, it’s 3 years apart.”

“Still doesn’t bother me.”

Another pause. Softer now.

Oscar scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous in a way that surprised even him. “I’ve been trying to say something, actually. But it feels kind of... too big? And also not enough? And also maybe I’m going to totally mess it up.”

Edith tilted her head slightly. “What is it?”

“I think I’m…” he started, then stopped.

She waited, patient.

“I think I’m on my way to being really... I mean, I already did…” He sighed. “I really, really like you. And it’s kind of past the like part. But I don’t want to make it weird or scare you or,”

Edith stepped closer, reached out, and touched his hand gently.

“Say it,” she whispered. “If you want to.”

Oscar looked down at their hands, then up into her eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said. “Actually, I think I already have.”

She didn’t speak right away. Just smiled, soft and full of something deep and steady. Then she leaned up and kissed him, slow, deliberate, full of promise.

“I’m glad,” she said against his lips. “Because I think I’m falling too.”

From the couch, a sleepy voice broke the silence.

“Are you kissing again?” Eddie mumbled.

Oscar laughed, forehead resting gently against Edith’s. “Definitely part of the chaos.”

That evening the flat smelled like garlic, roasted vegetables, and something vaguely burnt that Oscar insisted was “intentionally crispy.” Edith was fairly certain it wasn’t, but she let him have it. He was too proud of his tray of “race-day roast potatoes” to argue with.

Luke had already poured himself a glass of wine before sitting down. Angie brought a stack of homemade brownies she swore she “barely burnt this time,” and the twins were already deep in a heated debate about what is the best episode of Bluey. 

Oscar helped Edith set the table, brushing her arm gently as he passed her the forks. It was the kind of domestic rhythm that felt natural, like something they’d done a hundred times. And maybe, Edith thought, they would do it a hundred more.

Luke took a bite of potato, paused, and gave Oscar a skeptical nod. “Alright, McLaren. Not bad.”

“I’ve been trained by the best,” Oscar said, glancing at Edith.

“You cooked with me once and used three full cloves of garlic,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“And they were delicious cloves.”

Angie smirked into her wine glass. “Honestly, it’s a miracle none of this has gone viral yet. Race car driver makes Sunday dinner and survives.”

Luke leaned in, elbows on the table. “So, has anyone stopped you on the street yet, Oscar? Any selfie requests outside the café?”

Oscar shook his head, sheepish. “I’ve had a pretty good disguise so far: not wearing the fireproof suit.”

Ivy perked up from her seat. “Can I wear the fireproof suit?”

“Not yet, maybe when you are older,” Oscar said gently, “but I can get you a hat.”

Eddie gasped. “A racing hat?”

“Even better,” Oscar said. “An official one.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “Alright, Piastri. Since the kids are getting merch, I’m going to ask: when will you leave for the next race?”

Oscar wiped his hands on a napkin. “Actually... that’s kind of what I wanted to bring up.”

Everyone turned to look at him, Edith, Luke, Angie, and the two suddenly-wide-awake twins.

“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “if you’re all up for it... maybe you could come to the next Grand Prix. As my guests.”

Silence.

Then a collective explosion.

“Wait! seriously?” Angie nearly dropped her wine glass.

“You mean actual paddock passes?” Luke asked, eyes gleaming like he’d just been gifted a rare Pokémon card.

“Pit lane? Garage tour? Hospitality?”

Oscar shrugged like it was nothing, but he was already grinning. “I mean, yeah. If you want. I can get you passes, flights, everything.”

Ivy clapped her hands. “Do we get to wear matching outfits?!”

Eddie looked equally thrilled. “Do we get snacks?”

“Absolutely to both,” Oscar said. “I can promise you’ll love the track food.”

“Can we meet other drivers too, please say yes Oscar!” Luke said with heart-eyes literally. 

“I’ll see if I can pull some strings but yes.”

Edith was staring at him now, not with surprise, not exactly, but with something warmer. Something quieter.

“You’d really do all that?” she asked softly.

Oscar glanced at her, a little nervous now. “Yeah. I mean... It's a big part of my life. And you’re all a big part of my life now too. So it feels right.”

Luke let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s one way to say I love you in group form.”

Oscar flushed. “I already said that, actually.”

Edith reached for his hand under the table. “You did. And now you’re trying to prove it with hats and hospitality.”

Angie raised her glass. “To love, racing, and possibly matching team uniforms.”

“To chaos!” Ivy added.

“To yummy snacks!” Eddie shouted.

They all laughed, the kind of laughter that spills over into the night and sticks to the walls, the kind that makes a place feel like home.

Oscar glanced around the table, cheeks still slightly pink, heart full.

Instagram Posts: @/Edithlovesedit

Liked by @/Angiethebougie, @/Luckyluke and 268 people.

@/Edithlovesedit: How I love being a woman at night and on mom's duties in the morning.

view all comments

@/Luckyluke: I saw a MILF

-> @/Angiethebougie: how i want to be that MILF

-> @/Edithlovesedit: u wanna try?

-> @/oscarpiastri: a very hot MILF, indeed (this comment has been deleted)

-> @/Luckyluke: man got rizz?

-> @/Edithlovesedit: what is rizz??

-> @/Angiethebougie: Charisma, babe

-> @/Edithlovesedit: oh that he's got plenty of it 😚

@/lando: hi comittee 🙌🏻

-> @oscarpiastri: go away lando

-> @/lando: ouch

-> @/lando: guess u will have to ask ur sisters for the advice mr.piastri

@/user404: guys what is lando and oscar doing here?

@/user233: maybe old fr?

@/user2021: idk about u but this momma is so pretty and she is a baker too

@/user44: wait i think that's oscar in the pic?

-> @/user16: let get u back to bed grandma

-> @/user27: ur delulu hits hard, gurl

@/user372: are they twins?

-> @/Edithlovesedit: yes they are twins, the girl is a tad bit older

@/user198: oh I know her, she is the coffee shop's owner in my town... her cinnamon swirl is chefs kiss

-> @/user22: yes is it the bean & blossom, they are quite aesthetic

Taglist: @teamnovalak, @angelluv16, @frankiejo04, @manuztb, @httpsxnox@devilacot@maximuminfluencerstarlight@bee-the-loser, @taetae-armyyyyy @mynameisangeloflife

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret - Chapter 8

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist |

The 2-and-a-half-hour flight from Incheon to Narita was single handedly the most terrifying 2 and a half hours of your life. Sat in between a random girl in her early 20’s and one of the stylists, you clutched the elbow rests for dear life as the plane shook from turbulence.

The girl side-eyed you. “If you're going to puke, don't do it on me”

You didn't even have the energy to correct her on her assumption. You were sure anybody who glanced at your pale and pinched face would assume you were just a nervous flyer but guessing that your nerve wrecked frame was thinking about the metaphorical bomb currently resting down below in the cargo area was the furthest thing from anybody’s minds. Except, maybe, Chan.

Chan, who had tried to reassure you in the half hour before he boarded (you didn’t board until later, with most of the other staff), and who you hadn’t talked to since the flight took off.  Chan, who you knew from the few weeks you had been working with him would surely take responsibility for anything wrong that happened. Who held way too much weight on his shoulders. You almost felt guilty for needing his help, but at the same time relieved that at least you weren’t going to go through this alone.

The moment the seatbelt sign was off, you were determined to get some space. You licked your lips and forced a smile onto your face, turning to the stylist next to you. “Sorry, excuse me. I need to use the bathroom.”

She gave you an odd look but made no move to get out of her seat, instead leaning back in her seat and giving you an expectant look. You shuffled past her and practically ran to the bathrooms in front of you, almost entering the empty room when the curtains leading to the first-class section shifted to the side, and you blinked up at Felix.

“Oh, good. I was just going to go looking for you,” He whispered behind his mask, glancing behind you and then shuffling to the side. “Come here.”

The two of you moved to the smaller area where drinks and snacks were held, the area empty and out of view of the rest of the cabin. After confirming there wasn’t anyone watching, he dropped his mask and swiped his hoodie back, running his fingers through his hair.

“Please tell me Chan has a plan,” You practically begged, fingers gripping his arm a little tighter than you normally would.

“He has a plan,” Felix said slowly, looking like he didn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth.

You stared at him expectantly, but when he didn’t elaborate, you frowned. “Why do I have a feeling he doesn’t actually have a plan?”

“No, he does!” Felix insisted. “It’s just … probably not one you’d like.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave you a sheepish smile.

-0-0-

You were going to murder Chan.

To be fair, you weren’t coming up with any great ideas to deal with the problem you had caused to begin with, but when he told you he had a plan, you weren’t expecting to be directly involved. You paced in front of the elevator of the hotel you had been set up in, two floors below where the boys were settled in, waiting for the confirmation text from Felix.

It was a simple plan, which should have eased your worries.

Felix was roomed with Hyunjin. Hyunjin had a sensitive nose and liked to shower after getting off the plane. So, while he was in the shower, Felix would get the suppressant for you and hand it off before he finished.

Simple.

But your mind couldn’t help but go over the million ways that everything could go to shit over and over again as you anxiously waited, wearing a hole in the fancy carpet that probably cost more than a year of your paycheck.

For starters, if Hyunjin opened his suitcase to get a change of clothes before getting in the shower, the towel wrapped bottles would be right on top, ruining the entire plan. Felix assured you that Hyunjin usually grabbed his clothes after his shower (which provided an image you desperately tried not to think about), but usually was not enough of a reassurance for you.

Then there was the worry you would be caught on their floor.

As an employee it wouldn’t be totally out of the norm to be up there, but as only a translator it would be odd for you to be interacting with the members outside of work reasons, and you desperately wanted to avoid rumors or any attention to yourself at the moment. And if somebody caught you with the suppressants in your hands, it would also make this entire plan pointless.

Not to mention the time constraints.

You didn't have to worry too much about your company assigned roommate, since she was a makeup artist you didn't know too well, and she had excused herself to another colleague's room after throwing her bag onto one of the beds. On the other hand, the boys had an interview in 2 hours and would only be given an hour at the most to unwind, get changed, and then they would be leaving. You had to rely heavily on Chan to make sure the other members wouldn’t be roaming the halls or in the elevator when you had to go up.

And as if your thoughts had summoned it, your phone buzzed in your hands.

You froze, taking a moment to just stare down at your phone with wide eyes, and then you pressed the elevator button.

It took exactly 43 seconds for the doors to the fifth floor to open up, and you shuffled quickly down the hall to room 502, which unfortunately was at the very end of the hall. The very door you were heading towards opened a few seconds before you reached it.

Felix peeked his head out, face breaking out into a blinding smile when he saw you. “Hey!”

“Shhh!” You hissed, getting closer. “You got it?”

He pulled his hands out from behind the door, and you nearly cried at the sight of the toweled bundle. Everything had gone to plan so far.

“Here. You should get back soon, Hyunjin won't be long.”

You accepted the bundle, cradling it close to your chest like it was a baby. “Thank you.”

“Felix?”

The two of you shared a wide-eyed look as Hyunjin called out from the room. He waved you off before closing the door behind him, and you shuffled back towards the elevator while looking down at the towel to make sure both bottles were still in there.

As you were two doors from the elevator, the last door to the right suddenly opened, and Minho paused as you passed him.

It was only pure adrenaline that kept your feet moving when your entire body wanted to freeze. You cursed whatever god was listening.

Of all times.

A minute later and you would have been in the clear.

You pressed the button for the elevator and held your breath, waiting for him to say something. But he didn't, and you quickly got onto the elevator and pressed the button for your floor without looking up, too scared at what you might see. It was only as the doors began to close that you risked a glance, only to find Minho already walking away, his back the last thing you saw as the door shut.

You bit your lip hard enough it started to bleed.

Well, that went well.

-0-0-

For the entirety of the day, and then the following, you found yourself wondering if Minho would confront you.

Both Chan and Felix (who you had frantically sent a message to the moment you returned to your own room) assured you that Minho wasn't the curious type and wouldn't tell anyone, but you found yourself still staring at him every time you were in the same room.

Thankfully, the actual work at hand left you busy enough that your worries didn’t have time to fester into anxiety. Translating during interviews would be easier when in English speaking countries, but Japanese was a language that the boys were only familiar with from an idol’s perspective, so complicated questions had to be simplified, and slang had to be translated.

You were still impressed at how much Minho seemed to understand, and Chan did his best to answer what he could in Japanese, but more often than not, it was quicker if you translated for the interviewer. All in all, it was one of the last interviews of the week, two days before their first concert, and you were ready to wrap everything up.

And then the last question was asked.

At first, you had simply thought you misheard it and asked the interviewer to repeat the question, mentally going through the approved list of questions that had been confirmed weeks ago. As far as you were concerned, the questions should have been over. And then the question was repeated, and your mind seemed to catch up to the actual words being spoken by the middle-aged Japanese man as if he was asking about the weather.

You weren’t sure if his nonchalance made the question worse or not.

There was a moment of silence. You glared at the interviewer, he smiled pleasantly at the group, and the group were starting to realize something was up as they all looked expectantly over at you.

You refused to return their gazes, keeping your mouth shut.

After what felt like a minute, but was only a few seconds, the interviewer finally realized something was up. He turned to look at you as well, but at your continued silence, he then turned back to the group with an awkward laugh and had the audacity to start trying to ask the question in English!

It was butchered, the verb he was starting to use was the wrong one, but you didn’t even want the members to get even an idea of the horrible question he had thought was at all appropriate to ask.

You cut him off. “Thank you so much for this interview. Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have today.”

Even speaking in Japanese, you’re sure your voice gave away your anger, and a few of the members (even a staff member in the corner) all gave you wide eyed looks as you stood up, ushering the interviewer away.

You were thankful that the team’s security members, despite not speaking a lick of Japanese, were quick to pick up on the change in vibes, helping you get the interviewer out of the room. You spared only a short glance back at the group- at the confused and worried look that Chan had- before you spun on your heels and followed them all out.

The moment the doors were closed, the interviewer was rounding on you, pushing against securities hold on him. “What was that? I didn’t even get to thank them-“

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for that incredibly inappropriate question you just asked!” You yelled at him.

“Please, as if it’s a crime to ask a question,” he scoffed.

“It’s harassment, is what it is.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question in Japan-“

“I don’t care!” You shouted, and the security member closest to you gave you a look. You ignored her. “It should never, never, be appropriate to ask a pack about their mating cycles! The fact that you think it is, is disgusting! You should be ashamed of yourself. There is a reason we have a list of approved questions, and it’s so our idols do not get embarrassed or feel attacked by an interviewer.”

The interviewer shifted uncomfortably as he realized that the people in the hall were now all staring at the scene. “It’s a legitimate medical question. If they’re going to be on tour for such a long time, it’s bound to cause delays, a-and their fans are entitled to know!“ he stuttered out.

“Get him out of my sight,” You told the security guards in Korean, and without listening to the protest’s the interviewer tried to give, you walked back into the room you had just left.

You nearly hit Jisung in the face with he door, and he began to sputter as he realized he had been caught listening in. The other boys, all way too close to the door to not have been eavesdropping as well, at least had the decency to pretend they weren’t. You ignored them, making your way over to the manager.

You could feel a headache growing in your temples.

“I need you to blacklist that interviewer, maybe get in touch with the company he works with. He should never be allowed to interview any of our idols again,” You whispered softly to Soojin, and he gave you a worried look.

“Do I want to know what he asked?”

“No, you don’t.”

-0-0-

The first day's concert went by without a hitch. You translated anything the boys struggled to say in Japanese, but they had been practicing their lines, and any improvised sentences were simple enough that even the members less familiar with the language could react in their own way. There was one embarrassing moment where you had been too busy laughing at something Felix had said that it wasn't until the crowd's yells of confusion clued you in to the fact that he had spoken in Korean, not Japanese. You quickly translated his words over the exclamations of the other members.

It was only after the concert, in the hotel bar late at night, that you finally managed to talk with Chan since the flight. It wasn’t planned, but the moment you spotted the alpha sitting by himself at the end of the bar you found yourself heading in his direction, only taking a moment to make sure that nobody was looking in your direction.

There were only three other individuals in the bar, one of them the bartender. It made sense.

It was nearly 2 in the morning.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You wondered, making yourself comfortable in the seat next to Chan.

He startled, eyebrows shooting up as he spotted you. He said your name softly, like he wasn’t really sure you were there, and then he smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Chan nodded. “Me either.”

In reality, you had woken up from a nightmare. You couldn’t remember anything that had happened in your dream, only that it had left you with a feeling of dread. The hotel bar wasn’t your original destination, but the restaurant had been closed, and you were suddenly glad you had decided to get a drink instead of laying in your bed for the rest of the night. Chan’s presence was surprisingly calming.

The bartender made his way over, giving you a tired smile. “What can I get you?”

You ordered your favorite drink, and it wasn’t until it was brought over, and you had taken a sip, that Chan finally spoke.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“Hmm?”

Chan let out a sigh, straightening up and turning to you. “Thank you. For defending my pack against the interviewer yesterday.”

You stared at him with a blank stare for a few seconds, mind racing as you tried to figure out what gave it away. “Who told you?”

“One of the security guards speaks Japanese. We’re close.”

“Ah.” You were suddenly a lot thirstier, sipping at the rest of your drink to keep from having to speak until you realized that he had thanked you. “Right. You’re welcome.”

There’s a moment of awkward energy, where you’re suddenly not sure if you should leave or not, but then he lets out another sigh. He stands up slowly, placing a hand to the back of your chair as he passes behind you.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone.

It wouldn’t be until you were finished with your own drink and ready to leave a few minutes later that you learned he had paid for your drink.

-0-0-

The second day was setting up to be fairly similar to the first. You were starting to get into a pre-show routine, which allowed you a moment of calm to listen to music and hang out in the staff resting area while the others were running around getting everything set up. You would only be needed right before the concert started, having already gone through sound check and made sure your microphone was working fine.

According to your phone, you still had around 40 minutes until you needed to head towards the backstage area you would be translating from.

You closed your eyes again and planned on getting in a quick nap.

Your earphone did a good job of blocking out noises, but you could still hear the door opening every once in a while, and people chattering, though you couldn’t make out the words. You were hidden somewhat in the back of the room, laying on a couch that was facing another couch with a table in between.

In between songs, you could hear footsteps approaching.

You had planned to ignore it, thinking it was just another staff member looking for some peace and quiet, but the footsteps weren’t heading towards the couches in the back. You paused your song and lifted your head, only to be met with an empty room.

Confused, you looked around.

The door was still closed, but you could have sworn the footsteps hadn’t left. It wasn’t until you sat up, the leather of the couch making a squeaking sound as your weight shifted, that you noticed the figure huddled in the corner.

Jisung stared at you with wide eyes, like he was also surprised to see you there. Considering your clothes blended in to the couch, he very well might have been.

“Oh, sorry-“ You paused, noticing his pale face, the way his shoulders were moving too quickly, and the fear that was starting to burn your nose.

Oh.

“Jisung, are you okay?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer.

He bit his lip, face falling before he hid it in between his arms, legs curling up against his body until he was protected from your sight.

The distressed scent grew stronger.

You swore softly, moving quickly but carefully towards the panicking beta.

For a moment, you were glad that he wasn’t an omega. The scent of a distressed omega would linger far longer than that of a beta, and that would bring way too much attention to you, regardless if it was your scent of not.

Jisung didn’t move even as you got close. You paused near the table in between the two of you, eyeing his shoulders carefully to make sure he wasn’t hyperventilating. It seemed as if it was more of an anxiety attack at the moment, possibly embarrassment at breaking down in front of you.

You grabbed a bottle of water just in case.

Less worried knowing that the beta was actually breathing fine, you allowed yourself to get comfortable on the ground next to him. It was silent for a few minutes, in which you sent a quick message to Chan from the number he had given you all that time ago.

Y: 'Jisung is in the staff lounge. He seems upset.’

You received a reply instantly.

C: 'Minho’s on his way.’

Y: I don’t think he wasn’t company right now.’

Despite being read instantly, you didn’t receive a reply. You assumed that there must have been a conversation of sorts, and Minho was either convinced not to barge into the room or had been held back, because the doors remained close until Jisung finally let out a sigh, lifting his head.

He eyed you with red eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You offered him the water bottle without a word, giving him a reassuring smile and then allowing him some privacy to put himself back together.

Your phone beeped from your alarm.

“You have thirty minutes before the show starts.” You gave a quick look over, noticing his stage outfit and tear-stained cheeks. “You should probably get a makeup artist to help with … you know.”

You motioned to his face, and he nodded, still looking unsure.

Even with the lingering pressure, Jisung made no moves to get up or leave. You allowed him another minute, and then let out a sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jisung huffed. “I don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

“No, it’s okay. I just … sometimes I just have bad days,” He admitted, playing with the cap of the water bottle.

“Everyone has bad days,” You offered, then wondered if your words would be taken the wrong way. You quickly added. “People will understand if you’re not okay.”

“I know. But being an idol, it has so much … so many expectations. To go out there, to people who paid sometimes hundreds of dollars, who made plans to come see us, who might never see us perform again, just to not give it my all …”

He trailed off, wiping his eyes as they began to tear up again.

“I just don’t like feeling this way.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t sure there was anything you could say. Instead, you offered him some emotional support, leaning your head against his shoulder and wishing that you were open as an omega and able to help him calm down with your scent.

But the next best thing came in the form of Seungmin finally opening up the door. He eyed you two carefully for a second, unsure if he should come in, but Minho pushed past him and didn’t hesitate to make his way over.

“Jagi,” he breathed, looking relieved once he was close enough to gauge that his fellow member was okay. Just in case, he asked, “are you okay?”

Jisung nodded his head, and you pulled away in worry that your presence might be in the way.

Seungmin walked in at a much calmer pace, pumping out the much-needed calming hormones. “You having a moment, hyung?”

Jisung laughed. “Don’t call me that you little gremlin.”

Minho and Seungmin both seemed to lose some of the tension in their shoulders at his reply. You were surprised when you made to get up, only to have Minho’s attention on you at the slightest movement. For a second, you felt like a prey animal about to be pounced.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and despite staring right at you, his next question was still directed to Jisung. “Do you need some more time?”

It was only as his gaze dropped down that you realized you were holding Jisung’s hand in your own. You flushed in embarrassment, but your reaction only drew a downright predatory grin from the Alpha. Seungmin sighed.

“We don’t have that much time,” He muttered, shooting Jisung an apologetic look. “If you want to sit this one out, you need to let us know now.”

Jisung shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

He said it almost to himself, but you smiled reassuringly when he faced you.

“Thank you,” He said, with more confidence than you expected. You watched as he got to his feet, remembering the conversation you had had not that long ago.

‘I guess it’s easy when you’ve got a stadium full of beautiful people screaming your name’

“I’ll be cheering you on,” You told him, raising your first and shaking it towards him. “Fighting!”

And with a genuine smile, Jisung left looking better than when he had arrived. Seungmin gave you a small nod as he followed, but Minho lingered long enough to watch you get to your own feet and begin to gather your things. You expected him to say something, but he finally left without a word.

-0-0-

Finding Chan in the hotel bar later that night wasn’t as much as a surprise as it had been yesterday.

You sat down without worry. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

He laughed, giving you a soft look as he slid a drink over to you. It was the same one you had ordered the day before. You blinked in surprise.

“How did you know I was going to show up?”

“I didn’t,” He offered, looking down at his own drink. “But I hoped. I wanted to be able to thank you again, for what you did for Jisung.”

You shrugged. “I just did what felt right. He looked like he needed a friend.”

Chan continued to stare at the side of your face, and you hoped he would blame the blush that was starting to creep up your neck on the alcohol.

Once again, he paid for you as he left.

After everything that happened that day, you were more than eager to settle down and try to get some sleep. You would have a day off tomorrow and the day after, but there were a few more interviews scheduled for the weekend before you’d be flying out on Monday. So far, you were glad to know the first leg of the tour was almost over.

You entered the elevator without realizing you were being followed.

Minho slipped in next to you without a word, and you froze.

He didn’t say anything as the doors began to close, but he made no moves to push any of the buttons. It’s only when the elevator hadn’t moved for a few seconds that you realized that neither had you.

You tentatively reached forward and pressed your floor number.

He finally spoke when the elevator began to move up. “You and Chan seem awfully cozy.”

You swallowed. “He was just thanking me for helping out with Jisung.”

“Hmmm. And I suppose Felix was just lending you a towel the other day.”

You found yourself praying for any god out there that could hear for a way out of this conversation.

“I didn’t want to go down to the front desk. Felix had an extra,” You lied, hoping it would be enough.

“You want to try that again?”

You took a deep breath. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“I don’t know,” Minho drawled, giving you a predatory look. “Am I?”

You were on opposite sides of the elevator, but the step he took towards you suddenly put him within arms reach of you, and your heartrate jumped.

You almost laughed in relief when the elevator suddenly stopped. The elevator had reached your floor, but it seemed as if your prayers had finally arrived, if a little late.

Or maybe someone up there had a sick sense of humor.

The elevator doors made a strange screeching sound as they began to open, and you both turned to stare in confusion. Only halfway open, they stopped.

And then the elevator shifted, creaking.

You shared a wide-eyed glance with Minho, unable to even make a noise before suddenly the elevator dropped.

The sound that escaped you was something you didn’t even realize you could make. The elevator stopped almost as quickly as it had dropped, but through the still halfway open doors you could make out that the elevator had settled somewhere in between two floors. You shuddered as the creaking noise continued, scared too even make a move.

It was after nearly a minute of silence between you two that Minho finally spoke.

“Are you okay?”

You eyed his tightly clenched fists that were doing their best to leave their impression on the railings, the way his muscles were tense, the look of pain on his face.

“Are you?”

He let out a huff, releasing his grip slowly. And then he began to slide down the elevator wall until he was on the floor, legs spreading out in front of him. He let out another breath, and then another, and you suddenly began to grow worried he was hyperventilating.

You shifted forward, pausing to make sure the elevator wouldn’t move, but it seemed to be stable. Figuring it was okay, you walked the two steps until you were next to him, kneeling by his side.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay,” You told him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

He slapped your hand away. “Don’t!”

His voice was rough, almost a growl. You felt your chest tighten in worry and rejection, but he was still breathing hard. Was he going to pass out? You wanted to help him, but afraid to touch him again, you held your hands out in front of you to get his attention.

“You need to breathe,” You said softly, trying to hide your own panic. “Take a deep breath in.”

He shuddered again and then let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not- I’m not having a panic attack.”

“Well, you’re definitely not calm,” You argued.

Minho closed his eyes, his head slamming back against the wall hard enough to let out a clang, and you reached forward without thinking.

“Be careful!”

He grabbed your wrist, eyes opening only a sliver to glare at you. And then, as you stared at each other in anger, he suddenly seemed to droop. He let out a swear, dropped your wrist, and swallowed.

And then the scent began to reach you.

There, lingering in between the fear and anxiety that had originally escaped from the first few seconds of the elevator dropping, was an unmistakable scent.

Your mouth dropped. “Oh.”

Minho let out a groan. “I’m sorry. I can’t-“ He let out another shuddered breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I … It’s okay,” You offered, moving back.

Suddenly everything was starting to make sense. The lingering stares, the flared nose, the almost predatory way he had been behaving. No wonder he didn’t want you touching him right now; you were surprised he hadn’t bitten you with his instincts running this high.

Alphas could be very sensitive when in pre-rut.

You turned back to the bigger problem, pressing the emergency button on the elevator and hearing a soft ringing noise. Your first concern was getting the two of you out.

But there was a bigger problem you were starting to realize.

It was late. Really late. You had gotten out of bed without thinking about it, but now it was all you could think about. The fear and anxiety lingering in the air wasn’t just coming from Minho.

You didn’t have your fake pheromone perfume on right now, just scent blockers. And they were starting to wear off.

And you were stuck in an elevator with an Alpha going into rut.

“It’s going to be okay,” You reassured Minho when the emergency alarm didn’t immediately get attention. “We’re going to be okay.”

But you weren’t so sure.

-0-0-

Taglist: I think I got everyone. If I missed you or you want to be added to the tag list, free free to ask.

@3rachasninja @lilyuwon @brojustfknkillm3 @yukichan67 @mallielovssyou @mintchip17 @iweirdthingsblog @maisyyyyyy @neivivenaj @jc003 @skz-ot8-stay @passionandsuga @ms-flowergirl @kayleefriedchicken @seungmonggg @luvvvash @galaxy4489 @quokkahannie4 @joyofbebbanburg @xxeiraxx @lemonn015 @dazzlingjade @tenshimara @danceonmyheyday @staytinyluv @mamaj-right @dessianna1 @sillyhal @minh0scat @iris-iiridescent @fackeraccount @bumblebeebeebumble @hanniesbubuwife @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @k-pop-luv04 @stopstaring4455 @mbioooo0000 @bby-boo4u @yumuramma @juju-227592 @idiotmaterial @channieismylove @kpetts @headfirstfortoro @iknow-uknow-leeknow

[faun-the-fawn77]

Ghost was so so good!!! If you could, I would die for another fem human x shadow fic smut, it was amazing! Maybe one where like sonic likes her but she can’t pull her eyes away from shadow

Thank you ❤️

"JUNO"

"Wanna try out some freaky positions? Have you ever tried this one?"

Shadow x F!Human!Reader Word Count: Warnings: SMUT, p in v, fingering, oral(f receiving), marking, slight blood mention, rough but soft?, shadow is still the king of aftercare Desc: Ever since Maddie introduced you to the three hooligans they took in, Sonic has not left your side. Always bringing you something new that you might like or a new treat from the bakery in town. When the recent mission was a success, you made sure to bring over some food for Sonic's celebration, not knowing that the new arrival would have your attention all night, especially in your bedroom. Notes will be at the end! REQUEST INFO HERE! MDNI!!! Please, for the love of all things holy, go away:(

"...and I was like 'Wachow!' and my fist landed right..." Listening to Sonic's recount of another world-saving mission can be entertaining for the first few minutes until everything starts to blur together with Sonic trying to paint himself as the hero with a major ego problem. Now, don't get me wrong, I love the kid but it kinda gets boring having to listen to the same story each time after getting back from the life-threatening mission.

I huffed out a little sigh that the blue blur couldn't pick up on and looked around the room for a distraction or excuse to get away. The Wachowski's house always looked the same save for the few new family pictures hung up with all five posed in various ways. Before my body decided to shut down from boredom, a new figure appeared in the doorway.

"Oh! Hey, Shadow! I was just telling (Y/N) about how we saved the world!" Sonic ran up to me, placing a gloved hand on my shoulder and shaking gently. My eyes never left the burnt umber ones of Shadow. It was like two magnets who have been separated forever that finally reunited.

"Nice to finally meet you, (Y/N). Sonic has told me a lot about you. In fact, he never shuts up about you." His voice was low, gravelly and shot right down between my legs. My knees knocked together with my thighs clenching. I cleared my throat, mumbling a quiet 'nice to meet you, too' and broke the eye contact we had before my underwear could get any more soaked. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the dark hedgehog's gaze snap down to where my clasped, sweaty hands were covering.

I could faintly hear Tom call for Sonic who dashed off with a quick 'BRB!'. The silence that fell in the room was tense and thick with desire. His gaze never wavered from my slowly wetting shorts that was definitely pooled with my arousal. Considering he had the characteristics of a hedgehog, I'm guessing he can smell better than I can. I tensed in anticipation when he slowly started to circle me.

His voice cut through the tension, "How long has he pined after you?"

I frowned, looking at him with confusion. but still answered, "Since I introduced myself to him. Why?"

He hummed, stopping his circling and stood still in front of me. He reached out slowly and confidently, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear then trailing his gloved hand down my cheek and to my jaw, lifting it up so I made direct eye contact with him. His pupils were dilated and darker with arousal.

"Because you are now mine." And with that, his lips were on mine. A squeak escaped my throat at the suddenness of the kiss before I melted into it, into him. My hands went to his cheeks, the fur soft under my palms. His one went back to my cheek while the other grabbed the back of my neck and tangled into my hair.

It was intoxicating. His cologne was dizzying and I could feel the sharp tips of his canines grazing my bottom lip. I pulled away for air, dropping my hands to his shoulders when he leaned down to the crook of my neck to start leaving kisses there. I leaned my head to the side for more access. His chest rumbled with satisfaction.

"Shadow!" I could feel the sting of pain already from the bite. His tongue worked to clean up the blood that was spotting at the wound. He pulled away, his eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger.

"You are mine. Don't bother covering it because I will just make more." He went to go to the other side of my neck when I placed a hand on his chest. His ears flicked in annoyance at the interruption but stopped nonetheless.

"We're going to my house. I'd rather not ruin Tom and Maddie's couch." I grabbed his gloved hand and led him out the front door, making sure Sonic or anyone else was around before speed-walking to my old Mustang parked in the driveway. I opened the door for him, hopped in on my side and was quick to get on the road. The one downside to living in Green Hill was how far it was between houses out in the countryside.

The drive couldn't have been longer, not when Shadow seemed to be super touchy, placing his hand on my thigh and inching his way towards my center. I bit my lip to make sure my eyes stayed on the road and not on the devious little alien to my right. His fingertips brushed the wet spot on my thong, expertly moving the flimsy fabric aside to get to where he wanted. A moan escaped the back of my throat at the touch.

His fingers gathered the slick that had pooled at my entrance and guided it up to my throbbing clit. Like magic, his fingers circled the bud at a pace that almost had me pumping the brakes on the car and demanding him to get in the back seats.

The glint of my black mailbox flashed and I was quick to turn down the gravel road surrounded by the tall fir trees on both sides. Shadow removed his hand from my shorts, keeping a watchful eye among the shade of the trees. Nothing was out here except maybe bears and mountain lions. Birds flew from the trees at the sound of the cars engine cutting through the peaceful atmosphere of the forest.

The house was big. Well, at least it looked big from the outside. It was a three-story log cabin with a giant A-frame-like window up front. Glass doors led out to the wrap-around porch that was held up with polished logs. The entrance to the house was under the porch with a big garage off to the left holding a shiny black Kawasaki motorcycle.

I easily slid into the spot by my other pride and joy. I glanced over at Shadow to see his eyes taking in the new environment. I can see he was used to the Wachowski's modern family home. While their house was also on the outskirts of town, mine happened to be further down the single lane road that would eventually lead you to the big city. The quiet air of the forest was nice. I didn't have to be up all night listening to cars passing or drunks yelling out while walking home from the bar.

"Too interested in my house to continue where we left off? Maybe if you stick around, that bike over there can be yours. I don't ride it much, anyway," I commented. His eyes flickered to the sleek black bike, then back to me.

"Lead the way, doll." I smiled and grabbed his gloved hand, leading him inside my house. It was furnished with more wooden furniture and paintings depicting nature scenes. Fishing poles stacked on a rack by the door with thick coats and rain boots hung/placed nearby. Down the hall lead to the one bathroom and my office then up the creaky stairs to the open living room. Maroon stitched chairs with a hand-crafted sofa sitting center with a matching coffee table. Antlers hung around the walls with dangling lights encased in a yellow stained glass cover.

We passed the open concept kitchen and dining room that had the glass doors leading out to the porch. A chandelier made of antlers hung above the dining table with the lights twinkling in the dark. Stairs at the far end along the wall led up to a loft. The master bedroom with a closet and bathroom off the the left. The bed was also hand-crafted with plush sheets and a memory foam mattress. The top half of the A-frame window was behind the bed with a view out onto the forest and the gravel driveway.

I tugged him down onto the bed, the mattress sinking in around us. His legs on either side of my hips and hands placed down by my head. I gently wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. A hand drifted up to my cheek and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. The moment his canines brushed against my lip I could feel the sting of the mark on my neck. It throbbed but wasn't as painful as before. It will definitely leave a scar, though.

His hands wandered down my collarbone to my breasts and then the lip of my shirt. He guided it up slowly, not wanting to break the heated kiss. The warmth of his hands wrapped around to my back, urging me to lift up a bit to unhook the bra I was wearing. As soon as it snapped off, he was quick to shred my shirt off and slip the bra down my arms.

What surprised me most was when he broke the kiss to sit back and take off his gloves. Sonic never even took his off, insisting on washing them himself if they ever got that dirty. His hands had a paw-like build with pads on his palms and fingertips. Claws were sharp and glinting in the low light of the setting sun. He was made to be a weapon, I remembered but, right now, he was careful and gentle.

He gazed down at me, his mouth curling into a small smirk. He took a finger and guided it down from my sternum to the top of the cloth sleep shorts. A claw caught on the waistband and within seconds the material was cut right down the center leaving me in just the black lacey thong.

I could feel the cool air against my heat causing a shiver to shoot up my spine. My slick was spread over my folds and pooling in the thin string of my panties. A single swipe and the underwear was no longer useable. I gripped the sheets below as I watch Shadow back to the foot of the bed and his mouth came level with my glistening pussy. His hands rested on my thighs and slowly moved up to hold my hips in place. His breath fanned against my entrance and I felt his tongue lick a stripe from the opening to my clit. The most embarrassing sound left my mouth at the feeling. His grip tightened on my hips when I tried to move. His tongue was working wonders, licking and flicking my clit. His right hand slithered down to my entrance and prodded at the hole. He gathered slick and saliva before carefully inserting two fingers. I reached a hand out to grab a fistful of quills only to grab onto his ear. The moan from him vibrated right onto my bundle of nerves causing stars to dance across my vision. I pulled again for the same effect.

"I'm almost there. Please, Shadow!" I moaned out. His fingers pumped faster, rubbing against that special spot inside me he had found rather quickly. The coil in my stomach became tighter and tighter before my vision turned white and I was lit up inside. I clenched around his fingers, walls spasming from the intense orgasm. His tongue caught all my juices and his fingers slowly stopped pumping before pulling out all together.

I panted, trying to catch my breath. The shift in the bed barely registered in my post-coital brain until fur brushed against my pert nipples. Shadow was above me once more, this time with one hand resting by my head and the other gathering some of my slick to pump his shaft with. The blunt tip of something at my pussy was what caught my attention.

"W-Wai- AH!~" He slid his dick in slowly, making sure I adjusted to the girth of his cock. A slight sting was present but soon went away and left just pleasure in its wake. I moved my hips, a sign for him to start moving. I noticed he wasn't much of a talker. My hands gripped his shoulders tighter, moans flying from my mouth like a prayer. His pace picked up when he felt my walls clenching around him. He brought a hand down to my overstimulated clit and rubbed figure 8's. My moans soon raised higher in pitch when my orgasm became closer and closer.

I had managed to open my eyes only to see him staring down at me and one word uttered from his throat.

"Cum."

Stars exploded in my vision and I was gone. My grip loosened and I was clenching around his dick that was still pumping inside of me. I could feel myself squirting all over on his lower half and my thighs. The groans from the back of his throat became more vocal the more sloppy his hips pistoned. A warmth flooded through me at the feeling of him releasing inside me. Our mixed fluids dripped out onto the ruined bed sheets. He lowered himself down on my, our chests heaving for air.

When he caught his breath, he got up on unstable legs and walked over to the bathroom. Running water and soon enough he was back with a warm wash cloth and ibuprofen for tomorrow morning. I squealed when the damp cloth made contact with my oversensitive pussy. He apologised quietly and made sure to be gentle while cleaning me up. My legs felt like jell-o and my head was still clearing from the orgasmic fog. He tossed the dirty rag in the basket and picked up the ruined clothes he shredded.

He mumbled something before disappearing with a red flash and coming back two seconds later with a cup of ice water and two brownies from the tray I baked before I left to the Wachowski's house. My heart swelled at the affection he was showing, especially for someone who hasn't felt it in almost half a century.

He crawled back into bed, wrapping around my shivering body. I raised a hand to brush through his quills, and wrapped the other around him. He grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed to wrap around us. I hummed in content. It was now fully night out with the moon sitting above the tops of the spruce trees around my property.

Crickets sung outside with and owl or two hooting a bit farther away. Peace. This is what Shadow wanted. What Maria wanted for him. Maybe humans weren't so bad. If they haven't destroyed this then surely there is still some good out there.

"I don't think Sonic will be looking my way for a long time." I could feel Shadow chuckle against me, his hand brushing against the reddened mark on my neck.

"Not with me around, doll."

Finished! Whew, I was getting stressed there for a second. More to come! I am on a little writing spree during my vacation!